Page 46 of Dolls & Daggers
She’s flipped the script on me now, refusing to answer my calls or texts. Well, except for a single, clippedI’m okay.I have to admit, that’s more than I ever gave her, but it’s nowhere near enough to quiet the gnawing need to talk to her—to see her.
I could go full stalker mode, show up at her house, and hypocritically demand to know why she’s ignoring me. Instead, I rein it in—just a little—and settle for ambushing her best friend to see if she knows what’s going on. Because, obviously, Bunny—whom I’ve been nothing but rude to and have said some not-so-nice things about—will have no problem spilling Dove’s whereabouts tomeof all people.
Imagine my fucking surprise when I walk into The Tipsy Taco, fully expecting to hunt down Bunny, only to find my girl perched on the edge of a pool table, talking animatedly withRyan. Of all fucking people.
The feral beast that has taken up residence in my chest whenever Dove is near stirs awake. Curled horns and smoke and the inexplicable need to plant my fist into Ryan’s modelesque face slither through me like a viper.
The bastard leans against the table, one hand gripping a pool cue, the other gesturing mid-story. Whatever he’s saying makes Dove throw her head back in laughter, exposing the delicate line of her neck and the fading bruises that still mar her skin. His brows pull together, and he reaches out, fingers ghosting over them.
My anger surges as Dove inches away, waving him off, muttering what I assume is an excuse while she picks at invisible lint on her taffy-pink shorts. Sliding off the table, she tugs at the hem of her white shirt, adjusting the fabric that wraps around her back and forms a bow, while Ryan presses his questioning.
“How long are you going to stand there looking like a dumbass?” Bunny’s dulcet tone interrupts my silent seething.
She’s beside me now, dark-purple-polished fingers curved around a shot glass, which I assume holds tequila.Today, rainbow foil paw prints trail down her cheek, covering the scar beneath her eye at the highest point of her cheekbone. She watches the scene unfold with a wolfish grin stretched across her mauve-painted lips, and Igetwhy Hunter is completely enamored with the dark-haired beauty.
Where Dove is bright, effervescent sunshine, Bunny is mystery and calculation wrapped in sensuality—like a wolf draped in a rabbit’s hide. I swing my gaze back to Dove and Ryan, annoyed to find them locked in what looks like a full-blown argument. “Are they?—”
“No. Absolutely not.” Bunny crosses her arms, sipping her shot. “You should know by now that girl is wrapped around your finger, though she’d kill me for telling you that.”
Then why the hell has she been ignoring me?
I study Dove as she speaks heatedly, trying to reconcile this version of her with the Doll and coming up short. I can’t fathom it, and yet, I can. She’s a paradox I need to unravel. I will her to look at me, sending every desperate wave ofchoose meenergy across the bar. It tugs at her, invisible fingers tipping her chin in my direction. For a moment, she stares. Then, a warm smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
“God, you two are dense,” Bunny sighs before saunteringoff.
I nearly turn to tell her she and Hunter are no better, but just as Dove takes a step toward me, Ryan reaches out, grabs her belt loop, and pulls her back. It’s not aggressive, but it makes her stumble in her chunky platforms, grabbing onto him to steady herself.
My feet carry me across the bar in six long strides—my intention to plant my fists directly into Ryan’s face. I don’t stop. I don’t hesitate. I step into Ryan’s personal space, chest to chest, forcing him to release Dove. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
“Well, well, if it isn’t Hunter’s lapdog,” Ryan clips, puffing his pecs like it’ll somehow make up for the three inches I have on him. “This doesn’t involve you.”
“Wrenley, what are you doing?” Dove tries to push between us, her small palm splayed against my chest. If I wasn’t already pissed that she was chumming it up with this asshole, I certainly am now—because she just used myfull name.
“I told you to stay away from her,” I seethe, fury radiating from every pore. If she knew the shit he’s said about her, there’s no way she’d even entertain a conversation with him. But we’re drawing a crowd, and I refuse to embarrass her by airing his filth in public.
“Why would you say that?” she demands, still trying to wedge between us. “I can take care of myself, Wrenley.”
I crack my neck, jaw tightening, but before I canrespond, Ryan cuts in. “You wanna know why I stopped talking to you suddenly?” He gestures at me. “Because this asshole threatened me.”
My eyes snap back to his. “You wanna tell herwhy?” My voice is foreign to my own ears—raw, dripping with unfiltered rage. I’ve never felt such anger. Such unbridled need to destroy someone so thoroughly.
“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.” Dove curls her fingers into my jacket, stepping into me, pulling my focus back to her. “Let’s get out of here. Take me home?”
A fraction of my anger ebbs at the urgency in her voice, in her eyes. My hand finds her waist, her warmth grounding me—reminding me that, once again, I’ve picked a fight with an off-duty cop.
“Nothing like a little hate fuck, I guess.” Ryan smirks over Dove’s head. “That’s okay. Take her for a ride. She always comes back.”
Dove gasps, affronted. She spins, hand flying. He catches her wrist mid-swing and shoves her back—not hard enough to hurt her, but enough that she stumbles.
I lunge, catching her while swinging for his face. He dodges, throwing his own punch. It lands, snapping my head to the side.
“Wren!” Dove twists in my arms, unharmed, butfuck, he could have seriously hurt her—and the look on his face says he knows it.
She presses a palm to the side of my mouth, glaring at him over her shoulder before shifting her worried gaze back to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been hit harder.” I spit, swiping the back of my hand across my bloodied lip.
Someone hands her napkins. A bouncer awkwardly arrives, escorting Ryan out. He glares at us as he’s swallowed by the crowd and they part for him like he’s got the plague. I’m not a cop-hater, but there are some who abuse their power, and Ryan is definitely one of them. The thought of him and Dove together—intimately—spikes a fresh rage.
