Page 11 of Dolls & Daggers
A zip of adrenaline shoots down my spine.
Finally.
“Does that mean you have to go in?”
Hunter sighs, knowing full well I’m going to hold him to his promise this time. So far, I’ve had to wait until they scan her videos for any clues to her identity, but he guaranteed me a seat at the table when the next one dropped.
“Do you have your press badge?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, already typing out a message.
“Always.”
I can’t stop the way my voice shakes with excitement.
Hunter gives me a dry look. “Only you would be happy to hear she took another victim,” he mutters. It’s followed by something else, but I don’t hear it over the blood rushing in my ears.
Because my excitement isn’t just about the Baby Doll Killer taking another life.
It’s that I get to see the video before a certain pastel-pink princess does.
Dove
Oops!...I Did It Againblares over the speakers as I thinly slice the last remnants of Jefferey Nills’ penis. Ising along, swaying my hips as I lay out the meat, preparing it for the dehydrator.
Fang gnaws contentedly on the final piece from the previous batch, stretched out in his oversized pink bed between the kitchen and small dining room. “Is that good, baby?” I coo.
A jingle of keys makes his ears perk up, and seconds later, Bunny’s dogs—a black Pomeranian named Yasha and a white one named Maru, after one of her favorite animes—come bounding in.
The kitchen fills with excited yips as the dogs greet each other before Yasha and Maru snatch up Fang’s jerky, immediately tussling over it. My sweet little sharer decides to let them have it, jumping up on Bunny as she walks in, a bottle of watermelon vodka and our book of the month clutched to her chest.
“Hey, Love Dove,” she sings. “Excellent song choice. Very appropriate.” She sets the alcohol on the counter and scoops Fang into her arms. “Hey, my man.”
“How was your weekend?” I ask, popping the trays into the machine. “Everything go well?”
A smirk curls her lips before she kisses the top of Fang’s head and sets him down. He joins her pups, who’ve already broken the jerky into smaller pieces, settling beside them with his portion. “Everythingwent great. Kent Peterson won’t be bothering anyone ever again.”
“Did you make him suffer?” I retrieve our usual drinkware—blush-colored vintage goblets we found at a flea market last year—and start mixing our drinks.
Bunny hops onto a stool, plopping her black leather bag beside her, digging through it for the ring light she uses when we take our book club photos. “I busted each of his knuckles, slowly, one at a time, and the bastard had the audacity to pass out after the fourth one,” she says with mock astonishment.
“What a weakling.” I laugh, retrieving the rose-shaped ice cube molds from the freezer and popping out the pretty chunks of ice, each containing frozen raspberries and mint leaves.
We share a grin before she continues, adjusting her phone and pulling the book closer to play with lighting. “I know, right? Anyway, I used smelling salts to wake the asshole up and continued on my merry way. He’s currently stewing on his evil ways in my basement with crushed hands and feet. I’ll finish him off tonight.” Her voice is light, almost cheerful, as she snaps a few photos of the pretty pink book.
“Ooh, drawing this one out?” We clink glasses, taking small sips before setting up the shot.
Tailor Tech, a division ofTailor Industries, is preparing to launch a new social media app calledIconic. Employees are getting the opportunity to test it before the public launch, and so far, Bunny and I are enjoying it. We’ve already built quite a following for our Cereal Killer Book Club.
Bunny pulls a mini box of Lucky Charms from her bag, pouring it into the cream ceramic bowl with little bunnies on it—the one I keep here just for her. Bunny’s favorite food group is cereal, hence our book club name. Not to mention the play on words.
We think it’s hilarious.
“He’s a fucking douchebag,” she says, sloshing oat milk into her bowl after I hand her the carton. “Put his wife in the hospital twice this month alone. And she made up good excuses for both trips, which tells me she’s used to it.” She takes a photo of her setup before shoveling a spoonful into her mouth. “He deserves to suffer.”
“Hey.” I reach over, laying my hand on hers. “You don’t have to convince me, Buns.”
Her anger softens, shoulders relaxing as she chews her sugary bite before washing it down with the watermelon cocktail. “I know.” She checks her watch. “Let’s get this posted before we have to go. What should I put as the caption?”
She types as I dictate. “Found this beautiful gem in a cute, pink bookstore in Brooklyn. It’s likeGilmore GirlsmeetsPractical Magicwith a hot, swoony guy,kitty familiars, and an FMC with pink hair… say less! Lucky Charms are the vibes with this magical read. QOTD: Are you reading along with us this month? #weloveindieauthors #supportlocal #jessicahoffaauthor #cerealkillerbookclub.”
