Page 22 of Dolls & Daggers
My angel shakes his head.You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?
My devil smirks.It’s his own form of foreplay.
I should have slept with her when I had the chance.
Now, she’ll never want to fuck me.
Now, she’s just gonna want to kill me.
“Stupid, stupid songbird!”Each word is punctuated by a deep stab, blood splattering my mask. The man beneath me is long dead, and this is entirely outside my usual M.O., but tonight isn't about precision—it's about releasing my feminine rage, not putting on a show for the Metro Police Department.
“Love Dove, if you keep going, we’ll have a harder time cleaning this mess up. He’s looking worse than Nathaniel did when I got through with him.” Bunny sighs, scowling as she scrolls on her phone.
My chest heaves with heavy breaths as I stare down. The man’s torso really is starting to resemble Bunny’s late husband’s face. Sniffing, I wipe my arm against the forehead of my mask, smearing blood across the material.
“I have to get him back, Buns.” I press my handsagainst the corpse's stomach. The wet squelch of blood and torn flesh echoes through the basement as I push up to my feet. Peeling off my gloves, I toss them and my dagger onto the lifeless body before yanking off my mask and striding toward the stainless steel tray lined with tools.
Usually, we work alone. I prefer meeting my victims in seedy hotels on the outskirts of the city or slipping into their homes while their families are away. Bunny lures her prey down here with the promise of indulging their twisted fantasies before turning the tables. But every so often, we find a man who fits both our victim profiles.
And sometimes you just need to bond with your girlfriend by murdering someone together.
“You need to just fuck him and get him out of your system,” Bunny murmurs.
“I don’twantto sleep with him,” I lie, knowing full well she won’t believe me. “And if fucking Ryan wouldn’t have ghosted me, I wouldn’t be so sexually frustrated.”
It’s odd that Ryan disappeared the other night and isn’t answering my messages. Very unlike him, especially since he seemed eager to take things to the next level in our situationship earlier that evening. Not that I would have agreed—but still, a woman has needs, and Ryan was dependable in that department.
A flash of red catches my eye. Blood has slipped past a tear in the disposable suit I have over my white dress. “Aww, fuck! This was one of my favorites, too,” I pout, tugging at the plastic. “Oh well.” I shrug. “That’s what I get for wearing white to a massacre.”
Bunny hums noncommittally, still glaring at her screen. She’s already ditched her suit and sits cross-legged on a barrel full of liquid against the wall, utterly unbothered that her black leather skirt has ridden up to reveal electric blue underwear.
“What’s got your attention, Buns?” I hop onto a barrel beside hers, peering at her phone. She’s flipping through a popular social media app, eyeing some random girl’s photos. “Who’s that?”
“Some fucking badge bunny who’s been sniffing around Hunter,” she bites out.
“Ah. Well, I feel sorry for her then.” I settle against the wall, my gaze drifting to the dead body on the floor. “Someone should tell her Hunter only has plans to trap one very specific bunny, and it ain’t her.”
She snorts, then sneers. “Well, she tagged him in a photo last night. He took her to dinner.”
“Shut up! He did not!” I snatch the phone and tap the picture in question. The woman’s manicured hand is delicately holding a wine glass, candlelight flickering in the background. A man sits across from her, but he’s out of focus. “Oh, Buns, that could be anyone.”
“Shetaggedhim! Why would he allow a tag if it wasn’t him?” she argues.
“To get your attention. And look, it’s working. You didn’t even enjoy our friend tonight.” I gesture to the body on the floor before giving her phone back. “This is supposed to be girl time.”
“You’re right.” She sighs, setting the device on the barrel before flicking her raven hair behind her shoulders. “I’m sorry. You have my undivided attention. How are you going to retaliate against Wrenley?”
Just hearing his name sends my blood to a roaring boil. “I don’t know, but it’s gotta be good.”
Bunny inhales sharply and faces me wide-eyed. Her plum eyeliner makes her hazel orbs pop, and the glittery gold star stickers covering the scar on her cheek catch the light as a mischievous grin spreads across her face. “What if we send Ginny Tailor flowers and sign the card from him? You said her husband wasn’t thrilled about them having lunch.”
“Oh my god, Bunny. I’m trying to prank him, not get him fired and run out of Manhattan.” I met Jackson Tailor once, and once was more than enough. The man is the epitome of charm and intimidation wrapped in a gorgeously sculpted package, but he only has eyes for his wife and assumes every woman who so much as looks at him wants him. “I tried getting a quote from Jackson once aboutIconic, andhe said, and I quote,‘Sweetheart, I’m flattered, but I’m married.’Then he just walked off. Joe introduced me to him and his wife later that night, and there was no apology whatsoever. Just an unamused nod before he led his ridiculously beautiful wife away.”
“Daaamn, he’s brutal… it’s perfect!” Bunny cries.
I shake my head vehemently. “No, Buns.”
“Boo. You’re no fun.” She cocks her head, sighing. “We could collect the dog’s poop and hide it around his office?”
