Page 16 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

“I swear.” I hold my hands up, breaking the spell.

He scrutinizes me for another long moment. “I was going to tell you to hurry the fuck up, not ask how the hell you’re doing. Who do I look like, your damn boyfriend?”

A tinyoforms at my lips as I realize I just lost my shit in front of my partner. I’ve got to get a handle on my nerves or Dillon’s going to have a heyday ripping me apart until he finds what’s messing with my head. I shake the tension in my muscles away and glare at the asshole I’m grateful for right now. He smirks at my narrowed eyes aiming right at his.

“Come on,” he says in a sugary-sweet sarcastic tone, “Big D’ll hold your hand, pretty little thang.” When I shudder, this time at his words, he laughs. “Don’t worry,” he says, his tone turning serious, “these things creep me the hell out as well.”

“They don’t creep me out,” I counter.

It’s what they represent that has my blood running cold.

He watches me and I squirm in my seat.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says in a smug tone before getting out of the car.

“Eat shit,” I retort, exiting the vehicle with him.

He rubs his stomach and there’s no evidence of his sweet tooth showing on his trim waist and narrow hips. “I’m actually quite full.”

“You ate nearly an entire box of baked goods,” I huff, “I’m not surprised. You’ll probably have a heart attack any minute.”

The smirk on his face remains. “Then you’ll have to give me mouth to mouth.”

“Spit in your mouth is more like it.”

“Stop flirting with me, Phillips,” he says with a chuckle. “I don’t want to share your bodily fluids right now. We have a homicide, show some respect.”

My mouth drops as the urge to punch that smug grin right off his face takes over and I have to ignore the buzzing in my gut at his choice of words. He strides toward the shop with purpose and I dip my head to hide my own slight smile. I’ve never really looked at him before; never delved beyond the prickly surface. He’s not bad looking, I suppose—when he’s acting like a normal human being.Liar. Lying to myself is impossible. Dillon is hot, raw, and alpha in every way, but all that hotness is eclipsed with his snotty attitude toward me.

“Are you checking me out?” Stopping at the entrance of the shop, he looks back at me, ignoring the flurry of activity. A crowd had formed beyond the taped off area and despite being told to stay out of the crime scene every damn time a homicide happens, a uniformed officer is staring out at us from the store with a body by his feet.Freaking idiots.

“I was, actually,” I mutter before stalking toward my crime scene. “I was checking out the best angle of your ass to kick you up.”

“Ass play? Now that surprises me.” He shrugs and leaves me open-mouthed once more, staring after his retreating form.

He momentarily distracted me from the horrors this place holds and it’s unclear whether that was on purpose or not. But now, without his playful taunting, it crashes down around me like a ton of bricks.

Everyone knows what happened to you, dirty little doll.

My lungs burn and beg for air as I hold my breath and enter the shop. They’re everywhere, glaring at me from the shelves, from the cabinets. Pale skin, ruby red lips, wide eyes staring right through to my marrow.

“Jade?”

My eyes snap up to his.Dillon said my name. My first name. Eight months I’ve worked cases with him, sat beside him in the car, ate at the same table, and not once has he used my first name. I hold his gaze, allowing it to keep me anchored.

“You should go talk to the witness outside in the patrol car.” My eyes travel down to the woman slain and discarded on the floor, blood pooled around her. She didn’t see it coming. The blood spray on the counter shows he came up behind her. There’s nothing broken or any signs of struggle.

Crash!

Startled, my whole body jolts from the sound of porcelain hitting the wooden floor and shattering. My heart thunders as blood rushes through my veins and pounds in my ears. I track the sound with my eyes to the now broken doll lying next to the shop owner.

The officer who shouldn’t be here in the first place stares down at the mess. His nose scrunched, he brings a fist to his mouth and bites down before folding his arms. “Err, it slipped,” he says, turning his head to the shelving unit behind him.Idiot.

Her dismantled face in shards stares up at me and my memories swallow me.

The thunder growling from the sky and the hissing of the rain hitting the wall outside is soothing.

I imagine the water building and flooding into my cell, drowning me, releasing me from this burden of a life.

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