Page 55 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I set the water down with a whispered, “Fuck,” and draw my gun from its holster.

“It’s Dillon, Jade. Don’t fucking shoot me.”

I bite my lip to stop the laugh that wants to erupt from my chest. He knows me so well. Placing my gun on the console table, I unchain the door and swing it open. It hasn’t even been a whole night since I’ve seen him, but it feels like a lifetime. My instincts are to throw myself into his arms, but I stop myself, not clear what the dynamics of this thing between us are.

I don’t have to wait long, though. His worried eyes scan my face and then his heavy boots eat up the space between us, pulling me in to his heady embrace.

I swim in his decadent scent and melt into him like ice on a fire. “I missed you,” I murmur, the words slipping from my tongue before I can stop myself.

“I was out all day. I didn’t have my cell so I didn’t know.” He pulls back and grasps my face in his palms, the pads of his thumbs stroking down the apples of my cheeks. “What happened? You witnessed an accident? What were you doing out there?”

“Some prick followed me from the flea market.”

I grab his hands, but they don’t move.

“Who is he?”

“No one. Just some asshole.” I shrug and tilt my lips up into a defeated smile. I’m exhausted.

“Did he do anything to you?” He penetrates my eyes with his own, seeking and delving beyond the surface. “Jade?” His voice is pained as his hands fall from my face.

I flick my hair over my shoulders and show him the bruising I discovered around my neck earlier.

“Motherfucker. Who was he? I don’t understand,” he says with a growl, his eyes traveling from my neck to my eyes and back again. “Did he hurt you anywhere else?”

“No,” I assure him as I move to close the door. I clutch onto his hand and drag him through to the living space. “I was going to my parents’ and found myself at the flea market.” My gaze flickers over to his, expecting to see annoyance, just like I’d see with Bo each time I’d accidentally find myself there. Dillon doesn’t seem angry, though. He sighs as he sits on my couch, dragging me down to sit on his lap. I curl into him, letting his breathing regulate my own.

“Go on,” he urges.

“I broke a doll and the vendor got pissed at me. He put his hands on me, so I dislocated his thumb.” I shrug and nuzzle into his neck. His chest moves with a jolt and I lift my head to peek at him. A perfect flash of his white teeth greets me. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I’m just happy you can look after yourself.” Pride ripples through him and it makes its way into my heart. “Go on, Wonder Woman.”

Rolling my eyes, I continue my story. “Well, then he followed me. I was too distracted to notice him. He managed to grab me, but I pulled my gun on him. It was then that a truck came from nowhere and slammed into him. I heard the popping of his bones. His blood sprayed my face.” A shudder ripples through me as I remember that last part. “And then he was just gone. Vanished.”

“Maybe the shock from the accident had him driving off…” he trails off and I collapse back against him.Maybe.

“How was your day?” I question, changing the subject.

“It was great. Jasmine is a firecracker. Just you wait until you meet her, Jade. She’s a take no prisoners kinda gal. A lot like you.” He kisses my head and the joy in his tone is genuine and beautiful.

He wants me to meet his niece. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m crazy. Better yet, maybe he doesn’t care that I am.

BLURB, BLURB, BLURB.

Is that all they do in there? Are they supposed to be therapeutic? Because they’re not. I want to flick one to see if that’s just air in its bloated tummy.

“You like the fish?” She’s not in a pantsuit today. Today, she’s wearing a shin-length skirt. Looks like she’s retaining water in her ankles, and she knows it if the shifting of her feet because I’m looking at them are any indication.

I don’t answer her. It’s pointless. She’s clearly a fraud if she can’t determine whether I like her stupid fish or not.

“Tell me more about this man,” she urges. “You said he was bleeding in the road.”

“The world is a crazy place. Sometimes I wonder if I ever even left my cell. Maybe this is all in my head. A weird, taunting dream,” I ponder as she scurries to write on her device.

“This is the first time you’ve mentioned a cell. Can you tell me about what it was like for you in there?”

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