Page 61 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

Adam Maine.

“His injuries were too substantial to have been carried out by someone of your size,” he says gruffly. “Him being hit with a truck is a hell of a lot more likely.”

“Just like I said,” I mutter under my breath, earning a nudge of warning from Dillon’s foot. I flip through the medical report. There’s a bunch of jargon I don’t understand sandwiched between the words that do stand out: collapsed lung, broken femur, shattered ribcage, broken breast bone, collar bone, hip bone, internal bleeding from a punctured kidney…the list goes on and on.

“How he’s alive is anyone’s guess,” Stanton says. “The doctors are baffled, but it’s good for you that he is. When he recovers, we can question him.”

“So I’m cleared?” I ask. “I can come back to work?”

“I’m not going to lie, Phillips,” Stanton grumbles, “you going all Mad Max at a fucking craft fair full of civilians—mostly grandmas and shit—and this whole bit with the crowbar where a half-dead guy ends up in the hospital is not the best news to come out of this precinct. It won’t be the last either. However, I am going to need you to take a longer leave of absence until this case is resolved. You’re too close to it. Too damn involved. So, no, you’re not cleared. Not yet.”

My mouth pops open, but he holds his hand up to stop me.

“Don’t argue with me on this,” he warns. “This is not a request.”

“And me?” Dillon asks him.

Stanton leans forward on his desk, clasping his hands together. “You will work this fucking case and find out if that maniac from Phillips’ past has come back to toy with her. If he has, we take this sonofabitch down.”

My mind is racing.

I can’t think or sit still.

All I can do is pace and pace and pace around my living room.

I’m driving Dillon bonkers.

“I can’t just do nothing,” I complain to a fatigued Dillon.

He scrubs his now scruffy jaw with his palm and shoots me a firm glare. “You don’t have a choice in the matter right now, Jade. This fucker is out there trying to set you up. Who knows what his end game is. It’s too risky,” he growls. “I won’t riskyou.”

I know what Benny wants.

Dirty little doll.

“I want you to promise me you’re going to stay here, rest, and let me do my job.”

“Fine,” I huff, waving my hand in the air, defeated.

“Jade,” he warns.

“I promise.”

He places a kiss on my nose and leaves me. As much as I want to go after Benny, I don’t have any leads. The events of the day catch up to me and I barely make it to my couch before I pass out.

I wake with a start and for the first time, I’m not shrieking when a man touches me in the dark. The rough fingertips threading into my hair are familiar. Peppermint with a hint of coffee envelops me and I recognize the scent to be Dillon’s.

“What time is it?” I murmur, attempting to make out his form in the darkness.

His full lips press against mine and I part my lips, granting him access. He kisses me hard until I’m gasping for air.

“Late.” His whispered answer doesn’t tell me anything. He gently skims his palm over my T-shirt, cupping my breast in the process. I let out a needy moan to which he chuckles. Deep and warm. Inviting. Rubbing my thighs together, I attempt to alleviate the need throbbing for him at my core.

“Anything new I should know about?”

Dillon clocks out at five, if at all possible. The fact that he’s here hours later tells me something came up.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growls.

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