Chapter 25
“Where did Vixey disappear to?” Dove scans the club, which has only gotten busier as the night wears on.
Exhaustion hit me like a freight train ten minutes ago. I’m ready for pajamas, bed, and to scrub off this makeup. As the weeks pass and the baby grows, my will to complete the whole getting-ready routine has evaporated. It takes as much energy to paint my face as it does to wash it off.
“Maybe she decided to go fuck belt guy after all?”
Annoyance creeps into my bones. Dove won’t leave without the other blonde, but Vixey’s been gone nearly twenty minutes.
“Or maybe the line for the bathroom is just really long? She did take a lot of shots. I feel bad for challenging her to drink me under the table. I thought her tolerance would be better.” Dove pushes onto her toes even though that does nothing for her height. “I’m going to text her again.”
As she pulls her phone from between her breasts, Vixey breaks through the crowd with a sheepish look. “Hey, sorry. That took way longer than expected.”
“You’re fine! We’re ready to go, though. Is that okay?” Dove asks, already turning toward the exit.
Even with the lights casting everyone in blue, pink, and purple, I can tell Vixey’s pallor is off. She looks spooked, and she’s trembling.
Alarm bells go off. My hackles rise, and I pivot into a protective mode I never thought I’d have where she’s concerned. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Her head snaps to me—and instantly she relaxes. All signs of distress melts away, replaced by fatigued contentment. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired. Ready when you are.”
She takes off after Dove, who’s grabbing my jacket at coat check and misses our exchange. Suspicion needles me, but I drop it after one last glance at the raised level. The nameless man from earlier stands at the railing, watching Vixey with intrigue.
Wherever she was, I’d bet he was there too.
For some reason, instead of giving me a bad feeling—especially after how she looked coming back—a sense of relief washes over me, almost like foreshadowing.
Whoever he is, I have a notion he’s someone she wants in her corner, and this won’t be the last time we see him.
“I remember when I was that age. I could stay up till four and wake at six, ready for work. I didn’t take her for such a lightweight.
” Dove points her slice of pizza toward the living room, where Vixey is dead asleep on my sofa.
She didn’t even stay awake long enough to enjoy the pie we grabbed on the way to my place.
Dove held the food under her nose to try to rouse her, but the girl was gone the instant her head hit the pillow.
Checking the oven clock, I nod and pluck a crispy pepperoni to pop into my mouth. “Yeah, she’s not what I expected at all.”
“Told you. She’s a sweetheart.” Dove kicks off her platforms and sinks into a chair at the kitchen table. “I’m not saying you have to be best friends, but we had fun tonight, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave her off. “She’s more tolerable after Hunter gives me an orgasm.”
“And the dogs love her.” Dove keeps ticking off reasons to keep Vixey around.
It surprised us both when all three dogs curled up on the sofa with her like she wasn’t a stranger. Our animals usually have more stranger-danger sense, but then again, Fang fell in love with Wrenley instantly. Yasha and Maru, however, don’t typically take to people they don’t know.
“I get it, Love Dove. I’ll stop being a bitch to her.”
Silence settles between us as we finish our pizza. Dove’s phone pings every few seconds, and she stares at it with a giddy grin. Wild to think six months ago she and Wrenley couldn’t stand each other—now they’re engaged, he knows about her extracurriculars, and they’re still in the honeymoon phase.
“Let me guess, Wrenley wants you home?” I tap my screen to see if Hunter messaged.
Nothing.
Disappointment trickles in—along with the possibility he got called in because Gwendolyn wanted to see him.
The little tart beckons him at all hours, and I don’t understand why he puts up with it.
He says it’s because she has seniority over him, but if that’s the case, then he should file a sexual harassment claim.
“No.” She flicks her gaze to mine. “He knows we need girl time. He just got home and said Hunter left when he did. Hunt wanted him to tell you his phone died.”
I don’t know why that doesn’t make me feel better.
“Have you done any more recon on the Christmas guy?” Dove slides her phone away and gives me her full attention.
My hand drifts to my bump. In six weeks, baby bean will be even bigger. How am I supposed to kill a man with a stomach the size of a soccer ball?
“There’s not much to do. He’s a bastard who made his wife have three kids she never wanted and abused her through each pregnancy. I was already working on him before his trip. The belly will be a turn-on for him. It’ll be easy.”
Tiny taps click across the kitchen as Maru pads in and settles behind Dove’s chair, ears swiveling toward the front door, then the living room. I check the door cam, but the street is empty, greenery swaying in the courtyard.
“Want help with this one? I worry about you. I know you can handle yourself, but you’ll be farther along and…” She trails off, her big blue eyes glistening.
“You think I’m putting the baby in danger.” Not a question. “Come on, Dove. Let the Shadow Siren go out with a bang. It’s not like I’ll keep killing after the baby is born.”
Maru barks sharply, startling us both. He isn’t sitting anymore. He’s standing, shaking with the force of his wag, staring at the threshold where the kitchen meets the living room. Dove keeps talking, but my attention locks on the dark opening.
“Maybe I should retire the Doll, too. Can you imagine that headline? The Baby Doll Killer and Shadow Siren disappear from Manhattan?”
“Dove, stop talking.” Slowly, I step out of my stilettos and rise, keeping one heel in my hand, the point outward. Maru’s tail keeps wagging as he watches whatever has him rapt.
Flashes of the letters that keep appearing strobe through my head as I creep toward the hall that leads into the other side of the living room. Dove’s brows pinch as she swivels. Whoever is in my house is trapped with two very pissed-off serial killers.
Someone broke into my house.
Anger spikes when I think about my baby. Mama bear energy surges, fueling me with adrenaline as Yasha and Fang join Maru’s delayed alerts. I hear the scraping of Dove’s chair against the kitchen tile. Whoever is in the living room starts moving toward my end in hurried steps.
Raising my shoe, I get ready to slash the intruder’s throat. A flash of green darts under my swing, nearly slamming into me as it runs from Dove. The lights snap on.
“Vixey?” Dove and I shout together, and the tall blonde’s eyes go wide with fear.
Well, fuck. I was just beginning to like her, too.
“I swear, I won’t say anything!” The dark-blonde girl shakes her head frantically, wide honey eyes ping-ponging between Dove and me.
“You’re damn right you won’t.” My snarl is more annoyed than dangerous.
To her credit, Vixey walked herself down to the basement without us having to manhandle her, willingly sat in a chair, and even said Dove could zip-tie her, if we wanted.
Either she has a death wish or she’s really desperate for friends.
“Why were you eavesdropping?” Dove asks. Her tone goes flat, all the cotton-candy sweetness melts into something poisonous as the Baby Doll Killer surfaces.
“I’m sorry. I woke up and heard you talking, so I was going to join you, then I overheard what you said about the Siren and stopped to listen.” Vixey trembles, mascara tears streaking her golden cheeks. “Dove, I swear I won’t rat you out. I’ve always admired the Siren and the Doll.”
Dove sighs, and I know this is taking a toll on her. She really likes Vixey, and if it comes down to it, I’m not sure she can take her out. “Anyone in your position would say that, Vix.”
The stairs took it out of me, so I pull another chair over and sit, fiddling with the heel cap of my stiletto. Once it’s loose, the tiny dagger springs free, newly sharpened. Vixey squeaks and shakes harder as I meet her gaze.
“As much as I’m sure you won’t believe me, I’m not going to enjoy this like I once might have.”
We only have one option: eliminate the witness.
Yesterday, I might’ve been happy to press my blade to her throat and wallow in the gurgles as her life bled out.
Today, the thought upsets me. My stomach roils at the thought of spilling her blood.
Or is that baby bean moving?
Whatever it is, it’s swimming around in my stomach and threatening to send my pizza back up.
“You don’t have to do this. You can trust me.” For how scared she is, Vixey’s voice is firm, determined to change our minds even as her tears keep falling.
“And why would we do that?” Dove unsheathes a black-steel dagger, testing the point against her finger.
Vixey heaves a sigh, casting her gaze to the ceiling. Shaking her head before she speaks. “Because I’m a killer too.”
Silence follows.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Vixey watches us with wide, pleading eyes. Dove and I look at each other.
Four.
Five.
Six.
We both burst into laughter. Not the Doll’s childlike giggles or the Siren’s sultry chuckles—pure, uncontrollable amusement.
“You? A killer? Of what? Coordination?” I double over, clutching my stomach.
“Grace?” Dove belts between guffaws.
“All the glasses at the bar?” I wipe a tear.
Vixey scowls. “You are both so rude,” she spits like a petulant child.
“You want to know why I was gone so long tonight? A guy tried to take me out back and have his way with me by the dumpsters. He manhandled me out the door, so I handled him right back. He tripped and fell and hit his head. I left him for dead… at least I think he was dead.”
She crosses her arms and slouches, bottom lip jutting as we roll over the information she’s divulged.