Page 113 of Heart Over Heels

I nodded my head at every detail, despite having checked it all three times already, and despite knowing we hadn’t even touched the disaster area upstairs and would likely be sleeping in the booths down here tonight. The same booths where the dolls sat now, waiting for curtain call. Everyone was in costume and done up in hair and makeup, a pretty picture of exhaustion as they heaped on top of and leaned against each other.

Callum dozed with his head on Colt’s shoulder, Elliot huddled in his shiny green suit, too spent to even glare, and Zephyr snuggled against Oz, who was absently finger-combing the incubus’s long red hair.

I stopped at the edge of the room and took them in.

Thiswas my everything, and it wasn’t lost or ruined. A bit frazzled, sure, but still intact. Still occupying this place and filling the holes in my heart.

If I let myself think too hard about what we’d been through in the last twenty-four hours, I’d unravel again. So, I straightened my apron, pasted on Luxe’s best smile, and then clapped my hands to get their attention.

“All right, fellas,” I said, voice bouncing off the walls. “The place looks good enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know better, and you all look like a million bucks, which just so happens to be about how much money we need to earn tonight.”

Weary chuckles spurred me to continue with another spirited clap.

“We’ve only got a few minutes left, so drink some water, fix your dance belts, and let’s get ready to give Vegas hell.”

Colt lifted two fingers in a lazy salute, and Zephyr gave a sleepy cheer. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me afloat.

I was ready to turn away when the thump of footsteps drew my attention to the stairwell. Beck descended from his office while wrestling with his tie. Even he looked rattled—hair mussed, jaw tight, and composure cracking.

He stopped at the bottom of the steps to rub his eyes and coax the tie into submission, then he moved toward us while scanning the room with an air of assessment.

“Everything ready?” he asked as he drew up beside me.

“As it’s gonna be,” I replied.

He nodded. “Colette’s doing her final walk now.”

A pang of sadness caught in my chest. Our resident hellhound would be manning the door and managing the crowds alone tonight, and that felt… wrong. I’d grown accustomed to having a second set of hands, the kind that occasionally held mine, and another pair of eyes that watched me whether I was in or out of the spotlight.

I shouldn’t have missed Mercer. Shouldn’t have thought about him at all. I had a job to do, and mooning over the most average man in Nevada was not part of it.

Colette would suffer more than I would. That was worth focusing on, so I did.

“It’s going to be a lot for her to handle alone,” I said.

Beck huffed a laugh. “Good help was the one thing I couldn’t acquire on short notice.”

Before I could answer, Zephyr slid out of the booth and padded over, his spandex Miss Scarlett costume hugging the sleek lines of his body. He sidled up to Beck, eyes aglow and mouth curved in that soft way that was invitation and innocence at once.

Beck’s hand found Zephyr’s hip, then skimmed down his side with a possessive kind of care. He bent close to Zephyr’s ear and whispered, “You hungry, Beauty?”

Zephyr wet his lips and nodded. Beck kissed his forehead then lifted his gaze to the rest of the dolls. The tenderness vanished, replaced by something sharp and resolute.

“Listen up,” he said. “You all did good work. The place looks better than anyone could’ve expected. So tonight, we put on a show that reminds this city who we are. The Devil’s Dollhouse doesn’t die easy.”

There was that word again: easy. It made me tense and fearful all over again because ifthiswas easy, I wasn’t sure I could handle hard.

Another straggler joined our little circle, his arrival heralded by the flash in Callum’s green eyes as they tracked movement behind us. I turned to see Rush coming over with a bar towel hanging from one shoulder and his sleeves rolled up like always, the picture of a man who’d been working nonstop. He’d stuck it out with the rest of us all night, only taking breaks for a few mad dashes to the restaurant supply store.

The club mixologist took a lot of pride in his work and in the condition of the bar area, so the destruction must have rattled him too. Now, though, he looked determined, hair swept back in a loose bun and sweat glistening on his bronze skin.

Beck, Zephyr, and I turned toward him as he closed on us.

“Mister Beckett, I need keys to the cooler.”

Beck peeled away from Zephyr and patted his slacks pockets before asking, “What keys? What cooler?”

Rush shifted his weight, quietly insistent. “In the back where we keep the extra kegs. The fridge has a padlock on it. I’ll need in there later if we get any kind of crowd.”