Page 123 of Heart Over Heels

Swinging toward Colt, I declared, “Pinch me.”

His brow quirked. “Like on the arm or…”

The tilt of his head drew my attention to the Stetson shadowing his face—the very same hat I’d told him absolutelydid not belong with his Mister Peacock costume. So now Miss Peacock was a cross-dresseranda cowboy. Perfect.

Stepping forward, I caught both twins by their elbows and hauled them toward the crowd. “Help me. We need to get everyone out of here so the police can look around.”

“Look for what?” Colt asked.

“Bodies, Colt. Dead ones. OnCluenight.” I sighed. “And if either of you makes a crack about a lead pipe, I’m going to lose it.”

It was no small task to shut down the Dollhouse in the middle of a shift, but after Colt got the idea to start telling people there was a gas leak, it went a lot quicker. Callum protested that a gas leak would bring the fire department rather than the police, but he couldn’t argue with the results.

Zephyr, Oz, and Elliot chipped in toward the end, checking bathrooms and hallways for stragglers and herding them toward the exits. Lastly, Rush emerged from behind the bar and caught up to where we’d gathered with Beck, Colette, and the cops, who looked more than ready to start tearing the place apart.

A third officer had joined them, accompanied by a pair of German Shepherds in black tactical vests.

“What is this?” Colette narrowed her eyes on the dogs. Both animals shrank under her attention, ears flattened and tails tucked as they whined low in their throats.

“Cadaver dogs, ma’am,” said the officer holding the leashes. “They’re going to assist in the search.”

Colette swelled with a haughty breath and gave her ponytail a toss. “Ridicule. You think your mortal mongrels can do a better job than me? I’ll find the corpses myself.”

“There are no corpses, Coll,” Beck told her, his voice strained. Then to the officers, he offered a tight smile. “No corpses,” herepeated. “This is all a misunderstanding, I’m afraid. But as you can see, we’re happy to cooperate.”

Between the press of law enforcement and the territorial hellhound, Beck was pushing the limits of his composure. I wasn’t sure what would happen if he dropped the veil and went full demon mode in front of the LVPD’s finest, but it wouldn’t be good.

Zephyr must’ve noticed the disruption because he drifted close and tucked himself under Beck’s arm, either offering or seeking comfort. Maybe both.

The higher demon took him in then bent to brush his lips against Zephyr’s brow before straightening again.

“All right, gentlemen,” he told the cops. “The floor is yours. Would you like me to show you around, or?—”

“Are there any walk-in coolers or freezers on the premises?” one of the officers asked. “Maybe in the bar area?”

Everyone turned toward Rush, who stood slightly back, paused in the middle of retying his apron. He glanced sidelong at Beck, conveying something with his dark eyes. Emphasis. Or concern.

“There’s a few, yeah,” Rush said slowly.

“Mind showing us the way?” the officer asked.

“Not at all,” Rush replied while keeping his gaze trained on Beck. Waiting for something, though I wasn’t sure what.

He led the officers toward the bar while the dogs weaved among them, noses twitching. Beck followed, and I brought up the rear, my nerves prickling as I tried to place that odd look Rush had given him, seemingly spurred by the mention of the walk-in.

Then it hit me.

Before opening, somewhere between sleepy pep talks and double-checking the bar stock, Rush had asked Beck for a key. To the cooler. To a lock of unknown origin.

I suddenly had a pretty good idea where it came from.

Darting forward, I caught the sleeve of Beck’s suit coat. “Becky,” I hissed under my breath.

He turned with a scowl and whispered back, “What?”

“Do you have that key?”

“What key?” he snapped, matching my volume but missing my urgency.