Page 55 of Heart Over Heels

We considered the power box again. Another threat. An escalation. First, the liquor shipment with bottles cracked open and leaking booze like blood across the parking lot, and now this. Maslow’s message was clear: he could cripple us, shut the Dollhouse down for one night or for good. He could make Beck’s business venture a failed enterprise, and then what?

Where would we go?

What would we do?

I pictured the dolls scattering like spooked birds searching for a place to land. Some of them would manage. Colt had enough grit to hustle his way through anything, and Callum would be right behind him, two parts of a package deal. Zephyr had secured a life as his Daddy’s cherished plaything, so he would never lack for luxury. But most of us needed the Dollhouse. We needed the stage, the lights, and the family we’d cobbled together.

I rubbed up my biceps, feeling hot and clammy all at once. “You’d think he’d find another supply, but I guess it’s not easy to find another bunch of suckers as gullible as we were.”

Mercer turned his gaze on me, and I wondered what he saw.

A demon in his underwear, liquor-slicked and shaken, or maybe stirred.

Was my hair still a mess?

Would he fix it again?

Did I want him to?

“I wouldn’t describe you as gullible,” he said.

A laugh caught in my throat. “Oh, I have been. More than once.” My mouth twisted. “But I learned better. Painfully. Once, fatally.” I flicked a look at him, unsure how I would explain if he asked for more.

When he held his peace, I summarized by declaring, “It won’t happen again.”

The statement settled between us. Mercer’s gaze darted sideways, chasing a double-decker bus as it barreled down the boulevard. It was long out of sight by the time he found his voice again.

“Do you like Bingo?” he asked.

The question startled a laugh out of me. “Come again?”

Mercer raked a hand through his hair as he looked me over, tracing the dip of my waist and the curve of my bare ass.

“This may not be the best time to ask, but I got invited to a Bingo night, and I wondered if you’d wanna come too.”

My tail gave me away, looping delightedly through the air before I could rein it in. “I’ve never played.”

“Oh.” Relief came as a smile that softened his whole face. “Well, it’s pretty simple. You get cards, and they call numbers. The prizes aren’t great, but?—”

“I’d love to,” I cut in.

Blush stained his cheeks, color interspersed with his stubble. “It’s at the VFW Post. Real casual. But it could be fun?”

He’d said more than a few words I didn’t fully understand, and I wasn’t sure if I was more agreeable to the idea of Bingo or how bashful he looked in the city’s evening glow. Either way, I rushed to reassure him.

“If I’m involved, it’s bound to be.”

His smile spread. “I believe that.”

I felt a little steadier. Tipsy still but increasingly grounded as the seconds dragged by.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Mercer said in the sudden quiet.

The statement left me confused. I peered up and found his face set.

“Any of you,” he said. “I promise.”

“I believe that,” I echoed.