“Good. That’s one thing to feel thankful for.” Dotty tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “We can’t stay here much longer. These guys can’t keep doing this for free and while I could afford it for a while it’s not going to be cheap. Especially when nothing else has happened.” She stared at Monroe. “But I don’t like the idea of returning if you’re in danger. I think I’ll look into security for you.”
“I could just stay in the house and not go anywhere,” Monroe suggested. “Or, I could still disappear somewhere else for a while.” She looked lost as she suggested that.
“No, we all stick together,” Dotty said. “Just the way it’s always been. All for one, one for all.”
“The Three Cutie-teers,” Addie said.
“Still don’t like that name,” Dotty told her. “Have you not thought of anything a bit better? Or just not naming us at all.”
“I think it’s cute. Instead of musketeers, it’s cutie-teers,” Addie said.
And she couldn’t change it now. She’d had T-shirts made up. She just hadn’t been able to give them to her sisters yet.
“No, whatever we do, we do it together,” Dotty said firmly. “We’re not leaving anyone behind.”
Monroe looked kind of miserable, as if she didn’t agree, and Addie reached over to squeeze her hand. “Do you want one of my squishies?”
To her surprise, Monroe nodded, and Addie got up to go into the bedroom. She grabbed one that she’d made. They were all lined up on a dresser: the ones Ralen had made, the ones done by Cash, and hers.
She sighed sadly. That might be the last time she ever got to interact with a Daddy Dom, to call someone Daddy and she’d only really had a taste.
That was kind of sad.
She grabbed one that she’d made and took it back to Monroe, right as Butch walked into the living room again.
He was scowling, but then that seemed to be his default facial expression anyway, so she didn’t really pay too much attention.
“Vextar is dead.”
The words were shot out of Butch like bullets, and that’s the way they hit the three of them. Dotty sat up straight, thencollapsed back. Monroe gasped and grabbed her chest, and Addie sat right where she’d been standing on the floor.
Butch took in the three of them. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? Was he serious? He’d just told them that Vextar was dead.
Monroe’s husband was dead. Sure, she barely knew him and he’d trashed their hotel room and threatened them.
But still . . . this was big.
And Butch was acting like someone had told him that they’d run out of coffee. Actually, he’d probably be more upset about that.
“He’s dead?” Monroe asked. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. That’s what the cops told Ink. They want to speak to you, Monroe, about identifying him.”
“Identifying him?” Monroe cried.
“Why should she have to identify him?” Dotty said. “He’s the one that was trying to hurt her. Are you really asking her to identify the man that tried to kidnap her?”
“Well, to be fair, he wasn’t actually at the airport,” Monroe said.
“Yes, but in all likelihood, he’s the one that sent those men to grab you,” Dotty told her.
Monroe nodded.
“Either way, I don’t think she should be expected to go and identify this dead body. The police must have some idea that it’s him,” Dotty said.
“Well, he somewhat matches the description that Monroe gave them,” Butch explained. “But they would like her to identify him as well.”
