Page 10 of Cruel Devil

My hand curls into a fist, until the ring bites into my flesh. Jaw bunching, I rush over to the stall door and pound against it.

"Hey! You done yet?"

Whoever's inside doesn't even bother replying.

Fuck this.

I didn’t want to ruin this woman’s day, but time's running out.

I kick the door in, wincing as it rebounds from the wall. The woman stiffens, and we stare at each other as she sits motionless on the toilet.

The toilet seat.

She yanks out her earpods, and her cellphone starts chimes merrily in her hand.

"You're playing Candy Crush?" I scoff.

She shrugs, looking guilty. "Bad date. I'm hoping he'll leave if I take long enough."

"Well mine's definitely not going anywhere. Scootch over, I need to use your window."

She hops up and flattens herself against the wall to avoid me. I clamber onto the toilet's cistern, shove open the small window, and hoist myself up.

"Wait!"

I glance back down at the woman in sheer curiosity. She digs in her purse and pulls out a few bills. "Some money for a cab."

Guess she thought I had to leave my purse at the table.

I lean back in, pursing my lips as a wave of tender solidarity sweeps through me. "Thanks, hon."

A moment later I'm dropping to the floor outside, and shoving the money inside Savage's jacket pocket as I slip it on. His smell puffs up, immobilizing me as I let it envelop me.

Guess I'm not the only one who's had bad luck with men. But Savage's men still haven't come looking for me, so maybe that's all changing.

But I should have known better. Lady Luck's always been a bitch to me behind my back.

A twig cracks behind me, but before I can even move into a defensive position, someone's ramming into me and pinning me face-first to the plastered wall behind the restaurant.

I would have yelled, but as soon as I open my mouth, there's a gun pressed to my back, pointed right at my heart.

"Going somewhere?" comes a low snarl—part man, part feral, pissed-off beast.

Chapter 5

Savage

“You sure about this place?” I ask Vito as we pull up to the massive wrought-iron gates outside Nico’s property.

“You said the nearest safe house, Savage. This is it.” He pulls out his phone, accesses a security app, and taps the screen. We both stare at the gate. It’s still closed. “What’s this street called again?”

“How many fucknests do you have?” I say, swiping the phone out of his hand.

I don’t even know what app this is, but it looks like it’s some kind of way for Vito to access his fucknests without the annoyance—I assume—of having to carry around a hundred remote controls.

Now I’m starting to call his safe houses that. But honestly, it’s not like he actually ever needs to use them as a safe house. Before me and Nyx hid out at his apartment close to that food truck where she’d been used as bait for Bogota, there’d never been anything “safe” about it.

Except the massive amount of condoms I saw in the vanity. At least my cousin practices safe sex.

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