Page 33 of Dance with the Devil

“It would be,“ I admit.

Doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it now. About sharing that experience with Genevieve, about how amazing the heat of her mouth would be on my skin, and how erotic it would be to know that no one else would’ve known that pleasure before.

“Cross…”

Someone bangs on the glass door of our cell. “Break it up, you two. This ain’t no lover’s hotel. You want to eat, move it. I’m coming in.”

Are you kidding? What happened? Winter saw the two of us actually content for once and sent his goons right on down to break up the peaceful moment?

Even worse, how did I miss the footsteps? True, Mickey was the one who always seemed to be the one who stomped, and Baker is big enough that he can’t help it. The man on the other side of the glass, holding the plate of… meatloaf and chips? I think it’s meatloaf and potato chips… that’s Noah. He’s a beanpole, so that explains how he was able to sneak up on us.

And then I see that guy that came with him, and my heart almost stops before beating triple-time.

You wouldn’t think he would be involved in something like this. A couple of inches shorter than the lanky Noah, with closely cut black hair, deep green eyes, and a pleasant if slightly unmemorable face, he’s the type of guy that you nod at, then forget once he’s out of your line of sight. He’s wearing a long-sleeved dark blue shirt—on purpose, I’m sure, since I know exactly what he’s hiding under there—and a pair of jeans a shade lighter, only highlighting the vibe that he’s a new recruit on a first-day-of-work tour.

Noah turns to him. “You remember that combination I told you upstairs? For the keypad?”

The other man nods. “I do.”

“Good. Take out your piece. You heard what he did to Mickey, yeah?”

His brow furrows. “This is the guy who?—”

Noah mimes a chomp. “Yup. Saw the aftermath of it myself. He got off a good inch.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah. That’s why you’re going to be in charge of these two. We got a new guest incoming if your intel pans out. If it doesn’t, forget everything I said. Winter won’t have you feeding them. He’ll make you one of them.”

The other man scoffs. “I have a rep in Hamilton. Winter looked into it before he accepted me into his crew. I already proved myself to him. When you get Falco’s girl, you’ll see. And I won’t just be a waiter. I’ve got bigger plans.”

Yeah, I think. He does, and I’m hoping like hell I know what they are.

Falco… I’ve heard of him. He’s this new gun runner who’s stationed on the East Coast. He’s been partnering with Devil in the business lately, but if he has something Winter wants, it looks like Winter’s plotting to take something Falco wants.

And this guy is supposed to be the one to provide it to Winter.

His dark green eyes glance off of me, running over Genevieve. There’s none of the lecherous desire that filled Mickey’s gaze, and for that I’m grateful.

I’d hate to have to pluck out a fellow Sinner’s eyes, even if he’s playing a part.

That’s got to be what’s going on here. How many times have I shared an energy drink with Devil’s driver, nudging him about what he was running from, and knowing that it would take a lot to get his ass back to Hamilton?

Too many. But if that’s where we are…

I keep my face neutral. If I even hint at recognizing him, we’re all fucked.

Though I can’t stay quiet when Noah plops the plate down without any preamble, leering at Genevieve like usual before turning to go.

I wait until the glass door has closed behind them to take a step toward it.

“I wouldn’t be in here if it wasn’t for Dave,” I spit out.

Noah rolls his eyes, but just like I hoped, I catch the other man’s attention.

“Dave?” The new guy… my old friend… is suddenly confused. “Name’s not Dave. It’s Luca.”

I know—just like I know from the way his expressionlooksconfused, but his eyes go hard, that he received my message, and he understood it.

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