Page 54 of Dance with the Devil

A good man wouldn’t have lost control twice, coming inside of her, trying desperately to mark her as his even when he knew that she never would be.

A good man…

I’m not a good man. But, for Genevieve, I’m trying to be. And if that means I have to keep my distance, staying away from her for her own good, I will.

I promised I would protect her. I failed when we were trapped together. I won’t fail this time.

So I blocked her number so I couldn’t be tempted. Then, because I’m a fucking hypocrite, I take a ride over to the East End on my bike just to be as close to her as possible whenever I can.

Who needs sleep when I can torture myself by staring up at her window like some lovesick Romeo standing beneath his untouchable Juliet’s balcony?

Don’t think about Genevieve, I tell myself pointlessly. I’d be better off trying to convince myself to stop breathing. It’s thathard to do, and I rub my chest, grasping for something else to distract Rolls and me both.

“Baby doing good, too?” I ask.

Rolls cracks open the energy drink. He holds it out to me, I refuse, and he takes a swallow. His handsome features twist as the taste hits him. “You like this shit?”

“It grows on you.”

His look tells me that he’s not so sure he agrees, but he takes a second sip anyway. “Baby Clare’s doing just as great. That’s something else that grows on you, too, I guess.”

Oh? “What do you mean?”

Rolls deep blue eyes gleam. “My Nic’s having a little baby fever of her own. I told her let’s get this trouble with the Snowflakes sorted and we can start giving it a serious try ourselves.”

I know Rolls. Even when Nicolette was one of our waitresses and supposedly off-limits to Sinners, he was so obsessed with her, he wagered ten grand on a bet to win a night with her. I also heard a couple of guys talking about how he disappeared into a Playground supply closet before they started dating officially. Add that to how possessive he was of her when he brought her to me so I could do her cover-up and… yeah.

In a way, I guess I’m just shocked she didn’t get knocked-up as quickly as Devil’s bride did. Still, I raise my eyebrows at him and ask, “What the hell have you two been doing already?”

He grins. “Lots and lots of practice.”

NINETEEN

IMPOSSIBLE

CROSS

My answering laugh sounds rusty and unused, and it nearly shocks us both as it bursts out of me.

To be fair, I don’t think I’ve laughed since I was sitting in my studio all those weeks ago, with Genevieve swinging her entrancing dancer legs as she absently flipped through my book of designs. She was always saying the most amusing things when we were first getting to know each other—when I foolishly convinced myself I could be satisfied with being herfriend—like her sunny personality and her sass could be the foil to the lingering darkness inside of me that I’ve never been able to shake.

Rolls visibly relaxes a little at the sound of my amusement. “Good to see you haven’t forgotten how to do that,” he teases.

My laugh dies down as I swap it for a sigh. “They caged me up, Royce,” I say, using his real name. Unlike me, he doesn’t even react. He’s as much Royce as he is Rolls, while I’ve buried the last of Carlos a long, long time ago. “They treated us like dogs.” The way they starved us, then threatened to make us eat off the floor. How Mickey wanted to force Genevieve to blowhim, then greedily agreed when I offered in her place. How they would’ve shot us if I didn’tmounther andruther, no better than a mindless animal. “Worse than dogs,” I spit out. “I’m surviving, sunshine. That’s the most I can do right now. Everything else is a bonus.”

His expression shadows over just as quickly as I lost my laugh. “I know. It’s hard sometimes. Trust me. Iknow. But that’s why I’m here. When shit gets rough, you need to know you’re not alone.”

My gut goes tight. Rolls is right. Of course he is. I’d expect no less from this man.

But the words… they’re familiar, too, and that affects me more than the sentiment behind his statement.

I said something similar to him once, years and years ago, right after everything went down with Rolls’s younger cousin and that Dragonfly girl he was obsessed with. Back when Rolls wrongfully convinced himself that the brewing war between the East End and the West Side was all his fault because he was there the night Heather Valiant was shot and killed, and when Devil made it clear that he was backing up his second even if it meant war between the Sinners Syndicate and the Libellula Family.

Tensions were high. Bodies started dropping, and none of us knew who to trust. I didn’t care about any of that. I went and visited my old friend just like he searched me out tonight. I told him how much it hurt to lose the ones you tried to protect, and even if he barely knew Heather, she’d turned to Rolls when Jake McIntyre wouldn’t take no for an answer. Just like I did for Genevieve, Rolls promised to protect her—and the poor girl died anyway.

No surprise that he blamed himself for it even if he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, and I know him well enough now to see that he always will. Just like I’ll never be able to think ofAna Lucia, Rafe, and my mother without wishing I’d been in the apartment the night they died.

Could I have saved them? I was twelve. The fire burned so quickly… so, no. I couldn’t have saved them. But I wouldn’t have had to live the next twenty years with survivor’s guilt if I had died with them.

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