Page 27 of Ride with the Devil

KYLIE

Not gonna lie, I was kind of hoping my pretty boy captor would take me up on my invitation and join me downstairs.

His reaction wasn’t like anything expected. I mean, he’s a mafia guy. Low man on the pole as the dude driving the leader around, sure, but he has a gun. A snub-nosed Ruger. He’s armed—and I’d bet my latest commission fee that he’s never pulled that trigger in a life-or-death situation before.

Is he a good criminal? Talk about an oxymoron. He stole me, but there’s no denying the flash of shame that crossed his face when he realized that he is way underprepared. Even a regular woman would need more than he has, but Luca had the misfortune to nab a high maintenance, exacting chick like me.

He wants a mountain prisoner? I’m game. It seems like it’s going to be fun. Granted, my outlook on life is a lot different from the ordinary person. If he annoys me, I’ve got my strychnine and, like, ten other ways to end him before I take his keys, steal whatever car he used to transport me here, and head back to the city.

And why should I? After what happened last night, I think I’m owed a little Christmas vacation. I was planning on finishing my contract and then flitting around, spending the holidays by myself before heading to Florida to visit my parents, Lindy, and Charles. A mountain cabin getaway with a guy as easy on the eyes as this Luca?

I like the idea of it more than I should.

I’m a healthy twenty-six-year-old with a pretty high libido. He’s gotta be close to my age, and unlike Devil, he doesn’t wear a ring on his finger. Sure, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a lady—or a guy—back in Springfield. It’s possible. Consider his looks, more than likely. But what if he got the babysitting gig because he’s like me: no real ties to anyone but the life we’ve chosen?

I’ll run with that. After all, if I’m stuck here, seducing Luca and using him to pass the time sounds like a plan.

I’m Kylie Ferguson. Ialwayshave a plan.

Sometimes I don’t think them through. I’ll admit that. I definitely caught him off-guard by breaking out of the cuffs and the chains so easily, but then making no move to leave the cabin. Now, do I believe he’d actually shoot me if I scoffed and tried to leave? My initial impression is a seventy/thirty split. He has a job to do, and if Devil gave it to him, he’ll do it.

But luckily for Luca, I don’t want to leave. Why should I? He has to take care of me for as long as I continue to act like I give a shit that Devil killed Springfield’s vice mayor. Please. I was on Skid Row to commit murder myself. Who am I to judge? But he obviously thinks I’m some poor innocent woman who saw too much.

I can use that.

So far, captivity isn’t half bad. As long as he doesn’t insist that I sit in a dark, gloomy basement in chains, I’ll be okay. Like he said, there’s a pretty decent bathroom downstairs, with a toilet and a shower stall and—yes—hot running water. The cot isn’t asplush as the one in my room at my parents’ condo, but when you spend your life in hotels, motels, and hostels, you get used to hard-ass mattresses. I’ll survive.

I don’t have my phone, but that could be a good thing. I’ve been meaning to unplug for a minute, and usually do when I’m not looking to take on a job for a few days. Not having a TV is going to be a dealbreaker if Luca doesn’t decide to be my entertainment, but I saw one upstairs. Once I can get him to understand that I’ll be the most willing captive in his kidnapping career, maybe he’ll let me upstairs to watch it. Or, if he’s going to keep me locked down here, I can bat my lashes and get him to bring it down.

Though, to be honest, I would rather he take one for the team and let me have some fun with him. That’s basically the outline of my plan. Be the model captive. Don’t try to escape, only ask for what I need, and do what Kylie does best: keep him off-guard. After our exchange upstairs, I’m not worried he’ll hurt me. He’s my baby-sitter, right? He wants me to side with him and his boss.

I might as well let him think that’s a possibility.

Until then, I’ll do what I can to get close to him. Have a little fun if he’s down for that. Without my phone, I can’t get into contact with my client anyway. As it is, Winter’s probably waiting for me to confirm that I made my kill. Then again, since I’m not off the grid—and he clearly has other eyes on the city while he’s tending to his enterprise elsewhere—he’s gotta know. And that’s assuming the news of the vice mayor’s murder doesn’t get out on its own. I mean, the guy was pretty high-profile in Springfield. I wouldn’t be surprised if the people there start wondering who did it.

Since Devil’s obviously not claiming the hit, why shouldn’t the Hummingbird?

Too bad I didn’t think to drop my figurine on Skid Row before Luca manhandled me into the trunk. I had to hide that and my knife under the interior instead, but it would’ve been so much if I left my calling card behind in Springfield.

Who knows? I might even suggest the idea to Luca once I have the driver wrapped around my little finger. He doesn’t need to know I’m the Hummingbird; in fact, I’m going to do everything I can from learning my little secret. But over the years, my rep’s taken on a life of its own. He has to have heard of me.

Why not give me credit for the kill?

Until then, I’ll play the role of the damsel in distress, Kylie-style. And when I’m not having fun anymore, I’ll get my revenge for him daring to drug me, then I’ll figure out my next move.

He has a gun. I’m banking on the fact that he has a phone, too, plus a car.

And, most importantly, no idea who he’s dealing with.

I shouldn’t have flippantly remindedhim to lock the basement door behind me.

It’s been hours since I came down here. Part of me hoped he’d follow after me when I mentioned taking a shower, but he obviously didn’t. I even left the bathroom door open so he knows I’m not hiding down here, but by the time I finished, grabbing one of the towels hanging off the hook in the small room, there was no sign of my captor.

That didn’t change.

I’m hungry. I found a box of slightly outdated granola bars in the fridge for some reason, plus three bottles of chilled water. I drank one, choked down a bar, and waited for him to check onme. When he didn’t, I checked the door. Locked. I didn’t want to push my luck and kick it open with my boot, so I banged a couple of times.

No answer.

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