Page 45 of Ride with the Devil

If it was anyone else but a high-profile politician in Springfield, none of this would’ve had to happen. How many men has Devil eliminated, whether personally or on his orders? The DA is always trying to get him on gun charges, plus sex trafficking. Murder? He’s as clean as a man can be with his rep.

Of course, that’s because of Rolls. That man and his crew can disappear anyone, but the vice mayor’s bodyneededto be found. Not only because there’s a witness being held captive by the Sinners, but because Collins’s brutal death was a message to one man: Johnny Winter.

He hasn’t come out of hiding yet. Devil thought he might, but it seems like the Hummingbird rumors must’ve confused Winter. Instead of coming after Devil because he offed one of his bought informants, he’s been putting out feelers, searching for the Hummingbird.

No one can find that guy, either.

Luckily, that means Devil gave the go-ahead to stay on the mountain with Kylie a little longer. At least through Christmas, and if shit doesn’t change one way or another, then possibly through the New Year, too.

I’m trying not to get too ahead of myself. Of course, when Kylie is sleeping and I’m watching the peaceful snore as itescapes her, I imagine a future where she pledged her loyalty to me, to Devil, to the Sinners before she agrees to marry and, yes, I finally get to fuck her.

Those are fantasies, though. Secret dark and twisted thoughts that I hold close since that’s about as much affection as I’ve had since the night she invited me between her thighs and I accepted.

No. Sorry. That’s not true. After she kissed me-and I creamed in my pants when I finally lost control of the erection I’d been fighting the entire time I was feasting on her delicious pussy-she was the softest, most sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. She didn’t let me go upstairs. Instead, she all but pleaded with me to stay down in the basement with her.

The cot had room for two if we squeezed, she pointed out. And after she let me fuck her with my mouth, it didn’t feel right to just go upstairs to an empty couch.

So I laid down with her. We slept-actually slept-and I had my first fully peaceful night in… well,forever.

I need that. I crave it.

I’ll do anything to have it.

I’m taking each day as it comes, though. The next morning, Kylie went back to her bubbly yet notably snarky self. She didn’t mention any of her murmured confessions from the night before. Following her lead, I stayed quiet myself.

Confession… that’s exactly what it reminded me of. Like when the prophet called you up to his pulpit and wouldn’t let you leave it until you admitted your deepest, darkest sins… and then, when you walked away, you wondered if you should have said anything at all.

I wonder if Kylie regrets what she said.

What wedid.

I can’t ask her. It’ll fucking kill me if she does. So, rather than face the reality that I’m living in denial-and delusion-I simplydid everything I could to give her a Christmas Eve that suits us both.

The fire in the fireplace burned. We watchedRudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeerand all of theSanta Clausemovies. We don’t have a tree, obviously, or any decorations, but while Kylie pokes at the steaks I ordered specifically for our dinner, I went out into the snow. By the time she realized I slipped outside, I was back, and I picked enough branches off of one of the evergreen pines outside to scatter in front of the fire, filling the cabin with the scent of Christmas.

We started out on opposite sides of the couch that morning. By the time our Christmas Eve together was over, she was snuggling next to me. Actually, she fell asleep nestled up against me, her hand splayed on my chest, her head resting on my bicep.

Like always, I watched her sleep until my own eyes got drowsy. Easing out of her snuggle, I got up, turned the fireplace off, then picked Kylie up in a bridal-style carry so I could bring her to the cot in the basement.

It hit me then that it was nearly the same thing that I did two weeks ago when I first brought her to Burns’s cabin. She was sedated last time so I could move quicker. Now? I refuse to disturb her rest. It takes twice as long to carry her downstairs. Once I have, I lay her out on the cot.

No chains this time. No handcuffs. I just tuck her in off to the furthest side of the cot before climbing in next to her.

It’s the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had.

Christmas is just as magical.

I wake up, reaching out for Kylie, my heart jumping into my throat when my hand slid across the cool sheet. My bodyrealized that she was missing a split second before my brain did. Unfortunately, that meant it was already moving before the panic hit me, resulting in all five foot eleven inches of me rolling off the bed, landing face-first on the concrete floor.

Fuck.

“Kylie?” With my face mashed against the floor, it comes out muffled. Shaking off the fall, I push up until I’m on my knees. “Kylie!”

No answer.

It’s Christmas. She wouldn’t have left. She has to be here. But where the hell did she go? She’s never left me alone in the basement before, and as I scrabble up, rushing for the stairs, I prepare myself to find the door locked.

I’ll kick that fucker down if I have to. My sneakers were left in the living room, but I don’t care. I’ll break a foot if I have to.

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