Page 52 of Ride with the Devil

She ghosts her fingers over the height of my nearest cheek. “Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Don’t give that murderer all the credit, ace. From the way I see it, you saved yourself. Now, let’s go have some lunch.”

I nod, even as I can’t help but think: Save myself? Maybe.

But I won’t stop until I saveher.

I’m actually prettyglad that Kylie knows just how much I owe Devil Crewes. Between that and how close we’ve gotten in the last two weeks, trapped together in Burns’s cabin, I think I accomplished what I set out to.

The morning after Christmas, she announced that—if only for my sake—she wouldn’t tell anyone about what she saw. That, if it was important to me that Devil get away with murder, then she was okay with it, too.

Part of me wondered if she only told me so because she thought it was what I needed to hear to finally drive her back to Springfield. Only I know now that she doesn’t even live there. She doesn’t live anywhere. Not really. She travels for work, taking shots everywhere she goes, living in and out of hotels. She shies away from the topic whenever I bring it up, but I assumed she’s some hotshot photographer.

Too bad I don’t know her last name. There’s countless Kylie’s with photo credits when I look them up, and even when I add an ‘H’ as a surname—assuming what the tat on her hand stands for—I can’t narrow it down.

And I need to.

I need to know everything about her.

In a very short time, this girl has become my life. My world. She’s what I think about first thing in the morning, waking up wrapped around her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her humor.

Hertaste.

She owns my thoughts. My fantasies. I’m fucking obsessed, and if she didn’t return my affection, I’d use every ounce of my upbringing to push her away. To remind myself that I’m not worthy of such an angel on earth.

But she does care. Oh, I know there’s no way she feels a sliver of the emotions I have for her. How can she? We just met… but it seems like I’ve waited twenty-seven years for her. So maybe ours isn’t a first meeting to brag about, especially when you consider that I’ve been her sole companion and undeniable captor these last two weeks. It doesn’t matter. I’ve waited my whole life for a woman like Kyie. Now that I have, I don’t want to lose her.

But she finally agreed. I got what I wanted from her. Sure, I wantmore, but if she’s going to keep Sinners Syndicate secrets… there’s no reason for me to keep her as a captive any longer.

There’s one good thing about it being directly after Christmas. I don’t expect to hear anything from Devil, Springfield, or the rest of the outside world. It was quiet in the lead-up to Christmas. I’m sure it’ll be the same before New Year’s.

And I get to believe that for two more days before I get a phone call.

From the beginning of our stay at the cabin, I kept expecting Kylie to go after my phone. I didn’t get one until I was long gone from Donovan, starting over in Hamilton instead. Though she’s only a year younger than me, she’s basically grown up always having access to her own phone. I figured that was the hardest part of being my captive, but Kylie never seemed to care.

Burns doesn’t have a landline or a computer in the cabin, even if he does have internet access. Without my phone, we’d be completely cut off from the outside world. Surprisingly, she thinks that’s the fun part of being up here with me.

Fun. That’s what she called it.Fun.

She’s gotten used to my fellow Sinners—and Burns, though I’m careful not to let her know it’s a cop who owns this cabin—checking in with me through the phone. Whenever it rings, she either heads into the basement to give me privacy or, more recently, telling me to take the call outside while she finishes watching whatever we have on the TV.

I don’t even wait for her impatient shooing motion. Once the phone rings and I seeBOSSin big, bold ladies on the screen, I point to the door. She nods, and I slip outside.

The entire time she’s been here with me, she’s never tried to escape. She could have easily, but she doesn’t, and I don’t even think twice about heading outside to take this call.

Once the door is closed behind me, I answer. “Hello?”

“Kid. It’s me.”

“Hey, boss. What’s up?”

The Devil of Springfield has earned his reputation. He’s a gruff, tough son of a bitch, but if you’re loyal to him, he can be your best friend. He called me on Christmas, despite knowing I don’t actually celebrate the holiday, and he’s been checking in on the situation as much as he has Rolls calling me.

That’s why I expect at least a cursory question about how the girl and I spent the rest of the holiday. But I don’t get it. Instead, Devil launches right into the conversation with a very pointed statement:

“The Hummingbird is working for Johnny Winter.”

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