Page 61 of Ride with the Devil

PICK YOUR POISON

KYLIE

When the countdown on New Year’s Eve hits zero all over the world, balls drop, fireworks go off, and couples kiss to mark the new year coming.

In Springfield, I thought it was poetic to set off the C4 detonator at the exact moment the clock struck midnight.

Everything was planned to the last detail. Up until the moment that Devil himself pressed the button that made everything goboom, I was working with Tanner to make my plan work. As the mafia fixer, Rolls McIntyre got what we needed to build the explosive, why my twisted brain came up with the plan. Tanner built the bomb, and using his computer know-how, helped me create a video to send to Winter so that he knows I’m working on taking Lincoln Crewes out.

After being ‘missing’ for weeks, I wanted to show Winter that I was all about finishing my contract. Smart as he is, he should’ve realized something was up when I offered to create the spectacle at a discount. I think, at this point, he was just so eager to take over Springfield for once and for all that he would’ve believed anything if it meant that Devil was out of his way.

I don’t know why he targeted Devil. If Damien—and his assassin wife who I’m very interested in getting to know—were responsible for Jimmy Winter’s death, it would’ve made sense that he’d go after the Dragonflies first, especially when he was interested in both the drug and counterfeiting trade ruled by the Libellula Family. The only thing I can think is that it wasDevilwho embarrassed Johnny.

And not even the man himself. It was his Sinners.

Cross da Silva was taken because he was part of Devil’s inner circle. More importantly, though, he had a thing going with Genevieve Libellula even before they were held captive together. Getting to Damien by going through his baby sister was a stroke of genius—until Luca slipped in under Winter’s nose, helping facilitate the break-out.

It was Devil and his men who humiliated Johnny Winter. And it was Devil who needed to die.

Well, not really. He did sacrifice two rooms off the back of the large building that houses the Devil’s Playground, as well as the rest of the Sinners headquarters. While I worked with Rolls and Tanner, Luca and some of the other Sinners in the know snuck in through the back to remove anything essential before it blew. They packed the rooms surrounding it with insulation in a bid to eliminate any further damage, and blocked off the area out back, claiming they needed the space for a New Year’s Eve event.

At eleven-forty-four, Devil entered the back. On his arm, Savannah Libellula, wearing a coat with a hood that hid her face. I snapped pictures as they slipped in so that I would have the timestamp, hoping to pass them off as Mr. and Mrs. Crewes arriving at the Sinners HQ just before midnight.

The real Mrs. Crewes is under heavy protection at her penthouse apartment, along with the Crewes’s daughter. With Rolls on-site at the Playground, making sure nothing goes wrong, he made sure his own wife was waiting with Devil’s.Though my plan hinged on making it seem as if he was out for the night, celebrating with the missus, there was pure murder on his face when I suggested it. Message received. No way in hell was he letting the Hummingbird near his wife, and thankfully Damien’s offered to play the part.

Everything went off without a hitch. At midnight, Devil exploded his own empty offices, and I was watching from a distance to get proof. The rumor mill was working over time, both gangs working together to spread the word that there were two casualties: Lincoln and Ava Crewes. In reality, Savannah went home with Damien, Luca drove Devil back home to his wife, and I sat under Rolls’s scrutinizing gaze while I waited for him to return for me.

When it comes to baby-sitters, I definitely prefer Luca.

Officer Burns and Coleman handled the police report. The news picked it up, too, which only furthered my proof that I accomplished what I set out to do: take down the Devil of Springfield. Devil murmured the name ‘Lazarus’ when he realized that, in a couple of days, he’ll have to either stay under or let the rest of the city he rules know he’s alive.

That, coupled with the rosary tatted on his arm, made me finally understand why a man with as much religious trauma as Luca has so willingly follows one christened ‘Devil’.

For now, though, he’s ‘dead’. It’s two days since I ‘killed’ him, and I’m finally going to meet Johnny Winter to settle my contract.

At least, that’s what the dark-haired, dark-suited man in the corner of the coffeehouse thinks is going to happen. Me? Fucking plans. I’m full of them.

And it’s up to me to pull this one off on my own.

It had to happen this way. Luca tried to insist that he join me, but for the last two years, I made my rep on working alone. Winter would know something was up right away if I broughthim with me, and I couldn’t even let him chauffeur me across state lines because I always rent a car and drive myself if I can.

Plus, we both agreed that I’d disappear for a couple of days if I manage to pull this off. That’s also pretty common for me, and especially now that I know Nicholas and Hunter Reed have figured out my identity, it’s probably for the best that I lie low before figuring out my next move… and I’m not fooling even myself because I already have a plan.

I usually do.

Today’s involved arriving at the coffeehouse, scoping out the car most likely to belong to Winter, slapping the C4 explosive to the underside, then meeting up with the man himself. I would pass over the thumb drive with all the proof I had that I finished off Devil Crewes, verify that I picked the right car, wait for him to drive off, and when I blewhimup, that would be another round of poetic justice.

You know what the best thing about plans are? That they’re never set in stone.

When I arrive at the coffeehouse, I don’t check the parking lot. I head right in, glancing around the space. I pick out two buff guys on different sides of the crowded shop. One is wearing a football jersey and jeans. The other is more stylishly dress, clad in a turtleneck and khakis. Each one has a perfect vantage point toward the door, and the man sitting in front of an expensive laptop in the corner.

Johnny Winter and two of his goons, I’m betting.

Pretending that I didn’t see them, I bop along, listening to the nonexistent music in my headphones. Only pulling them off, resting them around the back of my neck, when the barista takes my order, I pay for my coffees and move toward the side counter to wait for them.

Out of the corner of my eye, Winter is watching me. I turn, giving him a quick wave, before paying attention for the barista to call out the fake name I offered her.

I ordered the coffees black. Accepting them from the girl at the counter, I mosied over to the spot where customers can doctor their own drinks. I do, leaving one alone while pouring a splash of cream and three sweet ‘n lows into the other. A quick touch-up with my lip gloss, and with a cheery smile tugging on my lips, I carry both of the coffees over to Johnny Winter.

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