Page 7 of Ride with the Devil

But I’m not here to get laid. I’m on the job, and since I’m in Springfield again to do another hit for Johnny Winter, it’s a biggie.

I’m happy to do it, too. Not only did Winter bump up my fee for me, but I’ll take any excuse not to have to return home for Christmas. My parents and my sister have no idea what I do—just that my work has me constantly traveling—but Lindy always gets mopey around the holidays.

Ten years later, and happily married to Charlie for three of them, and she still grieves for the bastard who nearly beat her to death before I took care of him for her. It’s almost enough to make me want to dig Jason up and shoot him again to see if that’ll finally shake his hold on my older sister.

Maybe I don’t get it. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been in love like that before. So desperate to be with one person that you’ll overlook everything… and who the fuck am I kidding? That bastard groomed her, beat her, and convinced Lindy that she loved him. Ifthat’s love? Then I’m glad I’ve never found someone to take my heart.

My pussy, sure? I’ll give that to anyone who wants it. It’s just sex. I like to experience pleasure, and I’ll reward any guy who gets me off first. Butlove?

I’m good.

That’s why I’ll wait and visit the family in Florida in the new year. Lindy will be back to her bubbly self, my parents will be relieved I stopped by at all, and I’ll lie about what I’ve been up to all while waiting for my next client to reach out...

Right now, I’m booked. Winter gave me a name and a deadline, and I’ve spent the last week and a half in Springfield—goddamn Springfield—working toward that December 25th deadline.

I told you. Johnny Winter is as broken as I am. Not only does he want one of the well-known figures in Springfield dead in a way that won’t get back to him—not while he’s biding his time, making it seem as if the Snowflakes have moved on to New York City instead—but he wants the man eliminated before Christmas.

It’s easier said than done. Because while everyone in the city knows my target, it’s not easy to get to a man like that.

Which is why I’m currently spending my Thursday night at the Devil’s Playground. If luck’s on my side, I might run into him.

Last night I partied on the East End, hoping that one or more of the Dragonflies I cozied up to would drop his name. Pretending to be tipsy—but not drunk enough that I went home with any of last night’s marks—I danced around the subject, but either they were well-trained or too low in the Family hierarchy to help me.

Same thing with my trip to Springfield City Hall, the court house, and even the local library. No dice.

This is my second trip to the Devil’s Playground. Rumors run that my target has been spotted here. And while it doesn’t have my usual panache, I have a small vial of strychnine, disguised as a tube of lip gloss, shoved inside my jacket pocket. All it would take is uncapping the vial and dumping the contents into his drink andvoila. I’m another fifty grand richer.

But I’m gunning for the hundred k bonus if I get my hands dirty. So while I could easily eliminate him if heisat the Devil’s Playground, I have my knife tucked away inside the sheath in my right boot in case I can get him alone first.

He’s married, but I’m not worried about that. Winter says that the marriage is on the rocks anyway, and with a coy smile and a crook of my pointer finger, I don’t think it would be too difficult to get him to leave with me.

And if I can’t, maybe I’ll see if that dark-haired guy with the smirk I bumped into near the bar would like to head back to my hotel instead?—

“—and Devil just said to keep our heads up and our guns ready. He has an emergency meeting with Collins tonight. Ten-thirty at the old video store. It’s supposed to be about the Snowflakes.”

I’m too good at my job to jump when I heard the name of my target—or my current client’s affiliation. I don’t pause, either, or stumble. I keep moving as though I didn’t catch the snippet of their conversation at all—and duck into the empty booth that’s right behind them.

I caught a flash of two suited guys leaning back into their seats. A glass was set before each of them, and though both of them were covered all the way to their wrists, I’d put fifty down that they’re hiding a devil tat somewhere beneath their shirts.

I expect a good chunk of the clubbers to be Sinners. This is their turf, the nightclub on their territory, and it’s run by one of the top guys in the syndicate. They’re untouchable here, and sometimes that makes them cocky and reckless.

Here’s hoping it’s one of those times.

THREE

A LEAD

KYLIE

Shifting in my seat so that I’m facing out instead of across the table, I lean out, sipping my drink, pretending like I’m searching the dance floor when, in reality, I’m doing everything I can to eavesdrop.

From my vantage-point, I can see the darker-skinned guy on the farther side of the booth. His hair is cut close to his scalp, his features hard, his eyes darting out into the crowd as he says in a low voice I can barely make out, “Shouldn’t he be going to see Harrison?”

“The mayor?” scoffs his companion. “I know you’re messing with me, but, shit, no. Everyone knows that Harrison is just a figurehead, Fade. He puts up the front while the vice mayor gets shit done.”

Fade snorts. “You mean Harrison fucks those aides of his while Collins runs Springfield.”

“Exactly. Harrison likes his twinks. Collins likes his palms greased. The SPD likes their bribes coming, too. As long as the wheels spin, the Sinners profit.”

---