Page 10 of Ride with the Devil

Sometimes he’s quick. Like with Twig. That idiot disrespected Ava in front of the whole syndicate, and Devil shot him in the junk first, then finished him with a headshot. That got the message across. Treat Mrs. Crewes with respect or you’d be next.

Bobby deserved a more brutal death after he sold out Devil’s wife to Damien, but we were on a time crunch for that one. I needed to speed across Springfield so that Devil could confront the head of the Dragonflies and get his wife back. Bobby died, but Devil regrets that it was over so quickly.

He got his aggression out with Dave. Taking one of his men, working with an enemy to sell-out all of Springfield next… Dave got exactly what he deserved.

And so will the vice mayor.

Devil warned me that he would take as long as he had to to get us much information out of Collins as he could. If Damien’s information was wrong, if Collins wasn’t working with Winter to allow the Snowflake and their product to infiltrate Springfield, the meet would be a quick one. But if Devil used his proven techniques to get Collins to admit that he is on Winter’s payroll?

This could take a while.

I’ll wait. I’m good at that. The car’s got the heat on, and while I usually listen to the radio while I drive, I have the volume on low so that I can hear it if Devil needs me.

So far, so good?—

Knock,knock.

Shit.

I jolt at the unexpected rap on my window, one hand dropping to the gun kept in my console, the other landing on the bottom curve of the steering wheel.

I fucked up. Searching for some sign that Devil was done with the vice mayor, I completely neglected to keep my eye on my surroundings. It’s about ten-twenty, ten-thirty on a Thursday night on the far side of Skid Row. Not even the streetwalkers claim this territory—which is why Devil holds meetings just like this one—and I never expected anyone to come this way after dark.

Especially nother.

My heart leaps to my throat when I see the face peering in through my driver’s side window.

Fuck, she’sgorgeous.

That’s all I can think about for a split second as I gape like an idiot up at her. Everything about her features is simply stunning. She has this narrow face with just enough softness that she seems a little bit younger than I am. It’s hard to tell just what her complexion is beneath the few-and-far between lamplights, but it reminds me of the color of coffee with a good splash of milk in it. Her hair is a few shades dark; all loose and wild curls barely tamed by her ponytail.

She’s smiling at me, gesturing with her fingers for me to roll down my window.

I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.

Ido.

“Hi.”

Unable to speak just yet, I nod a greeting at her.

She giggles, a touch nervously. “So. I’ve been wandering around for, like, the last twenty minutes or so. My friend told me that he lives down here, just past the old Blockbuster, but here’s the Blockbuster, and I don’t see anywhere like my friend describes. Then I saw your car and, well… I thought maybe you might know where I’m supposed to go.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Uh, maybe. Your buddy give you an address?”

She shakes her head, curls bouncing as she does. “I’m terrible when it comes to shit like that. I’m better with landmarks, but he said it’s a building with at least twenty floors. I mean,duh. His apartment is 20D. But I’ve gotta be wrong. Maybe there’s another Blockbuster that went out of business.”

Not that I know of. “Sorry, but you’re right. The big apartment buildings start around Sixth. We’re on Fourth.” Reaching out of the window, I point. “Try heading back that way. It’s still close enough, and he’s probably that way.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Thanks for helping. I mean, I’d call him to give me better directions, but, stupid me, I left my phone at home.”

Take mine.

That’s what a good guy would do. Help the damsel in distress, give her my phone to make a quick call—to her friend, or to a car service since she’s on foot and I obviously can’t offer her a ride—and get her off the dangerous streets of Skid Row at night.

However, I can’t—and not just because, as a Sinner on duty, I know better than to get involved with this bubbly beauty. I can’t because, suddenly, we’re both interrupted by an ear-splitting sound.

Bang.

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