Page 12 of Ride with the Devil

Shit. The trunk was for the vice mayor. And while Devil can easily call up Rolls and his clean-up crew to take care of Collins after all, I don’t see why he has to terrorize the poor girl even further by stowing her in the back like that.

She saw something she wasn’t supposed to. Even in a city like Springfield, where the cops are crooked as fuck, bought and paid for, there’s a limit to what the local mafias can get away with. Murdering a high-ranking member of the city’s government? With awitnessto the aftermath and Devil’s casual discussion of Vice Mayor Collins’s dead body?

To make a statement in Springfield—to keep his position of power—Devil has to remind the rest of us just how he earned his nickname. And while he didn’t go so far as to use a knife to sever the vice mayor’s head from his neck… as far as I know… he ended Collins. Sometimes bodies have to disappear. Sometimes they need to be left somewhere to make an impact.

Springfield needed to know that Collins betrayed Devil, and because of that, he paid with his life. But while there would be no doubt that he was the murderer, Devil would never allow there to beevidencethat could end his reign of power.

And if this girl tells anyone what she saw…

No. She’s an innocent. She could be swayed. It doesn’t have to be like this.

Thou shall not?—

“I said, put her in the trunk, Luca.”

Damn it, I put her in the trunk.

It’s easierthan it should be.

I expected her to resist. To scream. Tofight. She doesn’t do any of that. Despite begging only moments ago for me to release her, the moment that Devil tells me to put her in the trunk, she seems to shut down. It’s not even like she goes limp, either, too frightened to do anything but give in. She just lets me maneuver her any way I want until I’ve tilted her back into my arms before guiding her headfirst into the trunk.

She even helps me by tucking her legs in, and that makes me feel infinitely worse. Like she knows what’s coming, that she’s resigned to it, and when I meet those big, frightened eyes again, my heart stutters in my chest.

I can’t explain it. I’ve only just met this girl, and part of me wants to risk Devil’s wrath by hefting her out of the trunk again and telling her to run.

As it is, I’m surprised that Devil didn’t just fire off another round when he realized there was a witness. The man I first started working for would have, but as brutal as he could bethen, that’s nothing compared to how a man acts when he has something to lose.

He has a wife to protect. A baby to protect. A syndicate to lead… and enemies coming at us from all sides.

Devil won’t just shoot first anymore. He has questions, and he uses his methods to get answers. I know that’s what he was doing behind Blockbuster before he finished the vice mayor off. Getting the politician to spill his guts about what he did for Winter, then blowing him away when he was done.

Is that what he plans for this poor girl? Find out just what she saw, then she’ll become just another casualty? Collateral damage of the wars between the Sinners and our enemies?

I know what kind of man Devil is. I begged him to let me work for him for just that reason. I might not be a killer myself, but I respect how far the boss will go to keep the Sinners safe and in power. Snitches get stitches. Traitors die.

But pretty girls who got lost and saw something they weren’t meant to?

I can’t let her go. As much as I want to, to disobey Devil is as much of a death sentence as meddling in mafia biz. But that doesn’t mean I can’t figure out a way to keep the boss happyandhelp the brunette in the trunk out of this mess.

I dip my hand into my jacket pocket, searching for the small vial I never leave home without.

Unlike most of my fellow Sinners, I don’t carry a piece on me. Even those of us who don’t serve as enforcers or handle clean-up for Devil are often armed. That’s kind of our thing. The Sinners Syndicate run the guns and weapon trade in the city, and keeping a gun on our hip is as much advertising as it is practicality in this line of work.

Like how Rolls has his Beretta, and even Cross carries, but the mafia fixer and artist rarely fire them. I technically have a Ruger for protection—Devil insists—but I keep it in the town carmost of the time, only relocating it to my personal vehicle when I have a rare day to myself.

The vial, though? That’s more my speed, and something I’ve hung onto since I volunteered to infiltrate Winter’s holding facility in Hamilton to rescue Cross. Tanner gave me one of the knock-out drugs our tech guy had perfected for Mace Burns a year or two back. I couldn’t risk bringing my Ruger, but if my cover was blown, I could jab one of the other hired goons with the injector and hope it knocked them out so I could make my escape.

I kept it after we were all back in Springfield again. I doubted that Winter would come after me once he realized I was working for the Sinners all along. Just in case, it seemed like a good idea to hold onto the knock-out drug for an easy out without worrying about adding the ninth tally mark to my tat.

Did I ever think I’d use it on a young woman in the trunk of Devil’s town car? Fuck, no. But as she watches me, lips working though she doesn’t say anything I can make out over the beat of my heart, I use my thumb to flip off the cap.

Palming the small vial, I reach into the trunk. I lay my fingers on top of her hair—soft, it’s so springy and goddamnsoft—my heart doing a little jump when she doesn’t try to yank herself away from my touch.

I give her a crooked grin full of promise. “Everything will be okay,” I tell her before shifting my hand so that the needle is hovering over her skin.

And then I jab it.

FIVE

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