Page 20 of Ride with the Devil

“There are no good citizens in Springfield. No good cops, either.”

He’s not wrong about that.

He also keeps looking at me as if he expects me to lose it, especially when he says in a surprisingly apologetic tone, “Then it looks like you’ll be staying here with me until you give me a different answer.”

Yup. Figured that out, too. Not that it was hard. The cuffs and the chains were pretty much a neon sign that said ‘sit down and stay a while’.

No wonder why he’s still gauging my mood after his pronouncement. He basically just admitted his intention of locking me in this cabin of his after abducting me in Springfield, all to protect his boss. I should be pleading for my freedom, not shrugging and acting like I couldn’t care less.

I know why he’s surprised. Earlier, I played the innocent, airheaded ingenue as I babbled at him, trying to distract him long enough to get an idea of where Devil and Collins were, and what exactly was going on behind the Blockbuster.

I blame Ronnie. Guy wanted to get his dick wet so badly, he interrupted me while I was eavesdropping on those two Sinners. I heard enough to know that the Devil of Springfield and the vice mayor were meeting up, but I had no idea that it was an ambush—or that only one of those men was walking away from it alive.

Now that I’m here, I see no reason to keep up the act. He stole Kylie.

He gets Kylie.

Only… he has no idea that IamKylie, and he proves that when the next question out of his mouth is:

“What’s your name?”

Does he honestly believe I’m going to tell him that?

There’s a reason why I left any and all ways to identify me back at the hotel. It sucks that my phone’s there, too, but at least I was smart enough to ditch the fake ID on me before I approached the shiny black town car. Even if one of the Sinners goes back to sweep the area, the most they’ll find is a counterfeit New York State driver’s license with my picture and the name Beth Maroney on it.

When it hits him that I’m not going to answer him, he frowns. “You don’t know your name?”

“Oh. I do. But I’m not letting you know what it is.”

The frown cuts a deep line into his handsome features. “Why not?”

I shrug. “You have to work for it.”

Again, probably not what he was expecting from the chick he met tonight, but the sooner he understands that I’m not going to be as easy to control as he thinks, the better.

He wants me here? As long as he doesn’t actually try to point that gun in my direction, I’m okay with that. I’ll stick around, see exactly what he plans to do with me because I decide what to do withhim, but it’s definitely won’t beeasy.

Poor guy. He doesn’t get that.

Yet.

He pulls a lazy smile to his face, and damn, he’s even more adorable than before. “My name is Michael. You can call me Mike, if you want.”

My lips twitch. “You’re cute, but you’re also lying.”

His smile falters. “What?”

I purposely make my voice as low as I can, mimicking Lincoln Crewes’s deep voice. “‘Put her in the trunk, Luca’.” I switch back to mine as I say sweetly, “That ring any bells?” I wait a beat. “Luca.”

“Fuck. You heard that?”

Oh, yeah. I did.

“Delayed reaction on whatever you gave me, I guess. I had a good five minutes after to panic wildly before I blissfully went under. Thanks for that.”

Luca has the decency to be a little ashamed. “I was trying to keep you calm.”

“Before that other guy killed me?”

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