Page 24 of Ride with the Devil

The front door was my mistake. Burns’s nearest neighbor is at least three miles away. With the girl safely downstairs, I wasn’t worried about someone breaking in. Not only is this a notable cop’s hideaway, but with the old snow making it a tough climb as it is, no one would head over here.

No one but me, that is.

I can’t let her escape. She’s dead, and if I prove myself unreliable to Devil, that’s my head, too. She has to stay, and though she seemed to accept that…Fuck. It’s too easy.

Nothing in my life has been this easy.

What sort of captivewantsto stay? Oh, sure, she said it’s because she doesn’t want a bullet in her skull, but instead of swearing she’ll do anything to keep herself safe, she asked about food. About clothes.

Aboutcheckers.

And I have to admit that, watching the slight smirk stretch her gorgeous face, the tease in her husky voice as she called me ‘ace’ before chiding me for leaving the door unlocked, and the way my cock came to life as soon as she made her mocking offer to join her in her shower… I’mfucked.

I already knew I was attracted to her. It only took one glimpse earlier tonight for my breath to catch in my throat. There was something about her. Something I couldn’t quote explain, only that it was enough to make me forget my duty for a moment. But that’s nothing to how I’m walking around with an erection pulsing against my suit pants, palming my length as if that’s do anything to get the fucker under control.

Somewhere below my feet, she’s naked and wet, enjoying the shower while I do everything I can to resist the urge to do what she offered and join her.

Would I frighten her? If she saw the mark on my arm, would she be afraid—or would she pity me? Would she cover up or let me see what she looks like naked?

Would she make a move on me to save her skin, or laugh that I’d ever believe a creature like her would ever pay attention to an awkward, broken man like me?

She has no idea just how safe she is with me. I know most of the Sinners. I know their secrets, and I know their vices. Sometimes it takes the worst kind of men who join a syndicate like ours, not for the fraternity of it, but because they want power. Money.

Pussy.

Not me. All I’ve ever wanted was freedom, and even if I sold my soul to be Devil’s servant, it was better than what I left behind. And I don’t just mean Hamilton. I regret what happened there, but those two years are nothing compared to the twenty-two that came before it.

Everyone thinks that the reason I left Hamilton when I was twenty-four was because I lost my cool on a job, three of the crew ended up in jail after a bank job went bust, with one dead even before the others were caught. Leon Martinez took a bullet from an armed security, and I took off the second the shots rang out. As the wheelman, I sacrificed the rest of the crew to save my skin.

Part of that is true. A wheelman did lose his nerve, but it wasn’t me. That was a new kid called Stache, a last-minute replacement when I had to back out on a long-planned heist.

Kane never came after me because he knew it was Stache’s fault the job went belly-up. He even offered me a chance to make up for it—drive for another job he was plotting in Hudson since he was now downfivemembers—but I was already in my Mustang, heading out of town, hoping that, this time, it takeslonger than two years for my parents to come looking for me again.

Because they did once, and though I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting to see Frank and Val St. James behind me, that’s because they’re convinced they still pull my leash and control their only son even now.

It’s been three since I’ve hunkered down in Springfield. I’ve avoided them so far, and there are times I honestly begin to think I’ve broken free of them at last, but then a pretty girl has my blood pumping, my cock responding to her playful overtones, and I’m suddenly back in Oklahoma again.

I’m in the secluded hamlet of Donovan, named after the man who founded and ruled the Holy Church of Jesus Devotion, where a population of barely one hundred was expected to do as commanded. And if they didn’t…

The girl wasn’t the only one in shackles. I removed hers, though, when she asked me to—and it never even occurred to me to refuse—while mine, invisible as they are, are still holding me down nearly twenty-seven years later.

I’ve always wanted to be free. Now look at me. I’m responsible for being someone else’s jailer.

Using the palm of my hand, I shove roughly at my erection. With everything I have to do now, borrowing the bathroom down the hall to rub one out is a shitty idea. My body needs the release, but I’m an old pro at resisting the temptation.

Don’t fall in love, Luca.

Don’t let your dick control you.

Don’t get your stupid heart broken.

Don’t watch the girl you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with accept the prophet’s proposal while wearingyourring—or be forced to witness it when he fucked her the first time to prove to the entire congregation… the fuckingcult… that she was a virgin.

Before I lost Emily to Jack Donovan, I never whacked off. Well, no. I got caught once at fourteen by my dad, and when he was done with the belt, I couldn’t sit down without pain for a week. He slapped my dick, too, so much that it left a mark, and every time I got an erection in that days that followed, it was agony. Masturbation was a sin. To the HCofJD, everything was a sin, but pleasure without the intent of procreation was unacceptable.

It was a Hell offense. Touch yourself. Hell. Think of touching your girlfriend’s boobs. Hell. Sneak your finger into her pussy, though you knew your dick would never get wet until your wedding night. Hell.

I was allowed to kiss her. That was all. A prim kiss on the lips that wasn’t enough when the choice came down between the leader of the church and Luca St. James.

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