Page 66 of Ride with the Devil

First, it was the Libellula Family and the Sinners Syndicate at odds. They were uneasy compatriots, then fierce rivals, and finally allies as the two largest gangs in Springfield found a reason to stop fighting each other.

And, sure, that reason was Damien Libellula using Devil’s love for his wife against him, but after Cross fell for Damien’s baby sister, the uneasy truce becomes something a little stronger. Something a lot more unbreakable. They still own the East End. Us Sinners control the West Side. Together, we are Springfield.

And the Snowflakes are fucking over.

Of course, that just means that Falco has decided to start shit now that there’s an opening of pricks who want to give Devil a hard time.

Still, Johnny Winterisdead. It’s barely been a week since Kylie used the burner phone to shoot over the pic of Winter’s body on the floor, her faithful strychnine going to work on the man. True, it wasn’t the explosive end he deserved—and I hate to ask what he did with the C4 she brought with her to their meet—but as she added in her last message before she ditched the burner, a man who spent his life working from the shadows in the hope that everyone would know his name deserved to die without any effort.

That’s my Hummingbird.

That’s my girl.

At least… I thought she was mine.

It’s been a week. That was the last anyone has heard from her, and while she told me to expect that, I went from spending every minute of every day with her in Burns’s cabin. For twenty-seven-years, I slept alone. For mere days, I curled up behind Kylie. Going back to an empty bed was fucking torture, even though she promised that she’d be back before I knew it.

That was the plan. The Hummingbird is quick. She’s always in motion. Banking on the fact that Winter wouldn’t be alone, that his bodyguards would’ve at least had an idea who he was meeting with, she needed to fly the coop once it was obvious she killed Winter.

She’s a contract killer. A hired hitman—well, like she says, a hitwoman. In this biz, loyalty stays in-house. The criminal world would understand that money talks. If she got a higher price on Winter’s head, they’d respect that she’d turn on her former employer. She didn’t owe him anything since he hadn’t completed payment. It’s justbusiness.

No one paid Kylie to take down Winter. In fact, she did pro bono as a way to prove to Devil that she wasn’t a liability. Because while Kylie was never loyal to her clients, somehow Idid what I doubted I could: I got her to love me. Her loyalty. It’smine.

Ithasto be.

Right?

Fuck!

My thoughts distracted, my head wishing it was between Kylie thighs instead of bowing over my tool box, I toss the socket in my hand. I’d be meaning to grab a 7/32, but I picked up a 9/32 instead. A stupid mistake, and I curse under my breath as I root around for the right one.

Seven days. It’s been seven days, and she promised me that she’d only be in Florida for five.

I knew she had plans to visit her family in the new year. Needing to lie low a little incase Winter’s shaken crew decide to come after her, she bumped up the trip. As soon as Winter went down, the plan was for Kylie to head right for the nearest airport. Five days in Florida later and she’d return to Springfield.

Return tome.

I believed her. From the start, I never lied to her. I can’t say the same for her, but considering the situation she was in, I forgive her for protecting her identity. For protecting her intentions. It was her or me, and she didn’t know Luca St. James at all then.

She knows me now. And maybe we jumped into everything too fast, but it just… it feltright. Like she was the one I was meant to suffer through life to find. My reward. Shelovesme, and I keep telling myself as I strip the lug nut I’m trying to remove.

Devil was supposed to go seeRomeo and Juliettonight. Genevieve is Juliet in this season’s ballet, and I expected to be on duty so that I could drive Devil and his wife out to Riverside to see the performance.

I would’ve. This is still my job. I’m even more loyal to the boss than before after how I got to know Kylie because of him. But knowing that I was invited, too, and the Cross even got a ticket for Kylie to show there were no hard feelings over the fire… shit. No wonder the socket wrench was giving me trouble. I picked up a 7/32 again.

Damn it.

Working on my 67 Ford Mustang was supposed to take my mind off of how much I fucking miss my Kylie. I haven’t been down to the garage to continue restoring it since before the fateful night when I dropped Devil off to have dinner tonight with Damien Libellula.

That’s where he is tonight. After a young Sinner got gunned down by one of Falco’s men, Rolls, Devil, Damien, and Vincent Libellula were meeting to discuss how best to shut this latest threat to Springfield down.

I should’ve been the one to bring the boss across the city. That’s my job, but he went in Rolls’s car while I’ve been fucking around with this tire for the least half an hour.

That’s on me. Last night, I ran two red lights on the way back to Paradise Suites. So out of the ordinally for me, Devil decided that I needed a break from being behind the wheels. I tried to argue that I just had one—I didn’t drive those weeks I was upstate with Kylie—but when the Devil gives you an order, you listen.

So here I am. Pacing around my apartment, obsessing over where Kylie was and what she was doing… it wasn’t helping. Tending to my Mustang was supposed to take my mind off of her, but not only do my fingers seem to have stopped working, but what the hell does it feel like someone’s looking over my shoulder?

My head snaps over my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the shadow, but when I turn, that pretty face with theamused smirk has me dropping from one knee to both before landing on my elbow.

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