Page 13 of The Devil's Pair

“Damn straight,querido.”

“I love you, baby, so damn much. You're gonna thrive and be amazing. You know that, right?”

“You think?”

“Idothink.” He tucked the top of her head under his chin, holding her close and breathing in the scent of her tumbled hair. “And I'm gonna make it mypersonalmission to make sure of it.”

Chapter Three

Briley clicked through the online property listings, musing yet again how much farther her money went in Pennsylvania. She had no real idea where she wanted to live, but as long as she had a mere, fleetingglimpseof the Appalachians from a single window, she’d feel pretty content. Bonus points if that window was in her kitchen or living room, where she could sit and drink coffee and just soak in the view.

Thinking of the view drew her eyes back to the window above the desk that she was sitting at. There was nothing glorious about it, as it was the opposite wall of the hotel, and she frowned at that. She wasn’t enjoying feeling trapped or stifled, like she was at some kind of metaphorical dead end in her life. She knew it was temporary, but still… she’d been under Gideon’s slimy, sickening thumb for so long thatanysense of being held back was bad for her head space.

She had options, though, and she reminded herself to be nothing but grateful for that: before becoming a cop, Briley had been a registered nurse for almost three years. She’d liked it –lovedit, actually – but her father had been a police officer, and a part of her had always wanted to follow him into the life. He’d died in the line of duty when she was quite young, and she still thought of her joining as a way of honoring him. Not that she’d honored the shield much lately, she knew, and she hoped hard that her father was still proud of her. The thought that maybe he wasn’t kept her up at night,thatwas for damn sure.

So in the end, she’d become a cop to carry on her father’s legacy… but she’d never let her RN qualifications lapse. She’d always figured that she’d go back to nursing at some point,maybe when her body couldn’t take the physical demands and rigours of being a cop. Briley had had a hazy idea that at the age of fifty or fifty-five, she’d maybe take up work as a private home care provider, or working part-time at a nursing home… but now that half-baked notion of the future had very much become her present. She needed to look for a job, and she needed to get some steady money coming in – but right now, she needed to find a place to live that had opportunities for an RN nearby.

First things first.

She turned her attention back to the homes for sale and clicked on a listing, clicked on another, clicked again. And there it was.

Briley blinked in astonishment at the small house that had just appeared, as if out of a dream or a vision. It was as if she was looking at a place that she’d been to many,manytimes in her childhood, or maybe in a past life. Sheknewthis house, knew how it would feel to beinit.

That’s it.

Holding her breath, she clicked on the location information, saw that the town was called Bellefonte. She cocked her head at the French word for ‘beautiful’ being right there in the name, then quickly googled it, praying hard that it was within throwing distance of the mountains and a healthy work environment… and she was immediately in love with the town. It was a small borough – barely 7,000 souls lived in it – but it was only a dozen miles from a couple of major cities, both of which had hospitals, care homes, and private medical clinics and centers, some of which were openly begging for nursing staff. She then clicked on several aerial photos of the town itself, and she sighed in happiness.

And there are my mountains, literally surrounding the whole town, on all sides.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Right away, she got on her phone and called the property agent. Once again, a sense that the stars were aligning came over her as the agent warmly told her that a viewing for first thing the next morning had just opened up, and she was welcome to take it. Briley accepted, took down the address, then hung up, staring at the photos some more.

Suddenly, sheknewthat it was all going to be OK; she just knew it in her bones. Her new life was in Bellefonte, and whatever it ended up looking like, it was going to be good.

No. Great.

She got to her feet, stretched, glanced at the laptop clock, decided that she’d have a celebratory vodka and orange juice before an early bedtime. She grabbed the ice bucket, and headed down the hall to the machine, where Drake was standing. As always, he was just casually smoldering away, and she idly wondered if the machine was up to standing tough against his scorching hotness. She suspected that every bit of ice had been reduced to puddles, though.

“Hey, girl,” Drake greeted her cheerily. “On the hunt for ice?”

“Yep,” she said. “I’m going to make a Screwdriver with the minibar stuff.”

“Sound good,” he said, shaking the full ice bucket at her. “But I just took it all for Dux’s leg, and the machine is just making more.”

“His leg is bad?”

“Sore, for sure, and a bit swollen. The ice will do the trick.” He looked her up and down, and she felt that usual helpless tug of dark attraction. “Wanna come to our room for a quick one?”

She paused, narrowed her eyes at him, trying to beat down the dirty fantasies of being taken hard and fast against a wall, first by Drake, then by Dux. “Yourroom?”

“Oryourroom.” He shrugged those massive shoulders, those incredible eyes dancing. “We’re easy, darlin’.”

“I just bet you are.”

“And there’s that smart mouth again.” He grinned. “So? Drink at our place?”

“Sure. Thanks.” She smiled back at him, utterly incapable of resisting that killer charm, not even making much effort to do so. “I have some news, anyway, and I wanted to tell you guys.”

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