Page 12 of The Devil
Holy crap, that’s expensive.
I glance at the SUV again, wondering why a man who’s dressed like him and clearly has money would stop at this little gas station for our crappy coffee?
Chapter 4
ENZO
I’ve been in the States for a week, and I haven’t made much progress dealing with the MC because I’m too busy stalking Jenna.
After visiting the factory and learning that the MC club has been beating up the workers, I’ve put in an order with the island for a security team to guard the premises.
They arrived yesterday, and now that I don’t have to worry about the factory and workers, I’m driving toward the dive bar where the bikers are known to hang out.
Every night I watch Jenna, and during the days, I get a few hours of sleep before trying to do something productive.
It’s not normal behavior for me, but I can’t keep myself away from that damn gas station.
Luckily, I haven’t heard shit about the bastard I killed the night I arrived. I’ve asked the control room on the island to keep an eye out for any chatter regarding the murder, but so far, nothing has turned up.
I’ve also asked them to find out everything they can about Jenna. All I could give them was a photo of her, her name, and where she works, so the team has their work cut out for them.
My phone starts ringing, and I glance down at the screen. Seeing John’s name, I accept the call.
“What?”
“Hi, boss. I just want to check in with you. How are things in Aurora?”
“Fine. Any problems in Lisbon?”
“No. It’s quiet here, so I can come to the States to join you.”
“No, stay in Lisbon.”
Approaching the bar, where motorcycles are parked, I end the call without another word.
I’m dressed in my usual suit, so I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb, but I don’t give two shits.
I stop the SUV at the front, blocking a couple of bikes, and switch off the engine. Just as I’m about to open the door, my phone beeps with an incoming message. Seeing it’s from the island, I quickly open it.
Full Name: Jenna Dotson
Age: 26
Birthday: 08/01
I devour every single piece of information, learning that she doesn’t have a father and that her mother resides in Florida. She started working at the gas station right out of school, and her credit rating is very low because she doesn’t make enough to survive.
Her bank statement shows a balance of eighteen dollars. She makes a withdrawal once a week, and there’s only one subscription going off at the end of every month.
She’s lived in Aurora all her life, and I wonder why she didn’t move to Florida with her mother.
There’s a photo of a cheerleading team, showing Jenna in a white and blue uniform, a wide smile on her face, and her chin lifted high. It’s from an article in the local newspaper, congratulating the team for winning some kind of competition.
I keep staring at the younger girl, taking in the happiness shining from her eyes.
The woman I met at the gas station and the girl in the photo could be two different people.
I glance up, my gaze narrowing as I process the meager information I’ve learned about the shy woman with the mesmerizing eyes.
