Page 1 of Deal with the Devil

one

Nevaeh

He’s here. The man I promised to spend my life with when I let him slide his ring on my finger, the man who betrayed me in the worst way, is here.

My heart slams in my chest before shooting into my throat. I have to swallow the lump of it down, nearly choking on fear as I turn my back on the predator that hunts me through the crowd of sweat-glistened bodies grinding to rough music that plays through pulsing speakers.

How did he find me?No one knows I’m here. I didn’t tell a soul, because the one soul I would have told is dead to me.

Cradle to grave, girl.The sound of my best friend’svoice, my soul sister, the woman I thought I’d walk to the bitter end of this hard life with is the very same woman I stood stunned stiff as I watched her choking on my fiancé’s cock in his kitchen after he’d cancelled his dinner plans with me because he’d had asore throat—poor baby.

It looked more like he was giving the sore throat, dipshit.

Silly me, I’d whipped up a pot of Mom’s chicken soup to personally deliver to his sorry, sick ass.

I still feel like a fool. The image of Kate falling to her butt on the tile of Antonio’s kitchen floor as he shoved his half hard cock into his slacks—I saw it every time I closed my eyes. Burned there against the black.

They hadn’t even noticed me rooted in place by shock until he’d groaned, emptying his load down her throat. That had been the moment I’d gasped, the sight I’d been seeing, my best friend and my fiancé—the betrayal—that had been the moment it sunk its talons in. Reality.

Like a throat punch.

When Antonio lunged for me, I’d tossed the entire hot pot of soup at him. It hadn’t been my intention to burn him, although looking back now, it’s a bonus I can’t help but grin at.

Pushing the thought from my mind, I push deeper into the crowd.

I’m here for work. Designing media for artists of all kinds has me keeping my finger on the pulse of the entertainment industry, specifically, the self-selling artists deep in the middle of the bump and grind. Tonight, I’m at a club because I’d heard an up-and-coming band was playing. These bands tend to attract others that cling, bloody, to the rungs of the ladder, trying their best to make their own climb up the impossibly steep mountain to stardom.

As a media designer, albums and logos bring in decent money, and places like clubs and book signing events in the indie world are gold for people like me. Networking like this usually leaves me with at least a handful of new clients, which would be great right about now—now that I’ve lost my roommate. I kicked her out the same day I found her bobbing for little Senator babies on my fiancé’s dick.

The now ex-fiancé who is currently hot on my tail.

In the last six weeks, I’ve learned just how not nice, and not calm, my ex really is.

I don’t want him to catch me. I don’t want his hand to wrap around my arm, where tomorrow there’ll be another set of fingerprint bruises. Those aren’t easy to hide during a Los Angeles August.

Besides, the idea of his hands on me, touching me in any capacity makes my skin crawl.

I don’t want anything to do with him. Nothing. Ever.

Why won’t he take the hint?

A quick glance over my shoulder has him not far behind. Two, maybe three bodies if I count the couple dancing so close,they’re probably screwing, that stand between us.

The tight band of fear snaps inside me, and I make a snap decision. Turning away from the crowd and stage, I head for the bar. For the group of big men with tattoos and heavy black boots. Mom and Dad might be run-of-the-mill American middle-class, with their blue-collar jobs that pay enough to allow for life and just one annual vacation to somewhere sunny and salty, but Uncle Miguel is anything but standard middle-class. As a member of a motorcycle club, Mom’s brother stomps to the beat of his own drum. He’s got a smile wider than the freeway, and a spirit as untameable, uncut, and probably even as dangerous, as the Grand Canyon. When warranted, his streak of mean is sharper than a blade. I’ve never seen that mean, but I know it exists. I’ve heard the stories, even some of the ones he’s tried to shield me from. I’ve always been close to Uncle Miguel. Without any kids of his own, I’ve always been his girl.

Uncle Miguel always told me if I’m in trouble and I’ve got bikers in my sightline, that’s where I go. They’ll stand and face whatever is coming as a team. They’ll protect. It’s basic honor. A code they live by.

You might be wondering why I haven’t gone toUncle Miguel yet regarding my little problem with my ex-fiancé? Well, because if Uncle Miguel knew how Antonio broke my heart, he’d give him a solid beating. If he knew how he put bruises on my body in the weeks since I broke off the engagement, he’d kill him. Without doubt.

I don’t want blood on my conscience. I don’t want Uncle Miguel to have to make a call like that, with the risks that come with that call, because I made a bad choice about the man I let enter my life, my bed, and my body.

I don’t want Uncle Miguel to pay for my mistakes. Considering the fact Antonio is the son of the California State Senator, Andre Diaz, the price of my mistakes would be far too high. Sure, Uncle Miguel has connections into the underworld of L.A. I’m confident he not only could, but has unalived more than one badsomeone’swithout the boys in blue ever finding the—um—evidence. But offing the son of a State Senator is unlikely to go quite as unnoticed as the average run-of-the-mill bad guy who—um—requires offing.

Anyway, it’s because of Uncle Miguel that I’m headed for the group of rough and tumble looking men. I doubt they’re bikers, because as rough and tumble as they appear, they’ve got a polished edge about them. Still, they’re big. And they look like they could be mean, if mean was required—which is exactly what Uncle Miguel would tell me to look for.It’s also on Uncle Miguel’s advice that I veer a sharp right as the biggest, baddest, most heavily tatted of them parts from the group.

“Nevaeh!” Antonio shouts, and chills erupt like spikes along my spine.

The man’s eyes drift to the sound of Antonio’s angry voice, and I see a brilliant, frosted blue land on me a moment before I collide with him.

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