Devil's Love

by Kim Jones

  “Tell me about William’s business trip.” My fake excitement has her growing excited too. “Is he going to take you along?”

  She blushes and drops her gaze. “Oh no,” she says with a small laugh. “This is his largest account. I wouldn’t want to mess anything up for him.”

  William is an independent accountant who specializes in offshore banking. His clients are billionaires who pay him well to hide their money. I want to tell her that whether she stays or goes, if something doesn’t go right, it’s still going to be her fault. But the sad look in her eyes tells me she already knows.

  “Well, they’ll definitely be missing out.” I give her a wink, but her eyes are focused on something behind me.

  “Who will be missing out?” William’s low voice has chills crawling up my spine. Remembering my role as a professional, I stand and turn to greet him.

  His dark eyes greedily travel down my body, pausing at the hint of cleavage my silk blouse displays. “Mr. Deets,” I say warmly, when what I really want to do is claw his eyes out. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Pleasure is mine, Miss Whitney.” He holds out his big hand and I don’t hesitate to take it. His grasp is firm and warm, almost clammy. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “We were—”

  “Was I speaking to you, Claire?” William snaps, cutting her off as he keeps his evil, black eyes on me.

  “We were discussing your business trip.” I know better than to lie. He might have been eavesdropping the entire time and I don’t want him to have any reason not to trust me. “Claire was telling me that she wouldn’t be joining you. I was simply telling her that they would be missing out on the pleasure of her company. Although I understand her reason for staying.”

  “Do you?” His eyebrows raise in challenge. He’s hoping I say the wrong thing. I won’t.

  I give a dismissive wave of my hand. “Of course. Women like Claire and I are ignorant about that business. It’s no place for a woman. Our time is much better spent here where we belong.” I flash him a smile and notice the sparkle of pride in his eyes. But it quickly fades when I add, “I have Claire to thank for that. She’s taught me a lot about being a respectful, supportive wife. I’ll be off to a great start when I decide to marry.”

  He grunts, but thankfully refrains from degrading her in front of me. “I have a dinner meeting tonight. I’ll be home late.” He nods at me before turning to leave. “Miss Whitney.”

  I close my eyes, taking a moment to gather myself. I wait for the sound of the door closing behind him before turning back around to meet Claire with a smile. But it falls when I see her crying.

  “Hey,” I soothe, sitting down next to her and wrapping my arm around her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” It’s the first time she’s ever cried in front of me. She’s always been the picture perfect, happy wife—acting as if the bruises and scars didn’t even exist.

  “Don’t marry a man like William,” she whispers, sadness and defeat in her eyes. “You deserve so much better.”

  “So do you, Claire.” I swallow hard, unsure if I’m making a mistake. Knowing this might be my last chance to get her to walk away willingly, I push forward. “I only said those things to make him happy. I don’t believe that though. What I do believe is you don’t have to stay here. You can leave. You can be free.”

  She shakes her head, but I know she’s deliberating what I said. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” I ask, my voice a little sterner.

  “You know why,” she whispers, but I’m going to make her say the words if it’s the last thing I do.

  “No, I don’t. Tell me.” When she doesn’t say anything, I give her shoulder a little shake. “Say it.”

  “Because he’ll kill me!” Slapping her hand over her mouth she looks at me before scanning the yard in panic. “Oh no.”

  “Claire, it’s okay.”

  Standing, she starts gathering our wine glasses. “You need to leave.”

  “Just calm down—”

  “You need to leave now, Whitney. We’ll re-schedule our meeting for another time. I’m not feeling well.” She avoids my gaze as she walks toward the door.

  “Claire, please! Talk to me. I can help you.” My voice carries through the big house as I follow her inside.

  Ignoring me, she walks straight to the front door and holds it open. “I’ll call you once William is back from his business trip.” She’s back to her prim and proper ways. Her smile is gone as is her friendliness towards me. And my plan for tonight is completely shot to shit.

  With heavy feet, I walk toward her. If I haven’t done anything else, I’ve made her admit the one thing she’s been denying to herself for so long—he would kill her. Giving her hand a squeeze, I stop to tell her the words I’ve been saying for years.

  “You’re beautiful, smart and important.” She closes her eyes, and I hope she’s repeating the mantra in her head. Knowing at this point it won’t make a difference either way; I give her a taste of the Maddie who isn’t poised, perfect and polite like Whitney.

  “And you’re too fuckin’ good for him.”

  I drive away with a heavy heart. I’d pushed Claire too far. All the years I’d spent gaining her trust were lost in a matter of minutes. In hopes that she’ll show, I stop for a drink at the Greek restaurant we were supposed to have dinner at tonight. We’ve dined here together many times. It’s one of the few places William allows her to go, because he knows the owner. I’m pretty sure he has her watched at all times.

  After my first glass that goes down way too easy, I opt for an entire bottle knowing there’s a motel just down the road. I drown my failure in glass after glass. Claire had thrown a kink in my plans by not having dinner with me. Now, I’ll have to wait until William is out of town to see her—that is, if she’ll even want to see me.

  I was so close. Everything was working out perfect. But I let my big mouth overload my big ass, and instead of ending the night in celebration, I was ending it in sorrow. I’d have to come up with a new strategy. It’d taken me three years to concoct this plan, now I was back at square one.

  I’m on bottle number two when I notice a large figure out of the corner of my eye. I don’t recognize the man, but if it weren’t for the alcohol weighing down my limbs, I’d jump up and run. I’ve never seen a hit man, but when I envision one, this man fits the profile. He’s big and mean with an expressionless face and cold eyes full of hate.

  “Whitney?” I swallow hard and refuse to answer. There’s no one else in the small, secluded dining room and I can’t help but wonder if I was seated here on purpose. “Get up.”

  I can’t move. Fear has me completely immobilized. I don’t have a gun to make me feel powerful. I don’t have a plan and he’s not part of my mission. Without these things, it doesn’t matter if I’m Whitney or Maddie. In this moment, they’re both the same—defenseless and useless. And if he wants me to move, he’ll have to grab me and pull me up himself.

  Like he can read my mind, he reaches out and snatches my wrist in his big hand. Bending it near the point of breaking, he pulls until I manage to stand next to him. “Wh-what are you doing?” I stutter, finally finding my voice. When I realize I have one, I open my mouth to scream, but his other hand slaps down hard over my mouth.

  “One word and I’ll snap your neck.” The man’s voice is low and distant, matter-of-fact. For some reason, his tone is scarier than if he had growled the words. His emotional detachment has me believing him.

  I don’t fight back as I’m hauled through a door before being released into a small alley out back that smells like garbage and sewage. Like a predator stalking his prey, he watches my fear rise as I look up and down the alley in hopes of some kind of escape.

  “What do you want?” I don’t care that he said he’d snap my neck. If he’s going to kill me, I want to know why.

  “I’m here to send you a message. Stay away from Claire.”

  I nearly pass out with relie
f. He’s not going to kill me. If he was, he wouldn’t have told me that he’s simply sending a message. I won’t stay away from Claire, but I’ll convince him that I will. Considering I don’t really have any other option.

  “Got it. Done,” I say, nodding my head and even giving him a salute.

  He shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that.” Stepping forward, he reaches out and grabs for my neck. When I jerk back, he ends up with a fistful of my shirt.

  I thought he wasn’t going to kill me—and he probably won’t. But if he’s physically sending a message, then I’m fixing to be subject to a world of pain. I close my eyes and think of Claire. She endures shit like this every day. If she can survive it, so can I—I have to. I have to survive so I can save her.

  And then I hear it. That one-word demand that has saved me from a world of shit more times than I can count—spoken in that achingly familiar low and deadly voice.

  “Don’t…”

  Marty.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Marty

  I don’t think there’s another woman on the planet that can get into any more shit than Maddie. Or Whitney. Or whoever the fuck she is. So, finding her cornered in a dark alley, behind a mafia owned restaurant, may seem a little overly dramatic for most, but for Maddie, it’s just another day. I’m almost too exasperated with her to be mad—almost.

  “She yours?” the man asks, releasing his hold on Maddie.

  “She is.” My simple answer and calm demeanor has him narrowing his eyes, wondering who the hell I am. Without my cut, I’m just a nobody. The upside is my club doesn’t get pulled into Maddie’s bullshit. The downside is I can’t use it as an intimidation factor. Lucky for me, I can be pretty fucking intimidating all by myself.

  “I have business with her.” He says it almost like he’s asking a question. This tells me that he thinks I just might be someone of importance.

  “Not anymore.” My tone leaves no room for negotiation.

  “Says who?”

  I don’t flinch when I give the name of the man who owes me a favor from my time on the inside. “Demopolis.” His eyes widen. “Alex Demopolis.”

  With a nod, he turns his attention back to Maddie and mutters, “Last warning” before disappearing inside.

  “Where’s your purse?” I ask Maddie, closing the short distance between us.

  “What?”

  “Your purse. Your shit. Where’s it at?” My patience is spreading thinner by the moment. I grab her arm and pull her through the back door, and into the restaurant. She still hasn’t answered and I’m about to snap on her again when she pulls from my grip and grabs her bag from a nearby table.

  Taking her hand in mine, I keep her behind me as my eyes scan the restaurant for any potential threats until we’re outside. I usher her to the passenger side of my truck, ignoring her questions about what to do with her car.

  To avoid any more questions, I dig in her purse for the keys. Right on time, a patch holder from a local support chapter pulls in followed by a car with two Prospects. Tossing him the keys, I tell him to take it to Maddie’s house—then wait for him to leave before I do.

  Maddie is still demanding to know what’s going on as I drive us out of town toward the less crowded back roads that lead us home. Grabbing my phone, I punch in the number of the CO at Parchman who is on the mafia payroll.

  “I need Demopolis. It’s Marty.” A few minutes later, I hear his voice on the line. After the formal greetings, I get down to business. “I called in that favor you owed me.” I can feel Maddie staring at me as I tell him where I was and who I talked to. Come to find out, the guy from the alley wasn’t even related to the family. I’d used my one favor from the fucking mafia, for absolutely nothing.

  I hang up, a little more pissed than I was ten minutes ago. Turning my head toward the source of my anger, my eyes land on the sweet, angelic face of Maddie. She’s taken off her wig and her blonde hair is unruly. Her wide, blue eyes are sad as she stares out the windshield. At the sight of her, my anger dissipates.

  “What happened, Maddie?” I ask in a soothing tone that has her instantly relaxing. I don’t know why I’m being so fucking understanding. There’s just something about her that brings me to my knees.

  She shrugs, not meeting my gaze. “I failed.”

  Was her plan to take him on? “Failed? Babe, he was three times your size.”

  “Not with him. He was an … unexpected surprise.” The news has me even more confused. But I know how far to push Maddie. Right now, it’s best to not pressure her into telling me all the details. If I push too hard too fast, she’ll shut me out completely. As long as she’s with me, I know she’s safe. But before I let her out of my sights, I’ll make her tell me everything.

  I knew when we got to Maddie’s, Dallas or Red would likely be there. With both of us leaving the club house only minutes apart, they’d assume we were together. And they’d want the story of what happened between us. The last thing I needed were them two sniffing around. So, to avoid any interruptions, I booked us a room in Jackson—a ninety-minute drive from home. I wasn’t sure how tonight would end up, so I’d taken the liberty of breaking into her house and packing her some clothes.

  Throwing the duffle down on the king sized bed; I grab her hand and stop her from sitting down. Sometimes a woman needs to be put in her place. Sometimes she needs to be fucked. And sometimes, she just needs to be held. I know Maddie, and right now, all she needs is for me to take her in my arms. So I do.

  My big hand cradles the back of her head bringing her to my chest, while my other splays wide across the center of her back. She doesn’t lift her arms to hug me. She doesn’t say anything or try to pull away. She’s just taking comfort in my hold, which is exactly what I want her to do.

  Minutes pass before she slowly drags her hands up my sides and snakes them around me. Then finally, she breaks. It starts as only a whimper, but soon, my hand starts rubbing up and down her spine while she sobs into my shirt.

  I can’t count the times I’ve done this. Over the years, I’ve held Maddie more than I’ve ever held a woman in all my life. It’s something I take pride in—knowing that I’m the man she comes to for comfort. But it still hurts like hell. More so this time, because she felt like she didn’t need me.

  I tell her I’ve got her. I tell her she’s safe. I tell her it’s okay and that I’m here and I’m not leaving. The words are a promise I’ve broken once, but I vow to never do it again. When she’s cried out and pulls away, I can tell she’s ready to talk. I’m ready to listen. And more than that, I’m ready to fix whatever it is that has my girl so upset.

  To say I’m surprised at what she tells me is an understatement. “I didn’t need your help tonight.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? That guy could’ve caved your entire face in with one lick.”

  She shrugs, like she doesn’t give two shits about the potential danger she put herself in tonight. “I can take a hit.”

  Fury spikes through me. “You know I’ll kill any motherfucker who puts their hands on you.”

  “Yeah,” she scoffs. “And what about when you’re not there? Then what?”

  If she’d have put a bullet in me, there’s no way it could hurt worse. But I’m not going to cower down just because she hurt my feelings. I’m going to tell her exactly what she needs to hear. Whether she wants me to or not.

  “I get why you’re doing this. I fucked up. I wasn’t there when you needed me. That’s on me. But this shit? You seeking out danger just to prove a fucking point … it stops. Today.”

  “Don’t—”

  “I’m not asking you,” I warn, cutting her off. “You want to right a wrong? Seek revenge on someone? Be some sort of fucking vigilante? Fine. But you ain’t doing it alone.”

  She glares at me, fighting like hell to keep her shit together. I know she’s furious. She probably wants to claw my eyes out. She can try. I can take a fucking lick too.

  “This is who I am
. Who I want to be.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Don’t take that from me.”

  Once again, that look in her eyes brings me to my knees. I’d never deprive her of something she wanted. I’d steal to give her anything she asked for. But this is something I can’t do for her. I can’t stay in the shadows while she puts herself in danger. It’s just not in me. That’s who I am. Who I want to be.

  “Hey,” I say, closing the distance between us. I cradle her face in my hand—noticing how she instinctively leans in to my touch. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” Her eyes move to mine—wide with shock. “The girl I used to know would’ve never had the strength to do ... whatever it was you did today.” I smirk. She smiles. The mood seems to lighten. “There’s nothing I want more than for you to have your independence. Be resilient and courageous. Because there will be times I won’t be there.”

  I rub my thumb along her jaw. Regret swims through me at all the times I missed out on something as simple as touching her skin. “If trouble finds you, I know you can handle it. But I can’t let you go looking for it. I wouldn’t be a man if I sat back while you fought a battle that belongs to me. I’m here, Maddie. Right now. Not to overshadow you or stand in your wake. But to be beside you. It’s where I belong. Where we belong.”

  She’s searching for something in my eyes. Honesty? Regret? She’ll find both. Her look is thoughtful—a war wages inside her. She’s not quite ready to trust me. But if she’ll just give me a chance, I’ll prove it to her.

  “Do you still love me, Marty?”

  “I never stopped loving you.”

  “How much do you love me?”

  “More than anything.”

  Her brows draw together as she drops her eyes to my lips. She seems to be deliberating something. Finally, she nods—meeting my gaze once again. Then, she gives me that chance I’ve been hoping for. “Help me finish this.”

  Swearing on my life, I promise her. “I will.”