Devil You Know (Lost Boys Book 1)

by L. A. Fiore

  I was taking the Scarlett O’Hara approach on this entire mess, tomorrow is another day, in that I’d worry tomorrow. Shock helped with this plan because I felt like I was in a perpetual dream-like state…that none of this was real and I would wake up from it at any time.

  It was late, close to eleven, when Damian pulled into a motel. “We are stopping here?”

  I didn’t expect an answer from this new and less improved Damian. In fact, I had started holding both sides of the conversation because it entertained me and I suspected irritated him.

  In my best interpretation of his voice I said, “Yes, Thea, we have traveled hard today and you have had a trying week. You need a good night’s sleep.”

  “Oh, Damian, that is so thoughtful of you. I would love a shower and eight hours of sleep.”

  He threw the car in park and shut off the engine before turning to me, but I hadn’t a clue what he was thinking. Without a word, he climbed from the car and headed to the trunk. I joined him and looked around at the five-star establishment he had found us. It felt kind of like a scene from Pulp Fiction. All it was missing was the blood splatter on the office door and the severed head by the ice machine.

  “This is really nice. How did you find it? Did you Google worst motel imaginable?”

  He handed me my overnight bag, grabbed his own, before shutting the trunk and headed to the office. I followed after him. “You’re armed right?”

  This earned me a look from over his shoulder.

  We entered the office to find a man sitting behind the counter, and calling what we saw a man was stretching the word to its limit. Very little hair was left on his large, bulbous head, his gut stuck out in the stained wife beater he wore and his eyes were glassy, either from lack of sleep or alcohol. Normally I wouldn’t disparage someone based on their appearance, however since his entire office was papered with bare-chested women, the gratuitous display eased any guilt I might have felt.

  “We need a room.”

  The manager sized me up. My skin crawled at the scrutiny. “Twin beds or king-sized?” He asked that as he adjusted himself. Seriously how the hell had Damian found this place?

  “King-size and if you look at my wife that way again I’ll rip your fucking eyes out of their sockets and feed them to you.” My head jerked so hard to the left I felt light-headed. My expression matched that of the manager’s, but for different reasons…obviously.

  Damian paid for the room, grabbed the key before reaching for my hand and pulling me from the office. Our room was the last room, the opposite side of the building from the office. Done on purpose I was sure, the manager probably wanted Damian as far from him as possible.

  Despite the unwelcoming appearance of the outside and the manager, the inside was surprisingly clean. Dust-free, new carpets, and with a check of the mattress I discovered no bed bugs and no mold on the shower curtain. Things were looking up. But then I realized he had asked for only one bed. This would have started the tingles of anticipation, but the man wasn’t talking to me so it was highly unlikely he intended to do all those wondrous activities that inspired the tingles.

  Damian grabbed his bag and headed to the bathroom. He didn’t close the door, left it open, so I had a front row seat to the show. He grabbed the back of his tee and pulled it over his head, gifting me with the view of his beautiful back and that tattoo that I both loved and hated. I hadn’t been sitting, but my knees gave out and I dropped down onto the edge of the bed when he dropped his pants affording me the sight of the sexiest ass I had ever seen. Heat burned up my neck, my cheeks were on fire and my nipples went hard and still I just stared because staring was all I was getting these days. He didn’t turn and I was grateful because I didn’t think I would be able to handle a full frontal. He climbed into the shower and almost as an afterthought he reached for the door. He didn’t shut it. He just closed it enough that I was left staring at the scarred wood, but all I saw was Damian’s very fine body. We were sharing a bed where we wouldn’t be touching; he’d probably even build a wall with the extra pillows.

  He wasn’t in the shower long, came strolling out with a pair of running pants on and nothing else. He was built like he had been airbrushed to perfection. His shoulders were unimaginably wide, but then with how effortlessly he had tossed my attacker in that alley, I couldn’t say I was surprised. His pecs, his abs, he was the perfect example of the male form. I dragged my eyes from him because I was feeling aches in places that he wouldn’t be helping me ease, and reached for my bag.

  I headed to the bathroom and he called after me. “No lock.”

  I knew his instruction was only because he needed to be able to get to me just in case someone came in through the window. But for just a second I let myself believe he intended to sneak in while I showered and have his way with me, like he had the other day. I liked the idea of that so much, as soon as the water rained down on me I eased the ache the thought stirred. I bit my lip, lowered my head and hoped the sound of the shower drowned out my moan when I came.

  I finished in the shower and dressed in my shorts and tee. I thought to enter the room naked and see if that stirred anything, but when he rejected me, which I knew he would when he saw the bruises, it would hurt even more than the injuries I had sustained in the alley.

  He was already in the bed, resting on top of the covers, his focus was on the news playing on the television. I climbed under the covers, rolled on my side away from him. I wanted to scream at him, to snap him out of it, but this particular ghost he was mentally battling, my attack, was too fresh and raw. He needed time in his head to deal, so instead I whispered into my pillow. “Good night.”

  I wasn’t expecting sleep so was shocked when I opened my eyes to find light streaming in through the crack in the curtains. Cautiously, I turned toward Damian only to discover his side of the bed was empty. I stretched then climbed from bed, grabbed my stuff and headed to the bathroom. I was just finishing up when I heard him return. Peeking around the door, Damian was dropping the key on the bed but it was the sight of the coffee that almost had me shouting in glee.

  “Did you get one for me?” I asked.

  He looked over and took his time moving his gaze from my bare feet slowly up my body until he finally reached my face, a face that was now burning because damn I felt that like a caress.

  “No.”

  I almost said thank you because I wasn’t expecting him to say no.

  “No?”

  He moved to his bag, ignoring me. I wasn’t going to be ignored. I walked into the room, right up to him, and poked him in the chest with my toothbrush. “No?”

  His focus was on my toothbrush.

  “You went out for coffee and didn’t bring me back a cup? It is bad enough you have decided to stop speaking to me, but that is just rude.”

  He looked me right in the eye before shifting his gaze back to my toothbrush—his nonverbal way of telling me to back off. I pressed the brush harder into his chest.

  “We are stuck with each other for the foreseeable future and when you are my only hope for conversation, the damn cat has got your tongue.”

  His eyes went all dark as they speared me with a look but I hadn’t a clue what emotion was behind that look. “Next time you get coffee, in case your memory has also been affected, I take mine black with two sugars.” And then I grabbed his coffee and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me for emphasis. It felt good for the two point three seconds that it lasted. The door flew open; the coffee I hadn’t even sipped was removed from my hand before I saw nothing but his back as he strolled to the door. I hurried with dressing because I wouldn’t put it past this less friendly Damian to leave me here.

  He was standing by the trunk when I stepped outside, drinking his coffee. I hoped he choked on it. Dropping my bag in the car, I took a play from his book and said nothing as I yanked open the passenger door. And that’s when my eyes landed on the second cup of coffee, one that had Thea written on the side.

>   He climbed in, keyed the engine. “Black, two sugars.”

  I was gushing a bit. He hadn’t forgotten about me. I belted in, reached for my coffee and flashed him a smile.

  “Thank you.”

  He didn’t answer. I hadn’t expected him to.

  Deadwood, South Dakota. I had no idea how he found this place, but as we drove through town I couldn’t deny it was the perfect place to lay low. Quaint, off the beaten path, and looking similar to what I imagined it looked like in the day of cowboys and the Wild West. Stretches of land for as far as the eye could see and brilliant blue skies and mountains hugging the horizon. It was gorgeous. The air was cleaner; everything was cleaner.

  We reached the house, a charming little cottage. “Are you going to carry me over the threshold?”

  At my question, he spared me a glance and shook his head, but he wasn’t answering me, it was more like he was wondering how he’d drawn the short straw. I wanted to shout that he had volunteered but it was pointless. He climbed from the car.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  I walked to the trunk to retrieve my bags, but he had already grabbed his stuff and mine and was heading for the door.

  Instead of following him in, I meandered a bit in the front gardens. Mums had been planted and the window boxes on the front windows were overflowing with ornamental cabbages and pumpkins. A stone path guided you through the garden beds, most of which had been cut down in preparation for winter. Turning toward the house, I noticed Damian had left the front door open for me. As soon as I entered the cottage, I immediately fell in love. Oak floors, whitewashed walls and an exposed beam ceiling. Furniture in fabrics of pale blues and yellows, coffee and side tables painted in a buttery yellow, a kitchen with wood countertops, white paned glass cabinets, a farmhouse sink and windows all along the back wall overlooking nothing but wilderness. The bedrooms were all done in soft colors with sheer curtains on the windows to add a touch of privacy but still allowing for the breeze from the mountains. Since my bags were in the room with the Wedgwood blue walls, I could only assume that was where I was sleeping. My room had a private balcony. When I stepped out on the balcony, I realized that it wasn’t so private because a second room shared it and somehow I just knew Damian was taking that one.

  Settling on one of the chairs, I looked out at the view of nothing but mountains and trees and tried to come to terms with how royally screwed up my life was now. A few weeks ago my biggest concern was making sure my DVR recorded Game of Thrones and now I was hiding out in Deadwood, South Dakota with bad people wanting to hurt me, the love of my life killed a man, my best friend covered it up, my brother was getting shot at and my mom and dearest friends were out of reach.

  I didn’t know when the tears started, but I moved back into my room, climbed on the bed and muffled the sound of my tears with the pillow.

  An hour later, I headed to the kitchen in time to see Damian reaching for his keys. “Where are you going?”

  “Town. We need supplies.”

  “Can I come?”

  In response, I got the chin lift. I had learned, during the long car ride with the Damian looking cyborg, meant affirmative. I belted in and asked, “So what’s our story?”

  He responded with the best blank look I had ever seen. I had received this stare many times during the course of our journey and yet it didn’t grow old.

  I clarified, “We’re married, so how did we meet? Why did we move here? People are going to ask.”

  “No one will care. We’re just here to lay low.”

  Words. He spoke actual words. I couldn’t bask in his temporary case of verbosity though because his comment was nonsensical.

  “What do you mean people won’t care? Deadwood has a population of fewer than thirteen hundred people and we’re strangers. People are most definitely going to care. Okay, I know. We met at Dahlia’s and fell in love over chocolate cake.”

  My eyes were trained on his profile, but the only reaction I got from that was the jump in the muscle of his jaw, so I continued. “We had only dated for a few months when you realized you could not live another day without me as your wife. We married in a private ceremony and after three years of wedded bliss you whisked me away to Deadwood because you know of my love of wide-open spaces. We don’t have children, but we are actively pursuing that...” It hurt because my fake life sounded an awful lot like how I wanted my real life to be, so I turned my head and looked out the window. I felt Damian’s stare, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

  No one will care, right! That belief of Damian’s was dispelled immediately upon parking along Main Street. People stared at us. Some were even talking behind their hands. We were most definitely news. Damian came up on the curb and opened my door for me. Even when he wasn’t speaking to me, he still had impeccable manners. We walked toward the market and I reached for his hand. He didn’t hesitate to link his fingers with mine. We were supposed to be married after all. He didn’t hold my hand long though, releasing it almost as soon as we entered the market so he could push the shopping cart.

  Half an hour, that was how long we spent in the produce aisle. The man wasn’t a vegetarian. I had shopped often with him as a kid and had witnessed him eating countless meals featuring meat, the latest of which was watching him stuff a double cheeseburger with bacon in his face during a rest stop at a diner on our way here. But he was packing up the cart with a variety of lettuces and kale, beans and peppers and fruit. I was all for eating your greens, but really. Where was the bakery?

  Next came the milk and cheeses, the man apparently had a fondness for dairy products and lastly he selected meats, all of which were lean.

  “What about bread?” I asked.

  “I don’t eat it.”

  I wanted to step on his foot because he knew damn well that I did. “Well, I do.” I left Mr. I Don’t Eat Bread in the middle of the meat aisle and went in search of bread and cake. Maybe I’d even get a pie. The bakery wasn’t what I was hoping for, there were no assortments of cookies, the cake selection was limited as were the breads, but at least I’d have something for my sweet tooth. In the midst of debating over the coffee crumb cake and the orange glazed cake, I met my first resident of Deadwood. She was older, maybe early seventies, with whitish gray hair that leaned more toward purple. She was dressed in a blue housedress and sturdy, thick soled shoes.

  “Hello. You are the new gal who just moved to town with her beau.”

  “Yes, I’m Thea. Damian is here, somewhere.” The words were barely out of my mouth when I felt Damian come up behind me. His arm wrapped around my waist as he pulled me close to his side. The gesture to this woman would look like a loving husband, but I knew it had nothing at all to do with that and everything to do with his job of protecting me, even from friendly older women with purple hair.

  “Damian this is...I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”

  “I’m Madge, Madge Littleton.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.” A full sentence, she got a full sentence, but Damian wasn’t done. “Do you need a hand with those groceries?”

  Here was the charming Damian, like he had been with Mrs. Cooke and my mom, and I had the same reaction I had then…jealousy. He had it in him to speak, even be charming, very charming, he just wasn’t bothering doing so with me now. Jerk.

  “Thank you, young man, but Billy at the counter always carries my bags home. There’s a square dance tonight at the tavern starting at seven; it will be a good opportunity for you to meet some of your neighbors.”

  I felt Damian go rigid at my side, so immediately I responded before he could say no because frankly I needed some human interaction. I could only take so much of the cyborg act. “What a wonderful idea. There is nothing my husband likes more than a good square dance. Maybe we will see you there.”

  “Oh, I’ll definitely be there, at least for the first few dances. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  “You’ll have to make sure you save a
dance for Damian.”

  His fingers on my hip were now digging almost painfully into my side.

  “I’ll do that, looking forward to it.”

  And she was because you could feel her excitement. “It was very nice to meet you, Mrs. Littleton.”

  “Please call me Madge. See you tonight.”

  She rattled when she departed, and so focused on what she could be wearing that would rattle, I didn’t immediately sense Damian’s mood until he said in a voice that was a little scary, “You enjoyed that.”

  “Oh I did, Damian, very much.” Then I too walked away because it wouldn’t do for him to see me grinning and I was, from ear to ear.

  Damian went for a run as soon as we put away the groceries. I tried not to think about the man in the alley and how if Damian hadn’t shown when he had, I wouldn’t be sitting here. I had something some bad people wanted and they were prepared to kill me to get it. That is not something most people can say and so my overactive imagination took a stroll down memory lane. Were there other people in my life who would like to see me facedown in a river?