A Deal With the Devil

by Louisa George

  “Oh? How so?” She gave him a thin smile that said she was well and truly finished with him. “My shift ended a long time ago, you don’t need me here any more. Your guests have all toddled off to bed, and now it’s time for me to do the same.” There was no hint of an invitation. “So, if you’ll excuse me, Mr Doyle.”

  “No.” He touched her arm. “Come with me.”

  “Where?” She looked at his hand on her skin, but she didn’t move away. “Why?”

  “We had a deal. You upheld your side of the bargain, now it’s time for me to do the same.” He steered her towards the exit.

  But they hadn’t left the playing floor before she stopped and shrugged away his hand. “Where are we going? What about my clothes? I need to go home.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll have your clothes brought through.” He imagined her stripping off that dress, what lay beneath. And wondered what the hell was wrong with him that she affected him so much. It had to stop. “And it’s Rey, you don’t have to go back to ‘Mr Doyle’.”

  There was a small smile. “Oh, no, I like to keep things delineated. That way we both know where we stand.”

  Do we? Because his reality was shifting uncomfortably and he seemed hard-pressed to stop it. As he pushed open the door to the management suite he asked, “What’s your locker number?”

  “Forty-seven. But I can go and get them myself.”

  “I know you can. But there’s our … unfinished business to attend to. It’s not appropriate to do it in the staff locker room or out there where everyone can see us.” He waited for her to react.

  He noticed the sharp but almost concealed intake of breath. She was clearly struggling to keep control. She was fiery, reactive, knew what she wanted and what she didn’t. And he got the impression she hadn’t quite made up her mind about him yet.

  Her voice was steady as she spoke. “Okay, get my things brought up, but quickly, it’s late and I need to go home sometime soon.” He felt her eyes on his back as he opened his office door and led her in. And, yes, he imagined having her there too, splayed over his desk.

  He made the call to housekeeping, then hauled in a breath as he turned back and looked at Kate. With the toned down make-up and the chic clothes she was a far cry from the waitress of earlier on. His gut instinct had been right that time too—underneath the war paint she was beautiful. Breathtaking. But it wasn’t just the way she looked that intrigued him … it was the way she held herself in check, determined not to react to him. Why? What was so at stake for her? “I owe you, what was it … double wages?”

  “Treble. But nice try.” She stuck out her hand, eyes weighing up first him, then his office. He nodded for her to take a seat, but she ignored him and continued to look around the room, glancing to the camera in the ceiling, the desk, the door. “Very … masculine.”

  “Obviously.” He pulled out a wad of notes and offered it to her. She glared at it as if it was blood money.

  But she took it anyway with a shake of her head. “And my clothes?”

  “Will be here any minute. While we’re waiting we should debrief. Chin was quite taken with you. They’re leaving tomorrow, but they’ll be back. I may need you again, so we have to get our stories straight.”

  She took a ragged breath. “Can’t you ask someone else to play girlfriend?”

  “Not now. We’re madly in love, I can hardly bring someone else in at this stage. True love is one thing, threesomes are another thing altogether.” He let that thought sit for a moment. “Mind you …”

  Her eyes widened and again she shook her head, slowly. “Not on your life, Rey Doyle. I know exactly what you’re thinking and that’s just one of a million reasons why I could never ever be your real-life girlfriend. Never mind fall in love with you.” Now her voice was laced with laughter, sweet and fresh.

  “And you’ve just broken my heart.” Although he supposed she was right; he wasn’t exactly his favourite person either. “So what are the other million reasons?”

  They were interrupted by a knock and he wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or did Kate all but run to the door to collect her clothes. “Er … where can I get changed?”

  He pointed to his en suite, watched that peach-perfect backside disappear behind the door. Heard the definitive drag of the lock, heard a zip, a curse. He called through, “You need a hand in there?”

  “No thank you. I’m managing just fine. I’ve been dressing myself for twenty-odd years.” A pause, a wistful softness. “Beautiful dress, though.”

  Not the dress, her. “So where were we …?”

  “You wanted a list of my million reasons?” Behind the safety of a closed door she seemed less uptight. “You’re my boss, for a start. I don’t like things to be less than equal.”

  And yet she’d met him match for match, play for play. “It’s only money.”

  “Money … and you call all the shots at the casino …”

  “I do own the damned place.”

  “True. But money and power, in your world they’re king, not in mine. Wait. There. Okay.” She sighed loudly. The door opened and she stepped out, rich dark hair tumbling over her shoulders in thick sleek, looping curls, a faded red T-shirt under a thick grey wool jumper that looked two sizes too big, a long pink tasselled scarf strung loosely around her neck, skinny black jeans, black heeled ankle boots. Such a contrast to the demure casino boss’s girl. And yet, if he’d given thought to whichever fantasy woman he could choose—since he’d featured on the rich list, it seemed he could have his pick—he would previously never have classed this casual get-up sexy. But she rocked it. She looked around and bit her bottom lip. “Right, I think we’re done here?”

  Not nearly done enough. He wanted to run his tongue along that lip, suck the tiny dent made by her incisor. More. A whole lot more. Damn. He shook that feeling off. It was late. She was tired. And he was clearly just too damned wired from the meeting to think straight. “I’ll walk you to the exit.”

  More relaxed in her own clothes she gave him a warm smile. “Again, thank you, but I can manage.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  “Whatever. You seem to do entirely what you want, anyway.” She seemed reluctant to talk more as they walked through the ground floor lounge, past the stragglers and the regulars, the party people, the ones with no home to go to. He supposed he should have headed to his, seeing as he had one—although it was just somewhere to sleep, not exactly a home. But there were too many questions running through his head. Like, why the hell was he distracted by her when he should have been sorting out the security breach? Getting a decent night’s sleep before the meeting in a few hours?

  At the entrance he found one of his security team checking a couple in. He drew him to the side. “Bring the Sturgis round. And make it quick.”

  Kate, meanwhile hung back, apparently disinclined to be seen with him … or to be seen leaving … or, who the hell knew? He was tired of playing games, of guessing, of cat and mouse. Whatever the hell happened to good old-fashioned honesty?

  But he knew exactly what had happened to it; it had gone the way of trust and love and other such pointless sentiments. He hated that he lived like that, with no belief in anyone but his close team of advisors, but it had been a hard road to walk, clawing his way from the bottom up. Trust wasn’t something he did easily, never mind with Kate Wilkinson who he’d just met and who didn’t quite fit … He just had a bad case of old-fashioned lust.

  The fun flirting over in the cold evening light, he returned to business. “One last thing: anything important you discussed with Chin that I should know about?”

  At his beckoning she walked forward. “Well, there’s not much to say, really. We don’t go horse-riding very often. I like to make sure you get a break because you work too hard. We’re going to have a family. That was what you wanted me to say, right?”

  And yeah, he knew all that. “Your mother died.”

  “What?” She came to an abrupt halt, looking as if sh
e’d been punched in the gut. Colour bled from her face as she pressed her bag to her stomach, like a barrier. Although, she didn’t need to use anything physical, the emotional lockdown was there in her face. “You were eavesdropping on a private conversation?”

  “Yes. Of course. How the hell do you think we’d be able to match stories?”

  “So if you know everything then why the debrief?”

  “Because I understand.” He didn’t know if he did. Didn’t know what the hell had happened to his filter, his guard, why he was saying this.

  “You understand …? About my mum? I don’t think so. I really don’t think so.” Pale and shaken she turned sharply left and headed off down the road.

  And now his interest was really piqued. It didn’t take long to catch her up. “Do you always block people out?”

  “No.” She swivelled on those cute black heels. “Do you?”

  Oh, she was good. Deflection. “This may seem a little late in the day, but I was trying to be compassionate.”

  “I wouldn’t have imagined the words casino king and compassion could ever be mentioned in the same sentence. And never at the same time as my mum. Do not talk about her again. Stick to gambling or boxing, you’re better at them.”

  He supposed she was right, compassion wasn’t ever needed in a boxing ring. Show any sign of softness and you received an undercut that could put you out of action for weeks, if not kill you straight up. For the first time in his life he was sick of sparring. He caught her arm and urged her to stop, the sound of a deep throaty engine rumble behind them splitting the night. “Are you always this … argumentative? Because really, it’s a huge pain in my ass.”

  “No … yes … I don’t know. It’s been a long day.” She closed her eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of her nose, and breathed out, as if she was taking stock. “I’m sorry.”

  “I took you off guard, I know.” He tilted her chin to look at her, surprised at his need to make amends. “You’re very tense, you need to relax.”

  Black-shadowed eyes gazed up at him. “I need to sleep.”

  “How are you getting home?”

  She glanced down at her watch. “Bus? The tube’s finished for the night. I guess I could call a taxi.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “No.” She answered too sharply, and realised her error. “I mean, no thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s dark. It’s late. I will take you. No arguing.” Turning, he saw the security guard astride his trusty Sturgis. God bless Messrs Harley and Davidson and their services to epic motorbikes. Rey wandered over, tugging Kate with him, and took the two helmets from the pannier box. He handed her one. “Put that on.”

  “No way—” But she wasn’t looking at him any more, her attention had been distracted by a bundle of rags in the shadowed doorway, next shop front along. The bundle was groaning as she knelt down—no mean feat in jeans that hugged every damned curve. She didn’t seem to care that she was about to get dirty. Unlike other women he’d dated her focus was not on herself and her own needs, but on the sounds. “Hey, hello? Hey?” Her voice cooing. “Are you okay?”

  The bundle sat up, dazed and dishevelled. A street kid with day-old bruises on his cheek, a swollen eye, dirty clothes. Around sixteen, Rey guessed, yet another victim of a failing system, somewhere. Or more family dysfunction, poverty perhaps … there were so many reasons, all of them depressingly the same: when things got really tough kids had nowhere to go except the street. Which more often than not was only marginally better than the home life. Although for Rey anything had been better than facing his father’s half-arsed apologies and sickening drunken self-pity.

  He shook away the blackness that was threatening.

  The kid rubbed his good eye. “No, I’m not okay. They took everything I had.”

  “Can I help …?” Kate was kneeling next to him, peering closely at the boy’s face, given her nurse training she was probably assessing for injury. “Who did this to you?”

  “I dunno.” The boy shrugged. “Just someone.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Why?” The kid stared at Kate as if she was about to rob him of anything he had left. Including his dignity and self-respect. “Gonna report me? Phone the police?”

  “Of course not.” Undeterred by his rudeness she sat on the pavement next to him and hugged her knees to her chest. “It’s cold out here.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. It’s October, and night time.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Rey interjected, unable to watch this play out without intervening.

  Not taking any offence Kate slid the kid a small smile, reassuring. “At least you kept your sense of humour. That bruise looks nasty, you could have broken your cheekbone. Did you have it x-rayed?”

  “Oh yeah, right, I have an app for that. Wait … no, they stole my phone. And my money. And my stuff.”

  Great. Smart mouths every which way Rey turned tonight. He crouched down by the kid, eye level, and stared him down. “Mind your manners to the lady.” Then he turned to Kate. “So what are we dealing with here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Internal bleeding? Fractures? Don’t they teach you that?”

  “Who? …” She frowned.

  “At nursing school?”

  “Oh, yes … sorry, I’m tired …” Scowling, she turned back to the boy. “Tell me where it hurts. When did this happen?”

  “Yesterday. I’m okay. I’m fine. I’ll live. I’m just …” He rubbed his stomach.

  Rey smirked. He knew exactly what the boy was. “Hungry?”

  The kid nodded. “Starving.”

  “Figured as much.” Rey jammed a hand in his pocket, drew out his wallet and handed the boy a card and a twenty pound note. “Take a cab and go to this address. Tell the grumpy old bastard that answers that Rey sent you. He’ll sort you out.”

  “Okay.” But the kid didn’t look so sure.

  “It’s not the cops, or a knocking shop or anyone else you need to worry about, it’s legit. There’s free food. Hot and more than you can eat. Make sure you get there—don’t waste that money on blow or other dumb stuff. Get a cab. Now. In fact …” Out of the corner of his eye Rey saw a black car with a yellow light advertising a cab for hire. He stuck his hand out and called it to a halt. He leaned in, gave the driver the address, then indicated to the kid to come over. “If our paths cross again, and you haven’t done what I told you to do, you’re going to live to regret it.”

  “Okay.” The kid stood, grabbed what few rags and grimy possessions he had left and pressed them close to his puny chest as if they were the crown jewels. To a street kid they might as well have been. He took a couple of wavering steps towards the cab then turned and looked adoringly at the vintage black and chrome Sturgis. “I get the cab and she gets the bike? Life is so unfair.”

  “Yeah, don’t you forget it. Now, get the hell out of here.” Rey raised his eyebrows and play-punched the boy’s shoulder. He had spirit. He’d be fine, eventually.

  As the cab disappeared into the London night Kate moved towards him, eyes narrowed. “What did you just give him?”

  “A helping hand.”

  “In what way exactly? Because just dishing out money isn’t going to help him, long term.” She had her hands on her hips, which he’d come to learn in a very short space of time meant she wasn’t going to let this go. “He needs—”

  “I gave him a business card with a name on it. Someone who will help him.” Man, she was thorough in her questioning, with just one look. Reminded him of his mother in some ways—she’d never have taken silence for an answer either. At her frown he elucidated. “Someone who helped me once when I needed it.”

  “What? Some kind of shelter? I hope so.” She shook her head, blue eyes darkening as she realised what he was saying. “Were you homeless?”

  “If you Google my name you’ll find out my history.” The one he’d allowed to be presented to the world. The real hard truth
he’d kept close to his chest, like the boy with his meagre possessions—it was his and only his to know. Ted had told him he’d get more empathy if the truth was out there, but Rey doubted it. The most he’d get was pity, maybe. And he wasn’t for any of that. “It’s just a boxing gym.”

  Tension spiralled in her voice. “You want him to learn how to fight? The kid can barely walk and you want him to learn how to deal with situations with his fists? Nice. You’re all class.”

  “I want him to learn how to survive. The manager there usually has a hot meal on the go and a spare bed for the night. He’ll see him right.” As he had with Rey, and all the others.

  “What then? Turn him back out on the street no better off, apart from knowing how to throw a punch? Great life lesson. Throw your weight around and bully everyone into doing what you want. Lives get ruined by that kind of attitude.” Her eyes bore into him, so dark and deep and searching. She’d got him all wrong, but she was, in fact, so right. Suddenly he wanted to be everything a good man was, not a guy with a chequered past and a dubious present. But he couldn’t erase all of who he was from his life, and he couldn’t land all of that on her. Scarcely one level up from gangster would probably not turn her on. And it hadn’t escaped his notice that she was heated and passionate, but all of it was for the kid. She railed at him again, “I wanted to help him, properly. The street’s no place for a young boy.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know. But shit, Kate, I can’t save them all. Some of them don’t want to be saved.”

  “You can’t save them …? What do you mean? How involved are you with this boxing gym?”

  Looking up the road in the direction the car had disappeared, Rey ran his hands through his hair, trying to keep level-headed about the only good thing he’d done in his life. “It’s my charity, but I take a back seat. The staff are trained in how to deal with the kids, I’m not. I just bankroll it. We have gyms in all the major cities across the country and, despite what you might think, it works. They get off the streets, they build new lives.”

  “Okay, I’m impressed. That was your aim?”