Page 4

Nova

Lacey flipped out when I went back inside and told her what happened.

After calling the police, she called Jared and chewed his ass for at least half an hour. He gave me a couple of days off with pay for the inconvenience.

Yeah, almost being raped next to a dumpster is a huge fucking inconvenience.

My boss is an idiot, and we all know it, but it’s not worth the extra oxygen to try and explain shit to him. So, I agreed to the paid time off.

I was surprised to find out his cheap ass has security cameras in the front and back of the building, so there was video of what happened to me. The paramedics cleaned the blood from my forehead from headbutting Emmett. They advised me to ice my cheek where he slapped me and keep the cuts on my knuckles clean from where I was punching him during the attack.

The police talked to me after watching the security footage. They asked me multiple times if I knew who killed Emmett. They said he wouldn’t be in trouble, they just wanted to talk to him.

Bullshit.

I played dumb, telling them I had absolutely no idea who the guy was. In reality, that’s the truth. I don’t know his name or what he looks like. I could’ve pointed the cops in his direction, but why?

He saved me.

He killed for me.

That alone has me fucked up.

I did get a little enjoyment watching the coroner zip him up in the body bag.

Bastard.

Other than the interview at the police station, I spent most of my time off in bed, my emotions all over the place. Not only was I almost sexually assaulted, but it reminded me of all the times it happened while I was with my mother. Needless to say, I laid around eating junk food and watching horror movies. It raised my spirits by the time I came back to work this afternoon.

It’s been a quiet shift so far, no drunk assholes pissing me off just yet.

Around ten o’clock the door opens and the mysterious stranger strolls in. He looks my way before heading to the back corner, sitting at his usual table.

I’ve asked a few people why they call him ‘Devil’, but I’m always met with the same answer, even from Lacey and Jared. They tell me to drop it and leave it alone.

I’ve never been good at letting shit go and the curiosity is killing me. I can’t leave the bar unattended, and Lacey is the only waitress tonight, so I improvise. Snatching a napkin from the holder, I grab the pen from my pocket and write him a note. “Why do they call you the devil?”

Lacey appears, rolling her eyes. “Same as usual for your new friend.”

Her attitude rubs me the wrong way. “Why are you being like that when he saved my ass the other night?” I snap.

Her eyes widen, taken aback by my tone. “Nova, I’ll always be grateful he was there, but it doesn’t change the fact he’s a psychopath. He’s dangerous and you’ll do good to remember that.”

I laugh sarcastically. “He’s such a bad guy, but he saved my ass.”

“Why are you defending him? Even before the other night, you weren’t afraid of him.”

“I’ve encountered worse.” Placing his beer on her tray, I lay the folded napkin beside it. “Give this to him, too.”

She watches me for a moment, exasperated, before nodding and walking away.

I turn my attention to wiping down the bar, a few people taking a seat, ordering drinks. Keeping myself busy, I try not to wonder if he’ll respond to my childish note.

I shouldn’t have written it.

Another patron orders a beer and as I finish pouring it from the tap, I turn around to find Devil sitting in front of me. His hat is pulled down low, his jacket collar pulled up high. The neon lights shine a single streak of light across his face, just enough to see something that leaves me breathless.

For the first time, our gazes lock, and familiarity hits me like a ton of bricks. His eyes are crystal blue, and they plunge me into a deep abyss of heartbreak and longing.

They remind me of Colt, and I swallow down the emotion clogging my throat.

I haven’t seen him in a year and a half. He had no way of knowing which foster home I was sent to. He doesn’t know I left and work at this bar. It feels as if I’m lost to him forever.

Devil tilts his head, his bright eyes watching me closely. I’m vulnerable under his scrutiny and it makes me want to shrink into myself, instantly regretting writing the stupid fucking note.

A throat clears in the distance, and I’m pulled from my downward spiral, passing the guy his beer. When I turn back around, I find my protector’s stool empty, but a napkin lay folded on the bar. With trembling fingers, I unfold it carefully, reading each word slowly. “I’m your devil.”

My heart rate spikes and where most people would be terrified by his words, they soothe something wicked inside my own soul.

For a moment, I don’t feel so alone. I feel seen by the devil who claims to be mine.

Who the hell is this guy and why do I care so much?

Glancing at the table in the corner, it’s empty and my stomach sinks. Folding the napkin neatly, I slide it into my back pocket for safe keeping.