Page 22

TWENTY-ONE

TEARS

NICOLETTE

I never thought a seahorse tattoo would make me cry.

Kieran hated tears. He would tell me that it was a waste of time, that I couldn’t manipulate him by crying. I never was a big crier or anything, but one of the things he ‘trained’ me out of was tearing up at the slightest inconvenience. Of course, that meant I refused to shed a tear when the hypocritical bastard decided he wanted me to.

Now, though? I think of the seahorse and my heart aches—in a good way.

It’s not even the cover-up by my boob that Cross did for me. I love it, and it’s such a relief to know that, for the first time in years, I don’t have Kieran’s handiwork on me. It’s a piece of art I chose, from the style to the colors, and it doesn’t matter that it’s a silly tattoo without any ‘real’ reason behind it other than I’ve always kind of liked seahorses. To me, it represents my freedom. That last tether to my abuser that I finally cut loose.

But when Royce drops me off at my house the next morning at my request and stays, insisting that he didn’t have anything other to do than spend the day with me, he waited until he’d checked on the healing process of my tattoo before showing off his .

I didn’t even realize that, after I passed out in his bed the night before, he went back to see Cross. He promised that I was locked up tight, that there was no way Kieran would reach me; after the long discussion I had with Ava earlier about what exactly it meant to belong to a Sinner, I believed him. His tattoo is smaller than mine—his is about the size of a half-dollar, while mine needed to be closer to a tennis ball to completely cover up Kieran’s dragonfly—so he wasn’t gone long. By the time I woke up the next morning, he was lying in his oversized bed with me.

Hell, considering his bed is fucking huge, with black satin sheets that seem to suit my lover, if I woke up and didn’t sense him next to me, I might’ve even though he was just on the other side.

Nope. In another sweet gesture that is so typically Royce McIntyre, he got a matching tattoo. I didn’t ask him to. I blubbering like an idiot when I saw it, and kinda freaked him out, but what else could I do? I went from being marked by a man I want to forget to sharing a tattoo with one I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.

Do I think this is it? That he’s my forever? I hope so, but I haven’t been that naive since the first time Kieran fingered me under the table while Mom and Dave were talking about who knows what. There’s no denying that Royce has this ‘savior’ thing going. I thought that before I discovered he was the Sinner who was there when Heather Valiant was shot. Learning the truth about that tragedy only confirms it for me.

If Royce is looking for someone to rescue, he can’t do any better than me. It’s like I was tailor-made for him. I see it. Odds are he does, too, even if he won’t admit it.

Do I believe that he cares for me? Since I’m head over heels for him, yeah. He’s attracted to me, we get along great, and we have a lot of fun together. Whether it’s resuming our ongoing banter about who Christine should have chosen in Phantom, teaching each other how to cook—and that ’s going as well as you’d think—or licking chocolate off of each other after another baking disaster, I can see myself spending forever with this man.

The question is: can he see himself spending forever with me ?

We don’t talk about that. The future? We both conveniently avoid talking about it.

We do the same thing when it comes to Kieran.

That’s on me. I just… I want to enjoy whatever time I have with Royce. It’s not as much as I like. The underboss spends all of his free time with me, but he doesn’t have a lot of it. The Sinners keep him busy, and I’ve lost track of how many times since we’ve been sleeping together that he’s had to get up from bed, throw on his trademark dark suit, and disappear to do something for Devil.

I wouldn’t say I’ve moved in with him, but that’s only because most of my stuff is still stored at my mom’s house. The morning after everything that happened in Riverside, I was slightly surprised when Royce so quickly agreed to bring me home. I thought that was his way of getting rid of me—until I saw the tattoo by his dick that he told me got so that, when he looks at his cock, he remembers that it only belongs to one woman.

Me .

That should have tipped me off that Royce is serious about us. At the time, I thought he was just saying that to make me feel better about the whole Kieran situation. I’ve known we were exclusive since he wore my mom’s neon pink apron and told me that he was my lover now, and it was like Royce felt this need to confirm it.

I’m his. He’s mine. For as long as we’re together, there is no one else. I know he was just making it clear that—despite rumors in the East End about Sinners sharing their women—Royce won’t share. As far as he’s concerned, Kieran can fuck off, and if my ex ever tries to come between us, Royce will take care of him.

He promised.

I believe him.

I want to say it’s not his problem, but my lover makes it his problem. I find that out that same morning after when, once I finally stop sniffling over the seahorse tattoo by his pubic bone, he tells me to pack up what I’ll need for the next few days.

I haven’t moved in with him—but that’s only semantics, really. I sleep at the Suites with Royce. I either go to work at the Playground, spend the evening with Royce at his place, or visit Ava upstairs when she’s not snuggled up close with her terrifying husband. If only because, this way, Kieran won’t be able to find me, Royce keeps me close.

I just… I wish he had another reason why he wanted me near.

It’s been a little more than a week since Kieran ‘bumped into’ us in Riverside and I’m still having a hard time believing that he gave up.

I know him. Sure, it’s been almost three years since I saw him last, but I don’t think he changed all that much. The only reason why he didn’t follow me to Willowbrook was because I made an escape plan. Knowing it wouldn’t be easy to leave him, I had everything set up before I told him we were over. Money. A new apartment. A new number that no one knew, not even my mom.

I was going to make a clean break until I could figure out a way to explain why I had to go. It wouldn’t be easy, and I’ve never felt financially stable since I walked out on Kieran, but if I wanted to get out, I had to go .

He laughed when I said that’s what I was doing. I remember that so vividly. He laughed and told me that we’ll never be over. That I would always belong to him. And, to prove it, he disappeared for three days on a kill mission for Damien Libellula.

Kieran absolutely expected me to be waiting for him when he got back. My only regret is that I didn’t have cameras up in the apartment I shared with Kieran before I left. I’m sure his reaction to finding out I’d done just what I said and slipped out into the night with nothing but the clothes on my back, my ID, and the dollars I squirreled away over the years.

I was careful in Willowbrook. I stayed to myself. I worked two jobs to make ends meet, and often went hungry when I couldn’t. Fresh out of an abusive relationship, I wasn’t eager to start a new one. Dating was off the table, though I did react the same way I did when I basically pounded Royce: to prove to myself that I was free of Kieran, I was willing to fuck anyone who looked like they were just looking for a good time.

Honestly, that’s what I thought I was getting out of Royce. One night, right? He won me for one night. It was a delightful surprise that that one night has turned into almost two months—and if I wasn’t worried about Kieran coming after me, I’m sure I would enjoy these honeymoon days with Royce a lot more.

I guess I should’ve been grateful that I made it from September to March without Kieran knowing I was back in town. It’s why I specifically didn’t go near the East End, or why I reluctantly agreed to work in the Sinners’ nightclub. Some part of me knew he would eventually figure out I was back… but now that I have proof that he has, it’s like he vanished off the face of the planet.

I don’t trust it. I don’t trust him . I can’t shake the feeling that he’s planning something, and if I chafe against some of Royce’s overprotective measures, I remind myself that he’s just trying to keep me safe from Kieran the only way he can.

If only we remembered that Kieran isn’t the only one who might be pissed off that the two of us are together…

Tonight, Royce is having a hush-hush dinner with Devil, Damien Libellula, and the mayor of Springfield. From what he told me this afternoon while I was getting ready for my shift at the Playground, the two leaders of the local mafias meet with Mayor Harrison once a month to discuss “things”. He left it at that, and I didn’t push. Because he would be occupied until at least halfway through my shift, he wanted to know if I’d rather stay home.

‘Home’ he called it, and my heart warmed. At the same time, I lost out on too many tips this week. I can’t live off of the ten grand that Royce insisted I deposit—and that I sure the hell did—forever, and I took off more time than I liked. Besides, Royce assured me that there’s no way Kieran will get past the bouncers that work the Playground’s front door.

Kieran didn’t.

Miles Haines did.

Later, I’ll admit that I completely forgot about that guy. An obvious sore loser, once Royce beat him at poker and Miles started crowing about how Royce cheated, he seemed to disappear. There was no sign of him at the Playground, and part of me wondered if he earned himself a ban for questioning the manager’s integrity. That, or he was just so stinking pissed at losing his bet and that I started seeing Royce after it, that he didn’t want to show his face around the club.

Then my shifts were cut, I barely spent any of my time at the Playground, and the only one I was looking over my shoulder for was Kieran.

That was a mistake. Because, no matter his reason for vanishing for a couple of weeks, Miles showed up when I least expect it.

The Playground is hopping. It’s a good thing that Royce is busy since I wouldn’t have had time to stop by his personal booth to say ‘hi’ between all of the tables Jessie assigned me. Even when I didn’t have a table, she told me to work the casino so that I could get some extra tips. I’m sure Royce put her up to it, but I didn’t care. Halfway through my shift, I was feeling a lot better about how much money I’d have in my pocket.

Like most of the downstairs girls, I keep my purse in the back. I don’t keep all of my tips on me at all times. Once I have a good amount, I excuse myself so that I can drop the bills into my purse. At the Playground, to steal from a fellow employee means you end up in front of the Devil of Springfield himself. Since no one wants to do that—or see what kind of punishment he’ll mete out—no one steals. Simple as that.

It’s when I’m on my way out to see if Jessie has more tables for me that Miles waylays me.

“There you are,” he says, that slimy voice of his catching my attention. I was distracted, doing the math in my head about how much more I could hope to make tonight, and I didn’t see him until he steps in front of me, grabbing me by my upper arm. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I shake him off. “Well. You found me. But I’m in the middle of a shift, so?—”

“You owe me, Nicolette.”

“Sorry,” I say, trying to move around him. Impossible when the corridor toward the backroom is narrow, but I try anyway as I add, “I’m not interested.”

At the Playground, that’s all I have to say. All of the customers know the rules. They can cajole. They can offer whatever they think will make a girl say yes. They can beg if they want… but as soon as any of us say we’re not interested, that’s the end of it.

Up until now, Miles played by the rules. He got to the point that he offered me ten grand to sleep with him—when I finally broke down and agreed—but he lost that money to Royce. Royce won. It’s over.

Not, apparently, for Miles.

“You cost me ten grand. You owe me.”

“Sorry—”

“Real quick. I’ll even go upstairs with you. What do you say? Ten minutes with me and we can call it even.”

And cheat on Royce? No way. “Like I said. I’m not interested. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Miles stays firmly planted in my path.

I huff. “Look. I’m trying to be nice, but you lost that bet?—”

“He cheated .”

I’m not arguing about this. “Then take it up with Royce.”

He squeezes my arms, trapping them at my side, then shoves me hard. My back hits the wall, my head slamming into it next. For a split second, I’m stunned, and he takes advantage of that.

He takes advantage of me .