The Devil’s Bargain (Deal with the Devil Book 1)

AVA

I come to with a scream. Eyes clamped shut, feeling as though I’ve been ripped out of a nightmare, I scream and I have no idea why I am.

My head feels fuzzy. My body aches. Wherever I am—whatever happened to me—I’m lying down on something lumpy, my hands trapped in front of me. I can’t move them, and the realization that I can’t has me screaming louder.

Until I hear someone snap at me and I jam my jaw shut in terror that, whatever’s going on, I’m not alone.

Someone scoffs, and I screw my eyes even tighter. It’s as though, if I can’t see it, the trouble’s not there, and oh my God, what is going on?

“Shh. There’s no need for that.” My head feels fuzzy, but I know that voice. I can’t quite place it yet, but I know it. “Come on, Ava. Stop with this princess crap. They might treat you like that on the West Side, but the East End is different.

East End? What am I doing on the East End?

The last thing I remember, I was in downtown Springfield. I was at the flower shop and then… and then—

Bobby.

My eyes spring open, and Heidi Fox—former third-grade teacher at my school and current waitress at the Devil’s Playground—is standing over me, a look of annoyance on her face. She’s not wearing half as much make-up today as the last time we met, and while she’s not in the same uniform, her current outfit would definitely fit in as one of the clubbers.

Glancing down, avoiding the way she rolls her eyes as I start to panic, I see that I’m stretched out on a couch. My hands are cuffed together in front of me. I don’t know where this room is, but apart from Heidi, a small table, and the couch, it’s empty. No windows, either, and the only door is positioned directly behind Heidi.

If I could even flop off of the couch with my woozy body and my cuffed hands, I’d still have to get past her to leave, and something tells me that Heidi’s standing next to the couch to prevent exactly that from happening.

Bobby drugged me, I remember. With whatever was in the vial he injected me with, he drugged me and I have no idea how long I was out for, why he did it in the first place, and where I am now.

“What’s going on?” I ask Heidi. “Where’s Bobby? He… he shot me with something, I don’t know why, but I’m… where am I? Why do I have cuffs on?” I rattle them, the metal biting into my skin. “I want them off. Can you help me get them off?”

As if in answer to each of my questions, Heidi simply shows me her forearm—and, at the very least, I know the answer to that last one.

Can she help me get them off? Probably, but Heidi’s not going to, is she? And the fresh tattoo on her skin explains exactly why not.

The last time I saw her at the Playground, she had the red devil horns inked on her skin, like everyone else who works for the Sinners Syndicate. Not anymore. A dragonfly with teal and green wings is covering up Link’s mark.

A dragonfly.

At the beginning of the summer, I had no idea what that would mean. Since entering the life as Link’s bride, I’ve had a crash course in all things organized crime. From the hierarchy in each family, to the unspoken rules they all follow… and what each brand means.

Link’s is a devil.

The dragonfly is the mark of the Libellula Family.

Trying not to show how freaking out I am that I’m in cuffs, lost, and staring at a woman who’s wearing the brand of the man whose soldier I shot a month and a half ago.

Keeping my tone light, I say, “I thought you worked for Devil?”

For Link?

Heidi raises her eyebrows. “You mean your husband?”

She knows. I’m not surprised that she does since Link introduced me to the Sinners—and she’s Bobby’s girlfriend—but the way she says it? It’s almost a sneer, like I did something wrong by being Link’s wife.

Welp. If she’s wearing a Libellula tattoo, I probably did.

“The Libellula Family are my husband’s rivals,” I say, not even trying to deny my relationship to Link. “It’s one thing for you to trade loyalty from the Sinners to another syndicate.” I think. I’m not so sure about that part. “I’m assuming Bobby did, too. But why bring me here?”

Heidi looks slightly uncomfortable. “Don’t blame, Bobby, okay? He did this for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He was never going to rise up the ranks as a Sinner.” She scowls now, and there’s no doubt it’s meant for me. “They had him on babysitting duty, for God’s sake. If I want to get out of teaching, we need money. Both of us. He wasn’t going to get it with the Sinners. But Damien…” The way she whispers his name is so reverential, I want to throw up. “He’ll take care of us. And all it cost was finally getting you away from Devil and taking you to him instead.”

The urge to puke is even stronger now, and not only from the effects of whatever Bobby drugged me with. I did this. My jealousy and my need to prove to Link that a relationship can’t be built only on “ownership”… I did this.

How much do you want to bet that Bobby would’ve sold me out to my husband’s enemy long before now if I gave him the chance?

I thought he was being friendly. That I was being sneaky. Idiot, Ava. He didn’t just tell me about Link’s frequent trips to the Playground out of the kindness of his heart. Especially since, when I arrived there that first night, Link wasn’t even there. Heidi was, though, and I have no idea what would have happened to me if Link didn’t show up when he did.

He was smart. He insisted on bodyguards when I left the penthouse, and what did I do? Sneak out again—while Bobby was on duty—only to be relieved when I saw that the soldier had chased me down because it meant I didn’t have to rely on a rideshare.

Oh, no. I just served myself up on a silver platter for him. Now I’m on the East End, at the mercy of Damien Libellula, and no way to contact Link.

Something tells me, even if I somehow find a way to get these cuffs off, it won’t matter. My phone’s probably long gone, and so is any chance of getting out of here.

No. I refuse to believe that. There has to be a way—and I get to believe that for about two seconds before the door behind Heidi pulls outward, replaced by a slender man in a black suit.

His skin is a deep tan, his thick hair as black as coal with a single grey streak along the curve from his left-side part. His eyes, however, are a pale blue that seem even lighter compared to his dark coloring.

He’s a handsome man, and he carries himself like he absolutely knows it. I’d put him at about forty or so, with a countenance of a man who demands results. Like a CEO or a… a…

“Mr. Libellula,” Heidi breathes out when she sees him standing there.

Crime boss.

“Ms. Fox,” he says, tilting his head in her direction. “How’s our guest?”

“I did what you told me to. I sent the text when she woke up and kept her calm until she got here. Can me and Bobby go now?”

The man flicks his fingers at her. “I’ll have Vin contact him if I need you again.”

“Yessir.” Heidi bows her head, backing away and out of the room. “Of course. Thank you.”

“Close the door, would you?”

As soon as she does and it’s just the two of us, it’s like she was never here. He doesn’t just demand results. He commands attention, and I can’t help but give it.

Looking down at me, he tsks his tongue. “Cuffs, really? For an unconscious woman who couldn’t hurt a fly.” He pauses for a moment. “Unless, of course, she has a gun.”

Holy shit. Holy shit.

He knows.

Giving me a smile that makes his heartbreakingly stunning, he crouches down so that he’s at my side. “But since we both know you don’t, I see no reason why she should be trussed up like this.”

Dipping his hand in his pocket, careful to keep his jacket closed though I can’t help but notice the bulge at his hip telling me that he does have a gun, he pulls out a tiny key. Within seconds, he pops off one cuff, then the other. Taking them away from me, he shifts and tosses them on the empty table with a clang, then slips the key back into his pocket before rising up to his full height again.

“That’s better,” he says. “Isn’t it?”

I rub my wrists, but stay quiet.

“Very well. Maybe we should get introductions out of the way. You, of course, are Ava Crewes, née Monroe. But do you know who I am?”

I do, but I can’t bring myself to say his name out loud.

Taking that to mean that I’m clueless, he shoves up the sleeve of his suit jacket. Unbuttoning the white shirt underneath, he rolls it to his elbow, revealing a tattoo.

It’s a massive dragonfly. At least six times bigger than Heidi’s, the wings wrap around his deceptively muscular forearm, in shades of blue, purples, and green.

“You see this?” he purrs. “It isn’t just my calling card. It represents my family.”

Not the family. My family.

And that’s why I know exactly who this is: Damien Libellula, in the flesh.

The same man that sent Joey after me and started this whole thing all those weeks ago when I shot him…

I don’t think that’s why I’m here. From his sly comment before, it’s obvious that Damien knows that I’m responsible for what happened to Joey. Not just responsible, either. I mean, I killed him. But if this was just about revenge for that, would he really have gone through all this trouble?

Or does this have everything to do with the man who’s been protecting me ever since?

“You must be wondering why you’re here,” he says, so conversationally, you’d almost thing he wasn’t a notorious gangster. “The answer is very simple. I didn’t take you. Devil gave you to me. A peace offering, as it were, between our two families.”

See now, that? That finally gets me to find my voice.

Pulling myself into a sitting position so that I could look up at him with scorn, I tell him, “You’re lying.”

“And why would you say that?”

“Because he loves me.

It might be in his own way, and that’s on me for disregarding every time he’s whispered it while we were together in bed because I wasn’t ready to reciprocate, but he loves me.

And even if he didn’t? I belong to him, and he will never, ever let me forget that. Whether I belong in his world or not, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that he would never go through the trouble of marrying me… of moving me into his penthouse… or claiming me in front of the Sinners Syndicate only to pass me off to another man.

The man is planning a wedding behind my back because he probably thinks being doubly married means I’ll finally admit we’ve had a legit marriage all along… no way he just tossed me to the side like Damien wants me to believe.

Instead of pushing his lie, he says, “How well do you know Devil?”

“I’ve known him nearly my entire life.”

This time, Damien tuts. “I didn’t ask you how well you know Lincoln Crewes. I asked you how well do you know Devil.” He pauses for a beat. “Do you even know how he earned the name?”

I don’t answer him because, honestly, I can’t. It took years before I realized that the Devil of Springfield and my Link were one and the same, and by then, I purposely avoided hearing any of the lurid rumors people were spreading about him.

That’s all right. In his cultured voice, watching me closely for my reaction, he tells me explicitly how Link became the Devil of Springfield.

He probably meant to shock me. In a way, he does.

I had no idea that Link got the name because of me.

When he’s done, there’s only one thing I can ask: “How do you know? I mean, how can I know that you didn’t just make all that up? You already lied once before.”

“That’s true. And when you see Lincoln again, you can ask him all about it. But how do I know? Very simple. We worked for the same guys those days long before we branched out on our own.” Another very effective pause before he adds, “We were friends.”

“And now you’re enemies.”

“We don’t have to be,” Damien says pleasantly.

What?

“You were right. Smart girl that you are… you’re not here because Devil gave you to me. You’re here because I need a meeting with your husband and you, Saint Ava, are the leverage I need to get him here.”

Saint Ava.

He says it just the way Joey did before he died, but just like then, I have no idea how Damien knows my old nickname.

Ignoring the way he said he needed me for leverage, I focus on the name.

“I hadn’t had contact with Link in years when you sent Joey after me. Taking me hostage then wouldn’t have done anything.”

A dark look flashes over his refined face. “I didn’t send that idiot anywhere. He was newly inducted into the Family when he first heard the whispers of Saint Ava. He put two and two together on his own, and thought he would throw you at me to get back at Devil. It was a relief when I heard through the grapevine what happened to him.”

Is it? Oh, thank God.

He nods at the sigh of relief I can’t keep back. “Exactly. I want loyal soldiers who do what they’re told, not idiots who think for themselves.” He huffs. “And, honestly, if there’s anyone to blame, it’s your husband. He was the one who put out word through the streets that Ava… his Ava was untouchable. Good guys got a pass, but the rest of us… we all knew that he was watching you from the shadows, making sure everyone treated you right. Maglione did… until he fucked up after he got his dragonfly. Even with shit for brains, it didn’t take long for him to realize his ex-girlfriend and Devil’s Madonna were the same.”

Most of what Damien said is like an angry buzz in the back of my woozy mind. Most it, except for the part about Link.

My mouth goes dry. I try to swallow to get some moisture, but it doesn’t work.

Untouchable? Link made me untouchable? He watched me?

He never forgot about me at all?

What?

“Don’t you wonder where you got the name from, dear? For as long as I’ve known him, Devil has worshiped you. And that is precisely why you’re the leverage I need.”

I ignored him before when it came to that.

This time, I don’t.

“Leverage?” I repeat. “Leverage for what?”

He doesn’t answer me. He doesn’t get the chance.

All of a sudden, the door inches open. I almost expect it to be Heidi again, but it isn’t. Instead, a young man wearing a suit a little too small for him, tiptoes into the room.

Damien quirks an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“We just got the call. It’s a green. Sixty, boss.”

“Ah.” Damien brushes the younger man off, sending him scurrying back out of the room. Then, shifting his suit jacket, pulling out the gun I knew was there, he smiles at me before dropping his gaze, checking to see how many rounds are in it. “Time to go, Mrs. Crewes.”

He must have understood something in that coded message that I didn’t.

“Go?” I echo. “Where?”

“It seems as if your husband has agreed to my terms. We don’t want to leave him waiting, do we?”

Oh, no.

Link.