Tempting Devil: Sinners and Saints Book 2

by Eden, Veronica

  Gemma: Just found this new location and omg I’m dying to do a shoot there with you. I want to show you so much here. Come visit me soon!

  A visit with Gemma sounds incredible.

  But it’s also impossible. Money, my mom, money, my junk box car, money. There’s too much keeping me from living the life a normal teen would.

  A pang hits me in the chest. I miss Gemma. Before she befriended me last year as the badass new girl, I was a nobody in this school. Other than crossing paths with Devlin, I kept my head down and focused as much as I could on my studies while the vultures at this school called me names and taunted me for being poor. Gemma made so much of that go away.

  Her boyfriend—the previous king of the school—wasn’t even so bad once Gemma got his head screwed on straight.

  Why did Gemma have to be a grade ahead of me?

  The heaviness of being left behind weighs down on my shoulders. I dig my fingers into the grass.

  “Keep it up, ladies,” the track coach calls, her encouragement floating my way.

  I pretend that she’s still offering me a boost.

  A light breeze shifts my skirt, the evergreen and white plaid material riding up my legs. The blades of grass tickle the back of my knees.

  I want to run. Maybe I should change into my gym clothes and jog the track around the football field.

  “That’s it, girls! Go, go!”

  Even though I was kicked off the track team last year, at the end of the cross country season, I still come to watch them. It was a shock when the coach told me she had no choice but to take me off the team. The rules were clear, she’d explained, and I had too many demerits on my school record.

  Ridiculous.

  My teeth scrape across my lip as I dig harder into the grass, tearing at it. I release my fist and watch the blades flutter to the ground.

  I know exactly who to thank for getting thrown off the team.

  Devlin.

  Evil fucking bastard.

  He retaliated against me picking his friend’s pocket last year by fabricating more detentions on my school file. With a best friend who is the son of our principal and his elective as an office aid, it was probably easy for him. And because I don’t have a rich family to donate to the school, no one noticed anything amiss with my file.

  When it all went down with my coach at one of our last practices of the season, Devlin made sure he was close by to watch the showdown, of course. He smirked as he wiped his mouth with the neck of his soccer jersey. When the burn of his smug stare became too much to ignore, I swung my gaze to him. Told you, he mouthed.

  Because he’d warned me not to try him.

  I muffle an irritated sound in my throat and slam my fist on the ground.

  The cruel king can take away my spot on the team, but he can’t take running from me. I still run anyway.

  “Nice, Katrina!” My old coach praises a girl as she reaches the group.

  Sitting up, I tuck my legs into a pretzel, leaning my elbows on my knees as I hunch over.

  I don’t think many of the team liked me, but running with those girls filled a gaping hole in my chest, just a little so the loneliness didn’t bend in on itself like an aching empty stomach wracked with hunger pangs. The team was sort of like a family. It’s not the running I miss, but running with other people who have my back.

  Another text interrupts my moping. It must be Gemma, since I didn’t respond.

  It’s from a number I don’t have in my phone. My brows pinch together. What the hell?

  Unknown: Do the first english essay for me. $250.

  Realization dawns on me. My entire body goes hot and cold with emotion all at once. It’s from Devlin.

  “Motherfu—” I cut my annoyed curse off and tap my fingers against the side of the phone. “How did you get my number, you tricky devil?”

  I wrack my brain, trying to think of the few people who have my number and where my cell is listed. There’s no way he weaseled it out of Gemma.

  Knowing him, he probably invaded my privacy and nabbed it off the emergency contact form in my student file. Or he had his best friend, Connor Bishop, do the digging. I’ve heard that guy knows everything about everyone at school, trading secrets for favors and payment.

  A huff of disbelief escapes me.

  I should’ve known Devlin would be the kind of morally gray prick at ease with pilfering personal files for his own gain.

  The question is, can I trust he’ll keep his word if I do this?

  Eight

  Devlin

  Blair doesn’t answer my text right away. I hover at the edge of the soccer field with my water bottle in one hand and my phone in the other. Behind me, Bishop’s shouts to the guys become background noise as my attention zeroes in on Blair.

  My head jerks with a snort.

  Does she think she’s being subtle, sitting near the girls track team? She’s pathetic.

  Her head is bent over, her hair creating a curtain of black as it falls around her face.

  My eyes flick down to the screen, anticipating three dots popping up any second with her response.

  After I bribed Bishop with a little mischief and the number of a Coyote Girl he wanted to steal from the football player she was dating, he gave me the password to unlock the current student files stored on the computer system. This morning during my office aid elective period, I found her cell number on a form for a field trip in sophomore year. With a smirk, I programmed her into my phone as Little Thief.

  “Dev, quit slacking off,” one of my teammates calls.

  I lift a brow in his direction and slowly bring my water bottle to my mouth, taking a long gulp.

  He flips me off.

  The phone buzzes, but it’s a message from my aunt letting me know dinner is at seven tonight.

  What is taking so long? I squint at my phone and bounce my gaze between the screen and Blair. The task I set is hardly difficult. After the shit she pulled with my car, I could’ve plunged her into the deep end and paid her to run around school in her underwear. She should be thanking me.

  As Blair begins to pack up her things and swipe grass from her skirt, I glare from the sidelines of the soccer field. I send another text.

  Devlin: Or I could give my uncle a call. He’s pretty friendly with the Ridgeview police department. I’m sure they’d love to hear all about the security footage I have from the other night. Don’t forget the rules of this game.

  It’s a bluff. I don’t actually have a security feed set up, though after Blair’s stunt I’ve been considering telling Dad we should take measures to protect the house as a precaution. The security patrol is clearly losing its touch if they can’t catch a mangy stray wandering in.

  Devlin: I’m letting you off easy and paying you triple what I pay for homework from my usual guy.

  I drift a few steps in Blair’s direction. The texts stopped her in her tracks. I can’t see her expression from here, but she glances around, body rigid. Blair rubs her forehead and drags her fingers through her hair.

  My phone vibrates and the corners of my mouth curl up in victory.

  Little Thief: Kk.

  An amused sound huffs out of me. It’s essentially a fuck you. But she agreed.

  Game on.

  “Dev,” Bishop calls. He jogs over and claps my shoulder. “Man, let’s go. I don’t want to get up early again this week to make you practice a double. Friday morning was bad enough.”

  Bishop leans his weight on me and moans dramatically. I shake my head, fighting back a smile. Bishop can always get me to smile with his antics.

  He leans in, whispering, “I’ve got the lowdown on the location of a secret fight ring. Tonight. Landry is taking bets until seven. We get thirty percent of the cut.”

  My smirk breaks free, wicked and devious. “His parents wouldn’t be pleased if they found out. What did you have on him that he needed to pay you so steeply?”

  “A positive drug test that would ruin his football scholarship.
Oh, and footage of him getting blasted at that boat party in July.”

  To the rest of the school Bishop is this angelic face and the principal’s son, but to me he’s my partner in crime with a mischievous streak a mile wide. We’re best friends because we fit together like a matched set—charming and handsome on the outside, but underneath our irresistible veneers lies a darkness sure to consume anyone that gets too close.

  “Cool? Cool.” Bishop smacks my back. “Now get your ass back in the game.”

  I cover his face with my hand and give him a shove. “Yeah, yeah. Get your own ass in gear, captain.”

  Nine

  Blair

  The essay doesn’t take long to complete. I type it up in the library before school starts.

  I didn’t put my full effort in, but it’s enough to get Devlin a fair passing grade. He never specified that it had to be a good essay. He’s not as clever as he thinks he is. If he wanted full marks, he wouldn't get them from me.

  Devils don’t deserve an A+.

  I’m jittery through the first two classes of the day, eager to get my hands on my $250. I cycle through nervous habits, chewing my lip practically raw, twirling my pen, bouncing my knee, and flicking my nails until students glare at me for being disruptive.

  The anxiousness grows to a flurry of butterflies in my stomach as I slam my locker between periods.

  A sea of students mills around me as I make my way to English class, the girls in green plaid skirts and black blazers with the school’s golden crest, and the guys in slacks, green and white ties, and the same blazers. Little rebellions crop up everywhere, students with their shirts in various states of disarray, wearing jackets and hats that aren’t part of the required uniform, and every kind of shoe imaginable. Few wear the regulation shiny black loafers.

  I wrap my arms tighter around my books, Devlin’s assignment tucked inside my textbook. My incomplete uniform and beat up black Chucks aren’t a show of self-expression. I pieced together what I could find and afford.

  Freshman year I didn’t even have the right uniform. I wore a cream shirt instead of white because it was what I found at the thrift shop for a few bucks, and a brown plaid midi skirt.

  I reach class as the bell rings. Devlin is in his seat in the row next to mine, talking to Connor Bishop. A few of their usual cohort hang around nearby, pretending like they’re not listening to every word from their kings.

  It’s hardly noticeable to the brainless masses at this school, but there’s something off about Devlin when he’s surrounded by his sycophants. People can’t see past the end of the silver spoons stuck in their mouth. But now that I’ve been in his house alone with him, the fake cockiness in his actions is even more obvious.

  Despite the carefree, flirty demeanor, when no one’s looking I see a flicker of brooding edginess beneath his dimpled smirks.

  Whatever Devlin mutters under his breath makes Bishop laugh and ruffle his light brown hair.

  These two are a fearsome duo, and my insides clench at the thought of what they could be plotting with their heads bent together. With the arrogant, attractive tilt to his mouth, even I can reluctantly admit the devil is handsome. All tempting things are perfectly wrapped to lure you down the path of depravity. Devlin props his elbow on his desk and traces his mouth with his fingertips. His eyes land on me when I start down the aisle to my seat.

  The spark in his eyes can’t mean good things.

  As I reach Devlin’s desk, I slip his essay to him, placing it on top of the psychology book he has out. His hand covers mine before I can take my seat.

  “Proclamations of love are not being accepted at this time,” Devlin drawls.

  Bishop snorts and jabs Devlin in the shoulder.

  Devlin’s mouth tugs up at the side as they exchange a cruel glance. He finds my gaze again.

  “But if you’re especially desperate,” he takes me in head to toe, then makes a face, “eh, on second thought. I still don’t slum it, gutter rat. Move along. Your desperation is stinking up the place.”

  My hand curls into a fist beneath his hand, crinkling the essay assignment underneath. I speak through my teeth in a low mutter. “You know what this is for.”

  “Oh, is yours an extra special confession? Did you write me some emo girl poetry?” Devlin swats my hand away and lifts the essay. He pretends to examine it closely. “Hmm, this is sweet. Who knew the impoverished could be so eloquent.”

  Bishop steals the essay away from him. He skims the page, his eyes flicking to Devlin for a beat.

  “Oh, wow, you guys,” Bishop says as he waves the page around. He chuckles and shakes his head, pulling words out of his ass, “I can’t stop thinking about you, my sweet, handsome prince. My heart beats for you alone. Ever since I first saw your midnight eyes and your silken locks. I hope you’ll return my feelings, and make my dreams come true. Take me to prom?”

  The others crack up, leaning on each other for support and cooing at me meanly.

  Humiliation burns under my skin.

  Bishop dumps the essay back on Devlin’s desk and shoots me a wink.

  My teeth grind as I lock my jaw. “Listen—”

  Devlin clicks his tongue, wagging his finger at me. “I don’t like the way you look at my dick. It’s not sexy to think you might bite it off because you mistook it for a hotdog.”

  “Oh, damn,” Bishop chokes into his fist to muffle his laughter. “Bro. That mental image. My eyes!”

  A low growl rips from my lungs. I take a step toward Devlin, but the look he flashes me halts my attack. My stomach clenches.

  What if he ends our deal right now and calls the cops?

  This is bullshit! I just want my money. It was stupid of me, not realizing that Devlin’s games are only fun for him. When you think you’re winning? You’re actually losing.

  Gritting my teeth, I remain their punching bag to toy with, enduring their taunting laughter.

  “Whatever. You’re disgusting.”

  Resisting the urge to kick the hell out of his chair, I take my seat.

  “Oh, come on, sticky fingers,” Devlin croons with his chin propped in his hand. The vicious curve of his mouth is so punchable. “I’ve heard you get up to way worse for anyone willing to pay. But not me. I don’t pay for it, and I sure as fuck am not touching you with a ten-foot pole. There aren’t enough condoms in the world to double up before I let your mouth or your cunt near me.”

  I glare at him, seething. The titters of our other classmates grate on my ears.

  “Devlin, you’re so bad.” A giggling blonde girl named Nina drapes herself over Devlin’s back, looping her arms around his neck.

  He hums and preens under her attention. She leans her breasts into his back and nuzzles against his neck. He plays with her hair and draws her close enough to kiss. He speaks against her lips, but his words are for me.

  “It’s better for trash to know where it belongs. Can’t have it thinking it has a chance of climbing out of the dumpster.” His eyes cut to me as his lips graze across the mouth of the sighing girl he’s turning to putty. “She needs to understand I’m not her Prince Charming. I’m not here to save her.”

  Devlin leans away from Nina. It’s subtle, but I catch the flash of hardness in his eyes and the way he nudges her away. He pushes his black fringe back from his forehead and sighs at me like I’m causing him a huge inconvenience.

  “I don’t want this. It’s pathetic.”

  Devlin picks up the essay and shreds it right in front of me. He tosses the torn pieces across the aisle. I stare at him as they flutter to the floor between us. People all around us cheer and clap and howl like coyotes because these animals consider themselves one with our school mascot.

  My gaze falls to the ruined essay. He just…ripped it up and threw it away. Am I still getting paid?

  Devlin covers an evil grin with his splayed hand when my eyes fly back to him. Another sheet of paper sits on his desk, the essay topic in bold print at the top of the page. He didn�
��t need my essay. I came to school early for no reason, except to sate the whims of a total dick.

  My nostrils flare. If this is how he wants to play, I can take it. His words mean nothing to me as long as he fucking pays me.

  I knew I was a fool to trust this asshole.

  “Are you still going to—”

  “You shouldn’t treat people like that.”

  Both of us turn to Thea Kennedy, twisted around in her seat in front of Bishop’s. Her cheeks are pink, and she looks a little surprised she intervened, but she holds her ground, gripping the back of her seat with white knuckles.

  “It’s not right.” Thea licks her lips, taking a breath. Her eyes dart to Bishop before swinging back to us. “So please stop.”

  Thea is a quiet, nerdy girl in our grade with kind eyes and wild auburn hair. Today it’s tamed into a braid with several fly away curls escaping. Her uniform is on the frumpier side, even more than my oversized shirt, and she’s usually wrapped in some kind of shapeless knitwear.

  Devlin’s brows shoot up in surprise.

  This is the most I’ve ever heard Thea speak in four years of school together. We usually have at least one class together and she has a reputation for keeping quiet.

  Bishop breathes out a harsh laugh and leans close to Thea. Whatever he whispers to her, it makes her blush beet red. Thea ducks her head and tugs on the cuffs over her blazer that’s at least two sizes too big. Bishop reclines in his chair with a mean twist to his smile that makes him lose that charming jokester vibe. He kicks his feet up to rest on the back of Thea’s seat while he pulls out his phone.

  I narrow my eyes, but don’t voice what’s in my head. If Thea can speak her mind, then she is capable of handling her own shit. I didn’t ask for her help and I have my own monster to deal with in Devlin.