The Devil's Advocate: Devil's Playground Duet #2

by Ashley Jade

  Damien’s already managed to get her outside of the house. Once she realizes the world isn’t so big and scary…or worse, that she’s capable of handling it when it is—my butterfly might use her newly discovered wings to fly away.

  I can’t let that happen.

  Eden doesn’t belong to the world. She belongs to me.

  But first thing’s first. I have a bomb to drop.

  “You know how my family died in a fire when I was a teenager?”

  Sadness colors her features. “Yeah.”

  “It wasn’t accidental like everyone thinks. It was Damien who caused it.” I hold her gaze. “He killed my family, Eden.”

  Her eyes become saucers. “Oh, my God. You have to call the police. He shouldn’t be walking the streets—”

  “I know, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s blackmailing me. I can’t get into it right now, but there are some things I did when I was a kid that I’m not proud of. Nothing close to what he’s done, of course, but things that might ruin the election for me if they get out. I can’t go to the police until after I secure my win. This way I’ll have a bit more control over what the press does with the info.”

  It’s not exactly a lie given the fucker is threatening to tell Eden and the entire town about my past if I don’t go along with his stupid game.

  Hope he enjoys the bone I’m throwing him by letting him borrow Eden for a bit.

  “I’ll go to the police,” she whispers. “This way you’re safe.”

  “You were only seven when the fire happened. They’ll all laugh at you.”

  “Not if I tell the police he held me against my will in his home.”

  Her trying to come up with a plan of her own is nothing short of adorable, I’ll give her that. However, it will serve me better if she keeps her pretty mouth shut while I call the shots.

  I grind my molars.

  Damien wanted to play a game…well, he’s got one.

  But I’ve got home court advantage.

  “Sweetheart,” I say slowly. “I don’t want to be rude, but I—”

  “They won’t believe me because of what happened with Mr. Delany.” Her face falls. “Yeah, you’re right. It was a dumb suggestion.”

  “Not dumb,” I assure her. “Just not what I really need.”

  “What do you need?”

  “I need someone I trust to keep a close eye on things…and distract him for me. Just until the election is over.”

  “Can’t you hire a private investigator for that?”

  “A private investigator can’t get into his home…or his bed.”

  Her face screws up. “Let me get this straight. You were angry with me for sleeping with him…but now you want me to sleep with him?”

  “Hardly. But we can’t unring a bell, now can we? Therefore, it’s in our interest to use the best arsenal we have. This way I stand a chance at making it out alive.” I blow out a breath and look up at the ceiling. “If you’re not up for the task I understand. I’ll just have to figure something else out.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I—uh. I can do this.” She wrings her hands. “Only thing is, he doesn’t talk much, so I doubt he’ll be confessing any plans to harm you to me.”

  “Perhaps he’ll open up more if you find some common ground.”

  “What kind of common ground am I supposed to find with a murdering psychopath?”

  I shrug. “Beats me, but you’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure out something.” I slam my eyelids shut and take a deep breath. “My life depends on it.”

  “I know it does. I won’t let you down.”

  I edge a finger under her chin. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I—”

  A knock on the bathroom door cuts me off.

  “Hey, other people have to use the bathroom. Unlock the door.”

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath. “Okay, I’m going to lock myself in a stall. You go out first so they don’t suspect anything.” I give her a quick kiss. “I’ll touch base with you later.”

  I start to walk away, but she reaches for my arm. “You can’t. I don’t have my phone.”

  I raise a brow. “But you texted me at the ball.”

  “I know. I had it for most of the evening, but I put it down on a bench later that night. He must have swiped it then.” She sighs. “I’ll find a way to get it back.”

  “Fine. Just make sure you edit my name to something less conspicuous and erase our future texts as soon as we’re done talking.”

  I’m not dumb enough to disclose anything serious over a text message, but she might be.

  She gives me a strange look. “Wouldn’t it be easier for us to talk over the app?”

  It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. Eden knows I don’t keep up with whatever the latest teenage fad is.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What app?”

  I’m not sure what to make of the expression on her face. “The temp—never mind. It’s not important. I’ll text you.”

  “That’s it. I’m calling security,” the woman on the other side of the door yells.

  I bring her hand to my lips. “This is only temporary, Eden. You’ll be back with me the moment I win the election.” I grimace when I spot her poor excuse for an engagement ring. “Asshole didn’t even get you a diamond.”

  Chapter 16

  Damien

  My patience is dwindling as the priest continues prattling on and on about Heaven and God and whatever else people like to hear in order to cope with death.

  It’s almost comical how people have this need to be pacified about the unknown. How quick they are to believe a book, a priest, or any other virtuous entity about what happens in the afterlife when there’s never been any tangible proof.

  Then again, faith and fear are powerful manipulators.

  Some people need something to believe it. While others need something to run from.

  I glance at my watch as everyone bows their heads in prayer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cain get up from his chair and slink out of the room.

  I eye the empty seat next to me.

  Such a pity they’re going to miss the eulogy.

  “I tried knocking, but she hasn’t come out yet,” the woman standing outside the bathroom door says as I approach. “Are you sure she’s in there?”

  Positive.

  I slip her a hundred-dollar bill. “Thank you. Now get lost.”

  Leaning against the wall, I fish my cigarettes out of my pocket and light one.

  She’s got about two minutes left before I bust through the door and interrupt their little reunion.

  My jaw tightens as I suck the cancer stick down to the filter and light another.

  I’m on edge. I’ve been on edge since the moment she stepped under my roof.

  I fucking hate it.

  My ears perk up when the bathroom door opens. A second later, Cain’s little lamb steps out.

  “Ready to leave?”

  She jumps at the sound of my voice. “Jesus Christ. You scared me.”

  I stub my cigarette out on the wall. “You were in there awhile.”

  The next words out of her mouth will determine what happens between us from here on out.

  “I—um. I needed a moment.” She swallows hard. “Had to clear my head.”

  There’s something different about the way she’s looking at me. I don’t like it.

  “The bathroom door was locked.”

  “Was it?” Her shoulders rise in a shrug. “I must have locked it by mistake.”

  It’s all I can do not to shake the shit out of her. She’s a terrible liar.

  I shouldn’t be surprised since most people are, but disappointment flickers in my chest anyway.

  I thought Eden was different…but she’s not.

  And I won’t waste my time and energy on someone I can’t trust. Not again.

  I drag my thumb across her bottom lip. “Yo
ur lipstick is smeared.”

  “I was crying.”

  Her pulse quickens as I slide my thumb down her throat, pausing when I reach the first two open buttons of her dress. “What happened here?”

  She inhales sharply. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  I graze the lace of her bra. “They were closed before.”

  “Oh. I needed air.” Her eyes dart to the bathroom briefly before they lock with mine. “Speaking of which, I thought we were leaving.”

  “Sure. I just need to ask you one more question.”

  “Okay.”

  “Did your stepdaddy use a condom when he fucked you in the bathroom, or did he pull out?”

  “Wha—”

  I shove past her. “The seats in my car are leather so keep your legs closed. I don’t want a mess.”

  Chapter 17

  Eden

  The silence is almost unbearable on the car ride home.

  Home. I shake the thought out of my head. His castle isn’t a home…it’s a prison.

  I study his profile, trying to wrap my head around everything Cain told me.

  What in the world would possess Damien to kill Cain’s family? It doesn’t make any sense.

  Then again, I don’t know a thing about him. Only that he hates my stepfather. Hates him enough to kill.

  A shiver runs up my spine. I can’t believe I slept with a murderer. A murderer I felt some unexplainable connection to for about two seconds of my life.

  God, I feel sick. Sick and mad as hell. He intentionally deceived me by making me believe Cain and Margaret hired him to get rid of me. There was no reason to go to the extra lengths he did. Just his threat to hurt Cain would have been enough to get me to comply.

  Instead, he made it seem like he was on my side.

  He glares daggers my way. “Stop staring at me.”

  I feel like a volcano ready to erupt. I can’t take it anymore.

  “Why did you tell me Cain and Margaret hired you to kill me when they didn’t?”

  Holy hell. I’m a piece of work. The man has the blood of Cain’s family on his hands, yet I’m offended that he wasn’t honest with me. As if that’s the biggest issue here.

  “You’re the one who came to that conclusion. I didn’t bother to correct you because time was of the essence and your cooperation was more important than the truth.” His jaw clenches. “But since we’re on the subject of lying. Why did you lie to me earlier?”

  I shrug. “Because what happened in the bathroom is none of your business.”

  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. He doesn’t deserve honesty, not until he can give me some.

  He lights a cigarette. “Fair enough.”

  I wave the smoke away and roll down the window. “I know Cain didn’t hire you, but do other people hire you to kill?”

  “What do you think?”

  “What I think is irrelevant. I just want the truth.”

  He takes a long drag off his cigarette. “I’m not a hitman.”

  I look out the window as my brain searches for a kernel of something that makes sense.

  Perhaps he’s a drug dealer and Cain owed him money? Cain couldn’t pay in time, so Damien killed his family to settle the debt. Cain said he did some things he’s not proud of in the past. Things that could impact the election. Plus, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out Damien’s loaded. All his money has to come from somewhere.

  “What about drugs? Do you work for the mob? The cartel?”

  “I work for myself.” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye. “My business doesn’t involve drugs. It involves computers and other forms of technology.”

  I bite my lip. This is so frustrating. “Why do you hate Cain?”

  He smirks. “None of your business.”

  “It kind of is when you’re keeping me hostage.”

  The tires screech as he slams on the brakes. “Get out.”

  I balk. “What?”

  “You said I’m holding you hostage. If you really feel that way, then here’s your chance to leave.”

  My stomach twists. “What will happen to Cain if I do?”

  “For fuck’s sake.” His hand tightens on the steering wheel. “Do you think Cain would ask the same question if your roles were reversed?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper, despite the little voice in my head protesting.

  He hits the gas. “Guess I’m not the only one you lie to then.”

  Geoffrey places my phone on the nightstand. “As you requested.”

  I eye it warily. Call me crazy, but it seems too easy. “So he just gave it to you?”

  He nods. “Yes.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “No.” He begins clearing my dinner tray. “They’ll be announcing his candidacy in the morning. I’m afraid his focus is elsewhere for the time being.”

  “Oh.”

  I didn’t realize it was tomorrow. My stomach lurches and I sit up in bed.

  I never told Cain. Between all the apologies, promises, and secrets he told me, it completely slipped my mind.

  I go to pick up my phone but pause. “Where is he now?”

  “Downstairs in his office.”

  Perfect.

  Geoffrey’s eyes are practically burning a hole through me.

  “Can I have some privacy?”

  He bows. “As you wish.”

  He’s halfway to the door when I stop him. “How long have you worked for Damien?”

  He thinks about this for a moment before replying. “Six years.”

  That’s even longer than I thought. “Have you ever…” I stall mid-sentence, trying to figure out the best way to ask this. “Why do you work for a man like him?”

  There’s not a lick of hesitation before he answers. “He helped me get back on my feet when I had nothing. Two days after my nineteenth birthday, a hurricane hit the island my family and I lived on.” Sorrow lines his features. “I was the only one of my family members to survive…but, in turn, I lost everything.”

  My heart squeezes. It’s all I can do not to run over and wrap my arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too.” He blinks rapidly and clears his throat. “But to answer your question, Damien walked by me while I was passed out on the street. I was injured and too weak to gather food, so I asked him for some. I thought he was going to ignore me, but he asked me if I wanted a job instead.” He stands up straighter. “I’ve been with him ever since, and I’ll stay with him for however long he’ll have me.”

  To say I’m surprised would be an understatement. His story makes me even more curious about the enigma that is Damien King.

  A cold-blooded murderer with a heart.

  “Has he ever kept a girl against her will before?”

  There’s a hint of humor in his expression. “You’re the first.” He heads for the door. “His previous companions have all begged to stay.”

  Good for them.

  I reach for my phone after he leaves and check my messages…but there are none. At least, nothing recent.

  The last message I have is from Cain, informing me he was having a driver take me home from the ball.

  Obviously, Damien responded to him and pretended to be me, but there’s nothing after that.

  Not even a phone call.

  My hands shake as I open the Temptation app. Cain had no reason to pretend not to know about the app earlier, but maybe he felt it was necessary for whatever reason.

  That weird feeling forms in the pit of my stomach again as I search through the messages in the app.

  Nothing.

  No phone calls, no messages, no voicemails, and no emails. Absolutely nothing from the man who claimed to be worried sick.

  His world kept turning just fine without me in it.

  Before I can stop myself, my fingers dance across the keyboard.

  Angelbaby123: Do you have a second to talk?

  Briefly, dots appear on the bottom of the screen before they dis
appear.

  Angelbaby123: It’s about the election.

  His response is almost instant.

  Devil: What about it?

  I roll my eyes. If I had any doubt it was Cain before…I don’t anymore. It’s all he cares about.

  I get off the bed and walk around. I agreed to help keep Cain alive…not get involved in the election. I’m not telling him a thing until he gives me some answers.

  Angelbaby123: If you were so worried about me, how come you never once called or messaged me while I was gone?

  I close my eyes. Tell me Damien erased your messages. Tell me you were so caught up in grief you couldn’t think straight.

  Tell me you love me.

  Devil: Got to go. Have work to do.

  My heart folds in on itself.

  Angelbaby123: Wait. I just need a few more minutes.

  I miss talking to Cain—the Cain on this app. Up until the night of the ball, I spent the last few weeks talking to him about everything. My feelings, my therapy, my favorite movies and songs, how much I loved him…

  I need that Cain back.

  Angelbaby123: It’s so lonely here. I don’t have anyone to talk to. Everyone in this house, with the exception of Geoffrey, is an asshole. There’s a rude chef who won’t let me enter the kitchen for a glass of water. There’s also a bitch maid who likes to whisper mean things to me whenever I walk outside my bedroom. They all suck. I can’t take it, Cain. I want to come back home. I miss you.

  The dots appear, then disappear again…and then his screen name turns gray.

  I’m all but clawing at the window when I hear a knock on my bedroom door.

  “Go away.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” Geoffrey calls out before the knob turns.

  I raise an eyebrow as he waltzes in with a bowl of popcorn and two sodas.

  “I’ve been instructed to hang out with you tonight,” he says dryly, looking less than thrilled.