Page 2 of The Devil's Playground

I recognize the black car at the end of the block. As basic and unidentifiable as the one I use, whenever the boss doesn’t have one of the guys driving him around, he uses a car just like that. He swaps the license plates frequently, so that’s no help, but as plain as it is, the compact two-seater sticks out in a sea of minivans and SUVs.

It’s not parked directly in front of her house, but at an angle that would allow the driver to see right into her bay window with the curtains not drawn tight; dark as it is out now, the light in her home gives the impression that she’s in a fishbowl. As I stride past on the opposite side of the street, I catch a peek of her delicate profile. She’s sitting on a couch, probably watching television, completely unaware that someone is watching her.

For a moment, I’m so sure that, as consumed with spying on his ex as he is, Link doesn’t know I’m standing outside his car. But then I grab the door handle on the passenger side, and it isn’t locked. I yank on the door, sliding into the empty seat. The fact that the Devil of Springfield allows that, and all I get is a tight-lipped nod instead of his gun to my temple for intruding on him, is a sure sign that I’m not as sneaky as I think I am.

I wasn’t really trying to be. At least, not with the boss. It’s the rest of the neighborhood I was trying to avoid.

Here’s hoping I did.

I jerk my chin at Link, grinning over at him. “Hey there. You come here often?”

“Fucking smart ass,” he mumbles, fingers curved around the steering wheel despite the engine being off. He gives me a side-eyed glare. “Better not be hitting on me with a weak ass line like that.”

“Nah. Just pointing out the obvious, boss.”

To that, I get a grunt. Probably because it’s not supposed to be obvious—and that he thought he’d done a better job of keeping the Sinners in the dark when it came to this woman despite making it clear to each and every one of us that this one particular teacher in town was off-limits.

We just weren’t supposed to interfere, and he reminds me of that with a dark look as he works his jaw, then spits out, “What are you doing here, Royce?”

Royce… in the syndicate, so many of us go by nicknames, it’s rare for me to hear someone call me “Royce” without “Rolls” being attached to it. It’s like how nearly everyone in Springfield calls him ‘Devil’... except me. Years ago, I shortened ‘Lincoln’ to ‘Link’ and nearly got a fat lip for it. I had no idea it was because Saint Ava used to use that name for him, but after I proved myself to him—after Heather—he became ‘Link’ to me, I stayed ‘Royce’, and even if someone else decided to take over as his underboss, they’d have one hell of a fight from me first.

Even if nights like tonight are part of the job, it’s mine. So he likes to stalk a teacher, watching her from the shadows. So he has a secret.

Don’t we all?

This isn’t the first time I’ve wondered where he went when I couldn’t find him. It’s just the one time I actually followed my gut, headed downtown, and found him watching her from across the street.

Shit. If I could march over there, walk through that front door, and drag the unsuspecting woman out here to give her to Link, I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t. He’d never let me since he’s so stuck on believing he doesn’t deserve her, and I have to sit here knowing that there’s no way in hell I can convince him that he does.

So, instead, I’ll do what I’ve been doing since I learned about his Ava: I’ll keep throwing other women at him, hoping he’ll either get over this one or realize at last that she’s the only one he wants—and maybe decide he’s done with this penance bullshit for once and for all.

For now, though, we’ve got other things to worry about—which is exactly why I’m here.

“It’s syndicate biz. One of our gun runners has an issue with the latest batch of nine-mils. He wants to meet with you.”

“Which guy?”

“Romeo Valdez. When he couldn’t get through to you, he stopped by the Playground. Jessie’s entertaining him now, but he’s ready to walk on this deal if he doesn’t get that meet.”

I could’ve handled it. As Devil’s second, I’m thrown into a lot of the bureaucratic BS that you wouldn’t think you’d get in organized crime. I guess that’s just the ‘organized’ part of it because half the fucking time, the boss is meeting with someone about one of our specialties; it’s a wonder he can find time to come to downtown Springfield to sit in a car and watch his Ava at all.

But while I could have handled it, when one of our biggest suppliers wants Devil, it’s my job to give them Devil.

Even if I have to track down our leader first.

His eyes are back on the light in that open window. For a moment, I expect him to completely ignore what it was he was doing here… but he doesn’t, and I realize I should’ve known better.

I’m his second. He has my loyalty, and I have his trust.

“Tanner told me that Ava finally ended things with that teacher prick,” he says, still staring at her house. “I guess I just wanted to see for myself that she was alone again.”

I don’t ask how Tanner knows that. Our resident tech whiz, he’s as good with all that computer shit as I am with a pair of dice or a pack of cards. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Link has Tanner run Ava Monroe the same way every Sinner gets scanned before they’re welcomed into the syndicate.

I’m not as good, but my research into Saint Ava said something similar: that she was in a committed relationship with another teacher at Springfield Elementary. It seemed like it was heading toward marriage—and I was already coming up with ways to distract the boss if that happened—but now… seems like one less worry for the both of us.

I open my mouth, ready to point out that this might be the time to make his move. But, as though he can sense me getting ready to prod, his head snaps my way.

“Romeo Valdez, yeah? That’s what you said?”

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