Page 24 of The Devil's Playground

“Sorry about that,” he says, pocketing his phone. “But when duty calls?—”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, cutting him off. It’s probably for the best if I don’t. “Speaking of duty, I should be getting back to work.”

Royce frowns. “Is everything okay? I didn’t… we’re good, right?”

If he’s asking whether I was an enthusiastic participant in being fingerbanged in the supply closet? “Yeah. We’re good.”

Relief flashes across his face. “Just checking. Look. This shouldn’t take long. What time is your shift over?”

I shouldn’t answer.

I shouldn’t?—

“Ten.”

Reaching out, running his thumb along my upper arm, he says, “I’ll try to make it back.”

I guess I wasn’t the only one hoping for a quickie tonight. But there’s a difference. Now that I know he has another woman he’s running home to, it doesn’t matter how attracted we are to each other.

This can’t happen again—and not just because Kieran would kill me if he ever found out.

“Sounds good,” I lie.

EIGHT

FRYING PAN

NICOLETTE

Being back in Springfield is hell on my nerves.

That was the best thing about living in Willowbrook the last couple of years. I had to leave my city because I knew that Kieran never would, but now that I’m back, I expect to see him everywhere.

It’s such a shame that that rendezvous with Royce in the closet is as far as we’re going to go. Not only was he a pleasant distraction to take my mind off my past for a while, but he’s a Sinner. I’d be lying if I didn’t hope that maybe one of them would take pity on me and protect me while I’m in town.

That’s part of why I went along with it when Officer Burns suggested I go for the job at the Playground. Even if I couldn’t catch the attention of one of the mafia men, just working at their establishment gave me some level of protection.

And I must have somehow convinced myself of that fact over these last three months because tonight, when I returned home from the end of my shift alone, I was actually shocked when I realized that my biggest fear has finally come true.

Kieran found me.

I think I was too quick to dismiss my gut feeling that I was being stalked. Or to assume that he didn’t change over the last three years. I mean, I did, didn’t I? I’m nothing like the Nicolette I was. Even my mom picked up on it, though that shouldn’t be surprising. It’s been a long time since she’s known the real me. First, because I moved out when I was nineteen; then, because I didn’t know me. I had no idea who Nicolette was when she wasn’t Kieran’s Nicolette, if that makes sense.

I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t. I’m not really thinking straight.

All because of a dragonfly figurine.

On my mother’s coffee table, I have my laptop open. Next to it, the tiny trinket I found waiting for me in my mother’s mailbox—and the reason why I have my laptop out.

It’s maybe three inches tall. Sculpted out of ceramic, painted with shades of purple and blue—the same as the full dragonfly tattoo that Kieran has on his back—there’s no denying what it is: a warning.

I almost dropped the damn thing earlier. I’d scooped that, along with Mom’s mail, from the mailbox, but it’s dark out. The white clouds that promise another obnoxious snowstorm is on its way are blocking out the moon, making it seem darker. I’d hurried inside, locking the door behind me, and that’s when I saw it.

Tucked between some credit card bill and a circular I’d never look at before tossing, it was a dragonfly.

Only one person in the world would put it there. Just like only one person would see it and not be like, “Huh. That’s weird. A dragonfly statue.”

My mom would… if she was here. She’s not. And, okay, I think I knew there was a better than good chance that Kieran might eventually drive by her old house—our old house—for shits and giggles, but even if I wanted to pretend this isn’t for me, I can’t.

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