Page 66 of The Devil's Playground

And I realize… I’ve lost her.

Why? Is it because of the way I came blazing in here? Or how I made it clear in no uncertain terms that I was taking care of Miles Haines the way a Sinner would? Even if I didn’t grab my gun and hunt him down myself, she obviously heard enough of my conversation to guess that that would be his fate.

Is that what’s upsetting her?

She knows who I am. She knows what I am. So I’m not as in-your-face possessive as Link is when it comes to Ava. I won’t beat the shit out of a guy just for looking at Nic funny, but Miles didn’t just look. He touched… he took… and he brought her back to a place she never wanted to be again.

He deserves everything the Reed twins do to him.

“Oh, come on, Nic. I whipped up the best metaphor to gambling and all you can do is stare at me? I thought that was pretty good.”

She blinks once. Twice. Then, in a shaky voice, she says, “You said you love me.”

I did. “Haven’t I told you that before?”

She shakes her head.

Huh. “I could’ve sworn I have.”

“Saying ‘I love you’ when you’re inside of me doesn’t count, Royce.”

“It should. When you trust me with your body, that’s the time I feel closest to your heart. Why wouldn’t I feel love for you?”

Nicolette is still staring at me as though she wants to believe what I’m saying, but is struggling to. And I get it. I do. I don’t remember the last time I’ve told a woman I’ve loved her and meant it—if I ever have—so I’m not so good with the declaration thing. But I do love her, and when I thought something happened to her earlier, the realization that I’d kill anyone who hurt her made me admit that I’m only fooling myself by not telling her with words.

So I tell her with my actions. I should’ve remembered. Nicolette… she needs the words.

“I love you,” I tell her again, tilting her chin back so that she can see the honesty in my face.

I don’t need her to tell me it back. As far as she knows—because I’ve never told her—we’ve only been aware of each other for such a short amount of time.

But when her face splits wide open with the first grin she’s had since I threatened to break down her door, I hold my breath. And then she throws her arms around my middle before murmuring into my jacket, “I love you, too,” and the last bit of the knot deep in my gut finally unravels.

For now, at least.

As late as it is, I stay with Nic at her place. The next morning, I’m done with pretending she doesn’t live with me. I help her pack up even more of her shit, set the alarm to protect her mom’s place, and drive her home.

I verified that Nicholas got all the information I sent him. I stayed up long after Nic finally relaxed against me, sleeping on my chest. I composed that e-mail to Nicholas, then let Link know what happened so that he was in the loop.

He offered to hunt Haines down and make an example of him. All he had to do was claim that a wallet hurt one of Devil’s girls and there isn’t a person in Springfield who would care that Link shot his cock off before putting a bullet through his brain.

But then Nicolette would be considered one of Devil’s girls. And maybe I’m being even more irrationally jealous, but she’s mine and I want to handle the situation the way I best see fit.

Link agreed with me, and that was that.

Nicolette doesn’t ask for details. If she did? I’d offer them, but one she reads between the lines and asks if she won’t have to worry about Haines coming after her again come tomorrow and I promise her that she won’t, she—like Link—lets it go.

That day, we go to the Playground after dinner. A few of the waitresses stop by, waving at Nic, and I encourage her to let them know she’s survived her stomach flu. She even apologizes to Jessie, promising she won’t do that again before we sit in my favored booth.

It’s imperative that we’re seen. When Miles Haines goes missing, someone will notice. Someone will care.

I won’t, but just in case? I cover all bases, and enjoy an evening with Nicolette as—somewhere in Springfield—Haines is getting what’s coming to him.

Around eleven o’clock that night, a shadow falls over our table. A good-looking guy with eyes even bluer than mine, a stubbled jaw, and knowing smirk appears silhouetted against the teal neon that decorates this part of the club.

Hunter Reed, in the flesh.

Hunter and Nicholas are identical twins. At first glimpse, it’s impossible to tell them apart. Luckily, their clothes give them away. Like most Sinners, Nicholas Reed prefers expensively tailored suits. His brother? He has a leather jacket, dark jeans, heavy boots, and a cocky look that says he knows he’s caught the eye of most of the clubbers.

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