Page 76 of The Devil's Playground

She wasn’t the only one he got chipped, though. He did it to himself—making my days of guessing where he went over—and then, as his underboss, jabbed me next.

Once I don’t head straight to the Suites to figure out our next step, he’ll track me—and that’s assuming he doesn’t have the app on his phone open the same way I am.

I don’t care. From the moment Link told me she was gone, all I want is to get her back. That’s it. So it might be suicide, walking into Dragonfly turf when our truce is shaky at best. One of those assholes has Nic.

And I’m getting her back.

The tracker insists that Nicolette is somewhere close by.

It led me to the back exit of a laundromat. At first, I’m not sure if that could be right, but then I think about it. Sinners deal with guns, girls, and gambling. Dragonflies do drugs and dough. Simply put, the Libellula Family gets their wealth and power from the illicit drug trade and a massive counterfeiting ring.

To make fake bills look used, I’ve heard his pros wash the bills, then put them in a dryer with some rocks. Why wouldn’t the Dragonflies do their business as blatantly as possible, in a joint called Springfield Wash?

There are two doors back here. One has a window that peers into the busy laundromat. The other? It’s solid metal covered in chipped white paint and a crooked EMPLOYEE’S ONLY sign.

The green dot turns red when I move in front of that one.

It’s open. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it wasn’t, but when I grab the knob on the outside, it turns under my hand. Before I yank on the door, I pull out my nine-mil. Disengaging the safety takes a second, but I do it. I don’t have any idea what I’m walking into. Could be nothing, could be an ambush. Just in case, it’s better to be prepared.

My gun up, I use my left hand to pull open the door. It’s gloomy, a pair of cement stairs leading me underground. Over the blood pumping through my veins, thudding in my ears, I think I hear… whimpering.

I tip-toe down the stairs, ducking my head as soon as I can to get a peek at what’s below.

On the floor, I see fabric. Laundry bags? Maybe. Pallets of fake cash line the walls, fresh from the printer, I bet. And there, curled up alongside one of them, is a head of golden blonde hair I’m intimately familiar with.

She’s turned away from me, and if I didn’t hear the soft cries coming from her, I would’ve feared she was dead.

Regardless, my gut tightens, fingers twitching on the trigger as if she is.

A quick sweep reveals that she’s the only one down there. I spare two, maybe three seconds to make sure of it, then murmur, “Nicolette? Baby?”

At my voice, she starts, then slowly moves. No. She rolls over, and when I get my first look at her, I have to clamp my jaw down so I don’t howl.

What the fuck did he do to her?

TWENTY-EIGHT

FLIP A COIN

ROYCE

Nicolette’s face is covered in blood. Both eyes are swollen shut, mere slits now, and her nose is crooked. The tiny diamond stud is missing, like someone pulled it out—or punched it out.

She struggles to go from lying on her side to rising up on her knees. “Is someone here?” she whispers.

Fucking hell. Can she not see me? There are two weak lamps down here and no windows, but that’s light enough that I can see her… but I don’t look like someone took a barbell to my face.

That realization gets my ass in gear. I don’t even finish walking down the stairs. I jump down the last four.

“Nic.” The sound is ragged, torn from my chest. I immediately shove my gun behind me, tucking it in my waistband as I drop to my knees on the cement floor. I could give a shit if the gun goes off and I shoot myself in the ass. All I care about is getting to her—and finding out what the hell happened. “It’s me, baby. I got you. I’m here.”

“Royce.” Her bottom lip is split, dried blood welling in the corner while the gash in the middle is shiny and red. When she fights to smile at me, my heart breaks at the same time as pride joins the other parade of emotions marching through me. Whoever did this to her tried to break her—but that will never, ever happen, and her strength fucking amazes me as she fumbles for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “You came.”

Of course I did. I’d walk over fucking glass and hot coals to make it to this woman.

Her battered face screws up, free hand scrabbling against the hard floor as she tries to scoot closer to me.

“How did you… how did you know where I was?”

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