Page 5 of Devil

After the fire, I was placed in another foster home.

Thankfully, my stay there was uneventful. I was on my best behavior for a little over a year, until I turned eighteen. I worked at a diner while I lived with the Bradford family, saving every dime I made, counting down the days until I was free to start over. All my thoughts were focused on leaving and starting a new life. I worked overtime on the weekends whenever they offered. They loved me because anything I could do to earn extra money, I did it.

To be on my own.

To forget abouthim.

I haven’t seen Colt since the night of the fire. While my instincts tell me it was him who saved us that night, I haven’t laid eyes on him since the night he left, over a year and a half ago.

I’ve moved on with my life now, burying what I felt for him in the far corners of my withered heart.

I work as a bartender at the local bar, and I usually get off around three in the morning. It’s good money and the tips make up for the belligerent bastards I have to put up with every night. Lacey, the other bartender who trained me is tolerable most days. She’s always praising how quickly I learn and while I appreciate it, the fact remains.

I fucking hate people.

Sliding a beer across the counter to Joe, one of the regulars, the door to the bar opens and the crowd goes deathly quiet.

In walks the talk of the town.

No one knows his name, but they call him ‘Devil’.

Supposedly, he’s a stone-cold killer, a boogeyman in the night. Rumors say he controls all the illegal activity in this town and he’s not one to fuck with. I’ve heard countless stories about his sins, but I take them with a grain of salt. If he’s so dangerous and lethal, why the hell is he hanging out in this shithole bar?

I’m calling bullshit.

He takes a seat at his usual table in the back corner. It’s dark and away from the crowd, the perfect place to watch everything going on. The quiet murmurs begin and everyone’s eyes dart to the mysterious man in the black hoodie, a hat pulled down over his eyes. I don’t know why they still make a spectacle of him. He’s come in every night since I’ve began working here.

I’ve never been close enough to make out his features. He’s tall and broad, tattoos covering his hands, the only exposed skin I can see. Strands of dark hair peek out from underneath his hat and I wonder what his face looks like. A part of me feels guilty about my curiosity, but Colt never returned. I know he had to leave, but we’re adults now. Why hasn’t he come back for me like he promised?

Maybe he didn’t feel the connection between us as strongly as I did.

He imprinted himself inside me, haunting both my dreams and my waking thoughts. He’s condemned me to what could’ve been. My chest aches at the thought of him and I try my damnedest to push it all away.

Glancing towards Devil, I watch Lacey approach his table. He says something, and she nods curtly, scurrying my direction.She stops in front of me on the other side of the bar. “Satan wants whatever we have on draft.”

Her nervousness makes me grin and I have to ask. “Is his face as nice as his body?”

She gapes at me. “Nova, that man is a monster!”

“I’m just curious.” I chuckle and she shakes her head.

“I can’t see him because it’s so dark in that corner and his hat is pulled down.”

While I can’t see his eyes, I feel his gaze boring into me like a warm caress. Something flutters in my chest, but I ignore it, not ready to analyze that shit show.

Turning the glass at an angle, I fill it slowly as Lacey taps her fingers on the bar. Once I’m finished, I set it on her tray. “He’s just another customer. Calm down.”

She nods jerkily, heading towards his table. Setting the beer down, he nods his thanks, handing her a few bills as he speaks.

She comes back to the bar, eyes wide with a huge grin plastered across her face. She shoves the money into my hand and my jaw drops when I see it’s two one-hundred-dollar bills. “What the fuck?” I whisper.

“He gave me three but told me to keep one.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Looks like Lucifer has a crush.”

Rolling my eyes, I press the money into her palm. “Give it back to him. I poured him a beer; this is too much.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy but does as I ask. I feel his stare again as I pour Joe another beer. It’s unnerving but oddly comforting.

I need to get a grip.

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