Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

“I live in Meridian City.” I turned my eyes out the passenger side window. “And even if I didn’t, you don’t get to dictate where I sleep.”

When they got out of prison last year, I moved to the city to be close to Damon. My father started paying me—barely enough to keep a rat—but it was enough to find a place to sleep.

“And where do you sleep?” he asked.

“Not far.”

He adjusted his rearview mirror, giving it a lengthy glance. “With one of them?”

I slowly turned my eyes on him and then looked behind us, seeing the Escalade following. I couldn’t help but smile a little.

I should be angry they disobeyed an order, but…

If Gabriel had told them to go home, they would’ve. He only had their loyalty as long as he paid them. I didn’t pay them anything.

I let my head fall back on the head rest, the rare peace of contentment washing over. “It’s all I’m good for, right?”

His lips twisted up. “Damon must really have done a number on you to keep you so loyal,” he spat out. “I’ve seen him with women. Do you really like what he does to you?”

What he does to me…. I fixed my eyes out the rain-covered windshield, zoning out. I belonged to Damon, and whether or not Kai ever learned the real reason why, it didn’t change that I would always stand at his side.

“That night—”

“Don’t,” I said, interrupting him.

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He stopped, and I could hear his heavy breathing pouring out of his nose.

“I love that he saw us that night,” he went on, his voice almost a growl. “Loved that furious look on his fucking face when he saw you all over me.”

I tightened the muscles in my legs, wincing at the memory. I was so awful that night. And the feeling of every inch of him on me was still so clear.

“There’s something about you, kid,” he said, still watching the road ahead. “I don’t know what it is, but most of the time, teaching those classes, meeting with contractors, talking to my friends, shit…” He shook his head. “I can barely stand it. I even have trouble chewing my goddamn food most of the time.” And then he looked over at me, shifting into fifth. “But not around you. Around you, I get hungry. Like I’m starving.”

I kept my gaze forward, the instinct to shrink into myself and try to be invisible nearly taking over.

“You’re wearing his belt.” His deep voice sounded dangerous and made the hair on my skin stand up.

Damon’s belt. I shifted in my seat, suddenly very aware of the tight, leather band around my hips.

He gestured down to the belt before turning his eyes back on the road. “I recognize the tally marks carved into the leather for every slam dunk he got in high school. On and off the court.”

On and off the court? Jesus, Damon. I held back my sigh.

I’d taken the belt when he went to prison, and he never asked for it back.

“Wear it every day, Banks,” Kai ordered. “Every damn day.”

“Oh, I do,” I whispered, but I knew he heard me.

I bet he wondered if there was a tally mark for me on the belt. Damon was right. It was strategically advantageous for no one to know who I was to him. If Kai thought I was a Torrance toy and tool, he wouldn’t know exactly what he had or what cards he could really play.

God help me if he ever found out, though.

Kai kept driving, descending into the Whitehall district, and I could see a cargo ship and a few tug boats drifting down the river in the rain. The city loomed in the distance, skyscrapers partially shrouded in cloud cover, and I could just make out the black and gold of Delcour, sitting in the center of the best shopping and the finest restaurants.

Kai slowed as we pulled up to The Pope, and I noticed Michael Crist’s new Rover parked along the curb. What was he doing here?