4. Bang
FOUR
BANG
LUCA
V ice Mayor Collins should’ve known better than to expect mercy from the Devil of Springfield.
He did, however, know that there was no way to refuse an outright summons from the head of the Sinners Syndicate. When Devil told him to come down to the old Blockbuster, and to come alone , the vice mayor listened. The same as how he was ordered to park a street over, leave his phone on the front seat of his car, then meet Devil behind the abandoned, dilapidated video store.
He showed up ten minutes ago. I pulled up outside the Blockbuster closer to twenty, the only car on this stretch of the road. Devil told me to wait, and that’s what I’ve been doing while the boss… based on the first howl of pain I heard shortly after the vice mayor strolled back there, the boss is doing exactly what he’s known for.
Devil became a father last summer. Clair is four months old now, and there have been a few rumors that say he’s lost his edge since his daughter was born. Yeah, right. He just doesn’t put himself into situations where his kid could grow up without a dad. If he thinks anyone is a threat to him… to Springfield… to the Sinners… to Ava and Claire… there is nothing he won’t do to put down any threat.
Take Dave Sanders, for example. A fellow Sinner who sold out Cross to Winter and his men, when Cross gave me the heads up that he was working for Winter, I passed the message along to the boss.
When Devil was done with him, Rolls had three garbage bags in the car’s trunk, and I used my last liner to keep the bodily fluids from leaking out onto the interior.
You don’t betray Devil. Simple as that. You don’t threaten his family, and you don’t betray the Sinners when you have a devil inked on your skin.
Sometimes he’s quick. Like with Twig. That idiot disrespected Ava in front of the whole syndicate, and Devil shot him in the junk first, then finished him with a headshot. That got the message across. Treat Mrs. Crewes with respect or you’d be next.
Bobby deserved a more brutal death after he sold out Devil’s wife to Damien, but we were on a time crunch for that one. I needed to speed across Springfield so that Devil could confront the head of the Dragonflies and get his wife back. Bobby died, but Devil regrets that it was over so quickly.
He got his aggression out with Dave. Taking one of his men, working with an enemy to sell-out all of Springfield next… Dave got exactly what he deserved.
And so will the vice mayor.
Devil warned me that he would take as long as he had to to get us much information out of Collins as he could. If Damien’s information was wrong, if Collins wasn’t working with Winter to allow the Snowflake and their product to infiltrate Springfield, the meet would be a quick one. But if Devil used his proven techniques to get Collins to admit that he is on Winter’s payroll?
This could take a while.
I’ll wait. I’m good at that. The car’s got the heat on, and while I usually listen to the radio while I drive, I have the volume on low so that I can hear it if Devil needs me.
So far, so good?—
Knock , knock.
Shit.
I jolt at the unexpected rap on my window, one hand dropping to the gun kept in my console, the other landing on the bottom curve of the steering wheel.
I fucked up. Searching for some sign that Devil was done with the vice mayor, I completely neglected to keep my eye on my surroundings. It’s about ten-twenty, ten-thirty on a Thursday night on the far side of Skid Row. Not even the streetwalkers claim this territory—which is why Devil holds meetings just like this one—and I never expected anyone to come this way after dark.
Especially not her .
My heart leaps to my throat when I see the face peering in through my driver’s side window.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous .
That’s all I can think about for a split second as I gape like an idiot up at her. Everything about her features is simply stunning. She has this narrow face with just enough softness that she seems a little bit younger than I am. It’s hard to tell just what her complexion is beneath the few-and-far between lamplights, but it reminds me of the color of coffee with a good splash of milk in it. Her hair is a few shades dark; all loose and wild curls barely tamed by her ponytail.
She’s smiling at me, gesturing with her fingers for me to roll down my window.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.
I do .
“Hi.”
Unable to speak just yet, I nod a greeting at her.
She giggles, a touch nervously. “So. I’ve been wandering around for, like, the last twenty minutes or so. My friend told me that he lives down here, just past the old Blockbuster, but here’s the Blockbuster, and I don’t see anywhere like my friend describes. Then I saw your car and, well… I thought maybe you might know where I’m supposed to go.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Uh, maybe. Your buddy give you an address?”
She shakes her head, curls bouncing as she does. “I’m terrible when it comes to shit like that. I’m better with landmarks, but he said it’s a building with at least twenty floors. I mean, duh . His apartment is 20D. But I’ve gotta be wrong. Maybe there’s another Blockbuster that went out of business.”
Not that I know of. “Sorry, but you’re right. The big apartment buildings start around Sixth. We’re on Fourth.” Reaching out of the window, I point. “Try heading back that way. It’s still close enough, and he’s probably that way.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Thanks for helping. I mean, I’d call him to give me better directions, but, stupid me, I left my phone at home.”
Take mine .
That’s what a good guy would do. Help the damsel in distress, give her my phone to make a quick call—to her friend, or to a car service since she’s on foot and I obviously can’t offer her a ride—and get her off the dangerous streets of Skid Row at night.
However, I can’t—and not just because, as a Sinner on duty, I know better than to get involved with this bubbly beauty. I can’t because, suddenly, we’re both interrupted by an ear-splitting sound.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Fuck!
The night just exploded with a trio of gunshots. Maybe if it was July, I could play if off like they were fireworks. It’s December. Thunder’s out, too. That was gunfire, and the poor girl is staring in terror over the roof of the car.
I don’t know what else to do. Hurrying her on before she gets mixed up in Sinners business seems like the best plan. Before I can even realize what I’m doing, I pop open the door, giving it just enough of a shove that she instinctively takes a few steps away from the town car.
That was an even bigger mistake.
She stumbles closer to the front of the car, eyes still drawn in the direction where the deafening pops just sounded. From that point, it’s easy for her to see over the hood right as Devil comes stalking out from behind the empty store, his Sig Sauer still in hand.
“Pop the trunk, Luca,” he commands, voice ringing out in the wake of the gunshots’ echoes. “Let’s get the vice mayor’s corpse in the trunk before he makes an even bigger mess on the asphalt.”
He didn’t see the girl yet. Checking his weapon, barking out orders like usual, he didn’t look up the entire time he was telling me what he wants me to do. If anything, he caught the silhouette against the shadows and thought it was me… but I’m still standing near the open door.
And the girl?
She books it.
I don’t blame her. Whether she recognizes the boss as the Devil of Springfield or not, he’s still a big man in a dark suit, wielding a gun while talking about a corpse. She heard the gunshots. She has to know that Devil just killed someone.
That she runs just tells me that she’s not as stupid as she thinks she is. She’s pretty fucking smart, actually, even if she doesn’t have a chance of getting away.
Especially when Devil’s head shoots up at the sudden motion. It takes two seconds for it to click, that I wasn’t alone, that we have a witness before he snaps at me, “Get her!”
I’d expected as much. Whether because I’ve been working for Devil for so long that I know how he thinks, or because something about the girl has me unwilling to let her escape me so easily, I don’t know. Still, I was already chasing after her before Devil gave me the order to do so.
She’s quick, but not quick enough. I run her down, grabbing one hand and tugging her backward so that she slams into my chest.
“No, no, no. Let me go. I… I didn’t see anything. You have to let me go!”
I wish I could. Glancing over at the boss, seeing the flat expression on his rugged face as he meets us on the sidewalk, I know that that won’t be happening.
A muscle tics in his cheek. “Who is she?”
I wait a beat to see if she’ll answer. Give a name or try to continue to talk her way out of what all three of us expect to happen next.
When she doesn’t, I shake my head. “Dunno, boss. She said she was lost. Came this way to meet a friend, but got confused. She was asking me for directions when the shots rang out.”
“I got as much from Collins as I could,” rumbles Devil, face growing ever darker in the shadows. “He was no good for more so I finished him off.”
Ducking her head, trying to hide from us, the girl whimpers.
Moving toward her, Devil grips her chin, jerking her up so that she can’t look away.
My stomach flips. Her eyes are big. Wide. Terrified .
I want to slap his hand off of her. I don’t know where that sudden urge comes from, and I only just manage to keep my hands pinning her arms in place.
Devil runs his dark gaze over her face. Then, without another comment, he marches over to the back of the town car. He finds the unlatch button beneath the trunk, popping it, then shoving it open.
The liner meant for the vice mayor is already laid out. Cross didn’t have a tarp on hand, but he gave me four industrial-sized trash bags to protect the car. I’d gotten that ready as soon as Collins appeared, then sat in the driver’s seat, waiting for Devil’s sign that it was time to go.
The trunk’s open. Instead of ordering me to help him heft the vice mayor’s dead body into the back, he nods at the girl in my grip.
“Put her in.”
Shit. The trunk was for the vice mayor. And while Devil can easily call up Rolls and his clean-up crew to take care of Collins after all, I don’t see why he has to terrorize the poor girl even further by stowing her in the back like that.
She saw something she wasn’t supposed to. Even in a city like Springfield, where the cops are crooked as fuck, bought and paid for, there’s a limit to what the local mafias can get away with. Murdering a high-ranking member of the city’s government? With a witness to the aftermath and Devil’s casual discussion of Vice Mayor Collins’s dead body?
To make a statement in Springfield—to keep his position of power—Devil has to remind the rest of us just how he earned his nickname. And while he didn’t go so far as to use a knife to sever the vice mayor’s head from his neck… as far as I know… he ended Collins. Sometimes bodies have to disappear. Sometimes they need to be left somewhere to make an impact.
Springfield needed to know that Collins betrayed Devil, and because of that, he paid with his life. But while there would be no doubt that he was the murderer, Devil would never allow there to be evidence that could end his reign of power.
And if this girl tells anyone what she saw…
No. She’s an innocent. She could be swayed. It doesn’t have to be like this.
Thou shall not ? —
“I said, put her in the trunk, Luca.”
Damn it, I put her in the trunk.
It’s easier than it should be.
I expected her to resist. To scream. To fight . She doesn’t do any of that. Despite begging only moments ago for me to release her, the moment that Devil tells me to put her in the trunk, she seems to shut down. It’s not even like she goes limp, either, too frightened to do anything but give in. She just lets me maneuver her any way I want until I’ve tilted her back into my arms before guiding her headfirst into the trunk.
She even helps me by tucking her legs in, and that makes me feel infinitely worse. Like she knows what’s coming, that she’s resigned to it, and when I meet those big, frightened eyes again, my heart stutters in my chest.
I can’t explain it. I’ve only just met this girl, and part of me wants to risk Devil’s wrath by hefting her out of the trunk again and telling her to run.
As it is, I’m surprised that Devil didn’t just fire off another round when he realized there was a witness. The man I first started working for would have, but as brutal as he could be then, that’s nothing compared to how a man acts when he has something to lose.
He has a wife to protect. A baby to protect. A syndicate to lead… and enemies coming at us from all sides.
Devil won’t just shoot first anymore. He has questions, and he uses his methods to get answers. I know that’s what he was doing behind Blockbuster before he finished the vice mayor off. Getting the politician to spill his guts about what he did for Winter, then blowing him away when he was done.
Is that what he plans for this poor girl? Find out just what she saw, then she’ll become just another casualty? Collateral damage of the wars between the Sinners and our enemies?
I know what kind of man Devil is. I begged him to let me work for him for just that reason. I might not be a killer myself, but I respect how far the boss will go to keep the Sinners safe and in power. Snitches get stitches. Traitors die.
But pretty girls who got lost and saw something they weren’t meant to?
I can’t let her go. As much as I want to, to disobey Devil is as much of a death sentence as meddling in mafia biz. But that doesn’t mean I can’t figure out a way to keep the boss happy and help the brunette in the trunk out of this mess.
I dip my hand into my jacket pocket, searching for the small vial I never leave home without.
Unlike most of my fellow Sinners, I don’t carry a piece on me. Even those of us who don’t serve as enforcers or handle clean-up for Devil are often armed. That’s kind of our thing. The Sinners Syndicate run the guns and weapon trade in the city, and keeping a gun on our hip is as much advertising as it is practicality in this line of work.
Like how Rolls has his Beretta, and even Cross carries, but the mafia fixer and artist rarely fire them. I technically have a Ruger for protection—Devil insists—but I keep it in the town car most of the time, only relocating it to my personal vehicle when I have a rare day to myself.
The vial, though? That’s more my speed, and something I’ve hung onto since I volunteered to infiltrate Winter’s holding facility in Hamilton to rescue Cross. Tanner gave me one of the knock-out drugs our tech guy had perfected for Mace Burns a year or two back. I couldn’t risk bringing my Ruger, but if my cover was blown, I could jab one of the other hired goons with the injector and hope it knocked them out so I could make my escape.
I kept it after we were all back in Springfield again. I doubted that Winter would come after me once he realized I was working for the Sinners all along. Just in case, it seemed like a good idea to hold onto the knock-out drug for an easy out without worrying about adding the ninth tally mark to my tat.
Did I ever think I’d use it on a young woman in the trunk of Devil’s town car? Fuck, no. But as she watches me, lips working though she doesn’t say anything I can make out over the beat of my heart, I use my thumb to flip off the cap.
Palming the small vial, I reach into the trunk. I lay my fingers on top of her hair—soft, it’s so springy and goddamn soft —my heart doing a little jump when she doesn’t try to yank herself away from my touch.
I give her a crooked grin full of promise. “Everything will be okay,” I tell her before shifting my hand so that the needle is hovering over her skin.
And then I jab it.