Page 4 of Wild Devil

“Maybe I will.”

Before this deal with the devil is all said and done, I might come to regret it.

But hell, who knows what role I’ll actually play in the long run.

The cartel might have made a mistake in trusting me.

For the time being, I can’t be too picky when it comes to allies. Hell, I can’t be picky at all. “You mind if I take you up on that offer now?” I wonder out loud, my head cocked, hands at my sides.

Marco chuckles, his gaze wary but curious. “How so?”

“We’re going on a little field trip,” I say, nodding my head in the direction Ben went. “If you mean what you said, then come along.”

After all, if anyone could know what Heywood might be up to, it would be the very organization that created the infrastructure he’s using now.

Marco purses his lips and runs a finger along his jaw. Then he nods. “Bet.”

TWO

FREY

Something is wrong.

I haven’t been dragged off to some dark, underground dungeon to be tortured. Yet. Instead, I’ve been locked in a windowless room near the back of the church. Father or Colton hasn’t even come to gloat over me yet—and it’s the lack of violence that scares me. Maybe they’re hoping that Daze will come back for me first?

He would be walking into a bloodbath if he did.

God, I can only pray that he doesn’t even try. Daze is brave, but violence alone isn’t enough to defeat my father. To beat him at his own game, we must unravel the mysterious events in the city involving my family.

Like finding the truth behind Higher Limit Construction, an agency that has been buying up property all over Westpoint, and finally avenging my brother’s death.

Nonetheless, terror starts to creep in anyway, sowing other thoughts. Were Daze and Sammy able to get away okay? What if Father had someone waiting to harm them as soon as they reunited? The cynical part of my brain eagerly rewords that statement—of course, he did.

Daze and his son could be dead, and it’s all my fault.

Enough. I shake my head to snap out of the self-pitying mindset. Taking a deep breath, I clear my mind and focus, starting by straining my ears to hear the shuffling feet of a nearby guard. Then, the sounds of distant traffic warning that I’m on the far end of the building. The last guard to walk past the door to this room came an hour ago, and roughly forty-five minutes before that. How can I tell?

Because all this time, I’ve been counting the seconds down. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Sixty. Ten, Twenty. Thirty. Sixty.

Fifty-four minutes. Sooner or later, they’ll do another round, and I’ll be ready. They’ll knock on the door just once to check I’m still inside. Afterward, they’ll give me a sandwich or a cup of whatever to tide me over. Rinse and repeat.

My hand reaches toward the hem of my dress, finding the tiny secret I hid there before leaving Ben’s bar—an exposed razor blade. It’s all I could locate by way of a weapon, but I don’t let myself dwell on the potential risks of using it. All I need to do is think of my next plan. Keep breathing. Don’t get discouraged.

Finding a way out on my own is my only option. Otherwise…

I don’t want to think about it.

Instead, I wait until I finally hear footsteps approaching. Only… Wait. In contrast to the usual lone steps of a hired guard, two sets of steps advance toward me now. One is heavier and one distinctly lighter, as if the owner were eager to get to me. Eager to gloat. The thick cologne that Colton wears seems to fill the room before the door even opens to reveal him standing there.

The sight of his gray dress shirt and black slacks provides me some relief—he doesn’t look as though he’s ready for a wedding anytime soon. But what does he have in store?

As he enters the narrow space, I realize that my father isn’t with him. He came here alone.

“Frances,” he says, clasping his hands before him. “It breaks my heart to see you like this.” His tone conveys anything but heartbreak. More like malice.

“Like what?” I counter coldly. “That I’m able to speak for myself for once?”

“No.” His eyes narrow to slits, and I no longer recognize him. “Disobedient. Reveling in sin. The woman I love is modest and humble. But I have no doubt that you will return to that demeanor soon.”