AVA
Link calls me his wife.
It doesn’t take long before I realize that means I’m his prisoner.
Maybe I should have expected that. It’s not like I agreed to marry some ordinary blue-collar guy. He’s the head of a crime syndicate with enemies to match, and if it gets past his crew that I’m his wife, I’d be an easy target.
That’s not counting how I got into this mess in the first place because I’d somehow caught Damien Libellula’s attention. Link insisting that I stay in the penthouse isn’t just his way of controlling me. I’d bartered my freedom for his protection and, well, this is it.
He’d deny that I was his prisoner. Technically, if I wanted to leave, I could, but the only condition is that I have to have someone with me. Of course, he wants that to be him. He’s taking his role as my husband very seriously, from eating dinner with me each night, bringing me home a trinket every time he leaves me behind, and climbing into bed with me so that he can perform his husbandly duties by making me scream his name into the darkness.
That first night was a fluke. At least, when it comes to how he put chasing his own orgasm before making it good for me; him indulging in cockwarming after he bones me into sleep is a regular occurrence. He explained to me that he was so determined to consummate our marriage in the bathroom that he wasn’t thinking about anything else, and he’s more than made up for it. There hasn’t been a single night since I moved into the penthouse that he doesn’t focus on my pleasure. Alternating before rough and gentle, frantic and sweet, every time I see a glimpse of the boy I knew, it only hurts me even more when I remember this could’ve been us.
It could’ve been us all along, if he didn’t put the life in front of a happily-ever-after with me.
He still does. Proof is in how much time he spends working on “business”. He might slip into bed with me every night, but that’s because it didn’t take long for him to realize some of my quirks. When I went to bed—in his, because I learned my lesson about trying to put some distance between us—the second night, he didn’t like that I fell asleep without him.
I had to explain that I was catching up on all the missed sleep from the night before. Besides, I’m not like him and his men. I don’t do my business at night, and I’m happily in bed by ten. Link didn’t say anything to that. He did, however, leave after dinner the next night only to return at quarter to ten so that he could take me to bed.
I was in bed by ten, but by the time Link was done with me, it was well after midnight when I curled up next to his sculpted body, tracing the elaborately-designed cross on his chest before I fell asleep. Hours later, I woke up to discover he was gone, and I tried not to let that sting.
He came home to me, but I’ve always heard that the Devil runs the night. Of course he would slip out to do whatever it is he does while I stay behind with whatever guard he posts in the penthouse with me.
There’s a different guy wandering around it whenever Link leaves. Glorified babysitting duty, I ruefully think of it. He was so annoyed when I asked if they were necessary that I decided not to bring it up again—thought I do spend my first two weeks as Mrs. Crewes pretending they’re not there.
There’s one of them who tries to be a little friendly with me. About my age, with short black hair and deep brown eyes, Bobby—seriously, he introduces himself as Bobby despite being at least thirty-five, thirty-six—seems to warm up to me when he finds out that I’m a teacher. He has a niece starting kindergarten in my school district, and his girlfriend does something for the school. He brushes me off when I ask if I might know here, but at least he treats me like a person and not his boss’s new pet.
Sometimes, I think he treats me with more consideration than Link does.
Do I use that against the soldier? I hate to admit it, but I totally do. Call it manipulative if you want, but I couldn’t see any other way around it. Link was purposely keeping me separate from the syndicate part of his life, and it was driving me crazy.
I’m the one who asked if this is supposed to be a marriage of convenience. If he just wanted me to pretend to be his wife, I would force myself not to care what he was doing. He’s the one who wants me to believe that this marriage is legit—so why is he hiding me away like I’m his dirty little secret?
If he’s really my husband, I want to get to know Link. It’s so hard for me to reconcile the rumors I’ve heard about the wicked Devil when I’ve only seen glimpses of his dark side. I almost want to think this version of Link is as bad the stories make him out to be, because if he isn’t? I might have been better off waiting for the cops to come after me for shooting Joey.
I’m not made for prison, but I… I just don’t know if I’ll be able to survive Lincoln Crewes breaking my heart again.
He thinks he’s jealous. Of the two of us, co-dependant as we were once upon a time, I was always the worse one. He brawled for money. I got into slap fights when I saw some of the other girls who fawned over the fighters oohing and ah-ing over my Link.
Part of moving on meant I had to stop thinking about all the women he’s loved after me. Sex, I could forgive, but if he loved someone else? I never did. Sure, I’d taken a few lovers over the years, and I almost married Brandon, but I never loved him. That’s why I called off our wedding at the last minute. It didn’t matter that Link walked out on me.
He’s the only man I ever loved, and even if I don’t know if I can love the man he’s become, I have the chance to. Hearing him tell me that there’s never been anyone after me—not a fling, not a one-night stand, and definitely no one else he admits to loving—has me halfway there.
Maybe I’m being naive, but I get the idea that, once he lets me into his entire life, we really can make this marriage work. And that’s why, one evening after dinner, when he leaves to take care of “something”, I point-blank ask Bobby where I can find Link if I need him.
Poor guy. He answers me before thinking, and I’m sure he’ll regret it later, but that doesn’t change a thing.
I have a name: The Devil’s Playground, the infamous nightclub run by the Sinners Syndicate on the West Side that I’ve heard of, but never visited for fear of accidentally seeing Link and having him look right through me.
It should’ve been obvious. It’s the Sinners headquarters, so of course he would spend a lot of his time there. But once I have confirmation… I decide it might be time to visit my husband at work.
He won’t be expecting me. Link never tells me where he goes when he leaves. He just says it’s ‘business’ and leaves it at that.
Well, tonight I’ll find out just what that means.
* * *
The Devil’s Playground.
With a stylized, neon green devil with a pitchfork and a pointed tail underlined the name in glowing white, I’m a little intimidated as I walk down the sidewalk.
Suddenly, I feel very underdressed.
That’s my fault. Knowing that I’m probably not supposed to leave the penthouse without telling anyone, I did anyway. I waited until Bobby disappeared into another room, taking a phone call, then ducked out why Mona was busy.
I googled the club on the elevator ride down, pleased to see it was only a ten-minute walk away. I pulled on my favorite sneakers just in case—after quickly rummaging through the packed boxes from my house that I haven’t brought myself to undo just yet—and left wearing the short-sleeve shirt and jeans I was wearing today.
It never occurred to me that there would be a dress code for the club. Based on what the long line of people waiting along a rope stanchion has on? There is, and it’s a lot more revealing, leathery, and tight than what I’m wearing.
Lucky for me, I have a golden ticket. I don’t wait on the line—only because it looks like an hour’s wait and somebody will notice I’m missing by then—instead heading right for the bouncer at the door. I’m not so sure if he’ll believe me when I tell him that I’m Link’s wife, but as though fortune herself is smiling down on me, one of my babysitters is stepping out with a date at the same time as I’m trying to explain who I am.
He’s one of the ones who introduced himself. His name is Marco, and though he smirks when he sees me, he voices that I really am Mrs. Crewes. Despite the judging look the bouncer gives me—I choose to believe it’s my outfit, and not me he’s judging—he steps aside, letting me walk right in.
The atmosphere slams right into me, and my first impression is that I’m never going to find Link in here.
It’s so crowded. Dark and crowded and hot, with bodies everywhere, most of them hidden in shadows, or bumping along, mimicking fucking on the dance floor. It smells of smoke and sweat, plus the overwhelming stink of booze, and my nose wrinkles.
That’s not the only sense of mine that’s affected. The music is so loud in here, I can feel the rhythm of it beneath the soles of my sneakers.
Figuring I’ll get used to how overwhelming it is if I just immerse myself into the club, I grit my teeth, barely resisting the urge to clap my hands over my ears as I start to circle the place, searching for Link.
For a moment, I think about grabbing my phone and dialing his number. If he’s here, it might be easier for him to find me, but it’s so loud, I can’t hear myself think, let alone have a conversation on the phone.
After about fifteen minutes, I realize that this is pointless. Not only do I not see Link anywhere, but I haven’t passed a familiar face with the exception of the Sinner who I saw on his way out. You would think, in a club run by the syndicate, I’d recognize someone, but the fact that I don’t just reinforces how much Link keeps me separate from this part of his life.
Honestly, I’m beginning to see why.
People are openly doing drugs on the floor. Before, when I thought the clubbers were mimicking fucking, I was wrong; some of them are literally doing just that in public. And those who want a little privacy? I’ve seen more than a few couples head upstairs where, I discover after scooting behind them and eavesdropping a little, the working girls in the club take their clients for an hour or two at a time.
I detour away from the stairs, though I won’t lie and say that I don’t stand on the edge of the dance floor, watching some of the couples fuck out in the open. I’m not usually a voyeur—I prefer to be the one getting watched, if I’m being honest—but there’s something about this place that has me drawn to the dark, sadistic nature of the clubbers giving in to their need, swaying along to the music at the same time as they fuck.
It’s mesmerizing, and I probably would’ve stood there long and stared if I didn’t hear a female voice calling my name over the music.
“Ava? Holy shit, that can’t be you.”
I whip my head around.
The woman I’m facing is wearing one of the Devil’s Playground uniforms: a skirt so short they’re closer to being panties, and a cropped t-shirt with the logo on it that dips low enough to show off the lacy edge of her red bra. Her face is made-up expertly, showing off her light brown eyes, and her golden curls are arranged artfully around her face.
I’ve never seen her looking like this before, but I recognize her instantly.
Heidi Fox is a third-grade teacher at Springfield Elementary, and one of my co-workers. I’m used to seeing her fresh-faced in casual cotton dresses and… whoa. Seeing her like this? Excuse me for being so damn shocked.
Moving closer so that she can hear me over the music, I say in her name in disbelief. “Heidi? What are you doing here?”
She gestures at her get-up. “Working, obviously. Waitressing.”
“Really?”
“My boyfriend got me the job.” She laughs, but despite her smile, there’s not a drop of humor in it. “As if teachers don’t get paid shit already, I needed the money during summer break. What about you? What are you doing at the Playground?”
Heidi’s gaze runs over me, but there’s such a marked difference between her waitressing uniform and what I’m wearing that it’s obvious I don’t belong.
Feeling like I’ve been put on the spot, I simply say, “I’m looking for my husband.”
“You’re married? When did that happen?” Her brow furrows. “Weren’t you dating this mechanic guy last I heard? I thought you broke up.”
I’ve never dated a mechanic. “Joey? He was in sales, and, yeah. We broke up.”
“And you married him?”
I shake my head. “Um. No. I…” How to explain? The way her eyes are bugging out of her head so far, they might pop the rest of the way if I tell her I was blackmailed into marrying her boss—and that I killed Joey two weeks ago. “I reconnected with an old ex,” I settle on. “One thing led to another and we eloped.”
That’s what you can call our whirlwind wedding, right?
“Wow. Congratulations.” She pauses for a moment. “And you’re happy?”
“Thanks. It all happened so fast, but yeah. I am.” So far. “What about you and your boyfriend?”
Her eyes lit up. “Bobby’s great.”
Bobby…
Oh.
Well, look at that. I guess I know his girlfriend, after all.
“I’m glad to hear it. Good for you, Heidi.”
“Thanks. He’s got big plans for us.” She gives me a conspiratorial smile. “Maybe we’ll both have husbands by the time summer ends.”
Heidi seems delighted by the prospect. Me? I can’t even imagine what my life will be like by then. Will I even be going back to school? Link’s made reference to the fact that I’ll never have to work a day in my life again, and as heavy-handed as he was in moving me out of my house and into his, I wouldn’t put it past him to suddenly decide that I’m quitting my job.
Of course, then he’ll tell me it’s too risky to teach first-graders, and that it’s better if I stay in the penthouse…
Right. I don’t know why he’s so worried. He promised me that he would take care of the trouble I was in, and as far as I know, he has. He held up his end of our bargain, I’m doing mine by being his wife, and that’s that—and I believe that up until the moment someone grabs my bicep from behind.
My immediate instinct is to pull away, but the grip is so bruisingly tight—and I’m so caught off guard—that my tug doesn’t do anything to escape the hold.
There’s only one man that I know who is strong enough to keep me where he wants me while also acting as though he can grab me whenever he wants. This is his club, too, and maybe I just missed his deep rumble as he calls me ‘pet’ over the loud music.
I stop struggling. No matter what kind of marriage we have, I agreed to act the part of Link’s wife. He’s the type of guy who would demand total loyalty and respect from his bride. Jumping and fighting him off when he approaches her on the dance floor… that might make the rest of the syndicate have questions about us.
Pulling a smile to my face, I turn my head so that I can show my husband just how happy I see him.
One problem, though.
That’s not my husband.
