Page 21 of Ravaged By a Devil

Alexis lets out a long, defeated sigh, her shoulders dropping as she sinks back into the leather seat.

The car plunges into a tense silence, both of us keeping our eyes trained on the glowing neon entrance across the street, waiting for the devil to show his face.

The quiet stretches between us, thick with unspoken friction. I keep my profile straight, staring through the windshield, but the heat of her gaze on the side of my face is impossible to ignore.

I turn my head, catching her amber eyes before she can look away. Up close, even with the faint smudges of exhaustion under her lower lashes and her hair tied up in a messy, hurried knot, she’s striking.

She’s got a sensual, untamed beauty that doesn't belong anywhere near the ugly world I live in—a soft, golden warmth framed by sharp defiance that makes something cold and dormant deep in my chest pull tight.

"What do you actually do for your family, Cain?" she asks, her voice cutting through the hum in my head. "I know what people say about the Kavanaghs, but what's your role?"

I hold her gaze, keeping my face completely expressionless. "I make sure problems stay solved, doll. That's all you need to know."

Alexis lets out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

"What?"

"You expect me to sit here, risk my safety, and point out dangerous men for you, but you won't even give me a straight answer," she snaps, turning her whole body toward me in the passenger seat.

"You're hiding stuff and using me to gather information, putting my life at risk, and I don't even know what kind of monster I'm sitting next to."

A low rumble builds in my chest, and I lean across the center console, closing the distance between us until she's pressed back against her door. "If I wanted to use you⁠—"

A pair of bright halogen headlights cuts through the alley shadow, washing over the dark leather of the dashboard.

I cut myself off and sit up straight, my pulse spiking into a familiar focus. Beside me, Alexis instantly sits up, leaning toward the tinted glass.

A sleek, blacked-out SUV pulls up directly in front of the club's glowing entrance.

Nolan steps out of the passenger side, buttoning his tailored jacket before turning to pull open the rear door. Two men step out behind him—Brendan and, right on his heels, the scarred bastard from the photograph.

Alexis leans close to the glass, her breath fogging the corner of the window. "That’s him," she whispers, her voice tight with strain. "He shows up with Nolan sometimes at The Blackwood. But they’re very coded about it."

"Coded how?" I ask, my eyes locked on the scarred man's movements.

"They don't sit out on the main floor like Nolan usually does," she explains, her gaze tracking them. "Sometimes they use the exclusive private room upstairs. They pay huge amounts of money just for the secrecy, and the shift managers are strictly ordered to stay out unless called."

I tilt my head, studying the way the scarred man scans the street like a trained soldier. "Do you know his name?"

"No," Alexis says softly. "Never heard Nolan address him directly."

I hum, pulling my phone from my pocket and resting it against the steering wheel. I raise the lens, silently snapping a rapid series of high-resolution shots of the three of them standing beneath the neon sign. My focus narrows entirely onto Nolan and the stranger, watching the low, tense exchange between them.

Suddenly, small, warm fingers wrap tightly around my forearm.

"Cain," Alexis gasps, her grip digging into my sleeve. "Brendan’s going to spot us."

I break my focus from the camera lens and glance down the street. Brendan is pacing the edge of the curb, his eyes nervously scanning every parked vehicle, his hand hovering dangerously close to his jacket lining.

He turns his head, his gaze sweeping directly toward our alley. Before his eyes can lock onto our tinted windshield, I throw the car into drive, cut the headlights, and roll smoothly backward out of the alley into the main road, slipping into the morning traffic before we're burned.

I hit the main strip, flip the lights back on, and glance over at Alexis. Her chest is heaving, her hands still clutching her seatbelt.

"You notice more than most people," I admit, the corner of my mouth tugging up slightly. "You've got sharp eyes."

"I have to," she mutters, leaning her head back against the headrest.

"Don't tell anyone about what you saw today," I say, my voice dropping into a flat, serious warning. "Not your friends at the club, not anyone."