Page 65 of Ravaged By a Devil

I hold her gaze for a long, silent second, filing the name away in the back of my mind. I turn back to the wheel, kick the engine into gear, and pull out of the garage into the dark city streets.

"How was the rest of your shift?" I ask, keeping my eyes fixed on the windshield as we hit the main boulevard. "And is this George guy going to be a problem for you?"

Alexis lets out a soft, melodic chuckle, shaking her head against the headrest. "No. He’s just power-hungry and likes to micromanage when the place gets busy. Nothing I can’t handle."

I bite the inside of my cheek, making mental note of anyway. Anyone who causes her unnecessary grief under that roof is automatically on my radar.

"Can we stop by the store?" she asks after a beat, turning her head toward me with a quiet, almost tentative look. "I just want to grab a few things, please."

"Okay," I rumble without hesitation.

"There's one two stops down on the right," she adds, pointing toward the lit stretch of road ahead.

"Okay."

A few minutes later, I pull the car into the bright, concrete parking lot of the late-night market, idling the engine right outside the glass storefront.

As I unbuckle my seatbelt, Alexis is already snapping hers open. She pops her door, alights from the car, and turns back, flashing me a wide, impatient smile. "Cain, come on," she insists, hurrying inside the sliding glass doors before I can even answer.

I shake my head, watching her disappear down the lit aisles. I wonder what the hell she’s so excited to buy at this hour. I step out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut, and start walking toward the entrance.

Just as I reach the threshold, a man steps out into the cool night air, clutching a six-pack of beer in one hand. I stop dead in my tracks, his face is burning into my memory—so damn familiar. Then it hits me.

A flash of recognition slams into my brain like a freight train: an image of Alexis leaning over the laptop screen in the office at Eden, Ezekiel and Elijah hovering over her shoulders. Alexis tapping the glass, pointing directly at the men who had a tight, frequent rapport with Nolan Devlin at the club.

This fucker was one of them. One of Nolan's primary lieutenants.

Every drop of blood in my body turns into ice-cold lead.

Adrenaline surges through my veins as I pivot on my heel, breaking into a low stride across the asphalt. The bastard doesn’t sense me coming, he’s already by his car, whistling as he fumbles with his keys.

I close the distance in seconds, reaching him just as he swings his driver's door open.

I slam my hand into the back of his jacket, shoving him face-first into the front seat. Before he can let out a scream, I slide inside right behind him, jamming my elbow hard against his chest and pinning him flat against the upholstery as I yank the driver's door shut, sealing us in the cabin.

"Don't even breathe," I growl into his ear, my voice dropping into a lethal whisper. "What is Nolan Devlin up to, and what is he planning at the docks?"

The bastard squirms beneath me, his eyes wide with sudden terror, trying to play dumb. "I—I don't know what you're talking about, man! I don't know any Nolan!"

I don't waste time arguing. I reach out, wrapping my hand around his throat, my broad fingers squeezing shut until the airway collapses and his face turns a mottled, dark purple. His hands claw desperately at my wrist, his knees bucking against the steering wheel as he suffocates.

"Wrong answer," I rumble smoothly, leaning closer as my grip tightens into steel. "Try again."

Just as his eyes start to roll back into his head, I loosen my fingers just enough to let a tiny gasp of air hit his lungs. He violently coughs, choking out words between frantic breaths.

"Wait—wait! I'll tell you! I've been helping Lachlan recruit dockworkers!" he gasps out, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. "Nolan forced me into it! He threatened my teenage son... he said he'd hurt my boy if I didn't get him those men!"

I stare down into his terrified face, tracking every micro-expression. There’s no deceit in his eyes—just raw, desperate terror for his kid. I believe him.

Instead of snapping his neck, I reach down, snatch his phone right out of his coat pocket, and slide it into my leather jacket.

"Listen to me very carefully," I say, leaning down until my mouth is inches from his ear. "You take your son, you pack your bags, and you leave New Orleans tonight. If I ever see your face in this city again—or if you take another dollar from Nolan Devlin—there won't be a car door to hide behind. Understood?"

The man nods frantically, his whole body trembling. "Yes! Yes, I'm gone! I swear to God I'm gone!"

I release his throat, pop the car door open, and step back out into the cool night air.

The second I turn around, my chest tightens. Alexis is standing just a few feet away beside the car, holding a small brown paper bag with a six-pack of beer tucked under her arm. Her expression is completely calm, her dark eyes fixed on me.