Daring Devlin (Lost Boys #1) - Jessica Lemmon Page 0,62

can—”

“The kid with the photographic memory.” He sipped his coffee. “You probably still owe me money.” He grunted a halfhearted chuckle. “How much do you owe me, smarty?”

I frowned. “I don’t know.”

“You know. Bet you have the exact amount down to the change logged in that big brain of yours.”

I swallowed. I did know. I just didn’t want to think about it. “If I pay you the amount I originally—”

“Devlin.”

His craggy face softened and I choked on my argument. I took a breath, and told him the truth. “We’re square,” I muttered. “Have been for a few years now.”

A slight smile tweaked his mouth. “A few years?”

“Twenty months.” I crunched the napkin tighter and repeated, “We’re square.”

“Yeah, kid. We’re square. So why you hangin’ on?”

I had to think about that. As much as I wanted a chance to find out who I could be without him, I also hated to leave. He was what I knew. This life was what I knew. What I was good at.

“You want free of this shit, Dev?”

I did. At least a shot at being free. I shook my head, unable to give voice to my thought. Why was this so hard?

“You should.” Sonny took a gander around his tiny pizza place. Clattering came from the kitchen. The soda machine pumped as a customer refilled his cup.

“I… I want to try to make it. On my own. Live the kind of life…” I thought of my father. My mother. The faded photos in the album holding dreams never realized. I wanted to live the kind of the life I could be proud of. The kind of life that would allow room for Rena. And more. At the idea of more, my hand wrapped round the napkin began to shake. So I changed the subject. “The apartment,” I told him. “I’ll move.”

“Your call, kid.”

“I’ll return the SUV.”

“Keep it.” He waved a hand.

I’d negotiated the SUV as payment when a bettor didn’t have the cash, but it didn’t feel like it was mine. “Son—”

“Kid. Keep it.” He pushed a hand into the table and stood, taking his mug with him when he went. Without turning, he called over his shoulder, “Keep the phone, too.”

Six years being Sonny’s guy and he was letting me go. Granted, I’d offered to leave, but part of me… the part repeatedly damaged by abandonment, felt the sting of that cut. At the front door, I ventured a glance over my shoulder. Donna was wiping down the red plastic dine-in trays, Sonny nowhere to be seen.

He’d cut me loose.

I dropped the phone in my pocket. My parting gift.

Not gonna lie, it bothered me that he’d accepted my resignation so easily.

Rena

I showed up at Devlin’s place after work. We didn’t make it to the bed.

“Your kitchen floor is surprisingly clean,” I said, admiring the virtually spotless slate tiles. I shivered. “But cold.”

Devlin was on his back next to me, stark naked and mouthwateringly beautiful, light shining down on his contoured chest in a series of shadows and highlights. His eyes focused overhead. One hand rested on his chest. He’d been quiet tonight. When I arrived and noticed his sullen attitude, I launched into a story from work. He didn’t let me finish, grabbing me up and kissing me brainless. Things had sort of gotten out of hand from there. I had no idea where he’d tossed my bra.

I propped my head on my hand and looked at him.

“What?” He smiled. It was good to see him smile.

“Nothing. I’m just looking at you.”

“Tell me.”

My turn to smile… and ask him the question I’d been wondering since the infamous night in my hallway. “Do you think we’ll ever have sex in a bed?”

A low chuckle bobbed his throat. His openness expanded my heart… and made me remember Tasha’s warning. Melinda’s warning. Guys like Devlin weren’t keepers. He’s dangerous. But even as the thought came, I shut it down. He wasn’t dangerous. What he did for a living had its risks, but he’d been doing it for a long time. Obviously, he was good at staying safe.

“I’ll make you a deal.” His blue eyes glittered. “Stay the night and we’ll do it in the bed.”

I had peeked into his bedroom the last time I was here. Huge black iron bed with dark blankets, mahogany furniture. The room had smelled like him—not like cloying cologne or body spray, but a faint essence of spice, maybe from his soap or deodorant. It was the way he smelled now. I