No One Has to Know (Deal with the Devil)

by Carin Hart

I’m a bad man. I do what I want—take what I want—and the whole damn world lets me because I have a badge. It’s the perfect disguise, too. As much as cops get shit on, there’s a reason so many of us turn out to be garbage. Something about the job calls to a certain type of twisted soul, and I answered the call when I realized it gave me a cover to the darkness inside of me.

From the moment she shyly flagged me down months ago, offering me a single daisy to brighten my day, I’ve only ever cared about keeping one soul safe. Of watching her, of learning all her secrets, of obsessing over the moment I could find a way to make her mine. My angel.

To put it bluntly, I became a cop because of everything it could do for me. But because I’m not that much of a sociopath, I do believe in justice. So what if it’s my own brand of it? As far as I’m concerned, you do the crime, you do the time. You gotta pay for your wrongdoings, and if I have to, I’ll be the one to make sure of it.

Something about him screams that he’s the type of guy you can trust. The type of guy who’ll keep you safe. Who’ll do anything to protect you. A good guy.

“Don’t struggle, baby. You’ll like me a lot more if you don’t struggle.”

“What did you do? You tried to give yourself away to another man. You’re not allowed. That pussy is mine.”

Burns has a motive that I’m trying desperately to ignore. Because, deep down, I know why I’m here. I know what he wants from me. No. What he expects from me. And there’s a pretty good reason why he’s chained me to this tiny cot, hidden away like this. Mine…

“I’m a cop, angel. I can do any fucking thing I want. And, now that you’re here with me, that includes you.”

“Because, at first, you saved me from the dark thoughts.” From the way his gaze roves over me, I can guess what those thoughts are about. “But then they just got darker. I had to take you. I had to make you mine, and the only way to do that was to make you mine. Lover… captive… prisoner. It doesn’t matter to me what you are so long as I can claim you. You belong to me, and that means you belong with me—locked up or not.”

“And my badge number. In case you had any doubt you’re mine, don’t. I put my mark on you. The first woman who earned it,” he adds, answering a question I never would’ve thought to ask, “and the only one.”

I’m a bad man. I do bad things. I always have a reason, though. A justification. Even if only to myself, there’s a method to my madness. And, in time, my angel will understand that.

No one knows that my whole world has changed, and that none of them will ever see Angela again. She’s mine. No matter what I have to do, no matter how I have to convince her… she’s mine, and the sooner she accepts that, the better.

Defiant Angela has finally decided to make an appearance. To deny her captor what he wants, she’ll deny herself everything.

I don’t care. It’s a battle of wills at this point, and I need this if I’m ever going to hold my own against Burns. Because, if I show him how good it feels to have him touching me, it’ll only let him think that he was right to take me. To make me his prisoner. I won’t⁠—