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,

while Lincoln Crewes might be known as the Devil of Springfield, the brawling gangster at least has some morals. I have fucking none.

given how sweet and innocent yet broken she is deep down, the wrong sort of man is attracted to a woman like her. Ask me how I fucking know.

She doesn’t deserve to be stalked and hunted; at least, not by anyone other than me. I only have her safety in mind.

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.

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

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.”

“Fuck me, angel, but your lies taste delicious.”

Little gift? It’s a fucking tattoo. I went to bed without any, and now I have a tattoo at the height of my left boob.

Burns’?” I read. “It’s… it’s your name?” “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,

Before Angela, being a cop was all I was. It was my identity, the reason I existed through the drudgery of day-to-day life. It’s still a big part of what I am, though my pretty little florist has wormed her way beneath the armor, beneath the uniform, owning me completely from the moment she did something so sweet and innocent as giving me a fresh daisy.

“It’ll be even prettier once I fuck it wild.”

Her hair

If he knows anything about me at all, he’d know that taking my choice away… I’ll never forgive him. I’ll never get over it.

“You keep saying that.” “What?” “That I’m yours.” “Because I mean it.” Daring a look up at him, I scoff. “Until you get bored with me. What happens then?” “Nothing because that’ll never happen. I love you, angel.”

Who walks around with a wedding band in their pocket? Who takes a woman hostage, propositions her for sex while she’s cuffed and chained to a bed, then casually mentions that she’ll be his wife one day?

Just your fingers… Just one kiss… Just your tongue. Sooner or later, it’s going to be just the tip, then as long as you don’t come in me…

I want to tell him to stop calling me that. Angels don’t go to their knees this easy, or fantasize about getting trapped by a powerful man and having their pussy devoured in the rain…

Transactional is exactly the right word for what we have. I can add giving him a handjob for a television to the list now. At least I learned one thing: if controlling Burns by his cock doesn’t work, a couple of tears might.

I don’t know how to react. Instinctively, I want to go to him—to go to my captor and my savior, seeking comfort and safety and I’m not so sure what else—and because it’s the single thing I can think to do, I do it. It’s only as Burns pulls me into his arms, stroking my back as my trembling hands turn to full-body tremors, that it hits me that I never even thought to turn the gun on him while I had the chance.

This, though? This is an idea of what he’ll look like when he finally takes me in his bed. When… If. I mean if. Don’t I?

“Damn it, Angela.” Burns lifts his hand. The gun is aimed right at my forehead. “I killed for you. I’d die for you. You’re my goddamn world, the only thing worth anything in this life. I love you. You love me. Now fucking tell me.”

“You won’t shoot me.” I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life—and Burns knows it, too. “You’re right.” He repositions the gun, the barrel kissing his temple. “But what if I shoot myself? I told you, angel. I’ll die for you. You want me to prove it?”

“I always knew you had a bit of devil in you. Just enough to make you my perfect match. My perfect soulmate.”

Burns isn’t just his name, I’ve decided. It’s what he does to me. One touch and I’m on fire, even though I know that this—us—is so wrong.

All she’s ever wanted was someone to love her. To cherish her. To choose her above all, and provide her with the security she’s chased her whole adult life. She wanted me.

“Love can fade. I love you desperately, but sometimes that’s not enough. But obsession? You’re all I think about it. I close my eyes, I see your face. I lick my lips, I taste you. If I thought you’d let me, I’d fucking chain you to my side so that I would never have a heartbeat when I wasn’t experiencing you.”

“Angela… if I put this on your finger, that’s it. Nothing short of you stabbing me in the fucking heart will get me to agree to let you take it off again. Even then, I’ll plead with you as I bleed out to keep it on until I’m dead and can’t see you without it. I’m that fucking serious. Do you understand me?”