Kill Switch (Devil’s Night Book 3)

Present

Slamming the car door, I clicked the lock and walked around, jogging up onto the sidewalk as I shivered.

It was going to snow soon. I could feel it.

I yanked up the zipper of my pullover and stuffed my hands into my jean pockets as I opened the door to the theater and walked inside. Warmth hit me, and a couple of employees made eye contact, but looked away again when they realized it was me.

I’d been coming every day to drop Winter off and pick her up, so they knew why I was here.

Plus, the whole town knew what really happened at the tavern last week, and even though no one was crying about it, they still moved to the other side of the street when they saw me coming. They put their heads down, stayed out of my path, and answered extra polite with one- or two-word sentences when I ordered food or got gas in my car.

In fact, I’d noticed they were doing the same thing when they saw Will or Rika or Kai, too. All of us, in fact.

It was like the town had a changing of the guard or something and people weren’t sure if they should be scared.

I headed past the concessions and the stairs leading to the mezzanine and gallery levels, and opened the double doors, heading into the ground floor of the theater.

Music filled the room, while Winter moved about on stage, sliding and turning, her whole body in every move she made like it was all a single unit instead of individual parts.

I descended the small pathway toward the orchestra section, watching her, the long, gauzy gray costume flowing in layers around her legs and her hair flying around her as she spun and bent backward. There were no words to describe how beautiful she was.

But everyone was soon going to find out. Michael and Rika were sponsoring a small tour for her as an opening dance at other theaters and festivals, and if it went well, we’d go from there. Her twenty-minute show would take a couple more months to get ready, but she was already rehearsing and outlining the performance.

And while it was good, she deserved everything coming to her, and I wouldn’t stop anything or do anything to discourage her. I wondered what the hell I was going to do now, too. The only thing I was ever good at was basketball, and that ship had sailed. I didn’t have the temperament to work well with others, and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with my father’s money or his businesses. Banks had it, so it was staying in the family. That was all I cared about.

I wasn’t taking his money, and I wasn’t fucking asking my friends for anything. Everything Winter and I built would be ours.

“Damon, are you here?” I heard Winter call out.

I looked up at her, not realizing the music had ended.

“Coming,” I told her.

I climbed the few steps off to the side of the stage, and walked over to her, picking her up and wrapping her legs around me like I’d done every day the past week when I picked her up from rehearsal at five.

She smiled down at me, threading her fingers through my hair, and kissed me.

“Lookin’ good,” I said.

“Yeah, you’re prejudiced.”

“I don’t lie.”

She snorted, and I carried her backstage, toward the dressing rooms, so she could get her things.

She started kissing my cheek, leaving little butterflies across my face, to my ear, and down my neck. I wanted to get her home and in the shower with me. Right now.

“How was your day?” she asked, nibbling my ear.

“Fine,” I mumbled, enjoying her attention too much to think of more to say.

I’d dropped her off at eleven this morning and went to Kai’s house to collect my snakes that Banks had been taking care of, and then I went to my apartment at Delcour and my room at my father’s to clear out the rest of my things.

I should’ve been looking for work, but right now, I just wanted her home before the snow started, and then I’d keep her up all night trying to make a kid we definitely couldn’t support yet.

We reached her little dressing room, and I let her down, watching her go pack up her bag and pull out her change of clothes and strip right there. I took the bag, half-tempted to plant her ass on the vanity and go right now, but…it was cold. I’d wait for the hot shower.

“Ready?” she asked, dressed in jeans, flats, and a cable-knit sweater.

Giving her my arm, I led her out of the room, through the backstage area, and out the rear exit and into the alleyway.

“Can I drive?” she teased.

I laughed under my breath. “You know the rules.”

Late, dark, and no witnesses.

We walked around the corner of the building, coming to the street, and I dropped her bag in my trunk before unlocking the car. As I opened my door, though, she stopped at hers and spoke to me over the hood.

“You know,” she said. “There’s stuff in the house we can sell. Art, furniture, rugs…I have some jewelry, too.”

“No.”

“Damon—”

“I’ll handle it,” I cut her off but kept my voice as gentle as possible. “I’ll get a job. I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry.”

It wasn’t that I expected her to do nothing, or that she wasn’t a partner in this, but I exposed her father. It was my responsibility to fix this and give her back the life she was used to. A life she deserved.

And it was definitely not okay for me not to be doing something.

I’d find an income. A legit one.

She opened her door, and we both climbed in, Mikhail jumping from where he waited in the passenger’s seat to the backseat to make room for Winter.

I ruffled the fur on his head, but my phone rang in the console where I’d left it, and I picked it up, seeing a local number.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Damon Torrance?” a man asked.

“Yes.”

“This is Grady MacMiller,” he introduced himself. “From Hiberian Bank?”

It sounded vaguely familiar.

“Yes?” I stuck my key in the ignition and started the car.

“Listen,” he said. “I know this is going to sound extremely odd, but I have to try. I came by to appraise the Ashby house yesterday while you were gone.”

That’s why his name was familiar. Banks owned the house now as part of my father’s assets. She was trying to get the books in order, and she’d warned me someone was coming by.

It was also a reminder that Winter probably couldn’t sell anything inside the house. Banks owned every stitch. I rubbed my eyes in frustration.

“Well, I brought my children with me,” he continued. “Unfortunately, the nanny was sick, and my wife has been—”

“Yes?” I interrupted.

Jesus.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Excuse me. Anyway, we saw the treehouse, and the fountain maze, and I inquired with the security at the house, and they told me you’re the designer. Is that true?”

“The designer?” I repeated, seeing Winter quietly listening beside me. “I—uh, no. I built them, if that’s what you mean. What’s this about?”

“Well, my children loved both features,” he burst out. “Absolutely adored them. It was like it was Christmas morning. I feel so weird asking, given who your father is—or was—I’m sorry for your loss, sir,” he added. “But I have to ask. You wouldn’t be willing to build another like it, would you? At my home? For my children?”

“Another what?”

“Treehouse and fountain maze.”

I scoffed. “Uh, no. Sorry.”

“Oh, I uh…”

“I have to go,” I told him, shaking my head.

I hung up, laughing under my breath. For Christ’s sake. What was I? Neighborhood dad, around to help with science projects, too? Maybe come by to help you move?

“What was that?” Winter asked.

I dumped my phone back in the console and shifted the car into gear. “Someone liked the shit I built at your house,” I replied. “Wanted me to make a treehouse and fountain for their property.”

“And you said no?”

“I don’t have time for that,” I shot back. “I need to get a job and figure out what we’re doing.” And then I paused, my back straightening and understanding dawning on me. “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, dumbass!” she screeched.

He was trying to hire me.

To design and build.

It had never occurred to me whether the features I built at Winter’s house were any good or not, but I’d had fun planning them out. I was completely focused on the job at hand, and I definitely enjoyed doing something where I could be left alone. To dive into all the little nooks and crannies I still kind of wanted to spend my life hiding in. Only with her now.

I wouldn’t mind doing that for work if I could. I just hadn’t thought of it. I had a dozen more blueprints of other designs when I was brainstorming the builds.

But…

“I can’t work for the people in my own town like I’m a servant.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “First stop Thunder Bay, next stop world domination. How about that?”

Meaning it was a starting point. It could grow into a lot more.

A lot more.

But then I remembered.

“I went to jail for a sex crime,” I reminded her. “No one will want me working around their families.”

“And I don’t think your history has escaped Grady MacMiller’s notice, either,” she pointed out. “He still wanted to hire you, Damon.”

Yeah, I guess so. He knew the nature of the trial. Once I married Winter, people would know it was a lot more complicated than what happened in court.

And then maybe, with word of mouth…

“Dial him back and give me the phone,” she told me. “I’ll pretend to be your assistant who buffers between the client and the temperamental, asshole artist.”

I smiled, hooking my finger in her collar and pulling us together, face to face. “First, a shower.”

And I drove off, taking us home as quickly as possible.

Later that night, long after the sun had set, and I’d left Winter to work on some marketing ideas for the tour with Alex, I walked up to a front door I’d never knocked on and never thought I would.

There was so much I’d missed over the years, that when I pieced them together now, it all fit like a puzzle.

The ice cream she gave me when I was seven one day on the street, saying they gave her and Rika one too many.

The way she looked at me at graduation, and I wondered why she was even there at all, but then I just thought she showed up as a family friend, because Michael was graduating, too.

The way I heard through the grapevine my senior year that she’d told Rika to stay far away from me when she was an incoming freshman, because she knew we’d be at the same school. I’d thought it was because my reputation preceded me, but it was because she was afraid something would happen between us.

She was right to warn her off. To think how many times I taunted that line with Rika…

Jesus, fuck.

Oh, what the hell. In the long scheme of things, it was just another rung on the ladder of fucked-up shit I’d done that just made our little group a little more interesting. We’d get over it.

Ringing the doorbell, I slid a hand in my pants pocket, dressed in a black suit and black shirt, because it wasn’t Winter’s Damon I needed to be tonight.

The door opened, and I looked into her eyes, her smile fading and her chest caving deeper and deeper as she breathed.

I stared at her face, seeing it with new eyes and studying her features to try to detect any parts of me. Blonde hair, same as Rika’s, in a stylish, messy bun with strands of hair around her face. Thin, toned body—much healthier than a couple years ago when she was hopped up on pills and alcohol.

She wore a slender pair of black pants, a black, sleeveless blouse, and her makeup made her look so much younger than her mid-forties.

I didn’t see much of me, though. Or maybe my pulse was thundering in my ears so hard, I was just too impatient and distracted to think straight.

“Is it true?” I demanded.

She dropped her hand from the knob and stood there, as if in a trance.

“Is what true?” I heard someone say.

Rika came out from somewhere behind her mother, her fingers threaded through the handle of a coffee cup and looking at me.

They, on the other hand, looked a lot alike.

When no one said anything, her gaze shifted to her mother. “Mom?”

But Christiane’s eyes dropped, her lips trembled, and she knew it was over. There was no hiding this anymore.

“My grandfather would tell a story…” she finally said, still carrying a hint of her Afrikaner accent, “about an ancestor from Persia. Centuries ago. A woman named Mahin.” Her solemn eyes rose, meeting mine. “He said that’s where he got his black hair and raven eyes.”

My black hair and raven eyes.

“And he said,” she continued, “every few generations she shows herself again.”

Liquid heat charged through my blood, and I was so angry, but I wasn’t sure I should be, and even if I shouldn’t be, I wanted to be, because there had to be someone else I could take this out on.

How could anyone be that weak?

I tried to understand her position. My father was a dangerous man, and I knew he threatened her, killed her husband, and no doubt, threatened to hurt Rika, but…

How do you live like that? In this town, under his fucking nose, knowing your kid is a mile away, living every day without you? How do you not snatch him off the street when he was five or eight or eleven, and just run?

Schraeder Fane was wealthy. They had resources. Did she have any idea what that house was like for me?

But then I realized, too, if I hadn’t grown up in Gabriel’s house, I would never have been there for Banks.

Still, though…

Rika looked between us, a confused pinch to her brow.

“It was you at the hospital,” I said to Christiane, remembering the voice and the comforting touch of her hands on my face.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she sucked in a breath. She took a step toward me, but I backed away, keeping her at a distance.

“I have no use for a mother,” I warned. “Not anymore.” And then I gestured to Rika. “But I have plenty of use for her. This changes nothing, just don’t come between her and me.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” she asked her mom, concern hardening her voice. And then she turned to me, “Damon?”

I broke eye contact with Christiane—done with fucking parents—and locked eyes with Rika. “I told you you’d never escape me,” I reminded her. “I always felt it.”

She glanced at her mother, worry written all over her face. “Mom? Please? What is it? What’s going on?”

I started to back away, toward my car, but still looking at Rika. “We’re going to rule the world, Rika.” I held out my hands, grinning. “You, Banks, and me.”

I spun around and headed for my car, hearing Rika beg her mother to snap out of it.

But to no avail.

I drove off, Christiane Fane still standing in the doorway watching me.

That was all she ever did.

And hopefully she knew better than to try for more. She wasn’t welcome now that my father was dead and out of her way.

I didn’t respond well to bad parents. She’d do well to remember that.