The Devil's Advocate: Devil's Playground Duet #2 Read online

  The Devil’s Advocate

  Ashley Jade

  Contents

  The Devil’s Advocate

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Epilogue

  Cards of Love Collection

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  First published in USA, March 2019

  Copyright © Ashley Jade

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be circulated in writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or events is purely coincidence.

  The Devil’s Advocate

  Cover Photographer: Wander Aguiar

  Cover Design: Lori Jackson at Lori Jackson Design

  Editor: Ellie McLove

  KA Stalter

  The Devil’s Advocate

  “These violent delights have violent ends

  And in their triumph die, like fire and powder.

  Which, as they kiss, consume.”

  ―William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

  Prologue

  Damien

  “Most people don’t get to take control of their own destiny.” I motion to the file I placed on his desk. “Don’t think of this as a death sentence…think of it as an opportunity to go out the way you want to.”

  Hands in his pockets, he walks over to the large window in his office and sighs. It’s a beautiful view. It’s a shame he won’t be enjoying it much longer.

  “I didn’t know I was terminal until last month. I thought the treatment was working.”

  “Why didn’t you drop out of the race when you received your diagnosis?”

  His jaw tics. “Cain Carter will run this town into the ground with his self-serving stance on things, if not his arrogance alone…and then, like the cancer in my lungs, he’ll spread his disease to the White House. I’d rather win the race for mayor and die in office. This way he’ll be one step behind instead of one step closer to being in a position of power.”

  Satisfied with his response, I light a cigarette and offer him one. He looks at it longingly before declining, like he stands a chance at beating his illness.

  He doesn’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.

  Neither would he.

  “As I suspected, our interests are aligned.” When he gives me a questioning look, I say, “I don’t want him to be mayor either.”

  “You never struck me as someone interested in politics. Your father wasn’t.”

  “A lot can change in eleven years.” I take a long drag. “And unlike your opponent, I don’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

  He snorts. “Didn’t you take over your father’s hedge fund investments after he died four years ago?”

  “He left everything to me…big difference.” I shrug. “In turn, I chose to focus on the investments I wanted to keep and let go of the ones I saw no potential in.”

  Turning, he assesses me. “That’s putting it mildly. Rumor has it withdrawing your father’s investments led to the demise of five companies and put eight-thousand people across the U.S out of a job.”

  “That’s the pesky thing about rumors—they aren’t always based on truth.” I stub my cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. “It was six companies, and just shy of ten-thousand employees were laid off.”

  He tuts. “You’re horrible. No wonder people call you the Devil.”

  “I never claimed to be a hero. It’s not my job to rescue a sinking ship.”

  “And yet here you are trying to offer me some kind of deal. Why?”

  “My reasons for wanting Cain Carter to lose the election are personal.”

  “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.” He juts his chin toward the door. “You can exit the same way you came, Mr. King.”

  I don’t budge. “You only have fifty-thousand in your savings account.” He starts to protest, but I pull out my phone and look down at the screen. “I already checked to see if you or your wife have any hidden accounts, but you don’t. Your son has a few bonds from his christening ten years ago, but they’re not worth much.” I whistle. “You used quite a bit of your personal money to fund your campaign. Of course, your medical expenses aren’t helping your financial situation, given you recently made a check out for ten grand to your insurance company.”

  His nostrils flare. “How did—”

  “Same way I accessed your medical records.” I tuck my phone inside my pocket. “But me hacking your files isn’t what’s important here, Mr. Covey…what I can offer you is.”

  “You’re not half as smart as your father was.” He walks over to his desk and swipes the file. Papers scatter on the floor. “In case you missed the memo, you marched into my office with—I’m a dying man. There is literally nothing you can offer me. Nothing that matters anymore.”

  I rub the stubble on my chin. “You’re right, I don’t imagine there’s much I can offer you.” My gaze flickers to a framed picture of his wife and son. “But what about them?”

  For the first time since I walked into his office, he looks open to me being here.

  I take the opportunity to drive the nail into his coffin.

  “Funerals are expensive. Not to mention property taxes, monthly utilities, food, the medical debt you’ve accrued, and of course, college for your son. That fifty grand will go quickly. I predict it will last your stay-at-home wife a year at most, and that’s being generous…after that, your family will be on their own.”

  I can see the pain in his eyes. The pain of a man who will die long before he ever planned to. The pain of a man who knows when all is said and done—he will have left his family with nothing but a collection of medical bills, a house they can’t afford to live in, and a pile of ashes.

  “Memories of loved ones are nice, but they aren’t security. Your death will hurt worse, and your family will resent you more for it if you leave them with a financial burden.”


  “What exactly are you offering me?” he questions, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “A chance to provide for them. If you agree to work with me, you’ll leave them with enough money that neither your wife or son will long for anything ever again.”

  “What do you want in return?”

  “To take your place in the election.”

  He looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “You want to become mayor?” He chuckles to himself. “You can’t be serious. Not only are you unqualified, you don’t know the first thing about the position.”

  “The town bylaws state that a mayoral candidate must be over the age of eighteen and have a high school diploma. I assure you, I meet both requirements...and then some.”

  “Fine, you’re qualified to run, but this is the first time you’ve stepped foot inside this town in eleven years. Things may have changed, but reputation and perception are forever. Those who knew your father are happy he’s dead, and those who believe the countless rumors about you think you’re a ruthless monster. No one in their right mind would ever vote for you.”

  It’s not so much the votes I’m interested in—it’s the look on Cain’s face when he sees I’m his new opponent.

  I swirl the amber liquid in my tumbler. “People will vote for the person who gives them the better incentive. Cain’s weakness has always been that he’s too selfish. He doesn’t care about the little people. He’s too busy kissing the asses of those who are already in power. He’s failed to realize that the real power lies within the very people he’s underestimated.”

  He pours himself a fresh glass of whiskey. “I think you’re forgetting what kind of town Black Hallows is. There are no little people. Every boy has a Rolex by the time he’s thirteen, and every girl has a thousand-dollar purse by the time she can pronounce a designer’s name. Just like their mommies and daddies.”

  “Then I’ll need to give these people something they can’t resist.”

  “What? More antique shops and yacht clubs?”

  “A scandal. More specifically—a reason to doubt their golden boy.”

  “Good luck with that. Cain’s track record is as clean as they come.”

  Quite the contrary. Cain’s a very dirty boy.

  My soon-to-be co-conspirator waves a hand. “But none of that matters. You still can’t take my place. The primary elections are over. The candidates are locked in.”

  “What if one of the candidates dies?”

  His face turns ashen. “I’d still be on the ballot. If anything, my death would encourage people who would have voted for me, to vote for Cain, given he’s the one with a pulse.” He blows out a breath. “And hypothetically speaking, with over a month left, there’s still enough time for the committee to nominate a new candidate or hold another primary election. And given your history, there’s no way the people of Black Hallows would vote for you to take my place.”

  I finish my drink and place the glass on his desk. “Let’s not give them the option to vote.”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t an ice cream shop your daddy can bulldoze to the ground and turn into a gym, Damien. This is—”

  “Article fifteen of the Black Hallows town handbook specifically states that if a mayoral candidate dies ten days or less before polling day, officials will authorize the political party to nominate a new candidate—and as long as the new nominee receives the majority vote from the political party, voters are not required to vote in.”

  “How am I supposed to get my party committee to give you the majority vote if I die?”

  “Easy. You do what politicians have been doing since the beginning of time.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Paying people off and offering favors under the table in exchange for their support.”

  His distressed expression tells me he’s mulling it over. “Okay, look—even if I could get you the majority vote, there’s no way I can guarantee you the win. Hell, I can’t even guarantee my own win at this point. Cain’s been ahead in the polls since day one.”

  “Let me worry about the election. The only thing I need you to do is move some pawns out of my way.”

  “I wasn’t aware we were playing chess.”

  “Life is nothing but one big chess game.” I grin. “Some people are pawns…others are kings.”

  He fidgets with his wedding band. “How can I trust you’ll keep your word?”

  “I’ll transfer the money to a private bank account a few hours before you…pass on.”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “Do I look like a fortune teller? How am I supposed to predict what day I’ll die? The doctor said it could be weeks, maybe even months.”

  I fix my cufflinks. People tend to feed off my energy and if I remain calm and relaxed, so will he. After all, what I’m offering him is nothing more than a business deal.

  “Remember what I said earlier about taking control of your own destiny?”

  The look of horror on his face tells me the realization of what I’m asking has finally dawned on him. “You want me to kill myself.”

  I fish my cigarettes out of my pocket. This time when I offer him one, he accepts. “Think of it more like—ending your pain and making sure your family is taken care of. Some might call it a heroic act.”

  He takes a long pull from his cigarette. “You’re a sick bastard, King. This is…I don’t want to die.”

  “None of us do. However, death is inescapable for everyone and something we have little control over.”

  “I’d like to see my family one last time.”

  “You will. The election is still thirty-nine days away.”

  He blows out a heavy breath. “Do you have a specific date in mind?”

  “Why don’t we make it a month? During that time, you can tie up your personal loose ends and tell me how much you’ll need from me to garner the support of the committee.”

  He looks down at the calendar on his desk. “The annual masquerade ball is in thirty days.”

  “I know. I recently purchased the Vanderbilt castle.”

  He looks at the picture on his desk. “My wife loves the masquerade ball.”

  “Then give her one last memory with you she’ll never forget.”

  He rubs his temples. “I’m going to have to tell the committee about my health and that you’re—”

  “No. I don’t want anyone knowing I’m back in town until I’m ready. I need the majority vote, not all votes, so I highly suggest you only tell the members you trust about me. If someone leaks the information regarding your health or my whereabouts, I’ll withdraw my financial offer of support for them and you so fast both your heads will spin. Understood?”

  He nods. “I’m close with a few members, I’ll ensure they keep their mouths shut about everything until it’s time.”

  “Don’t screw this up, Covey. Your family is counting on you.”

  “I know.” He clears his throat. “I can do this.” He shifts some papers on his desk. “If you don’t mind, I have some things to take care of.”

  “Of course.” I start to leave but pause when I reach the door. “I’m so happy we’re working together SpankMeMommy74.”

  Behind me, glass shatters and he mutters a curse. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “It’s your username on an app called Temptation.”

  “You’re mistaken, I’ve never heard of any app called Temptation and I certainly wouldn’t subscribe to it, I’m a married man.”

  Digging my phone out of my pocket, I spin around. “You’re logged in right now.”

  Proving my point, I send him a message and sure enough, the cell phone on his desk vibrates.

  “Son of a bitch. I knew nothing about the app until I received an e-mail addressed to my wife. They offered me a free membership due to the mix-up. I was told it was anonymous and nothing could be traced back to me.”

  “Nothing can. Unless you’re the developer.”

  He shi
fts his feet. “I signed up the day after my diagnosis. I wanted to see what my wife was hiding from me. I’ve never—”

  “Relax. Your secrets are safe with me.” Reaching behind me, I turn the doorknob. The look on his face when a woman wearing leather and holding a paddle walks in is half embarrassed and half intrigued. “Consider Mistress Veronica a gift from me to you. Life’s too short not to seize an opportunity when it’s right in front of you.”

  Chapter 1

  Eden

  It’s not Cain. It can’t be.

  Cain wouldn’t bring me here just so he could hurt me like this.

  He loves me.

  I wipe away the tear making its way down my cheek.

  Despite my brain’s insistence that the man leaving in a haste isn’t Cain…another tear falls.

  His lips.

  Everything else about the man, his hair, his tux, even the way he kissed the woman on the dance floor…I could chalk up to coincidence. But I know those lips.

  They’re the same lips I’ve dreamed about kissing since I was fourteen.

  But my heart isn’t convinced. It needs proof. I refuse to believe Cain would betray me like this.

  I take a step forward, preparing to follow him out of the ballroom, but the ground beneath me tilts and I stumble instead.