My Cruel Salvation

by J. Kenner

  Not that Tracy’s murder wasn’t hitting Devlin hard, too. It was. Tracy had been one of his, dammit. A member of his staff. An intern who would have undoubtedly been offered a permanent position when she graduated. She’d been a vibrant, caring women and someone had taken her from the world.

  Worse, they’d taken her because of him.

  Her blood was on his hands as sure as the target he’d painted on Ellie’s back. He knew it. And he was damn sure everyone in the room knew it, too.

  “This isn’t your fault,” Tamra said, her soft voice at his side pulling him from his thoughts and memories.

  “Isn’t it? I’m not so sure.”

  “Devlin, you—”

  He held up a hand. “Does it matter? Even if it’s not my fault, it’s still my burden.”

  Her mouth pulled into a tight line as she nodded. “You’ve borne so much. I don’t want this on your shoulders, too.”

  She placed a hand on one of those shoulders, and he felt his chest tighten with the weight of his grief. He had borne too much. So many years of loss and anger and pain. When Ellie had come back into his life, he’d let in a few wispy rays of hope that, finally, the pain would stop.

  But it never stopped.

  He was the man that destiny had made him. And he would always bear the mark of his father.

  Tamra knew that as well as he did. She’d been a friend to his mother. Had come to him when he was still Alejandro. And she’d become an essential cog in the wheels that made up both the foundation and Saint’s Angels. She knew his secrets. More important, she understood why he had them.

  “They killed her as a message to me.”

  “I know.”

  It was all so obvious. So wickedly simple. A package delivered to Tracy’s address. She’d probably opened the door to sign for the courier, then noticed that the package had Devlin’s name but her address.

  She would have lifted her head to tell the courier that she wasn’t the proper recipient. Maybe she noticed that he was wearing a full-face, special effects quality latex mask. It hadn’t been obvious from the image her doorbell camera caught, not with a cap pulled down low over the courier’s eyes. Nothing that would have made her hesitate to open the door and sign for a package.

  But she’d probably seen it in that last moment. The fake face and nefarious purpose. Fear would have spiked through her, and according to the forensics team, she’d taken a step back.

  That’s when he’d lifted the gun that had probably been concealed by his jacket. He’d fired—swift and accurate. And Tracy had gone down, the package tumbling to the floor with her.

  It was a simple box, the bottom and top wrapped separately, and the top secured in place only by string.

  The police hadn’t waited for Devlin to arrive to open it. They’d called in the bomb squad just in case and removed the twine holding the lid in place on the five-by-five box. Devlin and Ellie had been in the air when Lamar had radioed. His voice had been strong, but Devlin heard the pain underneath.

  “An eye for an eye,” Lamar had said, relaying the words that had been included with the eye itself. “With interest still owing.”

  His voice had caught on a sob, and Devlin had squeezed Ellie’s hand, his blood turning to ice.

  “That’s what it says,” Lamar had whispered, as Devlin burned with rage. “That’s all it says.”

  “We’ll find who did this,” Devlin had promised, letting rage seep through him as he pictured the masked courier calmly gouging out Tracy’s eye, opening the empty package, and placing it inside with that damned note. He could hear the steel in his voice when he added, “We’ll find him, and we’ll make him pay.”

  “Yeah,” Lamar had said. “We will.”

  Now, as if he had caught the scent of Devlin’s memories, Lamar lifted his head, then looked at Devlin over Ellie’s shoulder. She turned, too, her eyes red and her face tear-stained. She whispered something to Lamar, then hugged him before she stood up and moved to Devlin’s side.

  “How’s he doing?” Devlin asked.

  “He’s ripped up,” Ellie said. “I am, too.”

  “I know.” He pulled her into his arms and drew strength from the feel of her against him.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she murmured, her voice soft against his chest.

  “I know,” he said, because that’s what he was supposed to say. What he was supposed to feel. He said it, but that didn’t mean he believed it.

  She pulled back, her forehead lined with pain, her eyes rimmed in red. “It’s not your fault,” she repeated, and he couldn’t hold back the tiny hint of a smile at how well she knew him.

  “Our perp wasn’t punishing Lamar,” Devlin said. “Not intentionally. This was aimed at me. This fallout is on me.”

  “If it’s on anybody other than Blackstone, it’s on Anna. You killed her because she was about to kill me.”

  He nodded, noting that neither one of them were even considering the possibility that anyone other than Joseph Blackstone had been behind the murder. Of course, he was. He’d been a former lieutenant of The Wolf. And despite their public front of being estranged, Devlin had recently confirmed that Blackstone had also been Anna’s friend and sometimes lover. All of which added up to one hell of a motive for going after Devlin.

  Most likely, Blackstone hadn’t committed the murder personally. For that matter, Devlin would lay odds that he was still at his home base in Chicago—probably doing something very public—for the sole purpose of ensuring he had a solid alibi when the police came calling. But the interest on the debt…

  Well, that was a different story.

  Devlin knew perfectly well that this murder was payback for Devlin killing Anna. And, in the process, saving Ellie.

  That was the key. Tracy had died for no reason other than to get Devlin’s attention, and that loss weighed heavy on his shoulders.

  As far as Blackstone was concerned, the real blow was yet to come. Ellie’s death would be the ultimate payback. The interest owed.

  Devlin didn’t intend to pay that price. Not now. Not ever.

  Ellie’s hand on his sleeve pulled him from his thoughts. “It’s Brandy,” she said, indicating her phone, the screen lit up with a text. “She wants an update. On us and Lamar. And an ETA.”

  “Right.” He pressed his fingertips to his temples, trying to push back the threatening ache. They’d come straight from the airport to Tracy’s condo, and poor Brandy, Ellie’s best friend and roommate, had been left to wait at home without a clue what was going on in this room. “Shit, she must be out of her mind. Tell her we’ll be there soon. All of us.”

  Ellie’s brow furrowed as she glanced toward Lamar.

  “All of us,” Devlin confirmed. “Whether he wants to or not. He shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

  “Good.” She kissed his cheek, and for that one fleeting moment, he felt like a hero. Then it faded, and he just felt impotent.

  “I’m going to go talk to the Chief,” she continued. “Then we should get out of here and let the team do its job.”

  He nodded, glancing over to where Chief Randall stood talking with a tall, lanky man who Devlin recognized as the District Attorney. Good. Maybe Ellie would get some useful information. As her former guardian, Randall would speak freely around her. And Devlin was happy to take information any way he could get it.

  As he watched Ellie, Lamar rose and came to stand by his side.

  “You know that his real target is Ellie.” Lamar’s voice was rough, the emotion he was holding back acting like sandpaper against his words.

  “I know.” Devlin closed his eyes and took a breath before continuing. “He killed Tracy to get both our attention. But Ellie is the prize.”

  “He wants to hurt you,” Lamar said. “I’m just collateral damage.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “She’s worked that out, too, of course.”

  “She hasn’t said so. But you’re right.” Ellie was no fool. She’d grown up arou
nd cops, worn the uniform herself, and had a degree in criminology. A good percentage of her articles now that she was a reporter dealt with crime and law enforcement. She knew the score as well as either Devlin or Lamar.

  “She also knows that he may not go straight for her. Why end the game before you’ve mined all the pain?”

  “Detective…” Devlin let his voice trail off. He knew all this, of course. And Lamar had to know that Devlin understood the score. Talking about it now, in the same hallway that still had the chalk mark from Tracy’s body—

  “It helps,” Lamar said dully, as if he’d heard every one of Devlin’s thoughts. “Thinking out loud. Working the case. Weighing how things might go next.”

  Devlin hesitated, then said slowly, “You may be right. He might not go for Ellie right away. And damn him for going after anyone but me. I’m the one he wants to hurt.”

  “It’s just a theory. The other side of it is that he doesn’t want to get caught. And he has to know that the more he rattles your cage, the more he exposes himself. More likely he wishes he could lay a line of dead women at your feet. But in practice, he’ll just focus on cutting you deep.”

  “By getting at me through Ellie. She’s the interest still owed.”

  “Sure. Because you don’t hurt if you’re dead, right? He won’t kill you. He wants to hurt you. Killing Ellie will do that.” Lamar’s voice was flat, his eyes toward the doorway. The chalk. The tag indicating the bullet’s entry into the wall. The blood splatter.

  “Lamar—”

  The detective’s eyes cut to him, dark with pain. “What?”

  “I—she was a good woman.”

  “Yeah, she was.”

  “I didn’t know her as well as I should have.”

  “She admired you,” Lamar said. “Loved working at the foundation. She believed in what you do. Don’t stop,” he added, something in his tone making Devlin’s back straighten.

  “I wouldn’t,” he said casually. Surely, surely, Lamar didn’t know about Saint’s Angels. He’d told Ellie that she could discuss anything with Lamar and Brandy, but if she’d revealed a secret as volatile as that, then she would have told Devlin. Wouldn’t she?

  It wasn’t a question he couldn’t get an answer to right then, so he stayed silent as the detective continued.

  “How sure are you that this is Blackstone?” Lamar asked.

  “As sure as I can be, but until there’s proof, it’s just a theory.”

  “But can you prove it?”

  Devlin tilted his head. “Isn’t that what the police are for?”

  Lamar’s throat moved as he swallowed, and he didn’t quite meet Devlin’s eyes. “You have resources, Saint. I know you do.”

  Devlin forced himself not to react, but his body went cold. He did know.

  “I know your foundation participates in rescues. Works closely with investigators. That kind of thing.”

  Relief flooded Devlin. “That’s true. There’s a timing factor to a lot of what we do. Not the kind of thing we want to farm out when even ten minutes can make a huge difference.”

  “That’s what I figured. And maybe you’re not supposed to use those resources privately. I don’t know. But what I do know is that you will use them. Because this is Ellie we’re talking about.”

  Lamar wasn’t wrong. And Devlin would use a hell of a lot more than that to find his answers. “Go on.”

  “I want to know what you know. I want your help. Your resources.”

  “You’ll have them.”

  “Good. Because Blackstone is mine.”

  Devlin studied him. “That’s not you, Lamar.”

  To his credit, Lamar didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Maybe it is.”

  Devlin considered his words. Maybe it was … and maybe one day Lamar would end up as one of Saint’s Angels. God knew he’d be an asset. But if he ever walked that path, it wouldn’t be because he’d taken that first step in rage.

  “Come back with me and Ellie,” he said gently. “I’m sure Brandy wants to see you, and you need to be with friends.”

  “Saint…”

  “We can’t bring her back … but we will make him suffer. I promise you that.”

  Lamar drew a breath, then shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Take Ellie home. I need to talk to the team. I’m working this case. Wild horses couldn’t drag me off this case.”

  “I believe you. But you don’t need to be working it tonight.”

  “I’m only going to stay a bit longer.”

  “Lamar. Ellie’s worried.” It was a Hail Mary play, but it worked. The detective’s shoulders slumped and he nodded.

  “I’ll be right behind you. I swear.”

  “You shouldn’t be driving.”

  “I’ll have a black and white bring me by.”

  “Your word?”

  He inclined his head. “Less than an hour.”

  “All right, then,” Devlin said, wishing he could erase the man’s pain. He and the detective had bumped heads more than once, but they were solid now. Even if they weren’t, no one should have to go through this. “Hurry, though. We’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Oh, God.” Brandy throws her arms around me the moment we walk in the door. “I can’t believe it.” She pulls back and wipes her nose as she aims red and puffy eyes at Devlin. “I’m so sorry. Tracy was awesome and fun and—and I can’t believe this is real.”

  “I know,” Devlin says, pulling her into a hug. “Me either.” He pushes her back gently, and I watch as he studies her face. “Are you okay?”

  She nods, then runs her fingers through her shoulder-length blond hair, looking as lost as I feel. “I don’t know.”

  I frown, as I glance around. “Where’s Christopher? You said he was with you.” I’d felt horrible leaving Brandy alone, but she’d assured me that Christopher had been with her since they learned of the murder, and they’d been holding each other together. “Did he take Jake for a walk?” I look around for the ancient and lovable Labrador mix who usually greets me with a wagging tail and crotch sniffing.

  “Jake’s in his crate. I was about to let him out when you pulled up. And Christopher was here when you called, really. He’s been great. But he left a few minutes ago.”

  I frown. “Why?”

  Her cheeks flush. “He said he had to take care of some stuff.”

  I narrow my eyes because she’s not telling us everything. “And?”

  Her shoulders sag as she looks from me to Devlin. “It’s just—you know. I think he still feels awkward. I mean, he and Anna were pretty good friends, and then she turns out to be a psycho. And add to that his half-brother and those security leaks … I mean, you made him nervous before. Now he’ll probably be a basket case.”

  Devlin’s bisected brow rises. “I made him nervous?”

  Brandy tilts her head. “Duh. You’re you. You make everyone nervous.”

  I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry, but I appreciate that there’s room today for even a tiny bit of humor and teasing.

  Brandy catches my eye and we share a smile.

  Then Devlin ushers us toward the living room, and I know that Brandy’s smile is about to fade. “Listen, Brandy,” he says as we all sit. “I’m afraid he’s going to feel more awkward soon. Joseph Blackstone is our primary suspect.”

  Her hand goes to her mouth and she shakes her head. “Wait—what?” She looks to me, and I reach out for her hand. She clutches mine, so tight it’s painful, but I bite the inside of my cheek and bear it. “You’re saying this wasn’t random?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Devlin says.

  “But—but I don’t understand.”

  I gently extricate my hand. “Let me get you some green tea, okay? Devlin can fill you in on everything.”

  She nods and I move to the adjacent kitchen area. I need to do something if I’m going to survive hearing the whole thing all over again, and I put on water to boil for tea and coffee as I listen to Devlin f
ill her in on all the horrible, gory details.

  We end, of course, back where we started, with Joseph Blackstone as the primary suspect. Only now she knows that I’m in the crosshairs, too.

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “No, this can’t be happening.” She scrubs her hands over her face. “I mean, it is happening. I get that. But going after you?” she says to me, “that’s sick.”

  “That’s how my father trained him,” Devlin says, his voice flat.

  “But it’s vile. He shouldn’t be going after anyone at all, but if it’s revenge for Anna he’s looking for, then it’s not Ellie he should be going after. Ellie didn’t do anything. It should be—”

  She cuts her words off fast.

  “Me,” Devlin says. “This is all happening because of me.”

  “No, wait. No.” The words tumble from Brandy. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t saying—”

  “It’s okay.” He’s in a chair opposite hers, and he moves to perch on the table in front of her, then takes her hands. “I understand. And honestly, you’re not wrong.”

  “But—”

  “Brandy,” he says firmly. “It’s okay.”

  Her eyes cut to me, and I nod. Slowly, she exhales. In his crate near the pantry, Jake whimpers. I open the door, and he licks my hand, then goes to Brandy and curls up on the sofa beside her, as if he knows she needs him.

  “This is so fucked up,” she says as Jake rests his head on her thigh and she strokes his fur. She’s got that right, but hearing Brandy curse drives the truth home even more.

  “It is,” Devlin agrees. “On so many levels.” He drags his fingers through his hair, looking so miserable I want to race around the kitchen island and wrap my arms around him. “I didn’t see it coming.” His voice is low and tinged with pain. “I’ve always believed myself to be a good judge of people. But I never saw Anna’s duplicity coming. And now we’re picking up the shards of my mistake.”

  “You trusted her,” Brandy says. “She was close to you.”

  He makes a scoffing sound. “Trust her? Yeah, I did. That was the mistake.”

  “No,” I say, this time coming toward him. “You have to trust people.” I kneel in front of him, my hands on his knees, and look at his face, so dark now with misery. “You have to,” I repeat. “After all, without trust, we wouldn’t be back together.”