by J. Kenner
“Is that what you’d do if you were in my position?”
“Hell, yes. And you know damn well I might be an asshole, but I’m a good reporter. My instincts on this are dead on. You love him, right?”
“I really do.”
“Well, if I was in love and had the chance to do something to help my girl out, I’d do everything in my power.”
“You are,” I say softly. “You’re at the hospital for her.”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess I am.”
I smile. The man I used to think was the biggest asshole in the world, actually has a sentimental side. “It’s a smart idea,” I tell him. “And to a certain extent it’s already in the works. I started the profile of the foundation for the magazine, and I have a lot of notes on Devlin. And I know where the bodies are buried,” I say, more as private joke to myself than for him to understand.
To my surprise, Corbin laughs. “I bet you do.”
“I’ll talk to Devlin about it. It’s a good idea, and thank you. Even if he doesn’t want to do it, I appreciate you mentioning it. You’re right that it could give him some good PR, and that could be exactly what he needs. Exactly what the foundation needs, too, because we don’t know what the fallout will be with regard to donations in the future in light of him and his newfound notoriety. And honestly, even if there’s not a smidge of fallout, it would still be worthwhile. He’s done amazing things, and it’s a story that deserves to be told.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“I get it. And Corbin?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re still an asshole, but I think you’re okay.”
Chapter Twenty
Before...
Alex stared at Anna, certain he’d heard her wrong. “Peter? He really wants me to take out Peter?”
Anna nodded, looking almost as shell shocked as he felt. “Are you really surprised? You must have known that Peter was skimming.”
“I didn’t. He must keep another set of books.” That was a lie. He hated himself for lying to Anna, one of his best friends, but if word got back to his father that Alex had been aware of Peter’s disloyalty, it wouldn’t go well for him. Better than it would go for Peter, true, but it still wouldn’t be good.
He winced at his own gallows humor, but the truth was he knew that he was stuck. He was the weapon, and Peter was the target, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to change that.
Frustrated, he dragged his fingers through his hair, not believing that this was happening. Wishing that he could just run. Escape. But even if that was an option, where the hell could he go that his father wouldn’t find him? “Peter’s my friend,” he finally said, knowing he sounded petulant.
“Why the hell would the Wolf care about that?”
Alex said nothing. Anna cocked her head.
“Come on, Alex, you know the way it works. You’re his heir. Of course, you’re the one he ordered to do it. He doesn’t care that you’ve become close to Peter. Hell, that’s even more of a commitment. That’s the point.”
“I know. I know.” Of course he knew. He knew his bastard father better than anybody. “When?”
“As soon as you can make it happen.”
“I still can’t believe this. It doesn’t make sense. There’s no one else in this territory. He’s let other men slide when they’re running an area, at least until he gets someone new in place.” He grimaced. “Granted, not often, and those other men usually lost a few fingers, but he’s done it. And this is Peter, his friend.”
Which, of course, answered his own question. The betrayal of a friend or relative hit harder than anything.
In front of him, Anna shrugged. “He’s shifting things around right now. Bringing in new people, getting rid of old ones. Hell, he’s even gotten Manny working on tech for him now. There’s all sorts of things on the internet that Manny knows how to access. They call it the dark web or something, and I guess your father thinks that it’s a good place to hide. His money, at least, and details about his operation. I don’t know. I just know that he’s changing things up, and that he told me to bring the message to you. You have to do it, otherwise you and I will both get screwed.”
Alex nodded. She was right. He just didn’t want to do it. Hell, he’d stall forever if he could. “I can’t believe he’s got Manny working for him.” He was marking time now, trying to put off the inevitable. “He shouldn’t have even been at the complex. Aurelia didn’t want him to stay.”
“Since when does what a woman wants matter? And Aurelia’s dead, remember?”
He heard the vitriol in her voice and tilted his head. “Is Joseph still bothering you?” He saw the blush rise on her cheeks, but she shook her head. “No. Not anymore. He stays away.”
He didn’t believe her. “You’re not still hanging around him, are you? He’s too old for you, and he hurts you.”
“I’m not hanging around him,” she snapped. “And stop changing the subject.”
He scowled. She was right. He was stalling.
“You have to leave as soon as it’s done, you know.”
“I know,” he said.
“It’ll be too dangerous to stay. You’re going to have to just go without saying goodbye. I know you like her, but you need to just run. Very far and very fast.”
“I said, I know.” He snapped the words out, then regretted it when she flinched.
“I can go with you if you want,” she offered, almost in a whisper.
“No. I’ll do it alone.”
She studied him, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the safe house in Costa Mesa. And then we can go back to Nevada together.”
“All right.”
He drew in a breath as the future spread out in front of him, dark and dangerous.
He’d do the hit because he had no choice. He knew perfectly well that if he didn’t do what his father asked, then The Wolf would punish him.
Not by hurting him—not physically anyway—but by taking away something that mattered to him. And although Alex had never told The Wolf about Ellie, he knew well damn well that Daniel Lopez made it his business to know everything.
Of course he knew. And if Alex didn’t follow his commands, she would be dead within the week.
Fuck.
And that was why Alex Lopez found a spot about two hundred yards away where he could settle in until he could take the shot. He had his duffle bag beside him. He had his rifle and his ammo, but he’d only need one bullet. The Wolf had made sure of that.
He waited, the sun hot on his neck, the traffic moving below him. He waited until he saw the target—not Peter, the target—and he tracked him in the sight until the man paused, standing still just long enough for Alex to do his job.
He thought of his father.
He thought of El.
He pulled the trigger.
And as he watched Peter fall from the single hole in his head, he hated himself. And the only thing that made it bearable was his certainty that even though Alex was about to be gone from Ellie’s life forever, at least he’d saved her life by taking Peter’s.
Chapter Twenty-One
The present…
Considering I barely have the skillset to throw together coffee and donuts at my apartment, I have no idea how Tamra managed to pull off a reception with cocktails and dessert in less than seventy-two hours. Granted, the guest list is limited, and Tamra has people working under her to help, but I am still duly impressed.
Because the event is taking place with such short notice, the interior hasn’t been done up to the nines like it had been at the gala I’d attended almost immediately after learning that Devlin Saint was in fact Alex Leto.
That night, I’d been on edge, still teetering from the revelation and angry at Devlin for leaving me all those years ago.
Tonight, I’m on his arm, and the only anger I’m feeling is toward the prick who leaked his true identity, forcing the necessity of this reception in the first place.
“She
did an incredible job,” I tell Devlin.
“She always does,” he says, clearly understanding that I’m referring to Tamra.
“I hate why it’s necessary,” I say, “but I can’t deny that an excuse for a new dress and shoes is always welcome.”
“That’s my motto,” Devlin says, making me almost choke on the sip of wine I’d just taken.
In a bit of retail therapy, Brandy and I had gone shopping earlier this afternoon, accompanied by Reggie and her mad skills, just to be safe. Now I’m in a calf-length black dress with a fitted bodice and flirty skirt, paired with red Bruno Magli heels.
Reggie’s in a shimmery pink dress that seems to flow over her body and practical flats. “Just in case,” she’d said in the store, frowning at the heels she’d wanted to buy. I see her on the far side of the room now, talking with two other members of Saint’s Angels, whose names I don’t recall. There are five here total, pulled off operations in California and Arizona to come offer protection during the press conference. Ronan, of course, is conspicuously absent. He’s leading the team that’s breaching Joseph Blackstone’s home today, and I’m on pins and needles waiting for the outcome.
Devlin must be, too, but he’s not showing it.
Brandy, of course doesn’t know any of that is going on, but even so, she’s been edgy all evening. She’d come decked out in a backless red dress that Christopher had noticed when they were window shopping one day. She’d accessorized with a darling cocktail bag of her own design, something she’d been working up recently to add to the BB Bags inventory.
I don’t see either of them, though, and I’m hoping Brandy found him and they’re off in a corner together. He’d texted her this morning to say that something came up with his editor and he’d meet her here. But as of a half hour ago, he still hadn’t shown up, and the last time I saw Brandy, she’d looked both irritated and worried.
All the other guests, however, seem to be enjoying the drinks and desserts offered from the stations and the waiters circulating among the crowd. In addition to familiar faces from various news bureaus, I see local businessmen, and community leaders such as Chief Randall. Lamar is here, and it breaks my heart to see the pain on his face when he glances around this room filled with couples. I’ve checked on him several times, though, and each time he tells me that he’s fine. That it hurts, but that he’ll get through it. I know that’s true, I just wish I could help.
I draw a breath, forcing my thoughts away from Lamar’s loss. I look around the room again, taking it in with a neutral eye and decide that it really is perfect. “I wasn’t sure at first,” I tell Devlin. “About not having tables, I mean. But it works.” The room has only a few cocktail style tables scattered around, primarily to aid reporters who might actually still be taking notes with pen and paper.
“I think so, too,” he says. “Tamra’s thinking was that a seated speech suggests something intense and weighty, whereas cocktails are among friends.”
“And while your content is definitely intense, you want everyone to see you as you. Not as some billionaire big shot.”
“Not exactly how I’d have put it, but yes.”
The wall of glass that looks out over the ocean has been pushed aside, allowing for people to mingle on the stone patio. We head that way now, and Devlin doesn’t have to tell me why. The patio overlooks the tidal pools—our tidal pools. And he’ll want that in his mind before he talks, a reminder about why he’s going public tonight. So that hopefully the enemies of his past will back down, making the life he has now a safer one. For him, for me, and for everyone he cares about.
“I think this is going very well,” Tamra says as she comes over to greet Devlin and me. “Of course I’m not surprised. We may not be advertising it as such, but everyone realizes that this is the first event since the Humanitarian Award was pulled. They want to know what you have to say for yourself.”
Devlin smirks. “Don’t worry. I have plenty to say for myself.”
Tamra laughs. “Well, I would’ve liked to have had a preview of your speech, but I for one will be in the audience with bated breath.”
She presses her hand to his shoulder in a maternal gesture, and I realize again how long they’ve known each other, and how much she’s seen Devlin overcome. Of everyone who knows him, she’s probably the least worried about the revelation that he’s The Wolf’s son negatively impacting him. After all, she’s seen him survive almost everything.
“About that,” I say when she leaves to work the room some more.
“About what?” Devlin asks.
“Having something to say. I want to start releasing a series of articles about you. A follow-up to the talk you’re giving tonight, breaking down your background and what you’re doing with the foundation. I was thinking we could release them on the foundation’s website.”
“El, baby, I’m not sure I—”
“We need to control the narrative,” I say. “I was talking with Corbin about it, and he—”
Devlin starts to laugh.
“What? It’s a good idea. You’re going to stand up tonight and announce that you’re a good guy, but you’re still going to be battling everyone who wants it to be otherwise, because villains make better stories. One per week. It’s the smart thing,” I tell him. “Ask Tamra. She’ll agree with me.”
“Have you raised it with her yet?”
“No, but I know I’m right.”
“To be honest, I think you are, too.”
“Yeah?”
“But I pay her for publicity and PR because that’s not what I do. We’ll talk with her after we see how tonight’s speech is received, okay?”
I grin. “Absolutely. And we’ll be sure to tell her that the articles will be leading up to a book, either published by a major publisher or the foundation itself if we can’t find one. But you know we’ll be able to find one.” I rise up onto my toes and kiss him. “Especially if we add me to the narrative. Sex sells, you know.”
“That we dated, yes. Any more detailed than that, and I’m going to axe the project.”
“Agree. But maybe I’ll write those pages just for you…” I trail off, a sensual lilt in my voice.
He laughs. “Careful. I have to go stand in front of everyone in a minute, and there’s no podium in front of me.”
I’m fishing for a lurid reply when Lamar joins us. “I don’t know how you do it, Saint. You don’t look the slightest bit nervous.”
“I’ve given a lot of talks, though never this focused on me. Thankfully, Ellie is distracting me.”
I bat my eyes innocently. “Any time…”
They chat for a bit before Tamra pulls Devlin away, then announces that he’ll be addressing the room in just a few minutes. Lamar leaves me to go find the Chief, and I glance around the room looking for Brandy. I finally find her on the far side of the room talking with Eric. I join them, and we make polite conversation until Eric wanders off to circulate, making sure he greets the various VIPs who are attending.
Brandy turns to me, but I don’t know what she intends to say, because the lights dim, and a single light focuses on the staircase where Devlin stands, about halfway up. He looks calm and in charge, not the least bit nervous.
Then the entire room falls into silence as Devlin’s eyes sweep the room, lingering on mine before he looks out over the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “Tonight, I’d like to tell you a story.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Devlin pressed his hands to the rail as he looked out over the crowd, at the faces looking up at him, all filled with curiosity. He hated the circumstances that had brought him to this moment, but he had to admit that he felt a bit of relief, too. Keeping secrets was exhausting work, and so long as he could manage the fall-out, he was glad to have one less thing to juggle.
“First of all,” he began, “I want to thank you for coming tonight on such short notice. I realize there’s a curiosity factor involved, and I promise I haven’t pull
ed a bait and switch. You’re not here simply to learn that I recently bought real estate for a children’s hospital in Riverside. Though, of course, I hope you cover that story as well.”
He paused, appreciating the low rumble of laughter. He knew damn well that many of the reporters and foundation supporters felt conflicted. On the one hand, they wanted to hear the truth behind the sensational story about Devlin Saint’s parentage. On the other, they genuinely admired his work, and hated that they were participating at all in something that Devlin hadn’t released to the public himself.
“I’m here tonight not to talk about the foundation—not directly, anyway. I’m here for one very simple reason. Me.”
He paused a moment, his gaze finding Ellie and her supportive smile. “I’m here to paint you a picture of a Devlin Saint you haven’t met before. Except, of course, you have. My past shaped who I am now. Who I’ve been for all the time my foundation has been in existence.”
So far, the crowd looked rapt, and he made eye contact with a few as he continued to speak. “Because of what this foundation does, maybe some of you assumed that my childhood was not sunshine and roses. Or perhaps you assumed I simply had money and wanted to either do good or find a tax shelter.”
As he’d hoped, a smattering of chuckles drifted up from the audience.
“But what I really hope is that you weren’t thinking about me at all, but about the people this foundation has helped. We’ve rescued those who’ve been abused. We’ve helped train and educate those who needed a hand up. We’ve worked with law enforcement to shut down the drug rings that enslave the innocent, and we’ve helped rescue hundreds of victims across the globe who became caught in a deadly web of human trafficking.”
He leaned forward, his hands on the rail. “That is what you should be focusing on. What you had been focusing on. You helped tell the stories of the good work we do here. You helped spread a message of hope to those who had lost a loved one or who themselves needed help.