My Cruel Salvation

by J. Kenner

  The present…

  I let Devlin drive Shelby because I want to call Brandy as soon as we get in the car. She answers on the first ring, and I blurt, “How are you doing?”

  “Good.” The word is hard, and I hear no sound of tears, so I’m grateful for that. “Fury is making it easier to deal,” she says, as if answering my unspoken question.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” I grimace. “Not the fury part, but the—”

  “—the part where I’m not completely breaking down into a sobbing little ball and whimpering in the corner until you get back?”

  I laugh. “Okay, maybe not that dramatic, but that’s the basic idea. You’re really okay?”

  “Yeah. I think so. I’m just—I’m just so damn angry. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry in all my life.”

  “It’s because Walt’s horrible, and he’s trying to suggest that it’s Devlin who’s the one who’s a terrible person.”

  “That’s it. Yes. That’s it exactly. He’s a total creep, and he’s latching onto the fact that Devlin’s getting all this crap thrown on him. And he’s more than happy to catch me in the middle of it just so he can try to, I don’t know, get his name in the news or something. Does he think I won’t fight this? Does he think I won’t tell what he did?”

  I don’t answer that. Of course he thinks that she won’t say anything. It’s been years, and she said nothing. What else would he think? He doesn’t know that she was prepared to speak out tonight to protect Devlin, something I love her even more for. But I’m glad it didn’t go that way. Devlin is steel, but Brandy’s softer. And the truth is, I don’t want fate to temper her.

  “Please tell me you two are on your way over here. I thought I wanted to be alone, but it turns out I want company in my fury.”

  “We are,” I assure her. “We’re going to pop by Devlin’s first, because he needs to pick something up. But then we’ll be there. Is that okay? Do you need us to come sooner? You’re sure you’re okay?” I sound like a machine gun firing questions at her, and I try to ramp it back, but I’m angry, and I’m scared for her.

  “No, no. It’s fine. I’m fine. Truly. I’m just pissed, and I want my friends.”

  “Okay. Good. Stay pissed, and we’ll join you in that as soon as we get there.”

  “No worries about that. I have a feeling I’m going to be pissed for at least twenty-four hours. Then it might settle down into a slow burn, but I kind of doubt it.”

  Despite everything I laugh. “Alarm set?”

  “Yes, yes. You don’t have to worry. And Jake’s right here beside me.”

  “I’m not entirely sure that that’s going to reassure me that you’re safe,” I say. “Jake might be the sweetest dog in the world, and I’m pretty sure that he would just lick a bad guy to death.”

  She makes a snorting sound. “Jake says to tell you that he’s insulted by your lack of trust.”

  I laugh. “Well, give him a kiss for me.” Honestly, it’s only partly true anyway. He really is a sweet dog, but I also know that he wouldn’t hesitate to protect Brandy.

  I end the call about the time we reach Devlin’s street. He forgoes pulling into the driveway and simply parks Shelby on the street in front of his house. He hops out and pauses long enough to look back at me. “Do you want to come? I’ll only be a minute.”

  “I’m happy to if you want me, but I’m also happy to just sit here in my restored beauty and bask in the awesomeness of Shelby.”

  He laughs. “Bask all you want. Like I said, I’ll only be a minute.”

  I watch as he circles the car then moves down the sidewalk to the front door. He really does have the most amazing ass, and it is particularly nice in the jeans he’s been wearing today.

  I sigh, enjoying the view of what is mine. I watch as he reaches the door and punches in the code. I can even hear the little beeps from where we are. Then I hear him curse. He turns around and trots back towards me. He’s midway to the car when he says, “By the way I was going to ask you if —”

  And that’s when the world explodes.

  Devlin is thrown forward by a fiery ball of flame and debris, and my throat is suddenly raw. I realize I’m screaming, scrambling to get out of the car, pushing Shelby’s door open as I burst forward, grabbing Devlin’s arms and pulling him toward me. His shirt is singed and we fight it off of him. I knock him to the grass and roll him over, amazed that he’s gotten away mostly unscathed.

  He clings to me, both of us breathing hard as we shove back on the unmarred grass and watch what’s left of his house go up in a massive fireball.

  My ears are ringing, and it looks like an all-out war on the street. Devlin’s saying something but I can’t hear him, and his weight on top of me is crushing. I’m breathing hard and I look out at the surreal landscape. The world seems to be burning.

  There’s a roaring in my head, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s sirens approaching.

  “Baby? Baby, are you okay?”

  I blink, trying to process the words. They sound like sand in my ears, thick and heavy.

  “El. Ellie, baby.” Devlin shifts so that he’s no longer on top of me. I draw a breath, then immediately start coughing. He pulls me up, then holds me as he pats my back as I try to get my body under control. When I stop hacking, I push back, needing to see his face. It’s ash-covered, but it’s him, and I almost burst into tears at the realization of what I’d almost lost. “Oh, God,” I say. “Devlin, oh, God, Devlin.”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine, baby. I’m fine. Are you hurt?”

  For a moment, I don’t understand. “Me? Me?”

  The horror plays through my mind again, like a movie in a perpetual loop. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you break anything? God, that explosion actually threw you into the yard.”

  My words are tumbling out on top of each other. “Did you know? Did you sense that something was wrong? What happened? Why aren’t you in that house? Thank God you weren’t in that house.”

  He doesn’t answer. He just pulls me close again, and I cling to him, my whole body shaking. I could have lost him. I almost did lose him right in that moment. I start to sob, and at the same time I hate myself for losing it like this, but I can’t bear the thought of not having Devlin beside me anymore, and I can’t quite wrap my head around how close I came to almost losing him.

  He holds me, his face pressed against my hair. I can hear his breathing, his soft murmurs of we’re okay, we’re okay. I hold the words close, because right now, they’re the only thing that matters. We’re okay. The house is gone, but he’s alive. By some miracle, Devlin’s alive.

  I start to shake. “You almost—Devlin, if you hadn’t turned back to—”

  “I know, I know.” He holds me tighter, rocking me, and I cling to him, certain I will never let him go again.

  “We almost lost each other.”

  “We didn’t. You’re here. I’m here. We’re safe.”

  “But—”

  “No.” The word is fierce, as if he can hold back tragedy by sheer will. But I know he can’t. Like my parents—like Peter—I almost lost him. A few inches in the wrong direction, and I would have lost him.

  “We’re fine,” he says, though his voice is shaky. “El, look at me. I’m still here. I’m not your mom or your dad. We beat her,” he says. “We beat the bitch.”

  A choking laugh escapes me, the sound startling me. “That bitch Fate,” I say, then wipe my damp cheeks. “We did, didn’t we?”

  “We did.”

  “You can’t control the world,” I say, my eyes drawn back to what was once his home.

  “No.” He takes my chin and makes me look at him. “But I’ll damn well try.”

  I nod, then cling to him again. We’re bathed in flashing lights, and soon a fireman puts a blanket around both of us and gently leads us aside. We sit at the end of the fire truck, and an EMT looks over both of us, saying that we’re both in fine shape, though Devlin has a few bumps and bruises on his a
rms and knees.

  It’s such a dry assessment for something so surreal. He doesn’t even say a word about the damage to my soul.

  “Dear God, you two are lucky.” I look up, relief flooding my body when I see that it’s Lamar. Immediately, I burst into tears. I cling to Devlin even as I stand up, then throw one arm around Lamar, who hugs me so tight I’m afraid he’s going to break a rib, but I don’t care. I don’t even try to wriggle loose.

  “What happened?” he asks, murmuring in my ear. “What happened?”

  I shake my head and pull away blinking through tears until I can see both him and Devlin more clearly. I’m still holding onto Devlin, and I sink down beside him on the little ledge at the back of the truck. I glance over and see that Shelby is safe, a few bits of burning wood have landed close to her, but nothing scraped her. I’m weirdly grateful. In the grand scheme of things if she were all I had lost, I could live with it, but I’m so grateful that I didn’t lose anything. Or anybody.

  I realize that Devlin and Lamar are both looking at me. I nod, forcing myself to get my shit together. “I’m okay,” I reassure them. “Really. I’m okay.” I take Devlin’s hands. “Are you?”

  His jaw tightens, and he nods. One short quick beat. “If you’d gone into that house with me, we’d both be dead,” he says. “I came back to the car to ask you something. If you’d been with me, you would have been standing beside me and I would have asked you at the door. We would have been right there when the bomb went off.”

  I ride out another wave of nausea and look up to meet Devlin’s eyes. “What were you going to ask me?” I say stupidly.

  He actually laughs, and I join in. “I don’t even remember. Oh, wait. I was going to ask you if you wanted me to bring one of my bottles of Scotch back to your place.” He glances at the house. “I guess that’s a moot point now.”

  I giggle, high pitched and strange. It’s the shock, I know, but I still want to cringe.

  “Are your father’s enemies behind this?” Lamar asks, and I’m so grateful to him for trying to keep this business-like. I need to get removed from the emotions, from the horror. I need to think like the cop I used to be and the reporter I still am.

  “I don’t think so,” Devlin says. “I spoke with someone from the old days not too long ago, and the intel from him is that there aren’t that many people left who are active in the business who would have a grudge against me. On top of that, if they were paying attention to my speech, they would know that I’m not benefiting personally from my father’s assets. Maybe they would be upset about them being used for charitable purposes, but I don’t think so. Believe it or not most of them are perfectly fine with helping out women and children. They just want to make sure that they were getting their share of the profit.”

  He shrugs. “Bottom line, I honestly don’t think they care enough about me. If the money were in my bank account, maybe it would be different. If some of my father’s colleagues were still actively in the business, I’m sure it would be different. As it is now, they’re low on my list.”

  I already know this of course, but for the first time it strikes me what a change this is. Early on one of the reasons that Devlin had stayed so far away from me was fear of retribution by the men his father moved with.

  “If not them, then who?” Lamar asks.

  “Someone close to Joseph,” I say. We’ve already been over some of this with Tamra, though the circumstances were significantly less dire.

  “Christopher,” Devlin’s voice is cold and hard and level. I turn to look at him.

  “You really think—”

  “He had the code,” he interrupts me. “Christopher is the one who gave my keypad code to Anna. We gave him the code.”

  I feel sick all over again. “You’re right. That was part of the sting.”

  “And I didn’t change it. Fuck me, I can’t believe I didn’t change it. I was in the wrong headspace after everything that went down. I let that personal assault get to me and I missed that detail. I didn’t change my goddamn code back.”

  I reach for his hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He looks at me, his eyes suggesting that I’m wrong. That it was.

  “You didn’t get a notification on your phone that someone was on your porch? Messing with your lock?”

  “No,” Devlin says. “I didn’t.” He looks irritated at not having realized that earlier. He takes off his glasses—one lens is cracked—and rubs the bridge of his nose. “So someone with tech skills. Possibly Christopher, assuming he’s been keeping them hidden. Or he had help.”

  “It may not have been him,” Lamar says. “A man like you has other enemies.”

  He says it, but it’s clear that Christopher is the best bet. Considering all his secrets, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’s tech savvy. Plus, he disappeared with such convenient timing. That coupled with his relationship with Blackstone and Anna make him very much at the top of the list in big bold letters. None of us would be hesitating, either, if it weren’t for the fact that his guilt will cause more pain to Brandy, who we all three love.

  The chime from my phone startles us all, and I look down, not surprised when I see that it’s her. I look up and meet both their eyes, seeing their realization that it’s her as well. “Should I take it?”

  “Answer,” Lamar says. “This must be all over the news. She’s probably worried sick.”

  I almost kick myself. Of course it’s all over the news. This is Devlin Saint’s house, and this is the world of social media. I answer before it rings a third time.

  “Oh my God, oh my God. Are you okay?” The words spill out before I even have a chance to say hello. “The news is saying that Devlin’s house exploded —”

  “Brandy, we’re fine! Brandy!” She doesn’t answer, and I’m starting to get really worried. Then her voice comes back on the line. “Oh, fuck.”

  Now I really am worried. I know she’s scared, but Brandy’s not a curser. “What? What is it? Are you okay?”

  “I just got a text. It’s from Christopher. He says that he didn’t do it. That he’s sorry about everything. But he wants me to know that he didn’t do this.”

  I look up and see Devlin’s brow furrowed in curiosity. Clearly he can’t parse out what I’m saying from one side of the conversation. “Christopher texted you?” I say, both so Devlin and Lamar can hear, but also so that I’m absolutely sure I’m understanding this.

  “Yes, yes!”

  “And he says that he didn’t do this. Just out of the blue like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe him?” I don’t actually mean the question for Brandy. It’s Devlin’s opinion I want. But she answers in my ear.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think.”

  “Brandy. I have to go. The police are here. Lamar’s here too. He’s going to get a black and white to take me and Devlin to you. We’ll be there soon. Okay? I don’t think you’re in any danger but keep the door locked and the alarm set. Promise?”

  She promises, and as soon as I hang up the phone, I look between Devlin and Lamar. “Well? What do you guys believe?”

  “About Christopher?” Devlin says. “I don’t know either. To be honest right now I don’t even care. The only thing that I have in my mind is keeping you safe.”

  “I’m doing what you said,” Lamar says. He signals for a uniformed officer to come over then gives them Brandy’s address. “No argument. Go to her place, stay there, don’t leave until I get there. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and I’ll update you both.”

  He looks at both of us hard, his expression determined. “Promise me that you’ll stay there. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  I squeeze Devlin’s hand, then nod. “We promise. We’re staying and waiting for you. Bring us back some news, okay?”

  Lamar nods, and Devlin reaches out to shake his hand. “Thank you,” he says.

  Lamar frowns. “For what?”

  “I don
’t know. For caring. For being a friend. For just being there.”

  Chapter Thirty

  We do as Lamar says and go to Brandy’s. Devlin immediately starts pacing the house, the energy seeming to come off him in waves as he searches for answers. I want answers too, but right now I can’t help him get them. I’m still too numb, as the realization that I could have lost Devlin in the blink of an eye keeps hitting me over and over and over again.

  It weighs on me—terrifies me. And I’m not a woman used to being so damn scared.

  Which is why I push down my own fears to focus on Brandy. I, at least, have lived my entire life with the knowledge that people can be taken from you in an instant. But these last few days have slammed my best friend hard. She’s had glimpses into the dark underbelly of the world that I’d hoped she’d never have. She’d gone through hell with Walt all those years ago, and I always believed that filled her quota.

  I should have known better. After all, who knows better than me how much of a bitch the universe can be.

  “I just can’t believe it,” she says, curled up on the couch with Jake. “Not Walt—I wouldn’t put anything past him, although I can’t believe he’d be smart enough or ballsy enough to plant a bomb.”

  “You’re thinking Christopher, right? I get it,” I say. “I like him, too.”

  “I trusted him,” she says. “Am I the most naive person on the planet?”

  “Oh, sweetie, no. Of course not. I trusted him, too. Do you think Devlin or I would have ever let you alone with him if we hadn’t once we knew about Joseph?”

  “We had all these talks. I shared so much with him.” She hugs herself. “If he did this, then he’s a freaking psychopath. Or sociopath. Or, hell, both. I can’t ever keep that straight. He’s not a good person.” She sniffles, then chokes back tears. “I thought he was a good person.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I say, taking the hand that isn’t stroking Jake.

  “I know. But that doesn’t help. And—well, I know he could do it. A bomb, I mean. I read his first book. There was a bomb in it, and he did all sorts of research. It said so in the back. He would know how.”