Saints and sinners the d.., p.67
Saints & Sinners: The Devlin Saint Trilogy, page 67
I tilt my head. “For what?”
“For yesterday. For turning around a very shitty night.”
My smile is a little sad as I brush my lips over his. “Mr. Saint, it was my sincere pleasure.” I pull back and make a show of looking him up and down. He’s in jeans and a gray tee and he looks more or less like a mythical god. “Baseball cap,” I say. “You’re too good-looking and too recognizable. And I don’t think either one of us wants any more press.”
“I didn’t bring a cap,” he says. In response, I rummage in my closet, find a souvenir cap I’d bought when Roger had taken me to a Yankees game, and toss it his way. “Now feed me,” I say. “Or I won’t have any energy left to continue improving your mood.”
“That’s all the encouragement I need.”
My go-to diner is just around the corner, but it’s a gorgeous fall Saturday, and we opt to take our bagels and coffee to-go, then head into the park.
“Surely no one will notice us,” I say. “It’s not as if all of those publicity hounds at the theater last night are expecting you to go strolling through Morningside Park.”
“We’ll be safe,” he agrees. “We have eyes on us, remember.”
I frown. “Do we?” Devlin had told me that Ronan assigned security. “I don’t see anyone.”
Devlin chuckles. “That’s because my people are good at their job.”
I smirk. “Fair point.”
“And even if we didn’t have security, and the publicity hounds are pulling out their cameras…”
“What?” I ask, when he trails off.
He lifts a shoulder as he grins. “Fuck them.”
My hands are full, so I resist the urge to high-five him. Instead, I manage a hip bump. “I like the way you think.”
“Here,” he says, pointing to a bench near a tiny play area for toddlers.
I settle on it, then use the space between us as a tabletop and shift on the bench to face him.
“You always knew this would happen one day, didn’t you?” I ask as I unwrap my bagel and schmear.
“Not with any certainty. But I’m also not surprised.”
“I suppose the upside is that you’re no longer in hiding.”
He nods slowly, his eyes narrowing. “But…”
“The but is obvious,” I say. “Somebody pushed you out into the light. Somebody tipped off the press.”
“They did. But who?”
“Well, that’s the question of the hour, isn’t it? What Ronan’s now trying to figure out.” We’d avoided all talk of who pulled the trigger on this story last night, but now I’m ready to start mining for answers. He’s already started, of course, and from what he said earlier, Ronan is all over the investigation.
“Who could it be other than Blackstone?” About ten years older than Devlin, Joseph Blackstone had also grown up on The Wolf’s compound. Now, he’s got his own criminal enterprise going, one that he operates out of the Chicago area, and he’s managed to evade prosecution because he’s a clever bastard. He’d landed on Devlin’s radar when an investigation into security breaches at the Devlin Saint Foundation led back to Blackstone’s network.
Add to that the little fact that Blackstone and that bitch Anna were both friends and lovers and possibly enemies at various times. It’s hard to be certain since she’s now dead, something I am extremely happy about. She knew Blackstone from their years together at The Wolf’s compound. More recently, she’d apparently enlisted Blackstone’s help in her efforts to kill me because, in her eyes, I’d stolen what was supposed to be hers—Devlin.
Bottom line? Though we can’t yet be certain, everything adds up to Blackstone being very much not in the Good Guy column of the checklist.
I wipe cream cheese off the corner of my mouth as I gaze across the park. A mom in jeans is pushing a little boy with bouncy curls on a swing set. Further on, a jogger in red slows on the path as he passes the playscape, then speeds up again.
I take another bite, swallow, then turn my attention back to Devlin. “I assume you have Ronan looking even harder at Blackstone than before?”
“I do,” he says. “And this morning he mentioned that word on the street is that Joseph recently took over Harvey White’s operation. Apparently it wasn’t an amicable takeover.”
I’d glanced toward the jogger, but that pulls my full attention back to Devlin. “Should I know who that is?”
“One of my father’s former lieutenants. Anna and I knew him well in Nevada. He carved out a niche for himself after dear old Dad was assassinated. And he wasn’t happy that so much of my father’s empire went to Alejandro. Who, until yesterday, had gone into the wind after being discharged from the military.”
“So that means Joseph could be the one who outed you. And White would have had reason to as well. You left and screwed him out of what he believed was his. If he somehow learned the truth…”
Devlin nods. “I don’t know how he could have, but as you once mentioned, no secret is completely in the vault. I trust the brass who helped me, but there were others down the ladder who would have had access.”
“If they were bribed, might be a good place to start asking questions.”
He nods. “Ronan’s already got some of the team on that.”
I’m not surprised. Devlin and his people are nothing if not thorough.
“My money’s still on Blackstone,” I tell him. “The timing is too coincidental. And surely Anna told him who you really are.”
He nods. “It’s a concern, but Christopher swears she didn’t.”
I scowl at the name. “Assuming she would have told him. For that matter, assuming he’s telling the truth.”
“You’re still concerned about him.”
I start to deny it, then shrug. A thriller writer, Christopher Doyle came to Laguna Cortez ostensibly to use the foundation’s library to research a new novel with a human trafficking element. All of which is true. It’s the part he didn’t share that worries me.
“He’s dating Brandy,” I say, stating the obvious. “And he’s Joseph Blackstone’s half-brother, and he was Anna’s close friend. We know that Blackstone’s either causing the leaks in your operation or he’s benefitting from them. And, oh yeah, Anna tried to kill me. Several times. On the one hand I hate the idea of guilt by association. On the other…”
I trail off. Because, honestly, it really is all guilt by association. And isn’t that what the press is doing to Devlin right this very minute?
I gather my thoughts as I watch a couple stroll on a nearby path. A jogger overtakes them, his head turning to stare in our direction. I frown, because I’m pretty sure he’s the same jogger in red I noticed a few moments ago. I almost say something to Devlin, but the guy shifts his attention back to the path and continues on.
“Did I lose you?”
“Sorry. Distracted.” I draw a breath. “I guess I’m not being fair to Christopher. He’s been good to Brandy. Good for her, too. And, yes, I understand why he didn’t want to have his name associated with Blackstone. Who would?”
“Agree,” Devlin said. “Add to that the fact that the investigation after Anna’s death turned up nothing to suggest he was involved. To the contrary, Christopher testified against Joseph, remember?”
I nod. After Anna’s death, the investigation had revealed that Christopher had turned snitch against his half-brother on some drug-related charges years before. “I know. I just—”
“You don’t want to see Brandy hurt.” He puts down his coffee and takes my hand as an energetic Labrador that reminds me of Jake bounds by, chasing a frisbee. “Believe me, I don’t either. But Christopher was completely cooperative. Lamar said he passed the polygraph with flying colors.”
“I know.” I shrug, remembering when Lamar had confirmed that piece of information. “He’s just a guy from a bad family who came to the foundation to research a thriller and got sucked into the quagmire. Hell, it could be the plot for his next book.”
He shares my smile. “It really could.” He finishes his bagel, then tosses the wrapping into the can next to our bench. “How’s Brandy doing?”
“She’s good. Like you said, he’s never been anything but awesome to her. I think she was a little pissed that he didn’t tell her he was connected to Joseph Blackstone, but why would he? Blackstone was part of The Wolf’s world, and Christopher didn’t know that was a world you were part of.”
He frowns. “Did she tell him?”
I shake my head. “No. But I guess he knows now. The whole world does. Including Joseph Blackstone.” I suck in a deep breath. “Which means that he’s not the only threat.”
“No,” Devlin agrees. “Just the most identifiable one.”
I sigh and crumple the paper my bagel had been wrapped in. “Mr. Saint, you do lead a complicated life.”
“Fortunately, I have a very uncomplicated woman at my side.”
I almost spit the sip of coffee I’d just taken in an effort not to laugh. “You better not.”
“Fair enough. I have a complicated woman who I dearly love. And,” he adds, his eyes darkening, “about whom I worry.”
“I get that,” I say. “Honestly, I worry about both of us. But I still say that maybe this is a positive thing. No more hiding, right?”
He chuckles. “Baby, I was hiding for a reason. And, well, it wasn’t even really hiding, was it? I’m not Alex. I’m not Alejandro. I’m Devlin Saint, and he’s always been very much in the open.”
“Yes,” I say softly. “That’s true.”
“But that’s not something my enemies care about. There are men who lost the opportunity to take control of my father’s empire when I shut it down. And there are men who were friends of my father who want revenge against the man who killed him.”
“Even if they know you used to be Alejandro, they can’t know that you’re the one who killed The Wolf.”
“You know better than that,” he says, and he’s right. Daniel Lopez was killed, and Alejandro inherited. Then Alejandro disappeared. It’s a safe bet that The Wolf’s friends always believed that Alejandro killed his father.
But as there was no Alejandro to be found, no one could exact revenge.
Now Alejandro is back as Devlin Saint. And that means the target on his back just got bigger. But by how much, we still don’t know.
“What about Ronan and Tamra?” I ask as we walk down a sidewalk on our way back to the apartment. “Or Reggie,” I add, referring Regina Perez, the only other member of Saint’s Angel’s who I’ve met so far. I don’t know many details about her background, but I know she does undercover work. And as for Ronan, he’s as much of a bad ass as Devlin. Both of them were in Special Forces and have the skills to prove it.
I glance at him sideways. “They’re all doubling down on their resources, right? Trying to figure out not only who leaked your identity, but also who else might be gunning for you?”
“Way ahead of you,” he says, which doesn’t surprise me at all. “Everyone on the team is working intelligence. We should have a list of potential threats and sources for the leak within forty-eight hours.”
“Good,” I say. I crumple the last of my trash and score a few points when I hit a nearby trashcan. “You know, it’s possible the list isn’t that long. After all, most of the men your father worked with would be pretty old now. They might have retired to some ranch in South America or a villa in Greece. Or they could be in prison. Hell, they might be chugging along just fine in the underworld, and figure the risk isn’t worth the reward of going after you.”
“I don’t disagree,” he says. “But we won’t know until we know. And if there is a threat, I need to be on top of that.”
“Damn right,” I say. “Because—”
I bite off the word as he shoves me behind him. Almost instantaneously, I see the red jogger hurrying forward. Terror spikes through me, and a few yards away a man and a woman seem to magically appear from a nearby doorway.
“Mr. Saint!” the jogger says, breathless, as the man—Charlie, I assume—lifts a hand draped with a light sweater that I’m certain hides a gun. The woman, Grace, is only a few feet away now, having jogged closer behind the threat. I start to move around Devlin, but he holds me back, his arm an impenetrable barrier.
“I’m really sorry to bother you,” the man blurts out. Hardly any time has passed, but everything has changed. The tension in the air around us fades. And though Charlie and Grace are clearly still on their guard, this no longer feels like a threat. “I just—I just had to say that I’m sorry. For what they’re reporting, I mean.”
“I appreciate that,” Devlin says, and though I doubt the jogger can tell, I can hear the tension in his voice clearly enough. He’s still uncertain, and he’s playing it exactly right as Charlie and Grace come even closer.
I ease forward, too, and Devlin takes my hand, and I know he’s positioned to leap in front of me if he needs to. He won’t need to, though. This guy’s no threat, a conclusion that’s borne home when he tells Devlin how he’d been living in a shelter that the foundation had partnered with to provide job training. Now he works data entry at an insurance company and has his own apartment.
“They’re assholes for trying to make you look bad,” the man says. “I just had to say thanks.”
“And I’m glad you did,” Devlin said, his voice smooth and friendly. “It’s wonderful to know the Foundation is making a difference.”
They exchange a few more words before the man heads off. I see the tension drain from Devlin’s body and the way he nods at Charlie and Grace, acknowledging both them and the fact that the threat—such that it was—is over.
The he turns to me, and all of a sudden, I’m fighting tears. “He was nice,” I say, having to speak in order to force back a flood of relieved tears. “I thought—but he was nice.”
I draw a breath, calming myself as Devlin pulls me close. “I didn’t like that,” I say, tilting my head back to look at him. “Being scared. Devlin, you have to be careful. Because honestly, if I lost you again, I don’t think I’d survive.”
He strokes my hair. “You’re strong, baby. You would.”
“Maybe,” I concede. “But I wouldn’t want to.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Devlin’s arm is around me, and I’m laughing as he tries to kiss me in the hall. “Security cameras,” I tease. “Do you really want a picture of the owner canoodling with one of his tenants?”
“I don’t want any picture that involves canoodling. But with you I would make an exception. Care to canoodle with me once we get inside? For that matter, care to let me film your canoodle?”
My brows rise as I slide the key into the lock. “Mr. Saint, I had no idea that was something that got you going. Maybe we can—”
I bite off my words as I push the door open, then gasp when I see the man standing in the middle of my apartment. Devlin pushes me aside, his gun up and aimed in less than the split-second it takes for reality to slam into place.
“No,” I shout. “It’s okay. It’s Roger. It’s my editor.”
Poor Roger is frozen in place, his hands in the air, his eyes wide. He’s let his hair go full-on silver, and he’s back to sporting a beard. All in all, he looks a bit like a svelte Santa caught in the act.
“My apologies,” Devlin says, holstering his gun. “But do you want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in Ellie’s living room?”
“It’s okay,” I tell Devlin, who knows perfectly well how close I am to Roger. Not romantically, but as friends. “He takes care of the place when I travel. I told you that. He stocked the kitchen for us.”
“And yet here we are in town, and he just pops in?”
“I appreciate you looking out for Ellie,” Roger says. “But as she’s trying to tell you, I’m hardly a threat to her safety.”
Devlin’s eyes narrow. “But you are a threat, aren’t you?”
I look between the two of them. “What are you talking about?”
“Tell her why you’re here.”
Now I’m really confused, because why on earth would Devlin know anything about Roger and my work? Unless, of course, it involved Devlin.
“Fuck.” The curse is barely a whisper, but both men turn to me. “You came here to fire me, didn’t you?”
Roger grimaces. “Actually, I came to take you back to the office. Franklin wants to speak with you. In person, he says.”
I close my eyes and draw a breath now that I’ve caught the sweet scent of a reprieve. Franklin’s clearly pissed—the man hardly ever comes to the office on the weekend—but I’ll willingly endure a lecture. Even a rant. And with luck, I’ll only have to power through a few months of shit assignments before my world rights itself again.
“She’s one of your best assets,” Devlin snaps. “And you’re going to cut her off like that?”
To his credit, Roger doesn’t cower. He steps toward Devlin, his chin held eye, his eyes never leaving Devlin’s face. “I went to the mat for her,” he says. “Fire? That was Franklin’s plan. I talked him out of it.”
Devlin cocks his head, clearly still on edge.
“Devlin.” I put my hand gently on his arm. “It’s okay.”
“Ellie is like a daughter to me,” Roger continues, his eyes narrowing behind wire-frame glasses. “I’ve watched her grow into an excellent reporter, and I know that even excellent reporters make mistakes.”
“Mistakes?”
I hear the edge in Devlin’s voice and put my hand on his elbow. “It’s okay,” I repeat. “Really. I’ll be back soon, and it’s not like I haven’t known this conversation is long overdue.”
“I’m coming with you.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m—”
“Have you forgotten the last twenty-four hours? Do you not understand that anyone wanting to hurt me is going to do it most effectively through you?”
“I have a car waiting,” Roger hurries to say. “It’s at the building’s service entrance.”
“I’ll be back soon,” I tell Devlin, then rise on my toes to kiss him. “And I’ll be fine,” I whisper. “You can spank me if I’m not.”
