Saints and sinners the d.., p.77
Saints & Sinners: The Devlin Saint Trilogy, page 77
As if my thoughts have conjured him, my phone rings, and Lamar’s face appears on the screen. I answer the call. “Hey, we were just talking about you.”
“Is Devlin there?”
“Yeah. You need me to go get him?”
“No. I’ll be there soon. I need to talk to him right now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Devlin was finishing up a call with Penn when he heard the beep beep beep of the keypad lock. That noise was followed immediately by the sound of the door opening, and that simultaneous with Lamar calling out, “Where is he? Where the hell is Devlin?”
“Penn? I’m going to have to call you back.”
“Is everything okay?” his friend asked.
“Fine. But there’s something I need to handle.”
“Roger that. Talk soon.”
As soon as Penn ended the call, Devlin shifted his attention to the conversation downstairs. He couldn’t make out words, but he assumed that Ellie was telling Lamar where Devlin was. His suspicion was confirmed a moment later when her voice called out to him, “Devlin, Lamar needs to talk to you. Do you want to come down?”
“No.” The louder voice was from Lamar himself. “I’m coming up.” It was a statement, not a question, and Devlin didn’t bother to answer. He was currently in the study area, working at the desk. He turned over the papers on which he’d been writing notes and stood as Lamar stepped from the stairs to the landing. “What’s on your mind, Detective?”
“You didn’t do it personally,” Lamar said, circling Devlin as he spoke. “I know that. But somehow, you did do it.”
Devlin had never before noticed what a large man Lamar was. Usually Lamar’s size seemed a bit diminished simply because of his congenial personality, as if he intentionally made himself smaller so as to not intimidate. Now, the opposite was happening. He was a big man. A strong man, with arms and hands that could crush a lesser man.
Devlin didn’t have his size, but he had strength. He’d worked on it for years, and he knew the extent of his skill. Looking at Lamar, though, he wondered which one of them would come out ahead in the fight. Devlin with all of his skills and the trickery he’d learned over the years, or Lamar with pure, cold rage.
Because one thing was certain, Lamar was pissed.
“I think you’d better sit down, Detective.”
“Dammit, Saint, I told you if you ever hurt her…”
“What in hell are you talking about? Hurt who?”
“Ellie. What do you think I’m talking about?”
“Ellie?” Devlin’s head was spinning. “How have I hurt Ellie?”
“She thinks you’re one of the good guys. She thinks you’re what we used to believe Christopher was. A good man smeared by his father’s name. Or in Christopher’s case, his brother’s. But Good Christopher turned out to be a facade. And you’re one hell of a long way from a saint, aren’t you? And Ellie has no idea what she’s gotten into.”
Devlin felt his chest tighten, not with the need to lash out against this man, but with a bitter aching need to tell him the truth. The whole truth. Like Ellie, he would probably resist.
Like Ellie, he would probably end up understanding.
But he couldn’t lay it all out. Not now. Maybe not ever. But he couldn’t completely bullshit the detective, either. Or, he could. He just didn’t want to. So instead he drew a breath and said, “I don’t have any secrets from Ellie. She knows exactly what she’s gotten into with me.”
Lamar’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a fact?”
Devlin gestured toward the chair opposite the desk. “Sit down.”
To his surprise, Lamar sat.
“I’m not kicking you out. Give me points for that. And you know damn well I love Ellie, so give me points for that too. Agreed?”
The detective’s brow furrowed. “Agreed.”
Devlin exhaled, then pulled out his chair and sat across from Lamar. “Something’s happened, and you obviously think I’m involved. Will you lay it out for me in small, simple sentences? Because believe me when I say I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
It was clear from Lamar’s face that he didn’t believe him, but that was okay. So long as he didn’t argue—so long as he told Devlin what he knew or thought he knew—then everything could probably be worked out.
“Well?” Devlin pressed.
“I know you didn’t do it. You were in front of a room full of people singing the praises of your foundation and explaining the circumstances of your life when it happened. What I want to know is did you hire somebody?”
“To do what? Something that happened during my speech, obviously, but I need more information.”
“Joseph Blackstone is dead. Killed in his extremely well-protected home by a single shot to the head fired from a sniper’s rifle as he crossed in front of his bedroom window. There was a raid, too. His electronic equipment was breached. Most of his lieutenants scattered, but some were killed as well.
Devlin leaned back, his face completely blank. “Well. I hadn’t heard.” It was an easy lie. The truth was he hadn’t asked the specifics of how Blackstone was killed. He just took his team’s word that it had been taken care of.
“Did you hire someone?” Lamar repeated.
“No.” That was the literal truth. He hadn’t hired anyone for the job. “Why would you think that?”
“The timing. The convenience. Joseph Blackstone was a thorn in your side, and now he’s gone.”
“Well, I won’t say that I’ll mourn him,” Devlin said. “You’re right. The man was a problem. He was stealing secrets from my operation and managing to interfere with a number of rescue missions. Innocent people died because of that man. And a lot of assholes who should have been shut down by now are still in existence. We’ll get them, eventually, but the people that his actions got killed aren’t ever coming back.”
Lamar leaned forward. ”I get that you have money. I get that you have power. And I even believe that you want to help the world and the people who got the short end of the stick. People who can’t help themselves and are being tortured and tormented. You have a big stick. There’s no doubt about it. But hiring killers is not the way to wield it.”
“I already said that I didn’t hire anyone. But from a purely hypothetical point of view, I’m not sure I agree with you.”
Lamar tilted his head to the side but said nothing, and Devlin took that as an invitation to continue.
“What should the wealthy do if not protect?” he asked. “Shouldn’t we give back to the community? If you have the resources to make the world a better place shouldn’t you do that?”
“Killing isn’t the way to do it,” Lamar said.
“Sometimes, maybe it is. Do you really want to condemn whoever killed Joseph Blackstone? He’s the reason Tracy is dead. Doesn’t she deserve to be vindicated?”
Lamar shook his head, his hands clenched tight on his knees. “That isn’t the way it works. I swore an oath —”
“And you are not the one who killed him. You didn’t break your oath, Detective. But deep down, aren’t you glad that he’s dead?”
“You’re damn right I’m glad. But I can be glad that a monster is dead, and still know that rules were shattered.”
“We live in a world filled with shades of gray, Detective. And someone has to stand on the line between good and bad.”
“Yes,” Lamar said. “Someone does. That someone is me and people like me, people who have sworn to protect and to serve. Not people who slink around behind the scenes, outside of the proper channels. Anarchy isn’t the answer. And neither is net value. Your bank account doesn’t give you carte blanche to make decisions for the rest of the world.”
“We’re still speaking hypothetically? I agree with you. Net value is not the test. But you have to admit that it damn sure helps with implementation. At least,” he added, meeting Lamar’s eyes, “I imagine that it would.”
Lamar sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I would have given anything, anything to have been the one who pulled the trigger and took that son of a bitch out.”
Devlin leaned back. That was not what he’d expected Lamar to say. “I understand. Believe me, I do.”
“Reciprocity, Saint. I’m pretty sure you fucked me over. I’m pretty sure you’ve stayed quiet about a whole lot of things.”
Devlin stayed perfectly still, studying the man’s face before asking, “Would you have pulled the trigger, Detective? If you’d been the one with that sniper’s rifle, would you have done the deed?”
For a moment, Lamar said nothing. Then he shook his head. “Not in a million years would I have done that. Because that’s not the way things are supposed to work. But,” he added, his breath catching in his throat, “I wish to hell I could be that man.”
Devlin stayed quiet, not sure what to say and hoping Lamar didn’t regret his words tomorrow. He was speaking from anger and grief, Devlin knew. But he was speaking the truth as well, and he might not be comfortable knowing Devlin had seen even that brief moment of vulnerability.
After a moment, Lamar sighed, breaking the silence. “I like you. And Ellie loves you. And I love Ellie. She’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”
“I know.”
“So don’t put me in an awkward position, okay Saint?”
“All right,” Devlin said. “I’ll do my very best.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“So what was that about?” I ask Lamar as he comes down the stairs. I look past him expecting to see Devlin, but there’s no sign that he’s following in Lamar’s footsteps. I shift my attention back to Lamar and wait for him to answer.
“It was nothing. A misunderstanding. I’m just on edge.”
I move to his side and put my arms around him. “I’m so sorry about Tracy. Are you sure you should be working the case? It’s got to be driving you crazy, not being able to let it go for even a moment.”
He squeezes me tight, then pulls back shaking his head. “No. But it’s sweet of you to think about me. I just … I needed answers. And, well, it looks like we got answers.”
“Joseph Blackstone,” I confirm. “I can’t believe it all happened so quickly.”
“Did you know that Blackstone is dead?”
“Dead?” I repeat, which is the kind of answer that isn’t an answer. And means I don’t have to lie to my friend.
“Killed by a sniper’s rifle.”
I reach out and brush his arm. “Don’t feel guilt for being glad about that,” I tell him. “He’s the man that killed Tracy.”
“I don’t feel bad,” he says. “And I’m glad he’s dead.” He meets my eyes. “But Jesus, Holmes, I’m actually angry that I’m not the one who took the bastard down.”
“I get it,” I say, “and you don’t have a thing to feel guilty about. You should go put on PJ’s. Another movie tonight, right?”
He shakes his head. “Not in the mood. I think I’m going to go back to my place.”
I frown. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
He lifts a shoulder. “How can we ever be sure? But if you’re thinking about Christopher, I don’t think he’ll retaliate. He left the note for Brandy, didn’t he? That felt like a confession and an apology.”
“Maybe.” I hug myself. “But he drove that SUV.”
“I know. But I can take care of myself. And Saint’s here with you two. And when do we say it’s enough? For all we know he’s gone for good.”
“I get it.”
“It’s more than that,” Lamar says. “I want to be home. And I want to stop by the florist and pick up some roses on the way.”
“For Tracy?”
“To leave them outside her door.”
I nod. “I think that’s a sweet idea.” I look around, noticing that Brandy has disappeared, probably giving us space to talk about the case. “You should go say goodbye to Brandy.” He nods, and as he goes to her room, I head into my old bedroom to gather his things for him.
As much as I like the master bedroom, I have a feeling that Mr. Big Shot would prefer we not continue to stay in it. Tonight, Devlin and I will move back to my bedroom. Depending on how Brandy’s doing, tomorrow we might even move back to Devlin’s house. Lamar’s right. There will always be threats. At some point, you have to slide back into your life.
Lamar comes back in as I’m zipping his duffle. “I kept your dirty clothes. I thought I’d wash them for you.”
He smiles, “Thanks, Sherlock.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I will be. I just need a little time. I don’t know if I was in love with her, but I miss her.”
“I get it.”
“Is it strange that I’m almost disappointed that this case was wrapped so quickly?” His voice is heavy with guilt.
I move to him and take his hands, shaking my head. “No. Oh, Lamar, no. You need closure. You were working it out through this case. Considering you figured out who killed her and then someone else shut him down so quickly, of course you’re feeling a little lost. Your head must be spinning.”
I frown as I study his face. “Are you positive you don’t want to stay another night? I’m not sure I want you to be alone.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m fine. I’m going to go home, do the flowers, have a glass of Scotch, and sleep for a year.”
“All right, then. I love you, Watson,” I say.
“Love you back, Sherlock.” He kisses my forehead and heads out, pausing in the doorway to my bedroom. “By the way, Brandy was just talking with her mother. She told her that she and Christopher broke up. That was probably the best spin to give Mrs. Bradshaw don’t you think?”
I nod, but I feel bad for Brandy. She needs girl talk, and I’m really the only one there for her. Her mom’s not a bad choice, but she doesn’t understand, and her dad has been distant for years.
I follow Lamar to the door, then see him out and reset the lock. Once again, I look at the stairs to see if Devlin is coming down, but I see no sign of him. I frown, wondering what it was that they talked about. Lamar seemed on edge, but not upset. But I don’t know how that translates for Devlin. I start to head that direction, but then decide I want to check on Brandy.
I pop by her room and tap lightly on the door. I think I hear her say come in, so I push it open, only to see that all I’ve heard is the low mumble of voices on her television. I tiptoe across the room and shut it off. Then I go back to my friend. She’s asleep, curled up in a ball on top of her covers. I take the folded blanket and pull it over her, gratified when she smiles in her sleep. I’ll talk to her in the morning. Right now, what she needs most is rest. It really has been a hell of a few days, the kind that feel like it’s been a year.
I still don’t see Devlin when I leave her room, and now I’m out of excuses. I head up the stairs wondering what kind of mood I’m going to find him in. When I reach the landing, I see him, and my heart melts.
He’s sitting straight on the sofa that’s in the lounge area. His body is tense, but he’s bent over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He tilts his head up, and I meet his eyes. I see pain there, and grief, and it could be from so many causes that I don’t even know where to begin.
All I can do is go to him. I fall to my knees in front of him and put my hands on his. “Hey,” I say.
He doesn’t say a word, instead he just strokes my cheek then pulls me to him. He kisses me tenderly, and pulls me into his lap. We stay like that for a while, kissing and touching, but not saying a word.
Then he cradles me in his arms as he stands, and carries me to the bed. I start to speak, but he presses a fingertip to my lips. Slowly, he undresses me, and then I watch as he does the same. All the while, we watch each other, the heat that is always between us building.
We make love in silence, not the wild, punishing sex that I know he sometimes need. Hell, that we both sometimes need. No, this is gentle and sweet and so full of love and tenderness my heart aches. And the only time I speak is when my orgasm finally overtakes me and I arch up, crying out his name as my entire body sings with sweetness and love.
It’s not until later, when we are sated and spooned together that he whispers, “What are you thinking?”
“That I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel right now.”
His body shakes with laughter “I’m not entirely sure how I should take that.”
I roll over so that I’m facing him, my own laughter bubbling inside me. “Not because of that. About everything. I spent my entire life around law enforcement, and yet I don’t have a sense of whether or not we’re done. Are we done?”
“Done?”
“Are we safe now?” I ask, repeating what I’d asked Lamar.
He shifts so that he can slide up the bed, the sheet falling down around his hips as he leans up against the headboard. “Safe is a relative term.” He looks at me. “Christopher is still out there.”
“I know. I just had this conversation with Lamar. He’s not concerned.”
“He might be right.”
I nod, then sit up myself holding the sheet over my bare breasts even though it’s ridiculous to have any sort of modesty with this man. He’s seen more of me than anybody. Still, right now I feel better not feeling exposed. “But Joseph Blackstone is dead. And so is Anna. They were the biggest threats. And I think your speech at the luncheon made it clear to anyone who might be after you for your father’s money, that those funds don’t exist for you anymore. It’s all tied into the foundation.”
I draw a breath. “My point is that it feels like we’re back on an even keel. There’s pain that we need to get over, and there’s grief that we need to experience. We need to let time heal, but I don’t think there’s anyone coming after us now. Is there?”
He shakes his head. “It’s always bad to talk in absolutes, but all the intelligence that I and my team can put together suggests that we’re in the clear now. Except, of course, that Christopher remains a question mark. Probably not a threat, but we don’t know for sure.”
