by J. Kenner
“We’re working on tracking them down,” Lamar says, which doesn’t surprise me at all. My Watson is good at his job, after all.
“Can you forward all of that information to me?” Devlin asks, looking up from scrolling on his phone, presumably skimming texts from Ronan.
“Already done,” Lamar says. “Reciprocity, remember?”
“Of course,” Devlin says with a nod.
“Listen, obviously this is hot. I’m heading to the precinct.” He looks between the two of us. “Watch your backs. He’s not in his penthouse in the city. He might be at one of his other residences, and Chicago PD is going to check on that. But he could be heading here, too.”
Lamar’s focus shifts to me. “Stay with Devlin, Sherlock. You, too, Brandy. Stay safe. If Blackstone sent this email to turn the attention on Christopher, it might be that something’s about to go down with Blackstone that’s new. I want you all covered. You should get back to the house.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Devlin says. He extends his hand to Lamar, and to my relief, Lamar takes it easily. I’d been a little worried that he blames Devlin for Tracy’s death, even if subconsciously, and that easy handshake goes a long way toward alleviating that concern.
As soon as he’s out of the room, I want to ask all sorts of questions of Devlin, but I can’t because Brandy is there and she doesn’t know it all. We could pull her into the secret, but after the blow she’s had today, I really don’t think it’s the time to lay anything else on her.
Devlin must be thinking the same thing, because a moment later, there’s a quick tap on his door and Reggie enters without waiting for an invite.
I realize then that Devlin had texted her. “Could you stick with Ms. Bradshaw while she says her goodbyes, then take her home and stay with her? She’s had some bad news and I don’t want her alone.”
“Of course,” Reggie says.
“Reggie does some freelance security work for the foundation,” Devlin tells Brandy, which is more or less accurate. “She’ll stay with you until Ellie and I can make the rounds, say our farewells, and leave the party without any questions being raised.”
I almost point out that our escape for a quickie has taken longer than we’d intended. So there are already probably speculations and questions galore.
I say nothing, though. Just hug Brandy and promise we’ll be there soon.
As soon as she and Reggie are out the door, I toss back the rest of the Scotch. “I know we need to go mingle, but tell me the rest of it first. Blackstone didn’t send that email, did he?”
“Oh, he sent it,” Devlin says. “But only the one time. And only to Christopher as an order.”
“Lamar’s news wasn’t a surprise to you, was it? That was the text you got downstairs, wasn’t it?”
He nods. “Penn and Claire have a team in Chicago, remember? Ronan’s there, too, along with Charlie and Grace and several you haven’t met yet.”
“I figured. I was wondering why Reggie was here, actually, instead of with them.”
“She drew the short straw,” Devlin says, and I laugh.
“Fair enough. But I’m still confused. Was the mission a success? Is Joseph Blackstone dead?”
“Yes.”
It’s a short, to-the-point answer, and relief floods through me. “So tell me the rest of it. How did Lamar get that email?”
“While the team was on-site, they went through as much of his electronics and paperwork as they could.”
“They found those photos of Christopher.”
He nods. “It breaks my heart for Brandy, but there’s really no doubt that Christopher drove the SUV. There were more images and other email chains on the computer—a lot more—but Ronan only forwarded a few. The rest are being analyzed.”
“He might have been coerced,” I say.
“True. Possibly even likely. They weren’t Photoshopped or staged, but someone got in place ahead of time and took the photographs. You’ll note the use of the special lens so that Christopher is identifiable through the window despite the tinting.”
“Good God,” I say. “That probably means that Blackstone got his brother to do that, then had the balls to save the evidence so that he could use it against him later if he ever needed to.”
“Exactly.”
I drag my fingers through my hair, ruining my careful styling. “We know that Christopher testified against Joseph. The two didn’t like each other. My money’s on coercion.”
“Well, there’s more.”
I grimace, but nod for him to continue.
“There was some evidence that Christopher was trying to get back in good with his brother. There was even some suggestion that his testifying on the drug charges was planned. Part of a longer con so that Christopher could be working with Joseph, and yet anybody watching would have reason to believe that he would never do such a thing because the two were estranged.”
“That’s absolutely nefarious.” Again, Brandy fills my thoughts. “Was he working a long con on Brandy?”
Devlin’s expression is utterly sad. “I don’t know. I hate the thought of her getting hurt, but I don’t think there’s any other possible outcome. He either truly loved her, in which case it doesn’t matter, because he’s on the run now, or he was scamming her all along to get close to either you or me or possibly her business. We may never know. Either way, she gets hurt.”
“This is so fucked up. And what about reciprocity? You didn’t tell Lamar a thing.”
He frowns. “I know. But it’s one thing to tell him information. It’s another thing to tell him information that was obtained illegally. I’ll filter it down to him as I can, though.”
I nod, wishing Lamar could just know everything right now, but I understand why he can’t.
“You should go home with Reggie and Brandy. I just texted that you’re on your way down. They’re still in the lobby talking with Tamra.”
“Devlin—”
“I’ll be along soon. Brandy needs you, not Reggie.”
Since he’s right about that, I don’t argue. “You’ll really come soon? Or are you going back to your place?” Since Blackstone’s dead, he might want to be in his own place tonight.
“I’ll see you later,” he says firmly. “The good news is that Blackstone and several on his team are dead. The survivors aren’t going to come after us. I know those men, they’re useless without a leader. They’re paid soldiers going to the highest bidder. They’ll find a new boss and move on. But I don’t want you to be alone tonight, either. So I’ll come by later. We’ll make sure Brandy’s okay, and Lamar, too, if he stays another night. I hope he does. We could all use another night in front of the television, I think.”
I move into his arms and hold him tight. “I love you,” I say again.
And one of the reasons I love him is that he thinks about my friends, as well as about me.
“I just can’t believe it,” Brandy says as I hand her a cup of green tea. I brought a muffin too, one of the chocolate chip ones she had baked yesterday, and I set it on the coffee table in front of her. “I mean, I can’t wrap my head around it. It’s all so surreal. Christopher. My Christopher, and he actually tried to kill you?”
I sit on the edge of the coffee table, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees so that I can see her face as we talk. Her eyes are swollen from tears, and we’re both still in the dresses that we had worn to the press conference and cocktails. Her nose is running, and she uses the back of her hand to wipe under it.
She sniffs, then looks at me, her smile rueful as she reaches for a napkin. “I’m a mess. Reggie must think I’m totally lame.”
“She does not,” I tell her. “You’ve been through hell.” She’s not there to say so herself, as she’s in my room so that she can make some calls. I think it’s also so that Brandy and I feel free to talk. I appreciate it. I like Reggie fine, but neither Brandy nor I know her well.
“Maybe he was only trying to scare me,” I say, bringing m
y Pollyanna side back around to the original conversation. “It worked, but that may have been all it was.”
“Well, since he’s disappeared, I guess we’ll never know.” I hear the vitriol in her voice. She trusted this man. He was the first guy she’d ever gotten truly serious about.
She’d believed that they had a future. That he was the patient, caring guy she’d been looking for all this time. A man who understood her issues. Not like her father, who shunned her after she’d been raped. And not like the only other man she’d ever gone to bed with, a jerk who hadn’t listened to her fears and hesitations, but who’d just used her for a fuck.
And God knows he wasn’t like Walt. The man who’d drugged and raped her, and set the stage for Brandy’s issues with men. His ugly face had popped up recently at our favorite bar, and Devlin had beat the shit out of him, raising Devlin to the level of hero as far as Brandy was concerned.
“You have nothing to regret,” I tell her. “Nothing on you, anyway. The man you dated—the man you maybe were falling in love with—looked like a prince as far as you were concerned. Sometimes people get fucked up. And it sounds like Anna and Joseph fucked with Christopher’s head big time.”
“You’d think I would have seen that, though, wouldn’t you?” She shrugs. “How could I fall for a guy who was so easily manipulated by his brother and that bitch?”
“Do not put this on yourself,” I say firmly. “This isn’t any more your fault than it was when Walt did that to you.”
She nods and hugs herself. “I know. I really do know. I’m just having a pity party.”
I flash her a smile. “Well, you’re an amazing hostess, so I guess any party you throw will be a good one.”
As I hoped, she laughs. And because we’re both overly sad, overly tired, and overly stressed, that one little burst of laughter turns into a full-on fit of giggles, then snorts, then tears, until I’m on the couch beside her and we’re hugging each other and cursing all relationships across the board.
“I can’t even look at you and be jealous,” she says. “I mean I’m jealous of where you are now with Devlin, but you had to go through hell to get there.”
“I know. We did.”
“But you’re together now, and all your issues have just gone away. I mean, I know you had to work to get through them, but at least their gone.” She shrugs. “I guess I’m a little jealous, after all.”
“Well, you’re right that it was a long time coming.” But she’s also right that Devlin and I are a team now. I may not ever be Saint’s Angels biggest cheerleader, but I’d be a hypocrite to say it shouldn’t exist, not when I’m cheering Joseph Blackstone’s demise this very moment.
“The truth is, every relationship has problems. Although I’ll grant you this one is a lot more complicated than most.”
The corner of her mouth curls up, but I don’t get a full-on laugh. I probably don’t deserve it.
“Do you think I should have seen a sign?”
“No. I already told you. I really believe that he loves you. I think this is just one of those star-crossed relationships where everything else in his life works against you. What would you do if he came back?”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, God, do you think he will? He tried to kill you. Surely he’s gone, right?”
“Probably,” I say, and honestly, I hope so. I don’t think he’d try to hurt Brandy, and now that Joseph’s dead, he’s probably not interested in hurting me. But unless he’s behind bars, I don’t want to see him again.
Brandy’s shaking her head. “Wow. If he came back. That’s—that’s just a no. I mean, unless he could somehow prove that he wasn’t driving that car, then we are absolutely done. I can’t think of any explanation that I could get behind, not even that he was coerced by his brother.” She looks at me and meets my eyes. “I need a guy with more integrity than that. And honestly, I need trust. How would I ever trust him again?”
“I get that,” I say. “And I don’t think you had any reason to see anything weird.” I bite my lower lip. “But I think maybe I did.”
Brandy nods. “That time you walked in on him and Anna, and they were supposedly plotting a book and talking about a character hitting someone with a truck.” She grimaces. “I guess truth is stranger than fiction.”
I roll my eyes.
“So Anna wanted you gone so that she could have Devlin, and Christopher was helping her?”
“I think it was more that Joseph was using Anna to get information about the DSF. She was behind those security breaches—feeding him information. And Christopher was trying to get back in tight with his brother.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But Devlin and I talked about it some. He thinks that Christopher legitimately started writing thrillers set in the kind of world that they all grew up in. But because some of his bad guys turned into good guys, he started to get an urge to meet his brother again. Then they started hanging out together more and more. I’m guessing he was a little awed. Maybe he wanted to make up for testifying against his brother. Or maybe that was some sort of long con to make it seem like the brothers were estranged.”
Her mouth twists. “Devious. But possible, I guess.”
“The bottom line is he did a shitty thing. Maybe a lot of shitty things. But I still believe that what he felt for you was real.” I hesitate, then add, “Were you in love with him?”
She sips her tea, an obvious ploy to avoid answering right away. “I don’t know. But it still hurts. Would it hurt even if it’s not love?”
I reach over and take her hand. “Yeah,” I say. “It would.”
She hasn’t touched her muffin, so I lean over to reach for it, but I’m stopped when I hear the code key being pressed to disarm the system. I turn and lean sideways so that I can see into the entrance hall. The second I see that it’s Devlin, it’s like a weight’s been lifted, and only then do I realize that I was worried he might be wrong about Blackstone’s team. They may be more than happy to take revenge instead of scattering to the wind.
He comes into the room and takes my hand, but his attention is on Brandy. “Are you hanging in there?”
“By a thread,” she says. “But I’ll get better.”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “You will.” He looks between the two of us. “Do either of you need anything? I need to go make a quick phone call.”
I shake my head. “No, go right ahead.” He kisses my forehead and gives Brandy’s shoulder a squeeze before he heads upstairs to our temporary bedroom.
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, De
tective?”
“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.”
