My Beautiful Sin

by J. Kenner

  Devlin scoffed. “Don’t be naive, Detective. They sent that text to Ellie because she and I are together. It’s not about what they know about me, it’s what they know about her. She’s my weakness. If someone wants to get to me, the way to do it is through Ellie.”

  Lamar tilted his head, studying Devlin. “And that’s another reason you’re cool with me knowing the truth about who you are. Because now I know the kind of people who might have their eye on you two.”

  “And I’ll take whatever help I can get making certain that Ellie stays safe.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Devlin watched Lamar head to his car, a sleek Lexus hybrid that looked like it was regularly detailed. He didn’t wave, and Lamar didn’t look back, but the air between them felt clear, and the tension that he’d lived with from the first moment they’d met was gone.

  He’d always be a bit jealous of Ellie and Lamar’s relationship, but he knew now it was only because Lamar had been her friend during those lost years when Devlin had been far away. The years when she grew into the woman she’d become—strong and smart and resilient—and he envied the time Lamar had shared with her.

  He was about to go back inside when he saw the man standing there, leaning casually against a lamppost on the opposite side of the street, his blond hair gleaming in the light.

  Ronan.

  The moment Devlin saw him, he felt the pressure of a fury he’d been holding since Ellie had ranted at him on the sidewalk, and deservedly so. But his anger wasn’t directed at El. No, the storm had swirled up around Ronan—around the things he’d said to Ellie behind Devlin’s back.

  Devlin had pushed the dark thoughts down, building a wall between himself and his emotions the way he’d learned to do when he was living with his father. When any sign of an unwelcome emotion could get him beaten. Or, worse, could get one of his friends beaten. Because hadn’t Daniel Lopez learned early on that the best way to control his boy Alejandro was to threaten the people he cared about?

  Now, he relied on that instinct once more, intentionally clamping down on his emotions as he signaled for Ronan to come inside.

  “What was the detective doing here?” Ronan asked as he crossed the threshold.

  “He knows,” Devlin said simply.

  Ronan’s eyes went wide. “About you? About The Wolf? Or—”

  “He knows who my father is. Who I used to be.”

  Ronan made a scoffing noise. “He’s a hell of a lot better detective than I imagined if he knows all that. You should recruit him to your team.”

  “And he thinks he knows I killed Peter,” Devlin added without missing a beat. “I didn’t disabuse him of that notion.”

  “I see.” Ronan nodded slowly. “You’re sharing that little gem with everybody.”

  Snap. And there it was. The anger Devlin had been holding back bubbled over. “Do you want to tell me what you think you’re doing?”

  Ronan’s brow furrowed, his head and shoulders moving back slightly as he studied Devlin, his posture tense even as his expression stayed casually neutral. Ready for anything, just like they’d been trained. Even through his irritation, Devlin had to admire his friend.

  “Maybe you should tell me what you’re talking about.” Ronan’s tone matched Devlin’s. Flat. Hard. No nonsense.

  “A distraction? You told Ellie to cut loose from me because she was a distraction?”

  Ronan’s hands rose as if in a gesture of surrender. “I like her. I do. And in case she didn’t tell you, I said that before Vegas. Before you two were outed at the track. And before she’d learned who your father was and what happened with Peter. So back off and cut me a little slack.”

  Devlin drew in a breath, felt some of the tension drain from him as he nodded. “She thinks you could be behind that text I tried to trace.”

  “Oh, fuck no.” Ronan shook his head. “That’s not my style, and you know it. But I’ll be honest, man, I’ve got my worries.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  “Maybe you’re standing too close to see the big picture, but I’m not. Think about it. She’s a reporter. She was raised by cops. If she’s not a distraction, she’s a danger. Is she that good a lay that you’re willing to risk everything you’ve built?”

  Devlin took a step closer, reminding himself that Ronan was his friend, which was a damn good thing. If he was anyone else, Devlin would have already broken his nose. “One, don’t ever speak about her like that again. Two, as far as I’m concerned, she’s the only thing worth building anything for.”

  To his credit, Ronan didn’t even flinch. All he said was, “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Devlin nodded slowly. “She’s been the voice in my head for the last decade. Pushing me forward. Driving me to make a mark. To fight back against what my father set in motion.”

  “I get it, man, you know I do. But do you really think she’s going to feel the same? That she’s going to approve of the kind of mark you’re making? You know the kind of woman she is. The way she thinks.”

  “I do. That’s why I trust her.”

  “I guess you must. You didn’t only tell Ellie your secrets, you practically threw a goddamn party and announced everything to all her friends.”

  Devlin dragged his fingers through his hair. “I made a judgment call.”

  “Her roommate. Now the detective. If that’s the result of your judgment call, no offense, but I’m questioning your judgment.”

  “Fair enough. That’s why I keep you around. But I trust them both.”

  “Why?”

  “What about you? Are you going to rat me out? Spill my secrets?”

  To his credit, Ronan looked appalled by the very thought. “You know I wouldn’t.”

  “Even if I piss you off? Even if you think I’ve crossed a line?”

  “You know the answer.”

  “Tell me the why,” Devlin demanded.

  “Because of who you are, you asshole. You and me, we’ve been through a lot of shit. Hell, we’ve walked through fire together.”

  “And you think those three haven’t?”

  Ronan’s head tilted, and Devlin pressed on. “Even if they don’t care a thing about me—even if they think I’m the devil incarnate—”

  “And they might.”

  “They still won’t say a word. Because if they do, it would hurt Ellie.”

  “The cop, too?”

  Devlin hesitated, then nodded.

  “Then I guess you’re right. You don’t have to worry about them.” He met Devlin’s eyes, his as hard as steel. “All we have to worry about is what’ll happen when Ellie learns the rest of your truth. I hope she’s worth the risk.”

  “She is,” he said. But he couldn’t deny that Ronan was right about one thing. As far as Ellie Holmes was concerned, Devlin was a selfish sonofabitch. Because even though Ronan didn’t say it out loud, it wasn’t just Devlin’s neck on the chopping block.

  If it turned out that Devlin had misjudged Ellie or her friends—if the decisions he’d made with his heart rather than his head caused everything he’d built to come crashing down around him—then Devlin knew damn well that he’d never, ever forgive himself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I’m wearing PJs and in bed when Brandy knocks lightly on my bedroom door. “Are you awake?” Her voice is soft, barely a whisper.

  “Come on in.”

  She pushes the door open and steps in, her damp hair leaving a dark spot on the shoulders of her nightgown. “I thought a hot shower would help, but I still can’t sleep. You either?”

  I shake my head and scoot over to make room for her on the bed. “It’ll be okay. Lamar won’t say anything. He wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “Agreed.” She squeezes my hand. “He just needs time to process.”

  I draw a breath. “You really believe that?”

  “Do you?”

  I shrug. “I’ve been asking myself that since he left. And I almost believe it. But like he said, it’s an open case
again. Ever since they realized Ricky Mercado gave a false confession, it’s a mystery to be solved.”

  “You think Lamar’s going to turn Devlin in to score cold case brownie points?”

  “No,” I admit. “But I went through the Academy with him. And even though I didn’t stay on the job, I know that world. So we talk about it a lot. Lamar has a code, and overlooking murder isn’t part of it.”

  “Guess I know what you two will be talking about tomorrow.” She yawns and stretches. “Ask him before you get out of town. It’s going to be super awkward if you drive all the way to LA before he tells you he’s going to rat your boyfriend out.”

  “Thanks so much for the comforting thought.”

  She laughs, then hugs me. “Gallows humor. Seriously, do you want to get drunk and watch a movie?”

  “Want? Yes. But I should probably try to sleep.”

  “Me, too. I’ve got to be out of here by eight for a full day of meetings, and then Christopher and I are going for wine and appetizers.”

  “Nice,” I say with a grin.

  Brandy grins and blushes. “Yeah. It is.” She leans over and gives me a hug. “It’s going to be an early night for us, though. Christopher’s knuckling down with his keyboard and writing tomorrow night. So shoot me a text and let me know if you’re having dinner at home, because I’ll—” She cuts herself off with a nod to my phone, the screen of which has just lit up with a text. “Gee. I wonder who that can be.”

  She slides out of bed with a little wave and a waggle of her eyebrows. “Be good. And tell him I said hi.”

  “Ha ha—oh.” I can only see part of the message on the lock screen, but what I see makes my stomach twist. “Lamar went to see him.”

  Her eyes go wide. “In that case, you better ask him where he buried the body.”

  I can’t quite manage a laugh, and once she’s out the door, I unlock my phone and read the entire message.

  * * *

  Had a guest tonight.

  Lamar.

  Did he tell you?

  I frown. I’d hoped for more.

  No. Do I need to

  come claim the body?

  I bite my lower lip as I wait for his response.

  Touch and go there

  for a while,

  but all is good.

  * * *

  I read that twice, just to make sure.

  Really?

  He cares about you.

  Can’t fault him for that.

  I close my eyes and draw a deep breath.

  Thank you.

  Feel free to invite me over.

  You can express your gratitude

  in a more tangible way…

  LOL.

  If you send an

  eggplant emoji,

  you’re never

  living it down.

  * * *

  No emojis, baby.

  Just the real thing.

  The real thing is

  very, very tempting.

  But tonight’s an

  anticipation night,

  remember?

  Pretend I just used

  a sad-face emoji—

  and go check your door.

  My eyes narrow.

  You better not be standing

  there wrapped in a bow.

  Because we made rules,

  and if I break them,

  I’ll feel terrible about myself,

  and it will be all your fault.

  Do you trust me?

  * * *

  Always.

  Then check the door.

  And baby? Sleep tight.

  I smile as I send him a heart emoji, then wait for the three dots indicating that he’s replying. But there’s nothing.

  I frown, already sad the conversation has ended. But I do what he says and go to the front door. I open it to find a dozen roses on the doorstep. For a moment, I just stand there, my heart melting a little. Then I think to look out into the dark.

  I don’t see him, but I know he’s there, and I blow him a kiss before taking the flowers inside, shutting the door, and sighing with such intense pleasure that I’m sure my heart will swell so much it will burst right out of my chest.

  Brandy comes out of the kitchen carrying a glass of wine. She pauses, her eyes dipping to the flowers before she flashes an impish grin. “He may be complicated,” she says, “but he’s a keeper.”

  I cradle the flowers. “Yeah,” I say. “He is.”

  “Hang on. I’ll get you a vase.” She puts her wine down on the hall table then hurries back toward the kitchen. I start to follow but pause when the phone I’m still holding vibrates in my hand.

  I grin as I put the flowers next to Brandy’s wine so that I can unlock the screen and read his message. Except it’s not from him, and my body goes cold as I read the words: Don’t you know you’re fucking a dangerous man?

  Last night, I hadn’t wanted to ruin the sweetness, but I also knew that the vile text was probably sent from a burner, and the only way for Devlin to track it was that weird Type-O thing. So I forwarded him the text and the number it came from. He’d replied in seconds, and though I’d hesitated before checking, I ended up laughing.

  Our asshole texter says:

  “You’re fucking a dangerous man.”

  But technically, you’re not.

  At least not at the moment.

  But if you want to let me

  in your bed after all…

  I’d laughed, and a few minutes later, he followed up.

  I talked to Ronan. I talked to Lamar.

  It’s not either one of them, I’m certain.

  We’ll find the bastard. I’m on it.

  In the meantime, sweet dreams.