My Cruel Salvation (Fallen Saint # 3) - J. Kenner Page 0,35

of thing.”

Relief flooded Devlin. “That’s true. There’s a timing factor to a lot of what we do. Not the kind of thing we want to farm out when even ten minutes can make a huge difference.”

“That’s what I figured. And maybe you’re not supposed to use those resources privately. I don’t know. But what I do know is that you will use them. Because this is Ellie we’re talking about.”

Lamar wasn’t wrong. And Devlin would use a hell of a lot more than that to find his answers. “Go on.”

“I want to know what you know. I want your help. Your resources.”

“You’ll have them.”

“Good. Because Blackstone is mine.”

Devlin studied him. “That’s not you, Lamar.”

To his credit, Lamar didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Maybe it is.”

Devlin considered his words. Maybe it was … and maybe one day Lamar would end up as one of Saint’s Angels. God knew he’d be an asset. But if he ever walked that path, it wouldn’t be because he’d taken that first step in rage.

“Come back with me and Ellie,” he said gently. “I’m sure Brandy wants to see you, and you need to be with friends.”

“Saint…”

“We can’t bring her back … but we will make him suffer. I promise you that.”

Lamar drew a breath, then shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Take Ellie home. I need to talk to the team. I’m working this case. Wild horses couldn’t drag me off this case.”

“I believe you. But you don’t need to be working it tonight.”

“I’m only going to stay a bit longer.”

“Lamar. Ellie’s worried.” It was a Hail Mary play, but it worked. The detective’s shoulders slumped and he nodded.

“I’ll be right behind you. I swear.”

“You shouldn’t be driving.”

“I’ll have a black and white bring me by.”

“Your word?”

He inclined his head. “Less than an hour.”

“All right, then,” Devlin said, wishing he could erase the man’s pain. He and the detective had bumped heads more than once, but they were solid now. Even if they weren’t, no one should have to go through this. “Hurry, though. We’ll be waiting.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Oh, God.” Brandy throws her arms around me the moment we walk in the door. “I can’t believe it.” She pulls back and wipes her nose as she aims red and puffy eyes at Devlin. “I’m so sorry. Tracy was awesome and fun and—and I can’t believe this is real.”

“I know,” Devlin says, pulling her into a hug. “Me either.” He pushes her back gently, and I watch as he studies her face. “Are you okay?”

She nods, then runs her fingers through her shoulder-length blond hair, looking as lost as I feel. “I don’t know.”

I frown, as I glance around. “Where’s Christopher? You said he was with you.” I’d felt horrible leaving Brandy alone, but she’d assured me that Christopher had been with her since they learned of the murder, and they’d been holding each other together. “Did he take Jake for a walk?” I look around for the ancient and lovable Labrador mix who usually greets me with a wagging tail and crotch sniffing.

“Jake’s in his crate. I was about to let him out when you pulled up. And Christopher was here when you called, really. He’s been great. But he left a few minutes ago.”

I frown. “Why?”

Her cheeks flush. “He said he had to take care of some stuff.”

I narrow my eyes because she’s not telling us everything. “And?”

Her shoulders sag as she looks from me to Devlin. “It’s just—you know. I think he still feels awkward. I mean, he and Anna were pretty good friends, and then she turns out to be a psycho. And add to that his half-brother and those security leaks … I mean, you made him nervous before. Now he’ll probably be a basket case.”

Devlin’s bisected brow rises. “I made him nervous?”

Brandy tilts her head. “Duh. You’re you. You make everyone nervous.”

I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry, but I appreciate that there’s room today for even a tiny bit of humor and teasing.

Brandy catches my eye and we share a smile.

Then Devlin ushers us toward the living room, and I know that Brandy’s smile is about to fade. “Listen, Brandy,” he says as we all sit. “I’m afraid he’s going to feel more awkward soon. Joseph Blackstone is our primary suspect.”

Her hand goes to her mouth and she shakes her head. “Wait—what?” She looks to me, and I reach out for her hand. She clutches mine, so tight it’s painful, but I bite the inside of my cheek and