My Cruel Salvation (Fallen Saint # 3) - J. Kenner Page 0,91

skills with government support, albeit with full deniability, and he’d earned his freedom from the military by putting those skills to work.

Even with the Angels and the Foundation, he knew he could only make a dent in the pain and corruption in the world, but every life he saved or helped rebuild made it worth it. He’d paid a huge price to have this, not the smallest part of which was walking away from Ellie.

It was worth it, he told himself. Even though she could never be his, the life he’d now built would be enough.

It had to be.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The present…

Devlin took his hands off the wheel and slowly raised them into the air. He glanced sideways and nodded, silently telling Brandy to do the same. She’d gone pale, completely white, and terror seemed to come off her in waves.

He wanted to tell her they’d get through this. That it would be okay, but he said nothing. For one, he didn’t know if his captors had itchy trigger fingers. For another, he was afraid to make a promise that he might not be able to keep.

He knew that they’d been followed by one of the cops assigned to watch the house. For a moment, he let himself hope that the cop had seen the attack and radioed in before casually driving on. But then he heard one of the thugs talking to the other. The pig died at the corner, and Devlin’s hope that their situation had been reported faded to nothing.

“Out of the car, you fucking bastard.” The voice was unfamiliar. Rough. And though Devlin tried to match it to a voice in his memory, he couldn’t. It didn’t matter. He knew that this man must be tied to Joseph Blackstone. He knew why they’d been carjacked, and he was kicking himself for underestimating Blackstone’s men. Without a leader, he’d truly thought they would scatter.

Now, here he was, surrounded by the very species of men that he’d dedicated his life to fighting. And Brandy was the kind of woman he’d spent his entire life trying to protect. And yet here they were, facing death because of the choices he made.

“Come on, bitch,” said another one, yanking open the passenger side, and grabbing Brandy’s upper arm. She fumbled to undo the seatbelt, and he screamed at her, telling her to keep her hands up.

“She’s trying to get out, you son of a bitch,” Devlin said. “Can’t you see she’s strapped in?”

The gunman at his side lashed out, smacking Devlin across the forehead with the side of his gun. “Shut your mouth.”

Devlin’s head rang, and he saw flashes of light from the impact. He wanted to punch the fucker. He wanted to lash out and smash him in the face. One on one, he knew that he could take him. But there were no good odds in this circumstance, and if he did start a fight—even if he had the slightest chance of winning—he knew damn well that Brandy’s presence reduced his odds.

At the end of the day, one of them would be dead, and he couldn’t live with himself if it was her.

Bottom line, he wasn’t a stupid man; he wouldn’t fight. And he wouldn’t let her fight either. “Do what they say,” he told her, glaring at the man and daring him to hit him again. “Just do exactly what he says.”

The man beside him said nothing. Just gestured with the gun for both of them to get out of the car.

“Hands behind your backs,” a third man said. Brandy’s eyes met Devlin’s over Shelby, and the terror he saw there made his gut twist.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, and he hoped desperately it wasn’t a lie.

“The hell you say,” one of the men said.

The two standing closest to each of them used cable ties to bind their hands behind them. Devlin had one more chance to meet Brandy’s terrified eyes before the men pulled bags over their heads, loosely tied around their necks. There were no eyeholes. He was in the dark, just a bit of light sneaking in from the bottom.

Then someone took him by the elbow and shoved him forward. He heard the gunning of an engine, then the sound of brakes. He was told to step up, then shoved roughly inside. Another set of hands grabbed him and settled him on a bench, and he assumed they were in one of the vans he’d seen in the parking lot.

“Sit down,” his captor said. “And shut

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