My Cruel Salvation (Fallen Saint # 3) - J. Kenner Page 0,97

sure what you can do standing in a cellar with your arms tied behind you.” There was humor in her voice, but also a frenetic note. She was freaked, and doing whatever she could to stay calm.

So far, she was doing a solid job of it.

As for his current predicament, she wasn’t wrong. “It feels like they took off the cable ties and tied my wrists with rope. Do you know if that’s true? Did you see them tie me up?”

“Yes. They took us out of the car and hit you again before they carried you inside and dumped you on the floor. I didn’t know what they were going to do with me, but then they brought me in here right after you. They pushed me against the pole and then they took out some rope. White. Nylon, I think. And they put my arms behind me and tied my wrists together.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No.” She paused. “My whole body’s going numb, and I’m really hungry, but I’m okay. They tied my ankles to the pole, too. But they didn’t do that to you. I’m not sure why.”

He wasn’t sure either, but he had a feeling he would find out. “Did you happen to see what kind of knot they tied?”

“No idea. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He didn’t know why he was asking these questions. His wrists were bound too tight for him to get any sort of purchase on the ropes with his fingers, anyway.

But depending on the knot, if he wiggled enough, perhaps he could loosen it. He doubted it—surely whoever tied him up knew what they were doing—but he never took competence for granted. Perhaps his captor didn’t know a thing about knots.

“I’m so sorry. I’m no help at all, and now you’re —”

“Hush,” he said gently. “You’re doing great. Just breathe, Brandy. Just breathe.”

“Such excellent advice from the great Devlin Saint.”

The words echoed in the room, and though Devlin twisted, he couldn’t locate the speaker.

There was something about the voice that was familiar, though, and he was certain that when the speaker stepped in front of him, he’d know him. A ghost from the past. A revenant of a former life.

He listened, the footsteps approaching from the rear. He heard Brandy’s shuttered breathing, and wished that he could take her hand. Then the man moved into his line of sight. A stocky man a few years younger than Devlin, but more worn around the edge. His deep-set eyes seemed too large for his small mouth, and his dark hair framed a puffy, babyish face.

He saw it then—the reflection of the child’s face on the countenance of the adult. A man he hadn’t seen in over a decade. Manuel Espinoza. Manny.

Aurelia’s little brother.

“Manny? Is that really you?”

“Well, well. I think I’m flattered.” He had a low voice, deep and resonant. A radio voice. And one that didn’t match the face of the man speaking. “The great Devlin Saint knows who I am. Who would have believed it?”

“Why are you doing this?”

Manny blinked at him, slow and deliberate so that he looked like an owl. “Goodness, Devlin. I thought it would be obvious. So that you’ll lose everything.”

Devlin shook his head, not comprehending. “Do you want money? I’ll give you money. I have no problems there. Let her go, and we’ll talk this out.”

Manny took two steps toward him, got right in Devlin’s face, then reached out and punched him hard in the gut. All of the air left Devlin’s lungs, and he flinched, pulling his knees up in reflex.

Then Manny punched him again, and Devlin knew why his ankles hadn’t been tied like Brandy’s. Manny wanted the illusion of a fight.

He wanted Devlin to kick out, furiously lashing out at Manny. But Devlin wasn’t going to do that. There was no profit in kicking a tormentor who had you tied up. Not unless you had a plan for winning.

And the horrible truth was that Devlin didn’t have a plan at all. He was helpless in a way he hadn’t been for years. Helpless and responsible for Brandy, and that reality weighed heavy on him.

He needed a plan, but to formulate one, he needed to know Manny’s endgame.

“Nothing to say, Saint. Fucking bullshit, that is. You’re just a wolf in saint’s clothing, you fucking prick.”

Devlin made a point of not reacting. Instead, he met Manny’s gaze dead on. “You tied me up so that you could call me names and punch me? What’s the matter, Manny? Never got