Page 107 of My Beautiful Sin

I see them exchange a quick glance before Tamra says, “You know how the foundation helps finance paramilitary support in rescue efforts against human traffickers and the like.”

I nod, even though it wasn’t a question. I’d learned from both Devlin and my own research about the scope of the foundation’s work. Everything from helping victims with job-training to rescue efforts to cutting off the head of the monster at the source of the horrors.

“Obviously much of that work is planned in secret. But on at least three occasions, operations—and victims—have been moved before rescue forces arrive.”

“Someone’s leaking information.”

Tamra nods. “It’s possible the leak is from someone outside the foundation. One of the groups we partner with. And it’s also possible that someone has hacked into our systems or has managed to get information through surveillance.”

I make a derisive noise. “I can’t imagine one of Devlin’s operations would have that kind of a weakness.”

“Which is why we think it’s a person,” Anna says. “Someone gathering and selling information.”

I nod. “To that Blackstone guy.”

She frowns. “We don’t have proof. But yes. Devlin thinks he’s selling information in advance of raids.”

“Making a profit by warning people,” I say.

“I’ve known him for years,” Anna says. “I wouldn’t put it past him, but I also didn’t get the sense that was his game.” She shrugs. “Not that anyone can really read Joseph Blackstone.” Her mouth twists. “Or Devlin Saint, for that matter.” She frowns, then studies me.

“What?”

“Sorry.” She shakes her head, then leans forward, her elbows on her desk. “How are you two doing? With the social media storm, I mean?”

It’s Wednesday, and Devlin’s takedown of Tarkington was on Sunday. Devlin and I have both been working hard and spending our spare moments together. And neither of us has been spending much time online.

Still, we’ve gotten reports, mostly from Brandy and Tamra. Apparently Devlin had been a trending topic on Monday with some people flaying him online and others praising him as a protector of the people.

“We’re fine,” I say. “I don’t get why people are even remotely interested in seeing snippets of the lives of folks they don’t even know. But to each his own.”

“And fame is such a fickle beast,” Tamra says, scrolling through her phone. “Yesterday was much calmer and there’s hardly any posts about you two so far today.”

“He’s off. Go on in before he gets on another call.” Anna reaches for the button to open the door, but they’re already in motion, and a moment later, Devlin strides out of his office.

As many times as I’ve seen him, and still my breath catches in my throat. He stands straight, wearing a suit as if he were born to it, perfectly tailored gray silk with a green tie that complements his eyes. He’s wealth and power, yes, but there’s more to him. The fire in his eyes. The wildness of his hair. He’s a warrior, and I have no doubt that in the end he’ll find whoever is fucking with him. And he’ll completely destroy them.

He’d done as much for Brandy with Walt. What more would he do to save his foundation and the people it protects?

I shiver, thinking about the assassins who took out Myers. I remember what Devlin said—that he applauded them because they served justice where the system had failed. Those assassins were probably mercenaries for hire.

And right now, I’m certain that given the chance, Devlin would happily pay men like that to stop the leaks and protect the foundation.

“I’m glad you could get away,” I say an hour later as we’re walking barefoot on the beach, sharing the cup of ice cream we’d decided on in lieu of coffee.

“You’re a welcome break in my morning. Believe me.”

He’s turned up the cuffs of his slacks, and while that might transform another man from corporate warrior to corporate beach bum, with Devlin, he looks just as powerful with the surf kissing his bare feet.

“From what Anna and Tamra were saying, it’s not exactly the best time.”

“Other than giving orders and making a few phone calls, there’s not much I’m able to do at the moment,” he says. “Which is why you’re a pleasant break from the frustration.”

I laugh. “It’s nice to have a purpose.”

He stops, then holds out a spoonful of mint chocolate chip for me. I take it, enjoying the sharp coolness on my tongue. “How is Brandy?”

“I haven’t seen her since Monday morning,” I admit. It’s now Wednesday, and I feel the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Christopher went with her to LA for some meetings, and she told me they were having dinner there and staying at a hotel. I’m thinking they decided to stay two nights. Either that, or they’re holed up in Christopher’s Airbnb.”