Page 24 of My Cruel Salvation

“Yes,” I say softly. “That’s true.”

“But that’s not something my enemies care about. There are men who lost the opportunity to take control of my father’s empire when I shut it down. And there are men who were friends of my father who want revenge against the man who killed him.”

“Even if they know you used to be Alejandro, they can’t know that you’re the one who killed The Wolf.”

“You know better than that,” he says, and he’s right. Daniel Lopez was killed, and Alejandro inherited. Then Alejandro disappeared. It’s a safe bet that The Wolf’s friends always believed that Alejandro killed his father.

But as there was no Alejandro to be found, no one could exact revenge.

Now Alejandro is back as Devlin Saint. And that means the target on his back just got bigger. But by how much, we still don’t know.

“What about Ronan and Tamra?” I ask as we walk down a sidewalk on our way back to the apartment. “Or Reggie,” I add, referring Regina Perez, the only other member of Saint’s Angel’s who I’ve met so far. I don’t know many details about her background, but I know she does undercover work. And as for Ronan, he’s as much of a bad ass as Devlin. Both of them were in Special Forces and have the skills to prove it.

I glance at him sideways. “They’re all doubling down on their resources, right? Trying to figure out not only who leaked your identity, but also who else might be gunning for you?”

“Way ahead of you,” he says, which doesn’t surprise me at all. “Everyone on the team is working intelligence. We should have a list of potential threats and sources for the leak within forty-eight hours.”

“Good,” I say. I crumple the last of my trash and score a few points when I hit a nearby trashcan. “You know, it’s possible the list isn’t that long. After all, most of the men your father worked with would be pretty old now. They might have retired to some ranch in South America or a villa in Greece. Or they could be in prison. Hell, they might be chugging along just fine in the underworld, and figure the risk isn’t worth the reward of going after you.”

“I don’t disagree,” he says. “But we won’t know until we know. And if there is a threat, I need to be on top of that.”

“Damn right,” I say. “Because—”

I bite off the word as he shoves me behind him. Almost instantaneously, I see the red jogger hurrying forward. Terror spikes through me, and a few yards away a man and a woman seem to magically appear from a nearby doorway.

“Mr. Saint!” the jogger says, breathless, as the man—Charlie, I assume—lifts a hand draped with a light sweater that I’m certain hides a gun. The woman, Grace, is only a few feet away now, having jogged closer behind the threat. I start to move around Devlin, but he holds me back, his arm an impenetrable barrier.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” the man blurts out. Hardly any time has passed, but everything has changed. The tension in the air around us fades. And though Charlie and Grace are clearly still on their guard, this no longer feels like a threat. “I just—I just had to say that I’m sorry. For what they’re reporting, I mean.”

“I appreciate that,” Devlin says, and though I doubt the jogger can tell, I can hear the tension in his voice clearly enough. He’s still uncertain, and he’s playing it exactly right as Charlie and Grace come even closer.

I ease forward, too, and Devlin takes my hand, and I know he’s positioned to leap in front of me if he needs to. He won’t need to, though. This guy’s no threat, a conclusion that’s borne home when he tells Devlin how he’d been living in a shelter that the foundation had partnered with to provide job training. Now he works data entry at an insurance company and has his own apartment.

“They’re assholes for trying to make you look bad,” the man says. “I just had to say thanks.”

“And I’m glad you did,” Devlin said, his voice smooth and friendly. “It’s wonderful to know the Foundation is making a difference.”

They exchange a few more words before the man heads off. I see the tension drain from Devlin’s body and the way he nods at Charlie and Grace, acknowledging both them and the fact that the threat—such that it was—is over.

The he turns to me, and all of a sudden, I’m fighting tears. “He was nice,” I say, having to speak in order to force back a flood of relieved tears. “I thought—but he was nice.”

I draw a breath, calming myself as Devlin pulls me close. “I didn’t like that,” I say, tilting my head back to look at him. “Being scared. Devlin, you have to be careful. Because honestly, if I lost you again, I don’t think I’d survive.”

He strokes my hair. “You’re strong, baby. You would.”

“Maybe,” I concede. “But I wouldn’t want to.”

Chapter Eleven

Devlin’s arm is around me, and I’m laughing as he tries to kiss me in the hall. “Security cameras,” I tease. “Do you really want a picture of the owner canoodling with one of his tenants?”

“I don’t want any picture that involves canoodling. But with you I would make an exception. Care to canoodle with me once we get inside? For that matter, care to let me film your canoodle?”

My brows rise as I slide the key into the lock. “Mr. Saint, I had no idea that was something that got you going. Maybe we can—”

I bite off my words as I push the door open, then gasp when I see the man standing in the middle of my apartment. Devlin pushes me aside, his gun up and aimed in less than the split-second it takes for reality to slam into place.

“No,” I shout. “It’s okay. It’s Roger. It’s my editor.”