Page 95 of My Cruel Salvation

“For telling me the truth? It’s not like I couldn’t figure it out on my own.”

“For not realizing this was a trap in the first place. For not having the foresight to suggest we go in separate cars or have Lamar send a cruiser by to take us to the station. You’re here because you were with me.” It was like living with his father all over again. He made a friend, got close to a trainer, and eventually they’d die. It was as if his father could sniff out even the tiniest bud of joy, and made it his mission to pulverize it under the heel of his snakeskin boots.

“This is not your fault, Devlin. And we’re not dead yet.” Her voice was strong, but there was no denying the tremors.

“Not dead yet. Not dead yet?” Manny’s voice rang through the cavernous room. “You want to explain to me how yet fits into this equation? Because yet is bearing down on you pretty damn fast.”

He turned, signaling to someone in the shadows. “Get the girl. Bring her over here.”

“No!” The plea was ripped from Devlin. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“She’s important to you. She’s the bitch you’re fucking’s best friend. And since the bitch isn’t here, this one will do.”

Devlin writhed, kicking out with all his strength, though it didn’t do a damn bit of good.

He watched as they gagged Brandy, then untied her. His heart twisted as they dragged her in front of him, then used a pulley to hang her upside down from the ceiling. And then—oh, Christ—they actually nicked her neck. Not a lot, but enough that the blood would drain out slowly, but not clotting because the gravity would keep it flowing.

He saw her tears and her terror. He wanted to cry out that he’d save her, but what the fuck could he do? Everything he’d worked for, everything he’d built, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do to save this poor, innocent woman.

Manny came closer, then shoved the gun under his chin. “Kick me, and I fire. Close your eyes, and I fire. You’re going to watch her die, Saint. And if you follow the rules, then maybe I’ll kill you once she’s dead and spare you watching your precious Ellie die, too.” He cocked the gun. “Then again, I probably won’t.”

“I will fucking kill you,” Devlin growled. “I swear to God, somehow, you are mine.”

“Um, no,” Manny said. “I really don’t think so. And honestly, the game’s already getting old.” He faked a yawn. “Bo-ring. I think I’ll let you die knowing she’s going to follow, and you were too fucking impotent to do a thing about it.”

He took a step back, then looked Devlin up and down before coming back and placing the gun once again. “You’re no Saint, Alejandro. But if you believe in that bullshit, it’s time to say your prayers. Because the next sound you hear is going to be the blast of my gun.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I twist my mother’s engagement ring on my finger as I stand beside Ronan’s Land Rover. We’re on a hill overlooking the cabin, and Lamar and the team of Saint’s Angels are prepping as I pace, frustrated and scared.

“I want to go in with you,” I tell Ronan when he comes back after leading Christopher to where Reggie and the others are studying his crudely drawn map. “I can’t just wait out here.”

“You can, and you will.”

“Dammit, Ro—”

“No. You listen to me. You are not trained for this. You were a beat cop for what? Five minutes? You can shoot, but you aren’t trained. And once we get Devlin free, do you really want him distracted by trying to protect you? Because my goal is to get him out of there as quickly and safely as possible. Him and Brandy. He needs to be sharp. Do you think he can be sharp if he thinks you’re in danger?”

“Ronan…” This time my voice is weighed down with unshed tears.

His shoulders drop, and for the first time, I see this man look vulnerable. “He loves you Ellie. You’re his weakness. He doesn’t need a weakness right now. Trust me to bring him back to you.”

I swallow. “What if you can’t?”

“Then we can both hate me.”

I blink back tears and nod. “So I’m just supposed to wait?”

He shakes his head. “No. You’re armed. And you’re here watching this area. And Christopher will be with you. I trust him—and yet I don’t. It still might be a trap, and he might be giving an Oscar winning performance. So he’s not going in, and if he does anything off, you take the little bastard out.”

I nod, then check my Glock, making sure I have a full magazine and one in the chamber.

I sigh and lean against the Land Rover. Below, I see a clump of trees and rocks among which, Christopher has assured us, is the camouflaged rear exit to the stone cellar. And it’s through there that the team will bring Devlin and Brandy.

If I’m not going in, I intend to stay right here, not moving a muscle from this site.

Christopher comes over, his hands cable-tied behind his back. “So now we wait,” he says.