My Beautiful Sin Read online

  He turns from me as he heads to the door, and I watch that perfect ass move away from me. I sigh happily. I never thought that he would be mine again, not after all we’d lost when we were young.

  A fist tightens around my heart, and I can’t hold back the swell of fear that once again it’s not going to last. That what we found isn’t permanent. That all the dark shadows of our youth are going to swarm back in to haunt us, and that all my qualms about returning to Laguna Cortez are finally going to come true.

  I’d left Manhattan and returned to my hometown with an assignment to write an article about the Devlin Saint Foundation and my own plan to research the circumstances surrounding the murder of my Uncle Peter a decade ago. But though I’d grown up here, returning was like coming home to hell.

  This town held so much loss for me. My mother died in a car wreck, my father was brutally murdered in the line of duty. And then my guardian, Peter, had been assassinated by a single shot to the head, leaving me lost and alone.

  The night that he died had been the first time that his assistant, Alex Leto, and I had made love, both of us surrendering to grief and loss and lust.

  I’d been seventeen, he’d been almost twenty, and the heat that had been burning between us had finally reached a boiling point. He’d filled me up and sent me reeling. He’d helped me forget about the horror of my uncle’s death, at least for a few precious moments.

  He’d soothed me, and he’d told me with words and his body how much he loved me.

  Then he ripped me to shreds. Because that was the last time I ever saw Alex Leto.

  When I came back to Laguna Cortez ten years later to research those two stories, it wasn’t Alex I found, but Devlin Saint. A new man, a different man.

  A man who swore he would have nothing to do with me because of his dangerous past. And yet here I am in his bed, exactly where I intend to stay.

  You’re in over your head. Find the truth. Don’t trust anyone.

  The vile words fill my head once again, and I reach for my phone, determined to see them in black and white. To change the memory from emotion to nothing more than evidence.

  Whoever sent these words hadn’t broken into my home or assaulted me on the street, and yet the message seems just as invasive. It was sent with the intention to wound me, and the arrow has undeniably hit home.

  Of course, I could be wrong about the text’s meaning. But if it’s not about Devlin and the secrets that surround him, then I really am at a loss. And if it is about him, then he and I have much more to face than simply moving past the ghosts of our youth.

  By the time he comes back to the room with two steaming mugs of coffee, I’m sitting up in bed with my arms around my knees. Since he immediately frowns, I assume my expression isn’t what he’d expected after a delicious morning in bed.

  He puts the coffee on the table then sits on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

  I hesitate, knowing that if I open this door, I’ll be fueling his fears that he and his secrets are a danger to me. But at the same time, if I stay quiet, whoever sent this has already won, simply by driving that silent wedge between us.

  So I draw in a breath, meet his eyes, and say, “We need to talk.”

  His mouth quirks, and that bisected brow rises. “Tired of me already?”

  I laugh, and it feels like a pressure valve has opened. “I need to show you something,” I say, picking my phone up from where it sits beside me on the mattress.

  His expression turns serious. “What’s going on?”

  “I should have showed you this last night, but I didn’t want...”

  I trail off with a shrug, knowing that he’ll understand. It was our first night back together. He has to know that I wouldn’t have wanted to bring anything horrible into this room with us.

  But now I unlock my phone and pass it to him. As he reads the text, I watch his face, searching for a hint of worry or anger or confusion. But there’s nothing. And once again I’m reminded of who Devlin Saint really is. He’s an invention. An enigma. A man with a dark and secret past. A boy who had to learn how to hide not only himself but also his emotions in order to grow into the man he’s become.

  And though I know he trusts me, I can’t deny the small stab at my heart when I see that right now, he’s hiding those emotions from me.

  I can read nothing in his eyes when he lifts his face to mine. “I assume you don’t know who this came from.”

  “No. I looked up the number but there’s no info. I’m guessing it’s a burner—I may see if Lamar can dig deeper,” I add, referring to my friend who’s a detective.

  “No. I can handle it. I have resources.”

  I nod, not surprised that he doesn’t want Lamar involved. Not only does Lamar not know about my past with Devlin, but whenever they’re together, I feel the undercurrent of tension. They’re both protective of me, neither fully trusts the other, and I’d just as soon not be in the middle of that any more than I have to be.

  As for Devlin having resources, that makes sense, too. After all, his foundation not only helps with the rehabilitation of victims of all sorts of crimes, but it also provides support for and access to paramilitary organizations who can assist with rescue missions. So even if the DSF doesn’t have a department that can trace back the number, I’m sure he knows someone who can.

  “Fine,” I say. “No problem.”

  He reaches for my phone, but I pull it back. “I’ll give you the number on one condition. Anything you learn, you tell me.”

  He hesitates, then nods as I text the number to him. When I look up, his expression is harsh, and he stands, running his fingers through his hair as he paces the large bedroom, an icy fury building around him.

  “This is the way it will always be, isn’t it?” His voice is tight. Controlled. “My past following us. My secrets threatening to come between us.”

  I slide out of bed as well, grabbing the T-shirt that he didn’t put on and tossing it over my head. I don’t know why I feel the need to be clothed around him right now, but I do. And once the shirt is hanging mid-thigh, I move into his arms.

  “No.” I shake my head firmly “It’s an annoyance. It’s an intrusion. It’s a threat. But it’s not coming between us.”

  For a moment, I see nothing on his face. Then the light of a smile blooms in his still-brown eyes. He’s not yet wearing the green contacts that are part and parcel of the man he has become. Right now, he’s a little bit Devlin and a little bit Alex, and I wrap my arms around him, holding tight to both sides of the man I love.

  “I bet it’s from someone who doesn’t realize that I already know who your father is.” I tilt my head up, then see him nod slowly, as if considering that possibility. I’m almost positive I’m right, because what else could it be?

  “I suppose it must be. But I honestly don’t know who.”

  I haven’t got a clue either. “There must be people out there who’ve learned the truth about who you really are. Maybe they’re laying low and biding their time.”

  I watch as his demeanor shifts from neutral to ice cold. And once again, I get a hint of how dangerous this man can be.

  When he remains silent, I press. “Who other than Anna, Tamra, and Ronan know you used to be Alex?” Ronan Thorne is his best friend, with whom Devlin served in the military, having enlisted as Alex after he ran from his father.

  As for Tamra Danvers, she knew his mother and sought him out after she died when Alex was still young and essentially held hostage by his father, a notorious crime lord known as The Wolf. She’s watched over him for years, even coming to Laguna Cortez when he did. She worked in community relations at the police department at the same time I was interning there during high school.

  I’d adored her back then and still do now that she works as the Devlin Saint Foundation’s publicity director. Both Devlin and I trust her completely. In fact, she’s the one who held my hand the most in the days after I found out that it was Devlin who really killed Peter,
and I’m forever grateful to her for helping me find my way back to him.

  Anna Lindstrom, the third of the trio closest to him, now works as his assistant. Just a couple of years older than Devlin, she grew up on the Wolf’s Nevada complex with him. She’s also the first girl Alex slept with, and she’s curvy and gorgeous. The first time I saw her in a slinky silver dress, I wanted to claw her eyes out. We’re friendly now, but I have to confess that some jealousy still lingers.

  That, however, is on me. She’s loyal to a fault, and I can’t imagine she would ever hurt Devlin.

  Still, there must be others. “You told me that even though you weren’t in Witness Protection, you had government help setting yourself up as Devlin Saint after your father was killed.”

  He nods. “In exchange for information about the spider web of his operation, yeah.”

  “Well, those people know the truth. And there must be people who surrounded them who do, too. A clerk. A transcriptionist. Someone who didn’t think you deserved to start fresh, not with a father like that.”

  His face hardens, and I wish I could call back the words. Because I know that part of Devlin really does feel that way—that he doesn’t deserve this new life, because he’s been tainted by his dad. And by his own actions, too.

  I take his hand and hold it firmly. “It isn’t true. It isn’t what I believe. But someone might. And if they’ve been watching you, waiting for an opportunity…”

  I trail off, and he nods. “It’s a possibility,” he concedes. “I’ll look into it.”

  I frown, still thinking. “Maybe someone from those days thinks that you’re running an illegal enterprise through the foundation—the sins of the father,” I say, my voice as harsh as his expression. The possibility doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t believe it, but I can’t deny that someone might. The Devlin Saint Foundation is a highly renowned philanthropic organization that has risen to a place of prominence in the five years of its existence. Which means it’s attracted a lot of attention.

  “The DSF grew quickly, and you funded it with your father’s money,” I continue, thinking out loud. He’d inherited a significant chunk of his father’s fortune simply because there’d never been enough proof for the government to legally attach those funds.

  “Because I wanted to clear the taint on those dollars. Do good rather than ill.”

  “I know that,” I say. “But people see what they want.”

  Again, I think about Ronan. They’ve been friends since Devlin’s time in the military, and now Ronan is loyal to the DSF, working with Devlin on many worthy causes. But I can’t help but wonder who he was before. Was he jealous of Devlin’s sudden fortune?

  In the service, they were surely equals. But now Devlin is the name and face behind a world-renowned organization. Does Ronan applaud Devlin’s efforts because he believes in them? Or because he’s biding his time to render Devlin’s comeuppance?

  I force myself to shake off the suspicions. I like Ronan—I do. But there’s no denying that he rubbed me the wrong way early on, suggesting it might be better for me to walk away rather than be a “distraction” to Devlin.

  Yeah, well, fuck him. I’m happy to distract.

  But probably best if I don’t let my irritation morph into a completely unsupported accusation.

  “You thought of something?”

  I look up to see Devlin watching me, so I shake my head. “No. Not really.” I manage a thin smile. “I was hoping for inspiration, but nada. You’re going to talk to your old contacts? Maybe see if there’s someone from your past who’s been paying too much attention to you?”

  “Believe me, I’m going to pursue this. I don’t like threats, and I like them even less when they’re aimed at you.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” I say. “I’m going to see what I can find out as well.”

  “Just leave it be,” Devlin says. “I’ll see if there’s any relevant chatter. But I don’t want you poking around. Someone sent you a warning. That means there may be danger.”

  “Oh, please.” Danger doesn’t scare me, but losing him does. And if he thinks I’m going to just sit around…

  I square my shoulders and meet his eyes. “Someone seems to think that you’ve resurrected your father’s empire. And I have an interest in helping you prove that’s not true.”

  “That’s not your—”

  “More than that,” I continue, cutting him off as my temper rises. “The text came to me, remember? Hell, you’re not even named. Maybe it has nothing to do with you. But if someone is sending me threats, I’m damn well taking steps to protect myself. So don’t tell me what I can and can’t investigate. In case you’ve forgotten, investigating is my job. Reporter. Remember? With bonus points for the police background.”

  I see the irritation wash over him, and steel myself for an argument.

  “Reporter?” he snaps. “Are you actually telling me that this is something you’re going to report?”

  I wince. “Of course not. My point is that I have skills. And I intend to use them.”

  “Dammit, El, you need to stay away from this. From bumping up against any lingering remnant from my father’s enterprise.”

  “I’m not a child, Devlin. This is my—”

  “For fuck’s sake,” he snaps. “I’m not playing protective caveman here. But I need time to talk to my sources quietly. You start digging, and you’re going to let whoever sent that note know that they’ve struck a nerve.”

  I’d been about to speak, but that silences me. He’s made a good point. Just not the point he thought he was making.

  He’s right that if I start looking around, the sender will know I’m interested, and the odds are that they’re arrogant enough to believe they can win me over. And that means that a few inquiries may be just the lever I need to start an avalanche of information.

  “Fine,” I finally say, coolly. “You may be right.”

  But what I don’t do is agree to lay low.

  Chapter Three

  Devlin caught the back of her T-shirt as she started to move past him, pulling her to a stop. “Have you forgotten how well I know you?”

  She looked over her shoulder, her whiskey brown eyes pointedly fixed on his hand knotted in the gray Army Special Forces Tee. “Problem, Mr. Saint?”

  “You need to drop this, Ellie. Let me handle it.”

  “Hmm.” She looked him up and down, a cool gaze so different from the way she usually looked at him. He was certain it was the look she’d used when she’d been in uniform—hell, it was probably part of her uniform. The key component in her transformation from petite woman to hard-ass cop.

  Now, he assumed it was the look she used when interviewing a recalcitrant source. It wasn’t a look he’d expect in a bedroom, but he couldn’t deny that he liked it. She was strong, and always had been.

  But she was stubborn, too, and it was at times like these when that trait could be a real pain in the ass.

  “You’re the one who said I have people I can talk to,” he pressed. “Let me do that.”

  “I have people, too,” she retorted. “And, to once again point out the obvious, the message came to me. There’s a chance it has nothing to do with you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Her shoulders sagged, and when she said, “Goddammit, Devlin,” he thought he’d won, but then she bent forward, tugged her head and arms out of the shirt, and continued on toward the bathroom, completely naked with him holding the shirt.

  “El—”

  “We’re not having this argument,” she said. “You want to keep me here, fine. You’re bigger than me. Hell, use the damn shirt and tie me to the bed. But barring that, I’m going to do what I think is best, and you can do the same. And what I intend to do is identify the fucker who’s sending me anonymous notes like that’s going to scare me.”

  She turned again and disappeared, slamming the door behind her. He started to follow, but stopped, opting to calm down before he did. She was strong-willed,
and so was he, and God knew she didn’t back down from what scared her. On the contrary, she faced it dead on.

  He should have known better than to try to persuade her to back off because she might stir up a hornet’s nest. Ellie poked hornets’ nests just to feel the rush. And he understood why better than anyone.

  The trouble was, she didn’t understand how large and how dangerous this particular nest could be. His world was precarious and there were many people who would like to see him fall. She poked in the wrong place, and she could end up trapped inside a deadly swarm.

  So many secrets. So many lies.

  He told himself over and over that the less she knew, the safer she was. Because the more thread she had, the more she would pull, and the more likely it was that his world—and the world they wanted to build together—would unravel along with them.

  She might not fear those dangerous places, but he did.

  He hadn’t before. Until she’d re-entered his life, he’d been more than willing to flip danger the bird. Because what did he have to lose?

  Now he was vulnerable, where before he’d been steel. Now he had a soft spot. And God knew he would kill anyone who hurt his El.

  He wanted to tell her everything. Wanted to hold her close and watch as she curled up against him, her eyes shut as she took in all of his secrets. He had a fantasy that she would understand. That everything he did, everything he was, would make sense to her.

  But he couldn’t quite believe it.

  Honestly, he was terrified.

  There. As simple as that.

  He hadn’t felt real terror since the day he’d run from his father, but Ellie had brought it back into his life. Because of her, he had something to lose, something to risk.

  More, he had something to protect. And that’s what he was doing, even if part of it meant that he was protecting her from him. From the dark places in his soul that, if she could see, would cast him in an entirely different light in her eyes.