Page 21 of My Fallen Saint

Chapter Nine

Iwatch his taillights disappear, feeling a mixture of both relief and loss.

Relief at being alone so that I have the space to deal with my crazy emotions.

Loss that he hadn’t insisted on driving me. Alex would have. But Devlin?

I don’t know. How could I? Before tonight, I’d never met Devlin Saint. Not really.

To be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve met him now. Was that Saint who touched me? Saint who matched me breath for breath? Who took what he wanted as I’d intended to take from Mr. GT?

It must have been. The Alex I remember had always been tender, even when we’d clawed at each other, desperate to get undressed. We’d been wild and unbridled, but we hadn’t burned.

But oh, God, I’d burned tonight. And from little more than the touch of a finger and the heat of his mouth.

A shiver cuts through me as I remember, and I order myself to push it aside. I’d come out tonight looking for a fast fuck and a violent orgasm, but the point was that I’d be in charge. And, most important, that I’d walk away.

Saint had ripped my plan to shreds.

He’d stolen my control, shattered my will, made me long for a man I’d lost long ago, and then he’d coldly and firmly ordered me to go.

Why?

Why seek me out if he wasn’t going to stay? Why tease me with the knowledge that the man I’d once loved has been hiding in plain sight all these years? Why lift the mask when the revelation only raises more questions?

For that matter, why wear the mask in the first place?

And the biggest question of all, why reveal himself to me if he’s only going to order me to leave?

I start to lift my hands in frustration, then remember the bag hanging from my arm. For the first time, it occurs to me that maybe he’s given me something that actually answers those questions. I open it eagerly, only to find the Sperry Topsiders I’d abandoned by the beach.

I laugh as I slip them on, overwhelmed by the absurd irony. I’m not Cinderella. Alex hasn’t been my Prince Charming for a very long time. And from what I’ve both read and now experienced, Devlin Saint isn’t in line for that throne, either.

Don’t play with fire, he’d said, and in the moment, I’d thought he meant the heat between us. Now, I think he has something to hide. More than that, I think that Devlin Saint just gave me the story of a lifetime. A billionaire philanthropist with a new identity and a buried past? Yeah, I think The Spall will be all over that.

As I start walking toward the hill, I pull out my phone and dial Roger, certain he’ll green-light the story. Of course, I’ve completely forgotten the time difference, and the phone rolls to voice mail.

“Roger, it’s me. Listen, you’re not going to believe—”

I cut myself off, the reality of what I’m saying suddenly hitting me as that shining question once more lights up my mind: Why?

“—I, um, sorry,” I continue into the phone. “Got distracted for a sec. I just wanted to say that you’re not going to believe the bullshit they pulled on me today, rescheduling the interview with Saint. But I’m on it. All’s good. I’ll check in when I have more. Right. Well, bye.”

I click off, feeling like an idiot, not sure if I’ve done the right thing, either as a person or as a reporter. But I can’t throw Alex to the wolves. Not now. Not yet. Because story of a lifetime or not, I’m not ready to screw him over. I wish I were. I should be. I shouldn’t give a flying fuck if whatever spotlight I might have the power to create shines so long and hard on him that he withers under the glare.

But the truth is that I still feel something for that prick. For Alex, anyway. For the man I used to know.

And until I know why he’s now Devlin, I can’t risk mucking something up for him. I’m not sure if that makes me kind or foolish, but I don’t suppose it matters. The bottom line is that I’ve got another story to chase, even if Roger doesn’t know about it yet.

And there’s one other thing that I’m not going to do—I’m not leaving Laguna Cortez.

Did he really think I would? Why? Because Devlin Saint— the Devlin Saint—asked me to? Not hardly. I’m a reporter, and that means it’s my job to get to the truth. Besides, I’ve never been one to bow to authority. I’ve been around cops long enough to know just how wobbly those with authority often are.

Or maybe he thought I’d leave for the Alex I used to know. In that case, he sorely misjudged. Alex ripped my heart out and fed it to the wolves. He might have been my first, but that didn’t give him a magical power over me. Then again, perhaps it did. He broke me, after all. But that didn’t exactly put him in my good graces.

So that was that. No reason to leave, and lots of reasons to stay. Brandy. Lamar. The profile. And, most of all, Uncle Peter.

All I have to do is let go of the past and treat Alex—no, Devlin—like any other source.