Page 31 of My Cruel Salvation

Not that Tracy’s murder wasn’t hitting Devlin hard, too. It was. Tracy had been one of his, dammit. A member of his staff. An intern who would have undoubtedly been offered a permanent position when she graduated. She’d been a vibrant, caring women and someone had taken her from the world.

Worse, they’d taken her because of him.

Her blood was on his hands as sure as the target he’d painted on Ellie’s back. He knew it. And he was damn sure everyone in the room knew it, too.

“This isn’t your fault,” Tamra said, her soft voice at his side pulling him from his thoughts and memories.

“Isn’t it? I’m not so sure.”

“Devlin, you—”

He held up a hand. “Does it matter? Even if it’s not my fault, it’s still my burden.”

Her mouth pulled into a tight line as she nodded. “You’ve borne so much. I don’t want this on your shoulders, too.”

She placed a hand on one of those shoulders, and he felt his chest tighten with the weight of his grief. He had borne too much. So many years of loss and anger and pain. When Ellie had come back into his life, he’d let in a few wispy rays of hope that, finally, the pain would stop.

But it never stopped.

He was the man that destiny had made him. And he would always bear the mark of his father.

Tamra knew that as well as he did. She’d been a friend to his mother. Had come to him when he was still Alejandro. And she’d become an essential cog in the wheels that made up both the foundation and Saint’s Angels. She knew his secrets. More important, she understood why he had them.

“They killed her as a message to me.”

“I know.”

It was all so obvious. So wickedly simple. A package delivered to Tracy’s address. She’d probably opened the door to sign for the courier, then noticed that the package had Devlin’s name but her address.

She would have lifted her head to tell the courier that she wasn’t the proper recipient. Maybe she noticed that he was wearing a full-face, special effects quality latex mask. It hadn’t been obvious from the image her doorbell camera caught, not with a cap pulled down low over the courier’s eyes. Nothing that would have made her hesitate to open the door and sign for a package.

But she’d probably seen it in that last moment. The fake face and nefarious purpose. Fear would have spiked through her, and according to the forensics team, she’d taken a step back.

That’s when he’d lifted the gun that had probably been concealed by his jacket. He’d fired—swift and accurate. And Tracy had gone down, the package tumbling to the floor with her.

It was a simple box, the bottom and top wrapped separately, and the top secured in place only by string.

The police hadn’t waited for Devlin to arrive to open it. They’d called in the bomb squad just in case and removed the twine holding the lid in place on the five-by-five box. Devlin and Ellie had been in the air when Lamar had radioed. His voice had been strong, but Devlin heard the pain underneath.

“An eye for an eye,” Lamar had said, relaying the words that had been included with the eye itself. “With interest still owing.”

His voice had caught on a sob, and Devlin had squeezed Ellie’s hand, his blood turning to ice.

“That’s what it says,” Lamar had whispered, as Devlin burned with rage. “That’s all it says.”

“We’ll find who did this,” Devlin had promised, letting rage seep through him as he pictured the masked courier calmly gouging out Tracy’s eye, opening the empty package, and placing it inside with that damned note. He could hear the steel in his voice when he added, “We’ll find him, and we’ll make him pay.”

“Yeah,” Lamar had said. “We will.”

Now, as if he had caught the scent of Devlin’s memories, Lamar lifted his head, then looked at Devlin over Ellie’s shoulder. She turned, too, her eyes red and her face tear-stained. She whispered something to Lamar, then hugged him before she stood up and moved to Devlin’s side.

“How’s he doing?” Devlin asked.

“He’s ripped up,” Ellie said. “I am, too.”

“I know.” He pulled her into his arms and drew strength from the feel of her against him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she murmured, her voice soft against his chest.