Page 55 of My Cruel Salvation

The irony wasn’t lost on him. The twisted reality that—because of an order he gave—a team was in Chicago right now preparing to kill a man. A man who deserved it, yes. But it was still Devlin who had signed that death warrant.

Some in this room might call him a hypocrite, but he himself had no doubts. Neither did Tamra or Reggie or Ronan or any of the other Saint’s Angels in that room. Most important, he knew that El was behind him. That she supported not only who he was, but what he did. And that she understood the deeper story. The one he wouldn’t tell the crowd tonight, but that informed everything he’d ever done, including leaving her all those years ago.

He squared his shoulders and began again. “Once upon a time, a young woman ran away from her exceedingly wealthy parents. She met a man. An exotic man. A man with power and charisma who took her off the street and brought her to his home. She married this man, got pregnant, and had a boy. And somewhere in there she learned the truth about her husband. That he wasn’t a good man. That he hurt people, and not only considered it a business model, but that he actually took pleasure in it.”

He swallowed, then continued. “She got up the courage to run, taking the child with her. That child, of course, was me. Daniel Lopez is a relentless man, and he had soon found her. He killed her. He killed her parents, and he took me. I was very young, but he made me a wealthy man, as I inherited my grandparents’ fortune. And try though he might, The Wolf never got those funds. That money—built over generations through hard work and legitimate investments, is the only money I touch personally.”

He let his eyes skim the room. “Did I inherit The Wolf’s fortune when he died? I did. I also made it my mission to disappear, and for years I was successful in hiding. I knew The Wolf’s lieutenants and enemies would begrudge me that ill-earned fortune, and so I resolved to change my identity. As you know, I became Devlin Saint. And during that time I was in hiding, someone killed my father. I could have become Alejandro Lopez again, but I wanted no part of that life, and no connection to that man. What I wanted was to erase the past. But that, of course, wasn’t possible.

“So I did the next best thing. I founded this organization.”

Slowly, he cast his gaze over the entire room. “As for the money I inherited from my father—money I consider to be tainted—I have used it solely for this foundation, to make good from the bad. To support those who need help. To fund programs and services to help the lives of people that my father and men like him hurt and took advantage of. My father used and abused people, then threw them out like garbage. Now, the money that he was so proud of earning is being used to undo as much of the damage he caused as possible.”

He found Ellie, and held her gaze as he continued. “I would not be the man that I am were it not for my father. It is his sins and the sins of men like him I am trying to stop and remediate. I am not my father, and I damn sure do not admire that man. Under no circumstances would I use what I inherited from him for myself. The idea makes me sick. But I will gladly funnel it into programs that help destroy what he built by any and all means at my disposal.”

His eyes were locked on Ellie, and he saw her wipe away a tear. She knew all the ways—the secret ways he did his work, the ways he could never announce publicly—and yet the pride on her face shone bright, and that was the best validation of his life he could hope for.

He drew in a breath, feeling renewed as he said, “I have a goal. To make the world a better place. A safer place. I am not my father. I know it. One day, I hope the world understands it.

“I won’t deny that it was a painful shock to have the Humanitarian of the Year award pulled from me at the eleventh hour. But not because I now have an empty space on my mantel. No, my pain comes from the unpleasant realization that the world judges me—judges all of us—on things other than our own actions. On where we were born. On the color of our skin. On the type of job we hold. And, of course, on who our parents were.

“One of the goals of the DSF has always been to fight injustice and to help the victims of active criminal activities. Today, I am announcing the creation of the Value Within program to help individuals rise above the circumstances of their birth by helping to remediate poverty and improve education. This program will work directly with business of all sizes, both with regard to training and the continuing education of their workforce, but in recruiting them to join our mission.”

He continued, laying out the skeletal details of the new program before straightening his shoulders and sweeping his gaze over the room.

“In sum, I would like to thank the Council for giving me a new purpose. An award would only sit on my mantel. But pulling the award—well, that has led to the creation of another program that has the potential to help millions. And about that, I cannot be sorry.

“I appreciate your time,” he added with a nod to the room. “We have information packets and a press release about the Value Within program available. And, of course, more drinks and dessert. Thank you.”

The room began to buzz, and the spotlight on Devlin clicked off. He forced himself not to draw in a breath, not to show any weakness at all.

But he did look for El, and the light he saw in her eyes eased any lingering doubts.

Then she was heading toward him, weaving through the crowd with her attention focused entirely on him. He started toward her, then hesitated as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the simple message from Ronan—Done.

Blackstone was dead.

Relief slammed through Devlin, so potent it almost sent him tumbling down the stairs. Then Ellie was standing in front of him, telling him he was amazing and asking what was wrong, and the answer was nothing—right then nothing was wrong.

He took her hand and pulled her to him. “I love you,” he said. “I need you.”

He was wired, he knew that. From the speech. From the message. From the weight of the secret he’d been keeping being finally released. He needed her—damn social obligations, he’d make the rounds in a few minutes. Right then, all he wanted was El.

He drew her up the stairs to the second floor, then into the elevator so they could get to his office quicker.

“Devlin, what are you—” But he silenced her with a hard, bruising kiss that had her moaning and then melting against him, so that she was just as eager as he was when the elevator opened in front of his office.

They were through the doors and at his desk in what felt like seconds, and he lifted her onto his desk, pushing her legs apart as she struggled to pull down his fly. He hesitated only a second to look into her eyes. To see more than hear her whispered, “Yes, oh, God, yes,” before he clutched her hips and tugged her closer, then lost himself inside her.

Christ, she felt good. He looked at her face, drinking her in. “Open your eyes,” he said, then just about lost it when she did, and he was overwhelmed with the love and passion he saw reflected there.

“Harder,” she whispered. “Devlin, I need it, too.”

He bent over her, pushing her back onto the desk and pulling her knees up. His cock was inside her, his hands on her breasts, and his mouth claiming hers with a kiss as wild as fucking.

He was close—so damn close. And he knew her body well enough to know that she was, too.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against her mouth. “Come for—”