Page 34 of My Beautiful Sin

“No. No way. Lamar, you can’t believe that.”

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I love you. But I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t.” He blows out a noisy breath. “I need some time.”

“But—”

He takes my hand, silencing me. “I’ll make you one promise, though. I won’t do anything without telling you first. Okay?”

I nod, mute, my vision blurring from the tears that are filling my eyes.

“You guys go ahead and eat. I need to think. I’m sorry,” he adds. “I know you wanted me to say something else. I know you wanted me to be someone else. But I can’t right now. I can’t process any of this. I have to figure this out for myself. And to do that, I really need to go.”

Chapter Twelve

Devlin was awake when the security system buzzed, signaling that someone had stepped onto the property. He checked the feed on his phone, unsurprised when he saw that the midnight visitor was Lamar.

After all, Devlin had been expecting him.

He moved to the entryway and opened the door as Lamar was lifting his hand to ring the bell.

“Detective.”

Lamar met his eyes, said nothing, then stepped past Devlin and into the house.

Devlin casually closed the door, biting back the urge to say something. It wasn’t worth the pissing contest. Not when the underlying issue was Ellie. Her relationship with Devlin. Her friendship with Lamar.

“Tell me why,” Lamar demanded, without preamble.

Devlin didn’t pretend to misunderstand the question. “Because I took enough from her when I walked away.”

“After you shot Peter.”

Devlin smiled, but neither confirmed nor denied. “I can’t take away her friends now, too,” he said instead. He’d meant every word when he told Ellie to tell Lamar the rest, but that didn’t mean he was going to confess to a murder in his own home. “And that’s what would have happened. She would never have told you my secrets. Not without my okay. And that would have put up a wall between you. You might not have realized it, but she’d know. And eventually, that invisible barrier would wear down the foundation of your friendship.”

“So it’s all about her.”

He met Lamar’s eyes. “It’s always been about her.”

Lamar made a harsh noise in the back of his throat. “I could believe that. Or I could believe you’re a manipulative son of a bitch who’s stacking the cards in his favor to make sure he has an ally in the police department while he’s facing a murder charge.”

“It’s a theory,” Devlin agreed. “Hell, it’s not even a bad one. But do you really believe that’s how I’d stack the deck? You know how much I’m worth. Do you really think there’s no one in the LCPD—hell, in the mayor’s office or even the governor’s office—I couldn’t have in my pocket if I wanted them there?”

Lamar’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure you’re actually making your case, Saint.”

“I’m not trying to convince you, Detective. I’m only making sure you have all the angles to think about.” They were still in the entryway, but now he headed for the living room. The doors were open to let in the cool breeze as a small fire burned in the corner fireplace. “I’m going to have a drink. Want one?”

“What the hell. Bourbon. Whatever you’ve got. Straight up.”

Devlin poured him a glass, then filled his own before settling into a leather armchair and nodding for Lamar to take the sofa.

“So what’s your angle?” the detective asked as he took a seat. “You said you were giving me all the angles to think about. Which one is yours?”

“I already told you. Ellie’s my only interest.”

“I don’t buy that. She’s going to hurt like hell if I arrest you for murder.”

“I can’t argue with that. I can only say that in my judgment, Ellie would be the most hurt by lying through default to her friends. It would hurt her soul. It would hurt her friendship with you. And ultimately, it would hurt us. Because it would be like an open wound in our relationship. Ellie knows the score.”

“Well, you judged her wrong. Because she didn’t tell me. Not about the murder, anyway.”