Page 35 of My Beautiful Sin

Devlin tightened his grip on his glass, careful not to react as he admitted—only to himself—that he hadn’t expected that. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain that statement, Detective. I’m not quite following.”

“She told me you were The Wolf’s son,” Lamar continued. “I asked if you knew who killed Peter. Since she’s not looking for his killer anymore, it was easy to figure out the rest.”

“Are you saying that she confirmed your assumption that I pulled the trigger?”

“Not overtly, no. She’s protecting you, even though you told her to tell me all of it.”

Devlin leaned back, realizing that he wasn’t really surprised, after all. “And you think she underestimated you.”

“But you won’t.”

“I make it a habit to understand my adversaries,” Devlin said. “And my friends.”

“Which am I?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“When I arrest you, you mean? I’ll need to investigate. I know, but I don’t have proof. Not the kind that will hold up in court, anyway.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” Devlin said. “And I’m sure there are other investigations more worth your time. Peter’s death may be an open case again, but it’s old and not at the top of anyone’s list—except possibly yours, Detective.”

“And now you expect me to sit on it?”

Devlin almost smiled. “I don’t know you well enough to have expectations. If you want to arrest me, I won’t make a scene, but I’m sure my lawyers will have a field day. And if you want to sit down, have a drink, and talk this out, I’m good with that, too.”

For a moment, Lamar said nothing. Just swirled his glass so the remaining liquid went round and round. Silence hung between them until he finally shifted his attention from the glass to Devlin’s face.

“Do you expect me to believe that you weren’t involved in the dirty side of Peter’s business?”

“I don’t expect you to take anything on faith, Detective.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Devlin sipped his whiskey, then smiled. “Actually, it was. But to get to the deeper query, no, I wasn’t involved in that part of his business.”

“Considering who your father was, how the hell was that possible?”

Devlin dragged his fingers through his hair, tugging out the tie that held it back from his face in the process. He bit back a sigh of frustration. He knew Lamar needed to be led by the hand. And he knew Ellie was worth taking the time to handle Lamar. But he didn’t like being interrogated, and if he didn’t watch it, he’d lose his patience. If that happened, Lamar really would start poking around in Peter’s murder. And that was a headache Devlin didn’t need.

“Peter was my boss and my mentor,” he began. “He was embezzling money and selling drugs, and that shit didn’t sit with me. But he treated me like a son, and he loved Ellie. You never knew him, of course, but he would have done anything for her. That car—Shelby? He probably lost a hundred grand just because he spent his time dealing with that car instead of running his operation.”

“He could have asked you to step in and handle things.”

“No. I told you I didn’t touch that, and I meant it. My father sent me to learn, but I made it clear to Peter that I’d walk away if he made me get involved with anything more than the legitimate side of the business. I saw what he was doing, sure. But I didn’t help.”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe. It was another lifetime ago. Why would I lie about that?”

Lamar ignored the question. “What did you do after you shot him?”

“You mean after Peter was shot and I left town? I joined the Army.”

“Did you go back to Nevada? To your dad?”

“Not then. I went later. Told him I’d joined the military. Was in Sniper School. Gave him a bullshit story about how I was learning skills that would help me when I took over his business. And that the military would give me credibility. He bought it, and I earned time away from the bastard.”

“Then someone killed him.”