Take the Key and Lock Her Up (11 page)

The potential consequences of
that
had him swearing every curse word he knew, in several languages.

He believed in what the company stood for, in what he did. The money was incredible.
He regularly pulled in seven figures in any given year. And he had to admit that had
been part of the attraction when he’d joined. But he couldn’t do what he did if he
didn’t feel deeply that what he was doing mattered. He
saved
lives with the work he performed. Last year alone, he and his fellow enforcers had
prevented dozens of terrorist attacks that would have killed hundreds, if not thousands,
of innocent people in half a dozen domestic cities, not to mention the attacks they’d
foiled in foreign countries. And fighting terrorism was only one small aspect of his
work for EXIT. So the idea that his boss might even consider that Devlin would ever
betray his fellow enforcers was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? Right now, he didn’t know what
to think.

He opened the photo app on his phone and zoomed in on the notes from the morgue. Kennerly
had given an extremely detailed, somewhat clinical assessment of each prison cell
and the condition of the skeletons that were found in them. Most of it was useless
to Devlin and didn’t offer him any clues. But at least now he knew the victims were
all female, between the ages of thirty and forty. That struck him as odd, given that
Hawley seemed much younger, probably barely in her twenties. If the victims were from
the same killer, wouldn’t they be in the same age range? It seemed like he’d heard
something like that about serial killers—if that’s what this was. Too bad he couldn’t
ask his brother Pierce for his opinion. Pierce used to hunt serial killers for the
FBI before he burned out on violent crimes and chose to work on cases that wouldn’t
haunt him every night.

Devlin filed the information about Hawley away in case it was a clue that could help
him in the future. Unfortunately, right now, even after reading Kennerly’s notes,
he had exactly what he’d started with—absolutely nothing—except the new concern about
what O’Malley was saying to Cyprian.

He sat in his truck for a few more minutes, debating his next move. But without more
information, there seemed to be only one move that made sense. Stick to routine, do
what was expected so he didn’t raise any red flags. Which meant he’d go to Alex’s
house and pretend everything was fine, that he didn’t have any reason to be worried,
that he was happy and normal like everyone else. He’d been pretending that for years.
What was one more night?

Chapter Seven

F
RIDAY NIGHTS AT
the Buchanan home base—the sprawling one-story ranch house where Alex and Austin
lived—were usually a time of laughter and fun. No matter what each of the family members
was doing during the week, it was understood that Friday nights belonged to their
father. Unless there was a damn good excuse, each son was expected to be at Alex’s
house to grill steaks on the back deck.

Too often these days, the excuses were racking up. Obligations at work or a teething
toddler, in Pierce’s case, meant that only half the family was there on most Friday
nights. But tonight everyone was in attendance. It should have been a night of good
food and shared stories, especially since twelve-month-old Nikki was already settled
in her port-a-crib in one of the guest rooms. But the gruesome discovery in the basement
of an abandoned house had put a dark pall over the entire gathering.

Alex had insisted everything proceed as usual, except that he’d held the dinner hour
to wait for Austin and Devlin to get back from the police station. As Devlin sat at
the long dining room table and took a bite of steak, he glanced at Alex at the head
of the table. Pierce’s wife, Madison, tried to keep up a normal conversation with
Matt’s new bride, Tessa. But Alex resisted any attempts to draw him into the exchange.
He was silent, his eyes downcast, his plate of food untouched.

Devlin washed down a half-chewed piece of steak with a healthy swallow from his beer
bottle. Today called for something much stronger than beer, but Alex would frown on
that. Devlin leaned toward his oldest brother, Braedon, sitting on his left.

“Has he been like that since he got home?” Devlin whispered.

“Pretty much. He explained what had happened at the police station, and about those
poor women you found in that basement, and that you saved that young mother from her
abductor.” He lightly squeezed Devlin’s shoulder and gave him a crisp nod, as if to
thank him for being a hero.

Devlin returned his nod, feeling like a total hypocrite as he did so.

“After that,” Braedon continued, “Alex announced dinner would wait until you and Austin
got here. But he hasn’t said much of anything else since.”

In spite of Austin’s quip to O’Malley about wanting to get back to his food, he hadn’t
eaten any more of his steak than his father. Instead, he stared at Alex, his mouth
getting tighter and tighter. He finally shook his head and dropped his fork to his
plate with a loud clatter, startling Tessa beside him.

Alex’s head shot up and he looked questioningly at his youngest son.

“I don’t get it,” Austin said. “Why are you so depressed about this? She dumped you.
She dumped all of us. It’s been twenty-one freaking years, Dad. Get over it already.”

Devlin rose from his chair, prepared to haul his brother out of the dining room and
kick his ass, wheelchair or not.

Alex aimed a stern look at him. Devlin hesitated, but respect for his father had him
sitting back down.

“That’s a fair question.” Alex’s deep-blue gaze landed on each of them before returning
to Austin. “I loved your mother deeply. For eight years we built a life together,
and my love for her grew every day. She may have stopped loving me by the end of our
marriage, but that didn’t change
my
feelings for her. It might seem silly to you, but I’d always hoped that she would
finally find the right person for her, someone who could soothe her troubled spirit,
make her happy. All these years I kidded myself with the fantasy that she was happy.
And now, to find out she was . . .” His throat worked as he swallowed. “I’m grieving,
son. Not for my loss, or yours, or even for your brothers’. I’m grieving for how Carolyn
must have suffered. No matter what she did to you, to me, to us, she didn’t deserve
to be locked up like an animal and tortured and . . . killed.
That’s
why I’m sad. The woman I loved was murdered. And for the first time, my vow of ‘till
death do us part’ really hits home.” He pushed back from the table and stood, his
eyes suspiciously bright and watery. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a devil of
a headache and am going to go lie down.”

After Alex disappeared down the long hallway, everyone turned an accusing glare at
Austin.

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re doing the dishes.” Matt rose from his seat on Austin’s left. “By yourself.”

Austin’s brows drew down, but he didn’t argue as everyone else left the dining room,
not even bothering to clear their dishes as they normally would.

Devlin took pity on his brother and helped him clear the table and clean the kitchen
while the others gathered in the family room. They worked in companionable silence
together, Devlin rinsing the dishes in the sink and handing them to Austin to load
in the dishwasher. This wasn’t the first time they’d ended up helping each other with
chores. In spite of their nine-year age difference, the two of them had always been
close. It wasn’t that way with his other brothers, not like with Austin.

Devlin had very few memories of life before becoming a Buchanan, but the few he had
weren’t good. His mother had died when he was three. His father married Carolyn just
a few months later. She’d brought Braedon and Pierce with her from prior marriages,
but they were thirteen and nine. He couldn’t blame them for not wanting to play with
a four-year-old. But he’d never felt more alone.

A year later, his father was dead and Carolyn had married Alex. His new dad did everything
he could to make Devlin feel loved and wanted, but Devlin resisted Alex’s efforts
for years. He supposed he was trying to protect himself for when Alex died, or left,
like his other parents had done. He assumed Carolyn would end up carting him off to
a new father, and he’d have to start all over again. When that didn’t happen, he’d
slowly begun to warm up to Alex. It had taken years for him to feel like part of the
family, and to become friends with his older brothers. But he’d never truly fit in,
and that feeling had followed him through school, and later to college. It was one
of the reasons he’d been such a good candidate when EXIT offered him a deal he couldn’t
refuse.

Later, after the twins were born and Austin faced physical challenges no child should
ever have to face, Austin developed the sarcastic, defensive shell that he showed
the world. But Devlin could see the same hurt inside his brother that was inside him.
Neither of them felt like they belonged, and because of that, he and his little brother
had become fast friends. Even to this day, if Austin needed someone to confide in,
it was usually Devlin he called.

“I don’t understand how he could have loved the egg donor this much.” Austin’s words
broke through Devlin’s thoughts, yanking him back to the present. Since Austin had
spoken so quietly, Devlin assumed he hadn’t meant to say them out loud, so he didn’t
respond.

Austin’s derogatory label for his mother didn’t fool Devlin. Growing up with significant
health issues had given Austin a lot of time to sit and think and resent his mother
for not being there when he needed her most. He had probably suffered just as much
as Alex because of Carolyn’s abandonment.

No, that wasn’t true. No one could have suffered as much as Alex, not if he truly
loved Carolyn. Devlin knew that for a fact because he’d loved that deeply once, a
long time ago. And since Arianna’s death, he’d never been the same either.

Pierce and Braedon had both found out about her during an impromptu visit to Devlin’s
dorm during his junior year. And since he’d just asked her to marry him, he’d sworn
them to secrecy, preferring to introduce her to the family and make the announcement
at the end of the semester. He was worried that his father wouldn’t approve of him
getting married because he still had a year left in college. So he’d wanted to wait
until he could introduce her to Alex in person, figuring his father would have to
love her as much as he did and would accept the engagement. He needed his father to
understand that Arianna wasn’t interfering with his life. She
was
his life.

Until her tragic death a month later.

Austin swatted him on the shoulder with a dish towel. “What are
you
moping about?”

Devlin locked away his thoughts about his former fiancée and forced a smile. “Women.
What’s that saying? Can’t live with them or without them?”

Austin snorted. “Like you’ve ever had a problem in that department. Every time you
visited me in college, all those sexy sorority girls I was trying so hard to get to
notice
me
fell all over themselves trying to get
you
to notice
them
. I dreaded every one of your visits.” He shook his head in disgust, but his grin
told Devlin he was teasing. Mostly.

“That was a long time ago. I’m much more mature now. I’ve learned to appreciate women
and take things much slower.”

Austin gave him a droll look. “It was only three years ago. And you’re obviously still
a ladies’ man. Every time I’ve been at your house you’ve had a different woman coming
out of the bedroom.”

Ladies’ man.
He’d earned that reputation, he supposed. He’d gone on a binge of self-destruction
after Arianna’s death. But he’d quickly realized the key to survival wasn’t drowning
his sorrows in whiskey or a beautiful woman. The key was to keep himself so busy with
work that he didn’t have time to think about what he’d lost.

Still, the ladies’ man label had stuck. And he’d found it useful to keep the illusion
alive. It kept Braedon and Pierce from worrying about him and the darkness that had
nearly consumed him after Arianna’s death. It also kept his family from expecting
more of him. The fact that he supposedly made a living taking wealthy people on tours
to exotic locations served only to enhance his reputation of not taking life seriously.
It was his cover, his way of keeping his family from asking questions he didn’t want
to answer. They all thought he was shallow and immature. Sometimes that stung. But
keeping his family in the dark was how he protected them, so it was worth the occasional
humiliation.

He maintained a Cheshire cat grin, as if secretly thinking about all his conquests.
“You’re making that up,” he teased. “When’s the last time you were at my house?”

“Last summer. And I still remember the sweet little dish you had that time—brunette,
leggy, tiny waist, great big—”

“Shut up.” This time Devlin was the one to snap a dish towel against his brother’s
shoulder.

“What was her name? Shandra? Sharon? Sherry?”

Devlin laughed, genuinely amused that his little brother was describing an enforcer
as if she were a bimbo. In truth, they’d been in the middle of planning a joint operation
when Austin had shown up. After seeing his brother on the security cameras outside,
Devlin had suggested that Shannon pretend to be his girlfriend to explain her presence
and, he hoped, to encourage his brother not to stay very long. She’d thrown herself
into the role, surprising both Austin and Devlin when she’d stepped out of his bedroom
naked, pretending shock and embarrassment when she’d discovered Austin was there.

The ploy had worked. Austin was gone within a minute, his face a fiery red even while
he stared unabashedly. Not that Devlin could blame him. He’d stared his fill as well,
and he and Shannon had ended up sharing a lot more than mission plans after his brother
left. But they’d both known it was just for the night; no strings, no promises. And
he hadn’t seen her since. Last he’d heard, she’d gone deep undercover on a mission.
She could be anywhere in the world right now.