her questions, instead he was remembering the feel of her breasts
pressed against him and imagining doing a lot more than just lying on top of her.
The longer the interview had gone on, the more unfocused and distracted he’d become,
and the angrier he became—with himself. In the span of just a few hours, Emily had
managed to become his Kryptonite. For both of their sakes, he needed to get as far
away from her as possible, as quickly as possible. Which was exactly what he would
do as soon as he got out of here.
He shook his head in disgust. Even when she wasn’t right in front of him, she was
distracting him. He shouldn’t be thinking about her right now. He should be thinking
about his father.
Devlin stepped to the bathroom door. He didn’t want to intrude on Alex’s privacy,
but just remembering how pale his father had been earlier had Devlin on edge. He had
to check on him. He carefully pulled the door open and peered inside.
Alex was still in the same spot where Devlin had left him, except that he wasn’t standing
anymore. Devlin’s always-proper father was on his knees on the bathroom floor, rocking
back and forth, tears silently flowing down his cheeks. And clutched between his hands
in front of him, torn on one corner, faded and wrinkled from being carried in a wallet
for decades, was a picture of the only woman he’d ever loved—Carolyn Buchanan.
Chapter Six
----
A FTER SIGNING HER name beneath Alex’s and Devlin’s signatures, Emily slid the form across the counter
to the property clerk. He filed the paperwork and then handed her a thick manila envelope.
She frowned down at the package. Retrieving Devlin’s personal belongings had taken
longer than it took her boss to cave to Alex Buchanan’s request to release his son.
She shoved the envelope into Devlin’s hands. Judging by the way his eyes widened,
she’d probably used more force than necessary. Not that she cared. She was far too
annoyed at her boss’s lack of a spine and her lost chance to question Devlin further
to worry about being nice.
“There you go,” she said. “Your wallet, phone, keys. Everything’s there. Your truck’s
in the police lot on the north side of the building.” Not waiting for his reply, she
turned to his father. “Mr. Buchanan, your reputation as a powerful attorney with even
more powerful friends appears to be justified. The DA demanded we release your son
just as soon as my boss mentioned your name.”
Alex gave her a kind smile with no hint of annoyance at her lack of tact. “It wasn’t
nearly that fast. I had to be brought up to speed on the details of the case first.”
He tapped the briefcase he was holding as if to remind her about the meeting he’d
had with her and her boss, and the case documentation he’d manipulated Drier into
giving him. After reading Hawley’s brief statement taken at the scene, he’d immediately
called the district attorney. “I’m sure the DA wanted Devlin released because he agreed
there was no compelling reason to keep him locked up.”
“I guess that’s a matter of opinion.” Emily crossed her arms.
Devlin slid his wallet into his back pocket and, like a model citizen, dutifully threw
the manila envelope in the trash can beside the bank of elevators.
“If you have more questions for him,” Alex said, “please submit them in writing and
I’ll arrange an interview. In my presence, of course.”
“Of course,” she spit out.
The sarcasm in her voice had Devlin stiffening and his father sending him a warning
glance. Emily’s shoulders slumped. Even she was appalled at her behavior. It wasn’t
right for her to take out her frustration on a man who’d just been given devastating
news about the mother of at least two of his children—if she remembered the complicated
family tree correctly.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Buchanan. You didn’t deserve that. I understand you’re just doing