Free No Hero by Mallory Kane Page B

job.
    She dropped her gaze to her hands. She couldn’t deny the reality of what she’d done to him. She’d attacked him, flayed him in front of the cameras, and she’d done it gleefully, self-righteously. Her exposé had very nearly cost him his job.
    Wait a minute . Her brain seized upon that thought. Why hadn’t it? She looked up.
    “Why didn’t you lose your job?” she asked, then winced. Obviously, Dev wasn’t the only one too tired to watch what he said. “Sorry. Never mind. None of my business.”
    She stole a glance at him. An onlooker might have thought he hadn’t reacted to her question, but she saw the infinitesimal hardening of his jaw muscle. The silence was deafening as he drove through the darkened streets toward the WACT building.
    “Thibaud had my name changed legally, using my real social security number.”
    Her mouth dropped open. He’d actually answered her. She pushed past the shock and replayed what he’d revealed. So the beat cop who’d taken him in all those years ago, Thibaud Johnson, had protected him. He’d made sure Dev didn’t have to live his life under the shadow of an assumed identity. She shifted uncomfortably at the unexpected insight. The fact that she’d missed that detail didn’t paint her journalistic skills in a very flattering light. Or her, either.
    He couldn’t possibly resent her any more than he already did. And she did want to know how he’d managed to come out smelling like a hero. In for a penny, in for a pound . “What about the charges that were pending against you in Washington state, for your stepfather’s death?” she asked.
    He scorched her with a look. “Come on, Connor. Are you trying to tell me you didn’t follow the case?”
    “From here?” She’d kept up with it as best she could—while pretending it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a high-profile case, even locally in Seattle, so the few details she’d collected were sketchy. “I heard your stepfather’s death was ruled self-defense. Plus, weren’t you a juvenile at the time of his death? That must have helped.”
    “The pending charges were dropped,” he ground out. “The advantage of having a good lawyer.”
    The harsh words bit her like a blistering winter wind. Somehow, she doubted a good lawyer was all there was to it. Her heart squeezed painfully. She didn’t like the uncertainty creeping into her mind about him.
    My God. Had she gotten it all terribly wrong?
    …
    Dev grimaced as he pulled into the WACT parking lot, wanting to kick himself. He hadn’t meant to give her the satisfaction of responding to her questions. He never talked about his past. Ever . Not to anybody. But he’d been preoccupied with Jimmy’s death. Three of his scholarship kids in ten days. There was no way these homicides weren’t linked. Someone had targeted the boys because of their connections—to the center, to the scholarships…or to him.
    “Son-of-a-bitch,” he muttered as an awful thought occurred to him. He retrieved his cell phone and hit the speed dial. “Penn,” he said when she answered. “Have you seen Nicky today?”
    “No. Why?”
    “Jimmy’s dead.” He spoke in a low tone, hoping Connor wouldn’t hear.
    “Jimmy? Oh my God, poor Jimmy.” He heard her voice thicken with emotion. “Oh, Dev, three of your four scholarship nominees. Nicky is—”
    “Yeah, I know.” He cut her off. “Is he there?”
    “No, but Tracy’s been helping him study. She’s here now, helping Katie learn her lines for the play. I’ll ask her…see if she can find him.”
    “Good. Call me back right away and let me know. I don’t want another phone call about a dead kid tonight.” He hung up.
    “Another dead kid?” Connor said. “So it was one of your teens.”
    Dev groaned inwardly. “Is this how you research all your stories—by eavesdropping? No wonder you have trouble keeping your damn facts straight.” He threw the driver’s door open and vaulted out.
    He slammed the door, cutting