Page 47 of Love on the Line

Chapter 15

Devon tappedhis fingers on the armrest of the leather recliner in his theater room. His first meeting with Anne had gone well. She’d been clearly touched by his interactions with the brats in the pediatric ward, and she’d agreed to meet with him at Toni’s. Good thing. He’d been eating their garbage food and sucking up to them for over a month preparing to make an impression on her. Now he’d have the chance.

He flipped on his new hundred-and-ten-inch television, and the sound of sirens filled the room as reporters stood in front of a burning apartment building. The cameras panned to show firefighters dousing the place with water from the truck hoses as they tried to contain the fire. The female reporter walked over to a couple holding a small child and started asking questions. Devon tuned her out and focused on the flames behind them. He could almost smell the black smoke. Took him right back to the night he’d torched his home.

His family got what they deserved, to die together. If only his mother could see him now. She would regret devoting all of her time and attention to his loser older brother. So what if Owen was an all-star athlete? The trophies, the awards, the constant doting on his every wish still made Devon sick to his stomach. Didn’t matter that he was the one with the brains. His parents only cared about sports.

Nothing was worse than the sick smell of whisky always on his father’s breath. On good nights, it was only verbal abuse from him. “Why can’t you be more like your brother? No boy spends so much time reading. Must be something wrong with you.”

At least they paid for it in the end.

Devon had been twelve years old at the time. After he’d snuck out of his friend’s house, where he was supposed to be spending the night, he’d slipped back into his own home. Passed out drunk, like always, his parents didn’t waken. His pulse raced as he doused the hall carpet with gasoline and tossed a lit match on top.

He left the house and crouched behind bushes at the edge of their property. A rush of adrenaline surged through his body when the dusty old curtains in his parents’ bedroom went up in flames.

His gaze darted to his brother’s room. Owen, the super athlete, frantically yanked on the window as flames blazed behind him. Wouldn’t do any good. Devin had secured it. His gut did a celebration dance, and he grinned.

Time stood still as he held his breath, his gaze riveted on the smoke and orange flares. Glorious in its spreading frenzy, the fire overtook the house. Ashes blew in his face, bringing with them the scent of burning wood, plastic, and chemicals. He’d killed before, but never a person or with fire. Who knew what a high it would be?

When sirens sounded, he dashed back to his friend’s home, where everyone was still sound asleep. He wanted to yell or scream to let out the sheer joy of the night. Instead, he curled up in his sleeping bag, having to settle for playing the scene over and over in his head while shivers of delight shook his body.

His parents and brother had all died in the fire, and no one had ever suspected Devon. Why would they? People in rural areas back then didn’t lock their doors, and he’d spent the night at a friend’s house, which the police verified. He knew enough to cry crocodile tears when he heard about the fire, and the media ate it up. Might be some of the best press he’d ever had.

He flipped off the television and grabbed the keys to his Porsche. A fast drive was in order. He backed the car out and stopped in the driveway, eyeing the five-car garage and his huge Tudor home. Fuck them all, look what he had now. Nobody kept him down. He gunned the engine, swerving around the circular drive, and raced through the gates. He’d shown them.

Wait until Anne saw his mansion. She’d be blown away like all the other women. Money, looks, prestige—he had it all. Anne would hold her hand out and beg for a ring.

Sweet payback to Paul for winning the wager with that bitch Lynn back in college. She’d made a fatal mistake choosing Paul over him. Now there wasn’t a woman alive who could resist Devon.

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