Devlin didn't know if he should be dancing or laughing. He finally got the son of a bitch. He finally got him! It had been fifteen minutes since the not-so-shocking revelation and Devlin still couldn't contain his joy at being successful.

Just as fire service arrived, Devlin had hauled Marcel from the hall and driven him to one of his offices that was around. Now, they both stood, looking at each other with hate and anger.

"I know what you're thinking." Marcel began quietly.

"Don't you dare."

"I know what this looks like."

"Shut up or I'm going to stuff your mouth with shit."

"Please let me explain!"

He looked sincere enough so Devlin nodded at him to speak. "And say some bullshit like you were healed by a miracle and I swear I will make good of my promises."

Deaton sighed. "Fine, yes, I'm not blind and I've been pretending to be."

"I'm shocked." Devlin replied, dryly.

"I didn't do this on purpose, please believe me. You do believe me don't you?"

"What kind of a sappy question is that?" Devlin snapped.

"What do you think I would gain from pretending to be blind? Why do you think I'll do this?"

Devlin folded his arms. "I don't know, probably because you're an idiot? And probably to garner my wife's pity too."

"I could do that in a thousand ways without embarrassing and inconveniencing myself."

"Really? I'm curious. Tell me."

"My point is, I didn't do it on purpose."

"So you enjoy being stupid?"

"I'm doing it to protect myself."

Devlin laughed scornfully for several seconds then scowled. "What?"

Deaton was visibly shaking and so Devlin kind of believed him. Or maybe he was a damned good actor because he looked really sincere and honest.

He hugged himself and his face paled, which was a surprise because he looked really pale already and Devlin didn't believe he could get paler. "Someone is after me."

"You're right about that."

He shook his head. "When we failed to eliminate you, I heard that the people involved were being eliminated. Even Bull."

Devlin gave him a hard glare. "Kiss my ass, wacko."

"I'm dead serious. The cop who shot Bull was a dirty cop, working for the higher ups." He paused for Devlin to fill in the gap and get the meaning.

Devlin scoffed after a few seconds. "Horse shit."

"It's the truth."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you know deep down that I'm not lying. If I were, you would have pulled the trigger."

"The only reason I haven't blown your brains out is because of my wife." Devlin hoped to hell Deaton got the word he was stressing on. His wife. His and nobody else's.

"I'll gain nothing from lying to you. If I lie, I'll just get entangled in it and you'll catch me sooner or later."

For once he agreed with Marcel but something else was nagging him. He mused on Marcel's words for a moment, then frowned. "You're dumb, you know that? You wanted to protect yourself and you used blindness as a cover? Couldn't you pour acid over your face so that your mouth would melt into a puddle? That would have been real convincing."

Deaton laughed. "You're actually funny."

Devlin glared at him. "Do I look like one to make jokes?"

Deaton kept laughing. "If I disfigure my face, how will I attract women? I'm still a man, you know."

"By women you mean my wife." It wasn't a question. It was fact, one Deaton didn't bother to dispute it.

"It was a risk making myself blind, but I added amnesia to it. As I stand before you, I do not remember a single event from that day. My subconscious has blocked it all out."

"How convenient."

"My life is very important, Mr. Gusev."

Devlin paced the room for several seconds before stopping, coming to a decision. "I believe you."

"Aren't you going to ask who the higher ups are?"

"You're willing to talk?" He scoffed and tsked. "You should have added an inability to speak to your list of pretense."

"In other words, no."

"In other words, go to hell."

Deaton shrugged. "Your choice." He started heading for the door. "If you will, let me be on my merry way."

Devlin reached out, held Deaton's jacket in a bunch and pushed him back roughly. "Not so fast, cocksucker."

"I thought we're good."

"Not on your miserable life. You're going to come clean to my wife."

"Pamela?"

"No. Opera."

Devlin was gratified to see that Deaton looked angry. He adjusted his suit angrily. "No."

"What?"

"Tell Pamela I've been pretending? Not bloody likely." He said.

"Yes you will."

"I won't."

"Okay then." Devlin whistled and his boys rushed into the room. "Now." He commanded.

They started marching towards Deaton and Devlin almost laughed as he saw fear cross his features and how he started backing away in terror and panic. He loved to see it.

They grabbed him, lay him flat down and despite his struggles, subdued him and placed a golf stand into his mouth then placed a golf ball on it. One of his boys placed a phone that had running an app that records golf distance. He was handed a putter and Devlin swung it twice, flexing his arms in preparation.

"Last chance. If you agree make the uuummphh sound, if you do not, make no sound."

He didn't and that angered Devlin more than ever. Deaton actually stayed stubbornly still. Was he crazy? Favoring his teeth over coming clean?

"Alright then, your wish is my command."

He raised the putter and swung against the ball. Deaton gave a muffled cry. Devlin handed the putter back to his guard, bent and removed the golf stand from Deaton's mouth. He was bleeding and one of his front teeth had gone askew.

"I bet women would be attracted to that."

He laughed, bloody mouth and all. "Rest, man. I'm not going to tell her shit."

"Seems like you hate your teeth."

"I'll just get dental replacements. Don't you think it would make your wife pity me all the more? I survived a fire, fell and broke my teeth. I bet she would want to kiss me after that."

Devlin grabbed his neck in anger. "Shut your ugly face." Then he released him angrily and stood.

Deaton coughed to free his lungs and then he chuckled. It annoyed the crap out of Devlin. "Jeez bro, you're in a foul mood. Take a load off, will ya?"

Devlin gritted his teeth, counted to ten and breathed. "You're free to leave. I'll tell her anyway."

He stood, adjusted his suit again, and gave Devlin a cold look, his jocular mood gone. "It's your word against mine."

Devlin snorted. "Don't fool yourself. She'll believe everything I say cause she loves me."

"If you tell her it'll hurt her. Is that anyway to treat someone you love?"

He looked at Marcel with anger-controlling slowness. "Shut your mouth, the stench is unbearable."

"You know I'm right. She cares enough for me to feel hurt."

"If she feels hurt, I'll take care of her. She'll forget you in a whim and hate you instead."

He laughed. "I'm not so sure. She pities me. It's quite a strong emotion, considering her good heart."

"Well, that's all you'll ever get. She has no feelings whatsoever for you." He didn't want to, but he felt the need to pass it across and so he walked closer to Deaton and brought his face close to his, that their noses were almost touching.

"You know, the day of your failed wedding, we f**ked in the van. She was about to get married to you, but we did it. She clung to me like I was her last breath and screamed in ecstasy. I hold the key to her heart and her sexual desires." Then he straightened and smirked at Deaton's angry face. "Why don't you beat that, asshole?"

~

Pamela had one thing on her mind as she stepped down from the SUV and walked into the building. She was going to commit murder sooner than later. It was unavoidable. How could she not kill Devlin? He was the bane of her existence and was driving her nuts.

The house was dark and so she reached for the switch, depressed it and it came alit. The house looked especially beautiful in the night, when the Chandelier's glow would bounce off the marble floors and make the brick walls shine beautifully. But she couldn't appreciate it tonight. She was blinded by anger, grief and misery. Her life was diving for a dangerous spiral faster than she could blink. It pained her more that she could not control it. It was untoward.

She agreed that she loved Devlin so much and that she would die if anything happened to him - she had been dead for three years without him. She loved him with so much fierceness that she realized now was too much and therefore too toxic.

How else would one explain her turning a blind eye to his every wrong? How would one explain her running back to him after he left her for dead - literarily - for those three, anguish filled years? How else would one explain her loyalty to him? It was one thing; she had an unhealthy obsession for him. She was like a school girl who couldn't let go of her crush and felt ultimately tied to him. She was like a puppy that was loyal to its owner. It was stupid and reckless. It was wrong.

She couldn't be sure if Devlin had been serious about the fire or if he had taken advantage of the situation to make her scared, but she knew he had been dead serious when he said Marcel was going to die in the fire. How could she breath in the same air with a murderer? How could she sleep in the same bed, in the same house, with a person that had so much bitterness and hate towards his fellow human?

Why hadn't she realized sooner that she didn't love him but was infatuated with him? Where had her brain been when he had told her that he'd killed in the past? It was Stockholm syndrome. How else could she explain it? Having love or affection for one's oppressor.

Galvanized, she stood and started to pace. Everything was frustrating her. She grabbed the remote of the TV and switched it on. She channel-surfed for stations that was reporting about the fire and fell on one. Nobody injured, nobody dead. Only a part of the building had been burned - the hall - and the burn was minimal. A few thousand dollars and the hall would be good as new. It needed renovations anyway, according to the reporter. They had attributed the cause of the fire to a wire spark in the air conditioning vents due to over heating.

Pamela scoffed. Devlin was smart. She would bet all the teas in China that he'd had something worse in mind. Whatever dark scheme he'd had up his sleeves had probably been cut off by fire service. She sighed and buried her face in her palms. What had she gotten herself into?

She realized now that her relationship had been one-sided. Devlin knew everything about her life and her family and all she knew about him was his name! His freaking name! Which might not be real, for all she knew. She almost dragged her hair out in anger. How had she been blinded by love? How had she been blinded?

Angry, she thought of all she could do to get back at him but all she thought of only left her frustrated. Even making him jealous with Marcel was not working because he knew she loved him, blindly, to a fault.

Then it occurred to her. His family. The day she had asked, he'd acted like he would bite off her head. She remembered making promises to find out about his family, where had that conviction gone? She was going to do that now. Finding out his family was the only thing that could get under his skin, but how would she do it?

She paced the floor thinking hard, then it occurred to her to search for him on the internet. She opened up google search engine and searched for Devlin Gusev. Different entries popped up; a famous singer in Germany, a tattoo artiste in Mayalsa, a striper in Turkey, and more. None of them were Devlin Gusev, her nemesis.

Why was she surprised? Devlin was smart enough not to use his real name.

Pamela was frustrated and angry, until her phone rang. She stared at the caller ID, unsure of who could be calling but she answered the call. Probably people from the ball whom she should have called to check up on were calling to say they were okay. She made a mental note to call every single person. She owed them that.

"Hello?"

"Hello, good evening. Art Dwayne on the line."

Pamela remembered the detective. She also remembered Devlin saying that he'd been the one who had saved his life. "Detective, good evening. It's been a while."

"Art, please, and yes it has ma'am. How have you been?"

"Please, Art, call me Pamela. It's only fair."

He laughed. "Okay Pamela. How are you doing?"

"I've seen worse."

"Why do you say that? You sound terrible."

Pamela had intended that. "Devlin is frustrating me."

He chuckled. "Been there."

"But I love him. Heavens help me I love him."

He blew out a breath. "Heavens help us."

She laughed. "You too?"

"And my family members. Got us all hooked. Son of a bitch, pardon my language."

"Damn the son of a bitch. Languages are allowed."

They both laughed.

"No matter what he does I can't seem to get him flustered or scared. He knows I'm just bluffing."

"Well something can get under his skin."

Pamela doubted it. "What can?"

When he told her, she couldn't believe it but she hung onto it like her life depended on it. After she hung up, she went to her room, showered, changed her clothes and waited for him. About forty minutes later, she heard the front door being opened.

She stood, waiting for him to come in, relieved he was back. The forty minutes wait had been torture because she had chanted her secret weapon over and over in her head in fear of forgetting it. Like hell she could.

The moment the door opened, she struck a nonchalant pose.

"I see you're back."

"I am." He smiled sweetly at her and covered the length of space between them. He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, pressing his face into the giving softness of her chest, kissing and gnawing at her neck affectionately, taking love bites.

She refused to respond. Willed herself not to respond. She kept her hands raised to shoulder level, well away from touching him. She didn't know what would happen if she did. Well, she did know what would happen; she would melt into puddle and all her resolve to get to him would be chipped.

When he saw she was standing as rigid as an iron gate, he raised his head and sighed. "What is it?"

"Your behavior irritates me."

"What behavior? Still mad about the ball?"

She pushed herself angrily away from him. "What did you expect? That I'm a robot and the moment I get home I delete all emotions and pretend like nothing happened?"

"Yes."

She was shocked at his bluntness then scoffed in disbelief. "Why the hell are you acting so nonchalant and noncommittal when you just killed a man? At least you announced you would."

His face turned hard and angry. "Why do you care about him?"

"He's my friend!"

"Is he now? Well I have something to tell you that's gonna change your mind about him forever."

She smiled sweetly. "I have something to tell you too. It can't wait." She added when he tried to argue.

"Go on." He said, flustered.

She walked closer to him, smiling complacently, hoping to enjoy getting under his skin, wanting to watch him go crazy up-close.

"I found your family."

It was several, strained moments before he spoke. "What?"

"Your family home is in Kaliningrad, Russia." Enjoying the shock on his face she leaned in seductively and whispered, "Or am I wrong, Leonid Chernyshevsky?"

~

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