Chapter 18
Sam Fierro knew they were waiting for him. Not because they’d triggered any of his security alarms, but because Devlin hadn’t. Sam could set his clock by the alcoholic’s ten p.m. perambulation through the Brooklyn alleyway. There was a past that ate away at Devlin’s brain every night at this time and he’d go walking it off with the precision of an alarm clock.
One person wouldn’t be enough to make Devlin miss his route to the back door of Sam’s charcuterie. He was Marine Force Recon just as Sam was—no such thing as an ex-Marine—and could have easily avoided Sam’s alarms, but tripped them on purpose so Sam would know he was coming.
All except one, that no one would to able to see, but he only set that one when he wasn’t in the back kitchen of his shop.
Devlin had a weak spot
