Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(64)

His voice rises. “Do you hear yourself? You’re defending him! He’s a gangster, Tru! He’s a thug!”

I keep my voice even, though my hands are shaking and my stomach is in knots. “As I recall, you told me you were once a thug.”

“Who I was ten years ago is a very different fucking thing than who Liam Black is right now!”

“I’m going to need you to stop shouting at me, or this conversation is over.”

I hear his breathing over the line, hard and irregular, and know he’s infuriated.

“So you’re his girlfriend now or something?”

Or something. A faint smile lifts my lips.

I wonder who I’m becoming. This woman who finds humor in her own demise. This person who can hold such vastly opposing ideas in mind and still function.

Idea one: Liam is a criminal.

Idea two: Liam is a good man.

I don’t know how, or why, or when I became someone who could excuse the worst in in a man for something I sense, but don’t know, might be a greater good. All I know is that I believe in Liam—in all his darkness and beautiful light—and it feels like something sacred to me, even though it might just be insanity.

“Look, I just called to let you know I’m fine and to check in.”

He huffs. “You could’ve called earlier to find out if I was fine. You saw the way he had that guy throw me out of the restaurant. I could’ve been lying in an alley somewhere with a bullet in my head!”

“I know you won’t understand this, and you probably won’t believe it, either, but when he told me he wouldn’t hurt you, that was a promise.”

He snaps, “And when I told you I didn’t need you to ask him for protection, that was a promise, too.”

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve got my own ways of protecting myself. Liam Black isn’t the only one with connections. And he sure as hell isn’t the only one who knows how to make people disappear.”

That makes all the hair on my arms stand on end. “Diego, please don’t do anything stupid. There’s no need to escalate this situation. Nobody got hurt—”

“Not yet, they haven’t,” he says darkly. “But you’re lying to yourself if you think getting involved with a man like that ends any other way than with blood.”

He disconnects.

I stare at the phone in my hand, so unsettled I can’t think straight. Then I turn around and walk out of the library, down the long, echoing hallway and into the master bedroom.

Liam is lying on his back on the king-size bed staring at the ceiling with his feet crossed at the ankle and his arms crossed behind his head. He’s bare chested and barefoot, wearing only a pair of black jeans.

I say, “How does almost everyone in this town seem to know who you are, but I can’t find out a single thing about you on the internet?”

His tone is quiet and calm. Unlike mine, which is high and bordering on hysterical.

“I employ people to keep my name off the internet, but word of mouth is unstoppable. Why are you upset?”

Agitated, I shift my weight from foot to foot. “I just talked to Diego.”

His gaze slices from the ceiling over to me. He waits.

“He thinks I’m your victim.”

“Then he doesn’t know you at all.”

“You did kidnap me.”

His eyes glitter. His voice drops. “But you still don’t feel like a victim, do you?”

I think of the open passageway to the street at the Italian restaurant. “No.”

When his eyes warm, I add, “I could be deluding myself. My hormones might have staged a coup on my brain.”

His strong chest rises and falls with his heavy breath. He returns his gaze to the ceiling. “I’m really starting to dislike that kid.”

Though his tone is dry, I know it’s not a threat. “He didn’t tell me that. I came up with that one on my own.”

Liam remains silent.

After thinking it through, I say softly, “Okay, I’m not deluding myself.”

His head doesn’t move, but his eyeballs slide toward me again.

“I mean, yes, my hormones are a circus lately. But I think, overall, I think I’m just…” I take a deep breath and decide to be totally honest. “It’s going to take me a minute to mentally adjust to the situation.”

“Understandable,” he murmurs.

I look at him, that body, that face, all those muscles and tattoos, that aggressive sexual energy he’s holding in check by sheer force of will, and I feel a pang of desire so strong it frightens me.

To combat it, I say, “So you’ve killed dozens of your enemies?”

His tone is tranquil. “More than that.”

My voice comes out faint. “Oh.” I clear my throat. “Well. I appreciate the honesty.” I laugh softly. “I guess.”

After examining my expression for a moment, he says, “Ambivalence is a real bitch, isn’t it?”

The question is rhetorical, so I bypass it. “I think Diego is going to be a problem.”

Liam lifts his brows. “For whom?”

“For you.”

His look sours. “How little you must think of me.”