Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(88)

“Julia died at a coffee shop at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning, blown to bits. They had to use dental records to identify her remains.”

I gasp softly. Here ends the mystery of Julia, writer of love notes in philosophical books. Lost to senseless violence, like the rest of the people Liam has ever been close to.

No wonder he was so ambivalent about getting close to me.

Liam’s voice grows rougher. “That’s when I decided Killian was right when he said our family’s massacre shouldn’t be in vain. I decided Julia’s death shouldn’t be for nothing, either. There had to be a price to pay for these terrible acts men committed, and I’d be the one to extract it. That’s when I joined the DMI.”

“What does that stand for?”

“Directorate of Military Intelligence. It’s Ireland’s version of the CIA.”

I sit up abruptly and stare down at him with wide eyes and a thundering pulse, remembering what I overheard the night he was on the phone with Killian.

“Eighteen years is enough. It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long!”

My heart in my throat, I shout, “You’re undercover?”

His eyes shine with emotion as he reaches up to cup my face. “Don’t be impressed. It’s not a noble undertaking. I’ve done everything I’ve done for revenge, not out of any sense of duty to my country. I wanted blood. I wanted the mafia to pay for all they’d taken from me. For that, I knew I had to work from the inside.”

I’m so astonished, I can hardly form a coherent sentence. “But how…all this time…how has no one found out?”

He closes his eyes briefly. “Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas.”

“What do you mean?”

His exhalation is heavy. “I mean I became very good at revenge. The reputation I have for ruthlessness…”

He opens his eyes and gazes at me. The view past his pupils is endless and dark.

“It’s earned. I don’t just pass information along to a handler in hopes the government will gather enough evidence to build a criminal case. I’m judge and jury. I render the verdict myself. And mercy is not what I specialize in.”

Trembling, I think of my brother and wonder if justice is better served Liam’s way or mine.

Do the ends justify the means?

Does it ultimately matter? Or is what matters that the bad guys get what’s coming to them one way or another?

Liam closely watches my expression. He leaves me alone with my thoughts for a moment longer, then goes on.

“At first, I only intended to kill McGrath and his crew and find out who’d been responsible for that book store bomb. But I realized quickly that there were far more evil actors in the criminal underworld, and their operations weren’t limited to Ireland. The farther up the ranks of the mafia I climbed, the more information I was privy to, the clearer the picture became.

“I grew obsessed with finding out who was at the top. Who pulled all the strings? I wanted to cut off the head of the snake.”

I fall onto my back, staring up at the ceiling and struggling to take it all in. I say breathlessly, “Declan. He knows, doesn’t he?”

“He was the one who recruited me into the DMI. And he’s had my back all these years.”

That cagey SOB. Several things he said and did click into place, and I cringe. I think I owe him an apology for that slap.

But he was a jerk and kept blowing cigarette smoke into my face, so maybe not.

“Where was Killian in all this?”

“In the military, he demonstrated certain aptitudes that interested the government. He went to work for MI6 doing counter-terrorism and counter-espionage. That didn’t last long. Too corporate for him. He hates taking directions from anyone. So he went freelance.

“I can’t tell you what his career path looked like from there, because I don’t know. But he had all these crazy skills and contacts in every foreign government you can name, and we agreed to work together toward a common goal.”

“Cutting off the head of the snake.”

“Exactly. From inside and out.”

“And how’s that going?”

His answer is quiet. “The problem with the kind of snake we’re chasing is that every time you cut off one head, another one grows in its place.”

We fall silent, listening to the sound of the rain.

The rooster crows again, then he’s silent, too.

“You once told me you were in enforcement. I thought that sounded so strange at the time, and even more so after finding out you were in the mafia, but now…now it makes sense.”

Liam rolls to his side, lifts up to an elbow, and gazes down at me.

Trying to process everything, I turn my head and look at him. I have so many questions I still need to ask.

“So your FBI arrest…that was fake? You were working with them?”

He nods. “I gave them a few valuable pieces of information in exchange. They were very grateful.”

My brows draw together. “But why fake your arrest in the first place?”

He smooths my forehead wrinkles with his finger, gently stroking the furrows away.

“Because there are only two ways out of the mob. Death or prison. I decided being killed by one of my enemies would be inconvenient…”