35. Juliette
Juliette
T he next day, I browsed the information that Kian had emailed me while seated comfortably in Dante’s living room. Correction, our living room. It was our home. I texted Dante a few times asking whether it was okay if I used this or that but then he had reminded me it was our home.
“Do whatever you want to do in our home,” he had texted back more than once.
So that was exactly what I was doing, relaxing in our living room. I’d earned some downtime. I sliced up the man I killed and he vanished without a trace. Burned to ashes. Poetic really, if you thought about it.
It was important to get rid of the evidence, although I had no doubt that Sofia Volkov would know her guy was gone. That woman was a mystery. It was impossible to get to her. I suspected that even when all the names on the list were eliminated, she’d still be out there somewhere.
Hiding. Living.
I reached for the remote and turned the television on.
It defaulted to the last channel watched.
The news channel. Just as I was about to switch it, Breaking News flashed on the bottom half of the screen.
The newscaster went over the details of a gruesome body found.
Tortured. Mutilated. Unrecognizable. A glimpse of a crime scene that turned even my stomach.
I looked away, hoping the body belonged to an evil person. I hated the idea of someone innocent experiencing something so brutal. I could stomach bad guys being tortured, but the good ones—it broke me every single time.
Letting the news play in the background, I returned my attention to my phone and reread Kian’s email for the fifth time. It was business as usual. No inclination that we’d met. Which led me to believe he didn’t know it was me back in Vegas.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that he didn’t have the information on the rest of the men who caused my parents' untimely death.
I wasn’t really sure why it was so important to me that I handled them all. Maybe I wanted to see justice served. It was hypocritical considering Liam, my adoptive father, was part of the underworld, but he didn’t kill innocent women and children nor burn them alive.
Our parents died. My brother and I lived.
It fell on us to avenge them.
Since I’d learned of our history, sometimes I wondered if my brother’s scars ran even deeper than I could fathom. He was good at keeping it all hidden. For the first twenty-one years, Killian hid all his demons so well that I never connected the dots. But now, I could see them.
The nightmares. His hatred of fire.
He didn’t exactly fear fire, but it fucked with him. Kind of like having a man on top of me fucked with my head. It was a panic and terror that rendered you immobile.
I wondered how Killian handled his trauma. Duh, I knew. By keeping himself separated from everyone and everything. He hid it all under his cold exterior, but underneath it all, I knew the embers burned just as hot as the flames that killed our parents.
Beep. Beep.
The news pulled my attention back to the television. “The body has been identified,” the blonde newscaster announced, her tone full of suspense. “It is none other than Travis Xander … ”
I stared at the television in shock. And… happiness. It had to be Dante’s doing. A feeling pinged off the walls of my chest, leaving me feeling raw. My chest grew full and the pressure eased, knowing the three men who hurt me were finally dead. They are all dead.
And soon, our parents’ killers would be too. My brother deserved this feeling too. This freedom and revelation that the people who hurt you and the ones you love perished into the dust.
Just as I was about to call my brother, the doorbell rang.
Dropping the phone on the couch, I jumped to my feet and called out, “I’m getting the door!”
Dante had a cook and a cleaner roaming around here. It was actually great for company but not so great when they insisted on waiting on me hand and foot. I was at the door before the maid and grinned smugly.
“I got it,” I assured her, but she remained glued to her spot.
As if she anticipated an attack, although what she would do if it was, I wasn’t sure. I opened the door to find my brother standing there in a thick coat.
“Killian!”
“Hey, sis.” He greeted me, then came in and hugged me, pressing a kiss on my forehead.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, flabbergasted to see him in Chicago.
He shrugged. “I had a man to find but turns out he’s dead, so I decided to visit you.”
“Dead?” I gasped. “Hopefully, he wasn’t a close friend.”
“No.”
I quickly closed the door and glanced over my shoulder. The maid left, going back to whatever she was doing, and I returned my attention to Killian.
“Who is dead?” I questioned in a low voice.
“Nobody for you to worry about.” His clipped answer had the hair on my neck rising. My sixth sense warned me that Killian was probably going after the same people as me. But if I enlightened him, he’d lock me up and throw away the key. He was too protective. So I let it go.
He slipped off his coat, his eyes studying me. “How are you?”
The worry in his voice and his eyes was unmistakable. “Great.” I smiled.
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t pursue it. I led him into the living room where the news played and Killian’s eyebrows rose.
“Watching the news?”
I shrugged, settling back on the same spot. “I can change it if you want,” I offered.
He shook his head. “Don’t. I’m just surprised you’re watching it. I seem to remember you calling it garbage.”
It was.
“I wasn’t really paying attention to it,” I admitted, lifting my phone. “I was playing on my phone.”
He smiled. “Now that makes sense.”
He took a spot next to me, his eyes traveling around the cozy living room. It was decorated tastefully and with comfort in mind. There was another formal living room in the house, but I preferred this one. I suspected that Dante did too, since I found traces of him all over this room.
His iPad. His watch. Even an empty gun magazine.
“So where is your husband?” Killian questioned.
I shrugged. “California.”
“Why?”
My lips thinned. He didn’t really think Dante would be reporting his business to me, did he? Reading the expression on my face, Killian decided to change the subject.
“I’m going to be gone for a bit,” he said and my stomach tightened. I didn’t like when he was gone “for a bit.” It worried me to death that I’d never see him again.
“Where do you go when you’re gone for a bit?” I questioned.
Sometimes I wondered what Killian had done and endured to survive in the underworld. The dark side of him often lurked around him like this black mist. It had always been like that, even when we were younger. It didn’t bother me, but it made me worry for him.
Especially lately.
It seemed to almost swallow him.
“Here and there,” he remarked vaguely.
“How are you handling the whole ‘left at the altar’ affair?” It had been an “avoid at all costs” subject for everyone and it was awkward as fuck, especially now that I was married.
He didn’t seem heartbroken, but it wasn’t as if he’d break down and cry.
In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever seen my brother cry.
I, on the other hand, cried all the time.
“Just another day,” he said, eyes still darting around the room.
“Not exactly,” I protested softly, touching his arm. “I wish you’d let me in, Killian.”
The way he looked at me sent warning bells blaring through my system. “The way you let me in, Jules?”
I stilled, unsure what he was hinting at. Maybe Kian had recognized me after all. Or maybe Killian learned something that was meant to be a secret.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What do you mean?”
The maid showed up with a tray of cookies and drinks. Good thing she knew how to welcome the guests. It never even crossed my mind to offer my brother any refreshments. I groaned inwardly. I’m going to be the worst wife, I swear. Maybe I should get a book on good housekeeping or something.
Killian picked up a cup of coffee, thanking the maid before she disappeared. He took a sip, contemplating his next words if his expression was any indication.
“I mean with stealing.”
“Old news,” I said hurriedly.
“The defense classes you’ve taken. Even learning to shoot.” Fuck, how did he find that out? “You should have come to me, and I would have helped you.”
“You’re busy,” I said, offering the lame excuse. I knew if I’d asked him, he’d have taught me. But there would also be questions that I would refuse to answer. Knowing Killian, he’d have a whole inquisition going.
My eyes met his soft blue ones and I feared he’d see something he wasn’t meant to see. But I held his gaze, waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure.
“You’ve changed, Jules.” The sad tone in his voice hit me right in the chest. I didn’t know why. “I’ve seen this darkness in you once before, but lately, it seems worse.”
I blinked, my mouth suddenly dry. He’d seen my darkness. But how? I hid it so well. Didn’t I?
Reaching for the glass of water, I turned my attention to the television.
“What do you mean?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
Killian shook his head. “I know you, Jules. You’re my sister.
A part of me.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him.
“You used to tell me everything. Even things I would have preferred not to know.” I grinned, remembering those days.
“Remember when you called me to announce you were a woman? All because you got your period.”
I choked out a laugh. “I’m trying to forget.”
“Or when you dragged me into a Victoria’s Secret store so you could find me a girlfriend and help Aunt Aisling find a man with attractive lingerie?”
I chuckled softly. “That was a dumb plan.” My mind flickered back to that day. It was funny. He remembered me dragging him to the Victoria’s Secret store. I remembered him dragging me to Tiffany’s. “Kill?”
“Yes?”
“How many men have you killed?” His expression said it all. Many. “Do you ever… regret it?”
His eyes locked with mine. Same shade of blue. I used to think they were Brennans’ eyes. They weren’t.
“Regret is pointless, Jules.” His fingers tightened around me. “As long as we don’t kill the innocent ones, I can live with it all.”
“Really?”
“Better them than us.”
I gasped. Not from shock but out of relief. Better them than us. I couldn’t agree more.
“You want to know something, Kill?”
“Hmmm.”
“I agree with you,” I whispered. “Better them than us.” I turned my face to him so he could see me.
Really see me. “I’m not like Wynter. She’s—” I searched for the right word, then finally settled for the simplest one.
“She’s good. Forgiving. I’m not like that.
Not even close.” My brother didn’t interrupt, but his gaze told me he knew it already.
“I feel that same darkness I see in you. That same hunger for revenge. It claws at me, demanding I do something about it.”
One breath. Two breaths.
He nodded. “And that’s okay. Don’t ever be ashamed of it, Jules. Just promise me to be careful and not reckless.”
I smiled. Always my brother—understanding and protective. “I promise.” I leaned back into him. “I love you, brother.”
“I love you too, Jules.”
“Maybe we should go to Victoria’s Secret again and I will find you the perfect girl,” I mused, my eyes on the screen.
His chest vibrated as he tried to contain his laugh. “I’m afraid that trip will have to wait. Thank fuck.”
For the next five minutes, the news flipped over all the bad things happening in this city and the world.
The silence stretched, almost suffocating us both.
I loved my brother. He loved me. But somehow the two of us had drifted apart.
It could be the differences in our lifestyles or maybe Killian had too much shit weighing him down.
“Killian, you know that hot older guy you were talking to back in Vegas?” I asked, breaking the silence and keeping my eyes on the television.
“What older guy?”
I mean, how many hot older guys did he talk to in Vegas. Only one, if I had to guess.
“The old dude,” I said, rolling my eyes. He gave me a blank stare. “Jesus, when I came up to you and you introduced him to me. Kian or something.”
“Ah, yes. What about him?”
“How do you know him?”
Killian shrugged. “I don’t. Not really.”
I sighed, keeping my temper from getting the best of me. I’d have to tread lightly. It was obvious Killian already saw through some of my walls.
“You were talking to him,” I pointed out.
“Yes.”
Jesus Christ. Men could be so damn dense sometimes.
“What did you talk about?” I tried a different approach.
This time Killian narrowed his gaze on me, giving me a strange look. “Why?”
I held my breath. My brother was good at reading people and he was particularly good at reading me. After all, it seemed he was one of the only ones who noticed something had changed about me and we were rarely in the same city.
“Can’t I be curious about someone?”
“You’re married now,” he grumbled, his jaw clenching. He still wasn’t happy about my marriage to Dante. “You should limit your curiosity about men to your husband only.”
It was my turn to narrow my eyes. “How sexist!”
“If Dante is anything like his cousin, he’s over-the-top possessive and obsessive.” That might be a mild understatement. “And let’s just say if I see a single tear in your eyes, I’m going to murder the fucker.”
Gosh, so much testosterone. I was quite capable of killing my husband myself. After all, I killed a man only yesterday, and if I might say so myself, I did a pretty good job. Although there was no need to point that out to my brother.
“Back to Kian.” I steered the conversation to my original question. “Is he the same Kian that I heard rescued Autumn Ashford from Afghanistan.” I feigned ignorance. “I assumed he was some kind of retired military guy, but then he wouldn't exactly associate with people like us. Would he?”
He shrugged. “He’s a special case.”
“How come?” I asked curiously.
“You’re asking an awful lot of questions about him.”
I groaned. “Because you’re not answering my questions. Now tell me. Why is Kian a special case? And what does he do?”
My brother scratched his chin tiredly. “He went through U.S. Special Ops training but he’s actually Brazilian. Brother to the head of the Brazilian cartel.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“He’s the head—”
I waved my hand. “I heard you. But holy crap. Where does the security agency come into play?”
Jesus Christ. Had I been unknowingly working with the Brazilian cartel? I wasn’t sure whether I should be impressed or not. Probably better that I wasn’t impressed.
“I’d imagine it allows him to launder money through it,” Killian said. “And don’t think I won’t figure out why you are so interested in someone I’d recommend staying away from,” he added pointedly. “You don’t need to be messing with someone like him, little sister.”
After that, our conversation stayed in neutral territory.