Page 119 of Beat of Love
His shoulders sagged.
He didn’t fight as they took him by the arms and led him toward the Escalade.
“It broke me to leave Pa, Aidan,” Rafferty said hoarsely. “But the O’Malleys were ruthless. They would’ve slaughtered all of you — done far worse to Gracie and Caitlin. Traffickers. Weapons. Drugs. Women. Children. They weren’t picky. They were Irish Mafia.” He gave a hollow shrug. “Monsters.”
A heavy silence descended.
“And you lived with them. Worked with them. Became like them,” Aidan said, voice flat with disbelief.
“For fourteen hellish months.” Rafferty’s voice dropped, distant. “Even all the years I spent with the Taisechs didn’t compare to that nightmare.”
A beat. Then Aidan asked, quietly, almost unwillingly, “What did they want with you?”
Rafferty blinked. He hadn’t expected the question — hadn’t expected his brother to care enough to ask.
“They had a job for me,” Rafferty said quietly.
“A job?” Aidan’s brow furrowed.
“A hit.”
Silence pulsed between them.
“A …hit?” Aidan repeated. He dragged a hand down his face, his expression stricken. “Fuck, brother. What did you do?”
“Youreallywant to know?” Rafferty asked, voice low.
Aidan let out a heavy, painful sigh. “No. No, I guess I don’t.”
“I know you’ll never understand the choices I made,” Rafferty said. “But because of those choices, some very bad peopleare behind bars. And some…” His gaze dropped. “Some aren’t breathing anymore.”
“You’re right. I won’t understand.” Aidan’s spine straightened, his tone turning cold. “I can’t reconcile the boy who playedStar Warswith that kind of warmth and passion” — he gestured toward the piano — “with the man who so easily admits to takin’ a life.”
Rafferty didn’t flinch. “To quote Nietzsche,” he said quietly, “Man is the cruelest animal.”
Silence settled between them. Not the charged, furious kind — but something heavier. Aidan stared at the floor, pulse ticking in his cheek. Finally, he looked up. His voice was rough. “I don’t know what to do with this. With you.”
Rafferty nodded once, accepting the blow.
Aidan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I need space. Time. Whatever.” He stepped back, arms folding across his chest like armor. “You should go.”
35
Human trash
The nightmares came that night. Brutal. Punishing.
The faces of the men whose lives he’d taken, rose from hell, mouths twisted in voiceless fury.
They taunted him, haunted him.
Not with screams, but with silence.
And that was worse.
When he left the DEA, he’d buried that life. Shoved it into a box, sealed it shut, and locked it deep.
But his confession to Aidan had pried the lid open, letting that ugly part of him breathe again.
