Thy Kingdom Come (Deliver Us From Evil Trilogy Book One) Page 25

  “This is for you, Ma,” I whisper aloud, adrenaline coursing through me.

  When Liam sees me, he waves. I instantly notice the gun concealed in the small of his back. He’s come prepared for bloodshed too it seems.

  “Hey,” I say as I step over the banjaxed fence. “You could have told me I had to hike through the wilderness. This place is off the map.”

  Uncle Sean purposely had me take this precise route as I was to be on lookout for any Doyles, keeping dick on us. The coast was clear.

  He laughs, appearing amused. “Sorry ’bout that. But we had to keep it low key.”

  “No worries. So what’s the plan?” I ask, keeping my cool.

  “The lorry should be here in”—he peers down at his gold watch—“four and a half minutes.”

  “And then what? You were a little vague on the details.”

  “Ach, bucko, why’re ye askin’ so many questions? Anyone would think ya were nervous.”

  Something is different about Liam. His usual cockiness is replaced with urgency. Something is wrong.

  “Nope, what would I have to be nervous about?” I ask, watching Liam closely.

  He reaches into his pocket, while I’m ready to reach for my gun. But when he lights a cigarette, I tell myself to calm the fuck down.

  Taking his time, he shrugs. “Don’t know…maybe ’cause yer not who ye say y’are.”

  Fuck…

  The van door opens and out steps a man who is about to change the course of everything.

  Here stands Brody Doyle—the fucker who was involved with Ma and could be my father. When I see him, I’m instantly hit with the air of authority all men in power hold. Connor’s is almost suffocating, but Brody’s is different.

  Unlike Connor, Brody is a chameleon. He draws people in with a fake smile, a pleasant demeanor, but I know these are just tricks he’s mastered to lure in his prey. He’s tall, in good shape, I can see why Mum may have fallen for his charms. I look for any similarities between us, but I refuse to believe that I’m his son.

  “Hello, son.”

  Does he mean that term literally?

  These are just tricks men like him play. I know better. I need to get it together.

  “What’s up?” I casually say with a wave. The lorry will be here soon. I just need to stall them until then.

  “Nice to finally meet ya.” His accent is smooth, refined.

  He offers his hand, and the moment we shake, rage overtakes me.

  “You too. You’re Liam’s father? I recognize your voice,” I say, playing coy. But we both know he didn’t come up the Lagan in a bubble.

  “I admire yer tenacity, lad, but let’s stop the bullshit.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  Four minutes…

  Brody smiles, but there is nothing pleasant about the gesture. “I know you, do I not?”

  “Nope. Don’t think so,” I reply, not disguising my annoyance.

  Brody examines me. I wonder what he sees. “We’ve got a lot to talk about. But I cannot do that with ye lying to me. I can hardly call ye Mike when that’s not your name.”

  “Who do you think I am then?” I pose, as I want to uncover how much he actually knows.

  Liam’s footsteps announce he is getting closer and closer to me.

  “I don’t think, lad, I know yer a Kelly. Puck Kelly. I know yer the one who killed my brother and my son. I know ye were the one who painted their faces like ya paint yers. They were at fault for trustin’ ya. They knew better. So does Liam.”

  Three minutes and thirty seconds…

  “You’re mistaken,” I press, continuing to stall. “I don’t know who told you all this, but they’re wrong.”

  Brody nods, but he doesn’t buy it. “Ach, I’m sorry then. We must have got our wires crossed,” he says, gesturing with his chin toward the van.

  The door opens, and the person who is shoved out of the van has me questioning everything. But I don’t allow my emotions to betray me. I can’t.

  Babydoll is escorted over to Brody by some arsehole. Her chin is downcast. She can’t even look at me. Is she his prisoner? Has he captured her as he did with Cian? I don’t understand.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Brody soothes Babydoll who is trying her hardest to suppress her sniffles. “If what ye say is true and ya don’t know him, then that’s my mistake. But if yer lyin’—”

  He grabs a hold of Babydoll’s ponytail and tugs her head back.

  I instantly advance. “Let her go.”

  Brody smirks, knowing he’s won. “Ye don’t know him, do ye?”

  Babydoll holds her ground. “No, I do not.” She doesn’t disguise her accent, so Brody knows she’s American.

  “All right, my mistake then,” he says, but he doesn’t believe her. “If ya don’t know him, then it wouldn’t bother ye if I killed him in front of ye. Or maybe I should make him watch me kill you. Get on yer knees.”

  He lets Babydoll go, and she stumbles, attempting to find her footing. The fucker behind her forces her to her knees as she fights him savagely. Brody reaches into his holster and produces a gun.

  “I’m sorry,” she mouths to me, tears running down her cheeks as Brody presses the gun to the back of her head.

  But it doesn’t end this way for us.

  Reaching for my gun with speed, I point it at Brody, who laughs animatedly. The time has come for this to end once and for all.

  “Let her go, ya fucker,” I say, Mike from America long gone. “Aye, I’m Puck Kelly, and I killed yer brother and son. I would do it again given half the chance.”

  Babydoll shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “Y’ll need to give me a minute because I’ve been dreamin’ of this day,” Brody says, unable to contain his excitement. “Y’ve caused so much trouble, lad.”

  “Cheers, thank you,” I sarcastically reply. “Get up, Babydoll.”

  Babydoll’s lower lip trembles as she comes to a cautious stand. I expect her to come over to me, but she doesn’t. She stands by Brody.

  “Babydoll?” he questions, laughing.

  I never take my gun off Brody, but that doesn’t bother him.

  “I never thought this would work.”

  “What would?” I question.

  “This,” Brody replies, gesturing with his gun between Babydoll and me.

  “Spare me the fuckin’ theatrics,” I snap, not interested in playing his games.

  “Punky, don’t—” Babydoll warns, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “It’s too late for that. He deserves to know. Should I tell him? Or do you want to?”

  I beg of her to explain what he’s talking about, but all she does is look at me with nothing but desperation. “I’m sorry. Please forgive…me.”

  I lower my gun, suddenly realizing it’ll do no good because I’m in this alone. No one here is a friend; they’re all my foes.

  “Did ye really kill my ma?” I ask Brody, peeling back the layers and starting at where it all began.

  “Aye, I did,” he affirms with a slow nod as he puts away his gun. “Ye know why?”

  I ignore his question because there is something else I need to expose first. “Who else? There were three men. I know one of them was yer brother. Who was the other man?”

  Brody smiles, as if reliving the memory of raping and killing my mum is one to be happy about. “Someone very close to home, Puck. He’s the reason she died.”

  “Who?” I ask between clenched teeth.

  “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

  Advancing, I press the gun to the middle of Brody’s forehead. “Too late for that. Tell me.”

  He knows I won’t shoot, not until I get the answers I seek. The messed-up thing is that he’s the one person who can tell me the truth and I’d believe him because he has no reason to lie.

  “It was Connor, lad. He was the one who killed yer ma.”

  “Ya lie,” I gasp, my grip on the gun tightening. Not yet, I tell myself. His time
is coming.

  “Ach, naw, I tell ye the truth. Connor was the one who unlocked the wardrobe for ye, Puck. He knew ya were there. He wanted Cara to suffer, and the only way to do that was through ye.”

  I don’t believe him. It can’t be true. But he knows about someone unlocking the wardrobe, how that act seemed so personal.

  “Cara was a beautiful woman. But she knew too much. She was nosy and smart, just like you. I knew sooner or later ye’d find out what we did, which is why I needed to get to yer first.”

  “What d’ye mean?” I’m hardly holding it together.

  “The Kellys and the Doyles, we’re private people. I hadn’t seen ya since ye were a wain. I didn’t know whatcha looked like and I needed to.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I knew it’d eventually come to this. Yer collateral, and I needed a backup plan, just in case. It doesn’t make sense. But it will.”

  Thoughts of the lorry arriving are long gone because all that matters is this. I don’t want to believe Brody, but I do.

  “So, when my Camilla came to me, ye can imagine my excitement. It was the perfect plan.”

  “Who the fuck is Camilla?” I exclaim, confused.

  But when Babydoll finally meets my eyes, I understand what she’s sorry for. “Me. But call me Cami.”

  Brody places his arm around her, like he didn’t just hold a gun to her some minutes ago. “Aye, y’are. When Camilla phoned me, telling me her ma was sick with cancer and she needed help, it was like the Lord himself delivered her to me.

  “I needed someone ya didn’t know to befriend ye. But she did more than that, didn’t she?”

  I beseech she tell me he’s lying, but Brody Doyle has spoken no lies. Ironically, he’s the only person who’s told me the truth.

  “It was a fair trade—find out everything she could about the Kellys, about ye, and tell me everythin’ she found out. In return, I would ensure her ma was taken care of financially as cancer treatment is quare expensive in the USA.

  “She wormed her way into yer world, workin’ for the Duffys so she could give me all the information to properties I could buy anonymously in Northern Ireland. And to also tell me which yer da was workin’ out of. He’s very secretive, he is.”

  “I’m sorry,” Babydoll—Cami—cries, her lower lip trembling.

  “Why didn’t ye tell me?” I ask, numb.

  “I wanted to. So many times. But my mom, my sister, if I didn’t do this, they’d suffer. My mom will die, and I have no money, no family to look after my little sister. I had no choice,” she explains, but all I hear are excuses.

  “I’ve worked my ass off since I was twelve years old, but since Mom got sick, I’ve cared for her, and it just…it became too much. I needed help. I didn’t know what else to do. When he told me what I had to do, I didn’t know who you were. I didn’t know I’d fall in lo—”

  “Enough!” I warn, not wanting to hear those words leave her deceitful lips.

  “Please, Punky, understand it from my point of view. This”—she gestures around us—“is all because you wanted to protect your mom when you couldn’t, but I have that chance. Please don’t hate me for it. I swear to you, I tried to stop this when I had the chance. I tried to protect you, even when I knew I was putting my mom and my sister at risk.

  “I told you about the police coming to your house because…because I was the one who planted the drugs. Brody threatened my mom if I didn’t do it! But I felt guilty. I couldn’t do that to you. So I told you the truth.”

  I shake my head, disgusted with myself

  “I gave you back your brooch even though I got whipped for it.”

  Why did they want my ma’s brooch? And now I know why she got those welts—because of me.

  “How can I trust a word that comes outta yer mouth?” I question, angry with myself for not seeing her for what she is.

  “Check your pocket.”

  I do what she says and when my fingers pass over a folded piece of paper, I pull it out. Unfolding it, my heart squeezes inside my chest as I read over Babydoll’s handwriting. It’s come too little, too late. And it changes everything beyond repair.

  I was sent to spy on you. To make you trust me. I was sent to make you fall in love with me. But I didn’t have to pretend because I do…I love you. My name is Camilla Doyle. Brody Doyle is my father. Please forgive me.

  “Yer a…Doyle?” I ask, my voice dangerously low.

  She nods, a tear trickling down her cheek.

  “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d hate me…well, hate me more than you already do. I didn’t even know who I was until a few months ago. I didn’t understand this war between the Doyles and Kellys. Catholics versus Protestants.”

  Brody grins victoriously, and why shouldn’t he—he’s outsmarted us all. “Camilla’s ma used to work for me. What can I say? I have a thing for blondes,” he says flippantly.

  Babydoll curls her lip, disgusted as I am. “My mom left Ireland and came back to America, pregnant with me. She never told me who my father was, but when she got sick, I went through her things and found out who he was. I was desperate. She needed me, and after being there for me my entire life, I needed to be the strong one.

  “I just didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I didn’t know that my father was a selfish son of a bitch.”

  Brody grins, unbothered. “My sons and brother didn’t know about my plan, which is why ye were able to infiltrate our operation, ‘Mike.’”

  “You’re Mike?” Babydoll asks, eyes wide. “Oh my God. I thought you were safe because they were going to use Mike. But they were going to use you. You lied to me, Father.”

  Brody shrugs, untroubled, as he continues his story. “We needed a scapegoat, someone to take the fall for what we have planned. They wanted ye to trust them so when the time came, ye’d serve yer purpose.

  “They must have trusted ye ’cause they knew.”

  “Knew what?” I ask, my anger close to boiling point.

  “That yer family.”

  Babydoll looks between us, confused. She doesn’t know what this means. But I do.

  Brody reaches into his pocket and produces a piece of paper. He offers it to me. “Here are the answers ya want. I always had my suspicions. Dr. Dunne is a good friend of mine and called me with the news.”

  Snatching it from him, I read over the information, still not believing it even though it’s printed in black and white. How would Dr. Dunne have Brody’s results on file?

  But the letter is from the same paternity clinic I used to find out Connor wasn’t my dad, and it’s the same clinic to tell me who is—I’m a Doyle. I’m Brody Doyle’s son. It’s a perfect match.

  Liam snares the paper from my hands, obviously kept in the dark about this wee fact, that I’m his half-brother, which means Babydoll is my…half-sister.

  Vomit rises, but I hold it down because I deserve this. This is what I get for trusting someone I shouldn’t have. Although we didn’t know, it doesn’t make a difference. It can never erase what we did, over and over again.

  “What is it?” she asks, afraid.

  I can’t speak. I can barely think.

  “Camilla, Puck is yer half-brother.” Brody looks at us proudly.

  “What?” she gasps, placing her trembling hand over her mouth. “That’s n-not possible.”

  “It’s very possible,” Liam says with disgust, tossing the piece of paper at her.

  She catches it and reads over the evidence, shame and disgust coloring her scarlet. “Did you know he was my br—what he was?”

  Brody shakes his head. “I knew it was a possibility, but it wasn’t confirmed until recently. What a plot twist. No wonder ye were drawn to one another. Yer blood.”

  “Just stop,” she cries, shaking her head. “Why didn’t you tell me Connor wasn’t your father? And that Brody could be…”

  I want to console her, but how can I? Not only is she a liar, she’s my fucking sister and touching her th
e way I want is a thing of the past. A past I want to forget.

  “He killed Uncle Aidan and Hugh. Brother or not, he’s going to pay!” Liam declares, untouched by this impromptu family reunion.

  “This is yer fault, boyo. If ye didn’t go behind my back and act like a big man, then none of this would have happened. Ye didn’t think I had a plan this whole time?”

  And now, the truth to why we’re here emerges.

  The lorry comes down the road, just on time.

  “Ye didn’t think I could do this alone, is it? I always had someone on the inside, workin’ together and bidin’ our time. That time is now.”

  “Who?” I ask, broken in ways I never thought possible.

  “He’s been under yer nose this entire time. Ye brought him here. This was all possible because of you two.”

  I did?

  Babydoll cups her face, sobbing. All she wanted was to help her ma. Just like I did. But this sacrifice has cost us so much, and we’ll never get it back.

  There are so many holes in this story, and I know I won’t get the full story until I uncover who Brody’s partner is. None of this makes any sense. All I know is that Babydoll isn’t the enemy. She wasn’t the one who organized all of this. Someone else did.

  But who?

  “Camilla played a part, of course. If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t know what we do. She told me everything.”

  I suddenly realize why they thought Cian was me. “Yer the one who told them Cian was me?”

  She nods. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think they were going to hurt him. When Brody asked me who you were, I pointed at your friend. The photo was taken the night of the party.”

  I remember the photographer taking a picture of us. We should have known better than to be so careless. This is why we’re careful. I was able to remain undetected with Liam and Aidan because they didn’t know who I was.

  But Brody knew, and Babydoll failed his test. She played right into his hands. This was his way of finding out just what she was prepared to do to save me. We were all his pawns. But I still don’t know why. I don’t know how he found out I wasn’t Mike.