Page 124 of Beautiful Revenge

“Terrorist organizations all over Europe and Asia had access to state secrets so they can stay one step ahead. Someone was feeding that information to them. I knew it, I just couldn’t connect the last link no matter how close I was. It had been going on for years before it all blew up right before my eyes.”

His jaw goes hard, but he doesn’t deny it.

I take a step away from the door and rub my fingertips together. Unlike him, I have no desire to go for a weapon.

I want to take him down with my own hands.

“Why did you do it?” I demand.

Hugh shakes his head. “I’m not a Donnelly. I don’t have a perfect fucking family with generations who served theircountry at my back. I’ve got a shit mum who’s been in and out of drug treatment my entire life. As much as I wanted to turn my back on her, I couldn’t. She got caught in a tight spot with her dealer. I could cut her loose and she’d be killed, or I could pay for her safety. I did the latter because I didn’t have it in me to hand her over to the wolves. I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice. You took the wrong one.”

I can’t restrain my rage any longer.

I charge him. The next thing I know, my hand is on his throat and his back is slammed to the wall. “Turner fed terrorist organizations our intel ... state secrets that came straight from you, dammit. There’s nothing in the world that makes that okay. Not one fucking thing, Hugh. Innocent people died all over the world. Their blood is on your hands so you could pay off your mum’s dealer?”

His face reddens as his hands grip my shirt to try to push me away, but my fingers grip tighter.

“It wasn’t supposed to get to that,” he croaks. “I never wanted any of that. It started off small. Then I was in so deep, I couldn’t get out.”

“You were a bloody agent for secret intelligence,” I growl.

“Turner had a noose around my neck. He would’ve killed me and my family. He said so.” His eyes bead out as he tries to fight me. “Let go.”

I shake my head and use my other hand to yank his shirt up. A subcompact gun sits holstered in his waistband. I take it and stuff it in the back of my pants before letting go and taking three steps back.

He doubles over, his hands to his knees, as he sputters and coughs.

I speak to Dean through the comm. “You got all that?”

Hugh’s gaze jumps to me in an instant. He drags his forearm over his mouth and yells, “What the fuck?”

I don’t take my eyes off Hugh as I talk. “Then that should be enough.”

Hugh realizes what’s happening. His adrenaline must kick in, because he charges me.

I’ve got five inches and thirty pounds on him, but he’s quick. His shoulder hits my gut before I can shift out of the way.

My back hits a tray on wheels, and we both go down with him on top.

“Fucker!” he yells and pulls back a fisted hand. I put my hand to his face and push, but his fist connects with my jaw.

I thread his leg with mine, plant a foot to the floor with the other, and roll. He swings another arm at me, but this time I catch his forearm midair. I pin it to the ground beside his head, but his other hand is still free. “You’re going down for what you did, Bancroft. I’ll make sure Turner isn’t far behind.”

The handle on the door jiggles before they start banging. Fuck, the tray fell and wedged the door shut.

“Donnelly, it’s me. Open up.”

Dean.

I try to flip him over to his stomach, but the years haven’t made him a slouch. Like me, he seems like he spends more time in the gym than he did when he was an agent.

“Fuck you, Donnelly,” Hugh pants as we struggle on the floor.

Dean finally opens the door just enough.

I put my hand to Hugh’s face again, this time pressing it into the hard linoleum. I feel his gun slip from my pants and clank on the floor next to us.