Page 54 of These White Lies

“This is my life!” My voice rises, pitchier than I’d like. “I’m the one who walked into my house and found my ex-husband’s body. I’m the one who was questioned, chased, and sliced open. You’re telling me to what? Sit here quietly and let you handle it?”

“I know that.” Brady stalks toward me, the air crackling between us.

I don’t move. Not because I’m not affected—because I am. My pulse flutters under my skin. Everything about him affects me in a terrifying way that I don’t understand. My head tells me it’s dangerous to get close, but my traitorous heart is telling me to jump in with both feet.

I ignore the renewed stinging in my side, knowing if I show any sign that I’m hurting, Brady will use it as an excuse to shut this conversation down.

“I’m trying really hard here, Brady. I want to trust you.”

His eye twitches, and his jaw clenches tight.

“Idotrust you,” I amend. “But you can’t keep me in the dark. I’ll go insane.”

His internal debate plays out across his face. He’s torn. The protector in him wants to stay silent, but he knows I’m right. This is my life, and I’m not going to sit on the sidelines.

“They don’t have a name. It’s not the Mafia or any other known organized crime network. The international task-force I reported to called themThe Cabal. From what we were able to learn, they don’t operate as a cohesive group.”

I shake my head, forehead furrowing. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither did we. Hence the undercover agents.”

“And?”

“Basically, they aren’t a criminal organization in any form we recognize, but theydowork together.”

My face scrunches. “You’ve seriously lost me now.”

“It’s not clear-cut. They are less an organization and more a group of people who have banded together for their mutual benefit. From what we found, they don’t share any sort of ideology or loyalty except to money. They don’t live in the same place, share a language, a religion, political persuasion or even have a fucking secret handshake from what we can tell.

“The best result the task-force was able to get was the identity of several people who we believed to be members of the cabal and to uncover their individual crimes. All wealthy and influential in their own way—but other than the crime they shared with their co-conspirators, we couldn’t find any other connection that solidly led to other people.”

“Couldn’t that mean you arrested them all?”

“I wish. No, there are definitely more. We had at least twenty other international targets we thought could be involved, but we just couldn’t find the evidence. We also learned from oneof them, before she was killed in police custody, that they call themselves the Lapidarists. It means?—”

“People who shape diamonds.” My mind is racing. “Is there any significance there?”

“The woman we arrested—chief of staff to a state senator—implied they believe they are shaping the world to their own benefit. But like I said, she died before she was fully questioned.

“Poisoned.” He answers what he knows will be my next question. “Keeled over the table in the middle of her interrogation. We have no idea how it was administered.”

My blood turns to ice.Theseare the people after me?

“You said you went in as a police officer with your real identity. If you joined the group?—”

Brady is pacing again, the lines of his body vibrating with anger. “They don’t have a clubhouse, Elizabeth. I was invited to parties. Made it known my services could be bought in case someone needed evidence misplaced or a heads-up on a warrant.

“I wasn’t the only member of law enforcement at the parties. It’s how I was able to expose Detective Simpson’s captain. I eventually gained the trust of a handful of people, and they hired me to help with a money laundering scheme that involved selling guns to Central America. Those were the ones eventually arrested. Unfortunately, there was never a night I showed up and a group of people were standing in a circle wearing robes and holding candles.”

“No one was willing to testify for a lighter sentence?”

He shakes his head.

That surprises me. Rich people usually do whatever they need to, in order to stay out of jail.

Brady’s eyes are shadowed, and my unease deepens. “Not only wouldn’t they implicate anyone else, every single one ofthem either committed suicide or was killed in custody before trial.”

It feels like a boulder has dropped on my chest. “They wrapped up loose ends.”