Page 183 of Carnal Wagers

“He pushed his panic button,” he blurted out, a rush to his words with an undertone of distress that cut down my annoyance. “Let me talk to him. Paulie and Devin are out of commission, and neither Arthur nor Charlie are answering. Liam’s across town with Smiles and Johnny. I’m just as far, and none of the other guys have key access to the penthouse elevator.”

“What panic button?”

“The one in his office.”

This was the first I’d heard of it, not that there should have been much use for it with two guards constantly in the hallway outside and an armory of weapons hidden throughout the penthouse.

“And he could not have hit it on accident with a jerk of his knee?”

“No.” There he went, back to being blunt. No explanation, as if that one word explained everything.

I chuckled through a groan and buried my face in my hand. “Brody, listen, there’s no reason for him to have pushed that button. There’s no fire, and there’s no one in the apartment but him, me, and my best friend.”

“Your friend Maeve Hackett?”

“Yes…? How do you know that name?”

“That’s it. She must be why. She has something to do with the Love Knot Killer. You need to be careful. She could be holding him hostage to—”

“Enough! Do you hear yourself?”

“You have to stop whatever she has—”

“Stop. Just stop. Two days ago, you accused me of being the Love Knot Killer. Now, it’s my friend? When does it end?” I looked up at the ceiling, completely done with this conversation and berating myself for ever answering either time.

“But she—”

“No,” I yelled. “Just no. You want to talk to your brother? Fine. He can deal with you. I have had my fill for today. Forever, actually.”

I threw the door open and marched through the living room, ready to give Cillian a much-deserved lecture about reeling his brother in.

No one was there or in the kitchen, and the door to the bathroom down the hall stood half open, lights off.

“Cillian? Maeve?”

I spun around at the sound of voices coming from Cillian’s office. The door was left ajar. It surprised me that Cillian allowed Maeve in there, but I strode over and shoved my way into the room without hesitation. At the same time, a heavy thwack clacked against wood. I pivoted around to check the door, thinking it hit the wall on my way in, but it stood open nowhere near an obstacle. My brows knitted, but I turned back to the matter at hand.

“Cillian, would you talk to your brother? I cannot—”

It took my brain a few seconds to catch up to the scene in front of me. The armchairs for guests were jammed against the walls. The desk was at an odd angle, the items atop it scattered across it and the floor. And the desk chair was missing. No, not missing. It was overturned on the floor with…

“Cillian!”

I ran to him, knocking Maeve out of the way. My cell phone flew from my hand and clattered somewhere between us. Why was she just standing there?

His body lay at an awkward angle, his neck twisted with most of his weight on it. I tapped his cheek. It was cold but sweaty. I checked for a pulse. It was faint but there. Then I put a finger under his nose. Slow, scraggly breaths scattered over my skin.

“Cillian, chéri, can you hear me? Cillian, wake up. Maeve, call an ambulance.”

I tried turning him around, but with him tied in that chair, it was impossible. “Why are there ropes?”

No one answered, but I didn’t wait. I dug into his pockets, where I knew he kept his trusted knife, so I could saw through them.

“Come on, mari chéri. Stay with me. Maeve, help me.”

Drool dribbled down the side of his mouth as I cut the ropes away.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Maeve said behind me.