Page 47 of King of Temptation

“Because. They are a collective pain in my ass and I need them gone.”

Swallowing hard against the terror gripping her by the throat, she snorted dismissively. “Joke’s on you, pal. The O’Rourkes don’t give a fuck what happens to me. You picked the wrong bait.”

Richard tilted his head to the side, his gaze roaming over her. “You really think that, don’t you?”

“I think that because it’s true.” Brody had made that very fucking clear when he’d tied her to a chair and called her father, of all people, to come ‘rescue’ her.

Another man, this one at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Richard, bled from the shadows. Without so much as a glance in Goldie’s direction, he strode toward her captor, bending down to whisper something in his ear.

The grin that spread across Richard’s face was pure glee, and it had Goldie’s heart dropping into her stomach like a stone.

“It appears you were mistaken, Ms. Quinn. Your cavalry has arrived.”

Chapter 17

Brody

“Got eyes on your girl. Williams is doing a lot of talking.” Lochlan snorted. “Probably doing the whole supervillain monologue thing. Amateur.”

“Be grateful he is.” The amusement in Killian’s voice did little to soften the sharp edge of his tone. “He’s giving us the time we need to figure out how the fuck we’re getting her out of there.”

“Lochlan has the shot,” Tiernan murmured through the headsets they were all wearing. “He could take Williams and the Russian bastard out right now.”

Fear and fury clawed at Brody’s throat but he forced himself to think, to be logical, even though he was not feeling very logical right at that moment. “Not until we know who else is there. Nobody does anything until we know we can get Goldie out of there safely.”

“Does anyone else feel like this is a little too easy?”

Murphy’s question drew murmurs of assent from the group. And Brody couldn’t help but agree. Everything about this smelled like a trap.

“Well. If it’s a trap, perhaps we should spring it.” Killian’s tone remained calm as ever, as if he hadn’t just suggested walking straight into the jaws of death. “Brody, you’re with me. Reagan and Murphy, on the perimeter with our backup. Lochlan, Tiernan, wait for my signal. On the off chance this isn’t a trap, we can end this tonight.”

Goldie

* * *

Despite writing mafia romance novels for a living and being the daughter of a cop, she hadn’t actually spent much time contemplating her own death. And even if she had, she wasn’t sure this specific scenario would have cracked the top fifty on her List of Ways I Might Die.

Now, however, all she could think about was the fact that people she cared about were about to walk right into a trap she’d unwittingly helped set, and that by the time the sun came up they were likely to all be fish food.

Fuck.

If this was one of her books, no doubt the intrepid hero would have already burst through the door, guns blazing to rescue his damsel in distress. But this wasn’t a book, and Brody was⁠—

“Hello, Richard.”

Killian O’Rourke’s voice held that same hint of Ireland Brody’s did, along with the same ‘Take nobody’s shit’ attitude. Despite the calm tone, authority and violence rippled beneath his words.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the man himself, Brody, at his side, and she wanted to weep. To scream at them it was a trap and they needed to get the fuck out of here. But fear kept the words locked in her throat, tangled and jagged and scraping her raw from the inside out as she struggled to free them.

Brody didn’t even glance her way, and even though he’d made it crystal-fucking-clear he didn’t want her, she couldn’t help but try and decipher his deliberate refusal to even acknowledge her presence. Was he really that done with her? Or was he trying to protect her?

If she was writing this scene, she’d probably have the hero do exactly the same thing. Ignore the heroine, pretend she didn’t mean a goddamn thing to him, so that maybe, possibly, the villain would realize he didn’t have the leverage he believed he did and leave her be.

Whatever the reason, he and Killian were both doing a damn good job at utterly ignoring her. So she’d take their cue, swallow the warning still clawing at her throat.

And pray.

Spreading his arms wide, Richard grinned as if welcoming them into his home. “Killian. Brody. Where is the rest of your… entourage?”