Page 88 of King of Temptation

“Sure thing, Dad.”

Something in Rowan’s tone set alarm bells off in her mind. Praying he wouldn’t catch her, Goldie slowly turned the handle of the door in front of her and eased it open. Through the sliver of an opening she allowed herself, she watched Rowan pull a phone from his pocket. Not the sleek, expensive kind she would expect the son of a mobster to own, but a cheap flip-phone.

A burner, maybe?

And if it was… why would Rowan O’Rourke need a burner phone?

Heart pounding against her ribcage, she pulled the door open a smidge wider as he punched a number into the phone and held it up to his ear. “Yeah. We need to talk.”

Rowan paused, his lip drawing up in a sneer as he listened to whatever the person on the other end of the phone had to say. “I don’t give a fuck how busy you are. If you want to take down Killian, you’ll make time for me.”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. This was actually happening. She was actually listening to Killian’s cousin make plans for his downfall.

A noise in the hall had both her and Rowan freezing in place. Rowan whipped around, searching for the source of the noise, and she just managed to duck back behind the door before he spotted her.

“Hang on. I’m gonna step outside.”

Dammit. She was never going to find out what he was up to if he got out of hearing distance.

Clearly, there was only one thing to do.

Moving as quietly as possible, she opened the door just enough to slip out into the hall. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Rowan’s hideous brownish-purplish polo shirt—puce, she thought the color might be called—as he moved toward the front door.

It was difficult in Killian’s stupidly spacious home to keep to the shadows, but somehow she managed to make it to the foyer without Rowan spotting her. Getting outside was a bit trickier, but luckily her target kept his back to the door as he spoke to whoever it was on the other end of the phone. Which gave her just enough time to scramble for cover behind a set of bushes before he turned back around, his gaze roaming the area, clearly checking for any threats.

She was just settling into her hiding space when a hand clamped over her nose and her mouth, cutting off her air.

Chapter 31

Brody

“Brody.”

His cousin’s voice, wry with amusement, pulled Brody’s attention away from the door he’d been staring at for… Actually, he had no idea how long he’d been staring at it, which meant it had been far too long.

Forcing himself to look over at Killian, Brody cleared his throat when he realized all three of his cousins were staring at him with open amusement. “Sorry. Distracted this evening.”

Killian’s mouth kicked up in a knowing smirk. “Your distraction is sitting at the desk in the parlor, writing something that is no doubt going to make me a very happy man once my wife gets a hold of it. If she moves from that spot, we will be notified immediately, and you can go handle it. Until then…”

Taking the rebuke for what it was, Brody inclined his head. “Right. Go on.”

“Thank you.” The wry amusement vanished from Killian’s expression as he looked around the room. “As you know, Salvatore DeLuca says we have a mole. He’s right.”

Betrayal twisted in Brody’s gut. He hadn’t wanted to believe Salvatore, no matter how much sense it made. But hearing it from Killian’s own mouth, there was no longer any pretending.

“Who?” Despite the calm tone, fury vibrated in Reagan’s voice, echoing the anger Brody could feel boiling in his own blood.

“I don’t know yet.” It was clear from the tension in Killian’s jaw the confession cost him. “That’s what we’re here to discuss. You three are the only ones I’ve been able to eliminate.”

“Eliminate?” Aria’s voice was clipped, as furious as Reagan’s but with none of the restraint Killian’s sister had managed to show. “Meaning, you suspected us but somehow we’ve proven ourselves to you?”

“Yes and no.” Even in the face of his wife’s righteous fury, Killian managed to remain calm. Composed.

That ability was, in large part, why they’d all agreed he should take over for his father when their parents had been murdered.

“I never suspected any of you,” he continued, never taking his eyes off his wife. “But yes, I did do a rather meticulous audit of all your phone records and I compared all your movements to a list of what I consider suspicious events. As much as I wanted to trust my gut, I needed to know for sure.”

“Fuck you, Killian.”