Page 43 of King of Temptation

“Would you two get a room already?” Brody growled, his annoyance growing to dangerous levels as he watched his cousin make googly eyes at his pretty, pregnant wife.

Killian raised a brow. “We were actually in the process of heading to bed when you stopped by. So really, you only have yourself to blame.”

“Figured you’d be pissed if I waited until morning to tell you we have a fucking mole.”

Every person in the room snapped to attention. Killian’s eyes, which had been warm with amusement just a moment ago, turned hard. “Repeat that for me.”

“Salvatore told me at dinner. And I think he’s right.”

“Goddammit. Who?”

“If I knew, don’t you think I would have led with that?”

“Fuck.” Shoving out of his chair, Killian crossed the room and poured himself another glass of whiskey. He paused beside the couch where Aria lounged—a Goldie Quinn book open face down on her lap, because of course that was what she had to be reading when he showed up—to lay a hand on the back of his wife’s neck.

Aria immediately lifted her head, a reassuring smile on her lips. And when Killian looked down to meet his wife’s eyes, the way his cousin immediately relaxed had a lump rising in Brody’s throat.

He wanted that. The adoring wife, the baby, all of it. But it didn’t seem fair to drag someone into their world when they were in the middle of a war.

Maybe after, when things settled down.

A picture of Goldie, her golden eyes brimming with tears of happiness as she cradled a tiny little bundle in her arms popped into his mind and that lump in his throat grew by about three sizes. That was one fantasy he knew would never come true. Not after tonight. Not after she’d looked at him with such betrayal and fury burning in her eyes.

Fuck.

Better for everyone involved if he stopped thinking about her altogether. Stopped imagining stupid what if scenarios that had no hope of coming true even if they found a way to end this war with the other families tomorrow.

Better, all around, if he simply pretended Marigold Quinn didn’t even exist.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the phone on Killian’s desk rang. Not his regular phone, but the one he reserved for his guards and emergency situations.

Killian’s gaze slid to Brody. “Hold that thought.” Making his way back to his desk, he checked the caller ID and sighed, shooting Brody another hard look as he reached for the receiver. “Hello, Captain.”

One of their contacts on the force, then. Unease coiled in Brody’s stomach, twisting into knots as he watched his cousin’s expression turn grim.

“Thank you for letting us know. We’ll be prepared. Your payment will be in the normal account.”

Ending the call, Killian shifted his piercing gaze to Brody, and those knots in his stomach tightened. “It seems Sergeant Quinn is more of a bulldog than you gave him credit for. Detective Gibson is on his way to request the honor of our presence down at the precinct.”

Goddammit. “The two of us?”

“All of us.” Killian tapped a button on his phone and waited. “Tiernan. Are you and Lochlan home?” He paused, listening to whatever their cousin had to say. “You will most likely have company waiting for you when you arrive. I don’t have time for a full debrief right now, but you know how to hold the line. And for god’s sake, make sure Lochlan doesn’t goad anyone into arresting him. Last time it nearly cost me the beach house to clean up his mess.”

He made a similar call to Murphy, letting him know they were coming not just for him but for Rowan and Clara as well. That last bit of news had the unease in Brody’s gut turning sour.

“Do you think Rowan will hold the line?” he asked when Killian ended the call.

“We can hope.” Closing his eyes, Killian rubbed at a spot between his brows.

Aria rose silently from the couch to stand beside her husband. Even without opening his eyes, Killian seemed to sense her, and his arm came up to settle around her waist, pulling her close.

“We’ll be fine.” The newest Mrs. O’Rourke’s voice was firm and solid, much like the woman herself. “It isn’t the first time we’ve been targeted and it won’t be the last.”

“You should listen to your wife, brother. She’s a smart woman, though her taste in men is questionable.” Rising from her chair, Reagan plucked her suit jacket from the back and tossed it over her shoulder. “Brody and I will go and let the guards know what’s going on, so they don’t piss off our friends at the CPD any more than they already are. Make whatever calls you need to make. Oh, and take something for that headache.”

With a jerk of her head, Reagan motioned for Brody to follow as she strode from the room. Brody rose, but paused, waiting for Killian to open his eyes again.

“I fucked up.” The words stuck in his craw, but they needed to be said. “Clearly, I didn’t think this through when I involved Sergeant Quinn.”