Page 93 of King of Temptation

“We’ll get to Rowan,” Brody assured him, nudging him toward the couch. “First, have a seat. And a drink.”

“I’ve had plenty, waiting on you.” The Irish brogue was thicker than usual in Murphy’s voice, telling Brody he was indeed either very drunk or very pissed off.

Or, as was more likely, both.

“Then have a seat.” Brody put more steel in his voice, and accompanied it with a harder push so that Murphy stumbled backward, collapsing on the couch beside Aria who reached out to give his knee a sympathetic squeeze.

Fucking hell, he hated this. Hated being at odds with his family in general, but this… god, this was going to kill Murphy.

And he was the one who had to do it.

Steeling himself against the rage and hurt about to be hurled his way, Brody stood in the middle of the room, all eyes on him. But before he could speak, someone moved, and he glanced over to find Goldie standing beside him, looking every bit the badass he knew she could be when it counted.

As much as he despised the circumstances that had put her there, he was grateful to have her by his side.

“Earlier tonight, Rowan O’Rourke was overheard making plans with an unknown person to ‘take down Killian’. Goldie and I followed him to the docks, where he met with one Alexei Markov.”

As Murphy’s shouts and curses peppered the air, Brody pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the photos before handing the device to his cousin. Snatching it from Brody’s hand, Murphy settled back against the couch with a glare.

But when he looked down, Brody watched the blood drain from his face. Watched his expression shift from righteous indignation to confusion to utter betrayal.

And it broke his fucking heart.

“I’m sorry, Murph,” he said quietly, a mourner paying respects to his cousin’s belief in a son who had turned out to be everything he despised. “I’m so fucking sorry. I wish it wasn’t true.”

“He could be trying to help.” Murphy looked up, his expression almost pleading. “Maybe he’s playing the double agent or something. Just because you saw him with the Russians doesn’t mean he’s betrayed us.”

“That’s very true,” Killian said, his voice full of understanding. “Which is why nobody is going to confront him.”

Head whipping around, Aria gaped at her husband. “We’re not? Why the fuck not?”

“Because we don’t make baseless accusations in this family. Not without stone-cold fucking proof. So we will wait, and we will watch, and until we know for sure nobody says a goddamn thing to or in front of Rowan. Understood?”

“So we just give him time to tell the Russians everything?” Aria’s expression blazed with the kind of fury only a true O’Rourke could summon, and Brody couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride at how she went toe to toe with her husband without backing down. “Fuck that, Killian.”

The green of Killian’s eyes flashed. “Watch how you speak to me, little girl. I’ve given you a plenty long leash, but I have no problem shortening it if you continue this disrespect.”

“First of all, I’m not a dog. Keep referring to me like one and you’ll find out exactly how nasty my bite is. Second of all,” Aria continued, bulldozing over whatever protests Killian was prepared to make, “I’m not going to stay quiet while you put our family at risk. If you wanted a meek and biddable wife, you shouldn’t have married me.”

“Don’t I know it,” Killian muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I am not suggesting we simply roll over and give Rowan free reign to tell the Russians everything they want to know. We’ll keep a guard on him, twenty-four-seven. He won’t be able to so much as eat or take a shit without it being reported back to me. If intervention becomes necessary, we’ll handle it. This is the best way I know how to protect our family, without escalating an already volatile situation.”

“I’m sorry.” Rising from the couch, Aria made her way around the desk, perching on Killian’s lap. A lump rose in Brody’s throat as he watched Killian’s eyes close briefly, misery stamped all over his face as he cradled his pregnant wife. “I know you’re doing what you think is best. For all of us.”

“I appreciate that. But you and I will still be having a very long conversation about the meaning of the word ‘respect’ once our guests leave.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” Aria replied dryly. “Don’t suppose you’d let me blame it on the hormones?”

“Nice try, princess. But no.”

The conversation was a reminder that Brody had his own naughty girl to deal with when he got home, and his cock jerked in his pants at the thought of Goldie, bent over a desk with his marks all over her ass. Glancing down, he caught the hint of pink in her cheeks and he had to resist the urge to grin.

But then he glanced over at Murphy, who was staring down at the phone in his hand as if somehow looking at the photo longer would change the reality of it. Goldie turned her head, her gaze following Brody’s, and before he realized what she was doing, she was kneeling in front of Murphy, her hand on his arm.

“I’m more sorry than I can say that this is happening, Murphy. I haven’t known you very long, but even in this short time I’ve seen how much you love your son, how hard you’ve worked to protect him while not making him feel ostracized. None of this is your fault.”

Murphy barked out a bitter laugh. “I wish I believed that.”

“She’s right, Murph.” Reagan’s voice was as gentle as Brody had ever heard it. “Have you spoiled Rowan a bit? Sure. But nobody blames you for trying to give your child a good life. Just like nobody will blame you if he turns out to be a traitor.”