Page 69 of To Curse A Knight

The man was dressed in a tight, tailored jacket, holding a cell phone up to his ear while he checked his watch outside of a popular coffee shop in the downtown core.

FuckingLauchlan O’Donnellwas the perp? He was the one playing my Killer as the patsy all this time?

The sneaky, lying,deadmother fucker.

I forced the anger out of my voice and swallowed down the heat in my blood. “I’ve never seen him before. But this is great work, Mav. See what else you can find out about it.”

Trish cocked her head in question. She would know me well enough she could probably see I was hiding something. But now wasn’t the time to admit the man I’d been forced to spend time with—a man I’dfuckedmore than once—was the very reason I’d been called to Carlisle in the first place.

“I need to get moving.” I shot Trish a meaningful look. “The feeds go live at three—you’ll want to be ready.”

“Yeah, thanks for the”—she glanced at her watch–“one hour’s notice.” Her tone was sharp, as if remembering she was pissed at me for withholding the information. “Maverick, I need you on another assignment for the rest of the day. You”—she pointed at me with a blunt nail—“go take care of your shit, and we’ll talk later.”

Nodding respectfully, I brusquely stalked out of the office and down to my car, ready to set things right. I knew where the fucker was holed up today—the three of them were working from Hillary’s condo, waiting for the metaphorical shoe to drop on Alvarez’s ass.

I seethed the entire way there. The anger in my veins bubbled to a fiery rage as I considered every fucking moment since I’d met the man masquerading as a Skittle-loving jokester when he was actually casing Hillary for all she was worth. He knew her deepest secrets. He’d watched herkillsomeone.

He'd wormed his way under all our skins with his irritating positivity and charming fucking smiles, and now he had exactly the leverage to threaten Hillary.

I slammed my palm against the steering wheel, the rage spilling out in ravenous waves. Motherfucker.

I stormed into the building, vibrating with vicious energy, jiggling my leg as I waited impatiently for the elevator up to her penthouse. I had started to consider taking the stairs up the thirty flights to work out a fraction of my wrath when the doors opened up with a ding.

Suddenly, every little quirk and ability of Lauchlan made sense. How he could resist my torture session, the way he noticed the tiniest of details, his connections all over a state he’d never been to before… micro details I missed because I hadn’t connected them together.

Either he was very good at his job, or I was seriously fucking stupid. I had a feeling it was a combination of the two.

“Hey, Viking,” Hillary greeted with an anxious smile as I stalked into the living room. Her smile faltered at the no doubt thunderous look on my face. “What’s wro—”

I yanked the sniveling fuck of an Irishman from his lazy perch on the couch and punched him in the face. My fist crunched against bone as his nose broke into smaller, less-smug pieces.

“Whart du farck!”

Blood poured down his face and into his shirt. I glared at him through slitted eyes, nowhere near done with defending my Killer’s honor.

“Kellan!” Hillary shrieked, her tiny hands tearing at my biceps to pull me away from punching him again. Aaron was at my other side, hovering, waiting to see if he needed to assist Hillary, or assist me.

“He’s playing you,” I growled, not bothering to turn to her with the explanation. “He’s fucking playing you, and playing us. Do you know what happens to liars, O’Donnell?”

I stepped back into his personal space, overpowering him with my bulk easily. He stepped back to get away and fell into the couch cushion behind him, completely trapped and perfectly positioned to take another punch to the face.

“Me!” Lucky exclaimed, his hands cradling his mangled nose. “Yurf a fraghen FBI!”

I stilled, my clenched fist halfway in the air at that accusation.

“And how did you fucking knowthat?” I spat, ready to pummel his pretty pout into a mess of bloodied mashed potatoes.

“Kellan!” Hillary repeated forcefully, catching my arm with a tight hold of her own. “I know. I’ve always known. Lucky and I have been playing a little game.”

My furious stare turned to her, disbelief briefly softening the rage coursing through my muscles. “Someone explain before I kill him.”

“I’ve known Lucky’s been trying to con me from the beginning.” She shrugged, as if playing footsies with criminals was a part of her daily routine. “But he didn’t know that I knew, and when I found out what he was after, I gave him the chance to walk away, or stay on board. He stayed.”

“And why wasn’t I aware of this?” I demanded through gritted teeth, the need to punchsomethingstill rioting through me.

“Hasn’t been a whole lot of time for a debrief, Viking,” she explained cautiously, another hand coming up to my back in an attempt at a soothing stroke. “He was the lesser demonof all our demons right now. And he’s the cutest of the bunch, though his face might not be as pretty anymore.”

She swung her head around to examine my victim’s face, scrunching her nose up at the swelling already filling out his shattered nose and cheeks.

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