Page 104 of Wilde and Deadly

Davey studied him. Searching for any crack in that polished, infuriatingly pleasant mask.

Nothing.

“Cade, then.”

Frost exhaled, almostdisappointed. “Oh, come on, Davey. Do you really not know your family at all?” A shake of his head. “If Cade Wilde wanted you dead, he wouldn’t have hired someone else to do it. He certainly wouldn’t have hired me to broker the deal and he definitely wouldn’t have hired her”—his gaze flicked to Rowan again—“given that you two eye-fuck each other every time you’re in a room together.”

The muscle in Davey’s jaw twitched. He ignored it. “So who hired you to hire her? Who wants me dead?”

Frost’s smile sharpened. “Now that’s a much more interesting question, isn’t it?” He leaned forward in the chair as much as his restraints would allow. “But I’m afraid I can’t answer it. Client confidentiality and all that.”

Davey’s fist clenched at his side. “Cut the shit, Frost. You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate here.”

Frost’s amusement didn’t waver. “Aren’t I?” His eyes glittered, calculating. “You can’t touch me, Davey. Not really. And we both know it.”

A shift to Davey’s right. Sabin, usually the easiest one in the room, moved forward. At that moment, he looked less like the snarky prankster and more like the deadly operative Davey knew him to be. “Want to bet on that, Frost? We could make you talk.”

Another laugh. “Oh, please. You’re not going to torture me. That’s not your style.”

Then he turned, eyes landing on Sullivan. And Davey knew—knew—before he even spoke.

“Well, maybe it’s his. Tell me, Sullivan. Do you know where your brother is?”

The air turned razor-sharp.

Every muscle in Sullivan’s body went rigid.

Rowan stepped forward. “What do you mean?”

Frost didn’t even look at her. Didn’t have to. His attention was still locked onto Sully, like a predator watching for the first sign of weakness.

“You’re all so worried about Liam or Cade.” The mockery faded from his voice, leaving something colder behind. “But you should be worried about Brody.”

Sullivan went very, very still.

Sabin’s coin slipped from his fingers, the softclinkagainst the floor barely registering. “What?”

“You heard me,” Frost said.

Davey had never wanted to put a bullet between a man’s eyes more.

Sullivan pushed off the wall. His face was blank, but Davey knew him well enough to see what was underneath.

“You’re lying,” Sully said, voice low and dangerous.

Frost tilted his head. “Am I?”

Another beat of silence. Then Sullivan grabbed him.

Frost chuckled. “Now, now. Let’s not get emotional.”

Sullivan’s grip tightened. His voice wasn’t calm anymore. “Where is he?”

Frost just kept grinning that Cheshire Cat smile.

Shit. Sully was about to do something stupid.

Davey moved, but not fast enough. In a blink, Sullivan had Frost by the collar and yanked him forward so violently into the punch, the chair screeched against the concrete.

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