Page 120 of Wilde and Deadly

Liam braced himself for another fight, even as his vision swam, even with his hands useless behind his back—but Brody was done playing.

He moved fast, too fast.

Liam twisted, trying to throw his weight, kick out, anything?—

But Brody got the vest on him.

Straps snapped into place. Metal buckles locked down. The weight of the explosives settled across his chest like a death sentence.

“I really did like you.” Brody’s voice was almost gentle now, like a man regretting the inevitable. “But WSW won’t leave you behind. Even if they think you’re the mole, they’ll still try to save you. That’s the Wilde family’s biggest weakness. You’re too loyal to each other.”

Liam controlled his breath, forcing himself not to hyperventilate. Slow in, slow out. “Want to know your biggest weakness?”

“I don’t have any.” Brody pulled a small detonator module from the bag and slotted it into the vest’s wiring. The LED screen blinked to life with a countdown. Six minutes.

Six minutes until his team found him.

Six minutes until they had to decide if they could disarm the vest in time.

Six minutes until Brody was gone.

Brody tightened the last strap and patted the vest like it was a job well done. Then he stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants, and exhaled. “But before this all kicks off, I really just gotta know. How did you figure it out? Nobody else had any goddamn clue, but you did.”

“You flinched,” Liam said. “After we found Benji dead and Elliot on death’s door, you flinched. I saw genuine regret as the medics carried Elliot out and I knew. That’s your weakness, O’Connell. You’re not as cold as you want to be.”

Brody stared at him for a long moment, before tapping his earpiece, listening. Then he moved.

Liam lunged before he could think better of it, using every ounce of strength he had left, but Brody was already pivoting, already a step ahead. He dodged, grabbed the duffle, and leapt onto the platform edge.

Brody’s smirk returned, but this time, it was almost pitying.“Tough break, Wilde. Looks like you’re out of time.”

Then he was gone.

thirty-one

Daphne was a genius.

Davey found her and the rest of the team—Elliot, Dom, and Sabin—in the computer lab.

Sullivan was still missing.

Davey could only hope that wherever he was, he wasn’t doing something stupid.

Sabin sprawled in one of the empty computer chairs, his long legs stretched out, his hands folded over his stomach. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, but Davey knew better. Sabin’s relaxed posture was a front, a carefully crafted facade masking the sharp intelligence and constant vigilance that made him such a valuable asset to the team. His eyes were sharp, darting between the multiple screens Daphne was furiously typing on.

Elliot still looked pale and slightly nauseous as he sipped from a bottle of water, and Dom prowled the room in restless loops, muscles tight with unused energy. He wasn’t pacing like a man waiting for a fight—he was pacing like a man who needed to move, or he’d explode. Davey could practically feel his frustration crackling off him like static.

And he wasn’t the only one wrestling with frustration.

Around the room, the rest of their family waited, tense and ready.

Fiona, WSW’s lead counsel, sat primly at one of the empty workstations, her legs crossed, her black hair pulled back in a sharp ponytail, her business suit still as tidy as the moment she took it off the hanger that morning. Her dagger-sharp red nails clicked as she typed on a tablet, no doubt already working to legally cover their asses from the fallout of Brody’s betrayal.

Cade was there, too, hanging back by the door with his siblings, Tessa and Weston, flanking either side.

Daphne’s twin, Celeste, had pulled up a chair beside her sister. Where Daphne was a perpetual storm cloud, Celeste was a rainbow. She rolled a lollypop around in her mouth as she nodded at whatever Daphne was doing on the screen. “Oh, that’s good, sis.”

Liam’s younger brother, Bridger, stood with his arms crossed, jaw clenched like he was grinding down a molar. He was as tall as Liam but leaner, built more like their dancer mother than their tank of a father. His dark hair, usually kept so neat, was a mess, and stubble darkened his jaw. His gaze was fixed on the screen like sheer focus could bring Liam home.

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