“Yeah.” His grin widened. “When I figured out Kat wasn’t playing you, and you tried to beat the shit out of me—”
“Hey. You come in the house with two guns and a knife, planning to kidnap my wife. Did you think I wouldn’t see the Glock tucked in the back of your pants?”
“I didn’t draw it, did I?”
That gave me pause. “Why didn’t you?”
“I’m not drawing a gun on you,” came Seamus’s stern answer; he looked serious, earnest in a way he seldom did. Clearing his throat, he asked, “So why didn’t you use the gun on me? When you found it, why didn’t you point it at me to keep me from getting up?”
Glaring at him, flexing my jaw, I stalled.
The truth was, I had no idea. I should’ve, and usually I would’ve if he’d been anyone else, but I didn’t.
Eventually, I muttered, “Go fuck yourself.”
He smiled. “That’s what I thought.”
“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes, my knee bouncing for some reason. “What—specifically—happened after you hit me over the head?”
“That wife of yours, she grabbed the Glock, stepped between you and me, and started screaming for me to back off, to not touch you. Like I said, I swear, I thought she was going to shoot me. She was pissed, like, if I gave you a funny look she was going to snap my dick off and feed it to Bark Wahlberg as a snack.”
I smirked at that, proud of her for some reason. “Yeah, well. Don’t piss off the wife.”
“Tell me about it,” he sighed, then chuckled, then sighed again. “I tried to apologize, but—you know—my throat didn’t exactly work. So I left. Then, last weekend, I tracked Tyson down to his marina in Duxbury and we had a little chat. He admitted he’d been trying to use me to get what he wanted—his cousin out of the way—so he made an alternate offer.”
“Which was?”
“I pick you up, Kat wires a ransom, then I kill you, and he and I split the payday.”
“And you accepted?”
“Yeah,” Seamus widened his eyes on me, like my question was stupid. “Yeah, I accepted. If I didn’t do it, he was going to find someone else. So I played along, to keep you and Kat safe.”
“Played along.” I studied my brother, watching his big-eyed act of innocence, like he was swooping in and saving the day for Kat and me.
Nope.
I didn’t buy it.
I knew my brother.
I believed him when he said he didn’t want to kill me. I believed him when he told me why he hadn’t pulled his gun. I even believed him when he said he’d taken the job so Caleb wouldn’t offer it to someone else.
But not for one second did I believe he was doing this out of the kindness of his heart.
“What’s in it for you?”
He blinked at me, looking stunned. “Pardon me?”
“You can take that pardon and shove it up your ass. What’s in it for you?”
Seamus shook his head, his eyes flickering over me like he was disappointed.
In me.
Don’t everyone die laughing at once.
“Nothing, Danny. Nothing is in it for me. I recorded things so you could put that Tyson shitbag in jail. I took the job to keep you safe. I organized my guys to bring you here. I even made sure they didn’t knock you out, ’cause I know you got that concussion.”
Nope.
Still didn’t buy it.
I glared at my brother, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He stared back, still wearing his mantel of angelic intentions.
And then his phone rang. He sighed, glancing at it, his eyebrows ticking up on his forehead. “It’s Kat.”
“Kat’s calling you?”
“It’s probably for you.” Seamus swiped to answer, then held the phone to my ear.
Glaring at my brother, I listened as Kat’s soft, sweet voice said, “Hello?”
I blinked, winced. That shitty feeling, now an old friend, detonated in my chest.
God, I miss her.
“Kit-Kat.”
“Oh God.” She made a sound like a sob, like she was holding in tears, and the sound made me want to smash everything in Boston. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“I’m fine.” I had to clear my throat, it was tight, but I wanted to reassure her. “I’m not hurt. I’m totally fine. I—”
Before I could say anything else, Seamus took the phone away. My eyes cut to his and I watched as he ended the call, a small smirk of triumph on his features.
And then he laughed, like he couldn’t help himself.
And then he turned, still laughing, and called to me over his shoulder, “Thanks, Danny. Thank you for providing proof of life.”