18. Killian
KILLIAN
Horseradish was strong in Killian’s nose, stinging his sinuses.
Brodie nearly killed him with the amount he slapped on his roast beef sandwich.
Killian didn’t have the heart to tell him.
After all, Brodie didn’t charge him, and he did dip the cheese in au jus as requested.
However, Brodie needed to learn portion control. Next time he’d order it on the side.
Lesson learned.
Killian glanced around the tavern, waiting for Brodie to emerge from the chaos.
He rubbed at his temples, attempting to relieve his headache from the group of shouting men.
He just wanted to get home already, but first, they needed to question Conwell.
Good thing they didn’t have to travel far.
Brodie’s tavern was originally a jail before they built the bar above it.
Killian knitted his brows. Riggs' legs bounced up and down repeatedly, and his eyes darted around the room like their schizophrenic uncle Bob.
“What’s up with you?”
Riggs stretched his arms over his head, leaning back into his chair. “Nothing.”
Killian scanned him, eyes wide, and fixed on the bulge beneath Riggs' cloak. “You really brought that damn cat inside?” He jerked his chin toward the fabric sprawled across Riggs. “And who’s cloak is that?”
Riggs' face turned crimson. “Shut up.” His eyes darted around the tavern, slowly returning to Killian’s gaze. “Why do you have to be so loud?”
“Brodie won’t care.” Killian took a bite into his sandwich, melted cheese stringing from his lips. “Why are you hiding that cat between your legs? It’s fucking weird,” Killian said with a mouthful, wiping his mouth.
Riggs leaned forward, his brows bunched. “Hey, shut the fuck up. We need to?—”
“You boys ready?” Brodie appeared, jerking his chin toward the stairs. “You got five minutes before my father returns.” He dangled keys in front of him. “Oh, you’ll need these.”
“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it,” Killian said, pocketing the keys.
Riggs stood, adjusting the cloak over his arm, still hiding the cat for some odd reason.
Maybe Riggs had found something special about the animal and planned on running tests later, or whatever the hell he does with his free time.
“Well, if this Creswell guy knows something about the missing princess, I want to make sure you get all the information you need.” Brodie nodded, his lips tight. “Anything for my best guys.”
Killian braced his hand on Brodie’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. I owe you.” He pointed to Riggs. “This fool brought a cat with him. Sorry in advance if you see a pussy running wild.”
Brodie chuckled, arching a thin brow toward Riggs. “Riggs, my boy, you finally got that pet cat you always wanted.”
Riggs scratched his neck, a lazy smile taking over his face. “Yeah, something like that.”
Descending the stairs to the cells, Killian’s ears rang with the gods’ awful tune Conwell was singing.
“Kiss me, love me, kiss me, fuck—” Conwell approached the bars with a wide smile. “Back so soon?” He placed his hand over his chest. “Let me guess…you missed me?”
“Funny.” Riggs grinned, throwing the cloak over his shoulder, and adjusting the kitten in his arms. “How does the next line go?”
“Enough, Riggs!” Killian yelled, meeting Conwell’s gaze. “Tell me everything you know about Princess Elora.”
Conwell’s lips curved. He turned, dragging his nails along the wooden wall. “Sorry, no can do.”
Killian bit his lip, bunching his fists. “And why the fuck not?”
Conwell turned on a heel, bracing a hand on his hip. “Because I don’t know a thing.” He smirked. “So, unless you're here to suck me off, I have nothing to say to you.”
Confusion rippled across Killian’s features. Wondering where this new Conwell came from. Once a scared man, now he had jokes? It didn’t make sense. He’s hiding something. He knew Conwell was delaying—knew he was using lewd methods to flip the script.
Riggs leaned against the wall, his voice hollow. “I’m sitting this interrogation out.”
Killian’s gut sank at his brother’s pouting.
Riggs is always so damn sensitive. He’d apologize for snapping at him later.
Right now, he needed to gather information.
Wrapping his hands around the cold iron bars, Killian bared his teeth.
“Look, you freckled fuck, I know you’re hiding something.
How do you know the queen’s handmaiden?”
Conwell raised a brow. “I’m impressed.” He slid his hands into his pockets, clicking his tongue. “You know the cell is warded against magic.” He chuckled, low and malicious. “And right about now, I wish it wasn’t.”
“Oh yeah? Why is that?” Killian had a feeling the creep had magic running in his veins. It was why he had purchased the Magic Invincibility potion from Eddie.
Conwell huffed a quiet, sensual laugh, then licked his lips. “Oh, no reason. Just the things I’d like to do to you.” His eyes burned with desire as his gaze swept over Killian’s body. “Oh, the things I could do…”
Killian grunted, folding his arms across his chest. “I know what you’re doing.”
Conwell winked, brushing his curved nose, then trailed down to his lips. “You can open this door and find out.”
“Tempting.” Killian pursed his lips, already over Conwell’s bullcrap. “I got two minutes before I lose my shit.” Two minutes before Killian unlocked the door and beat him senseless.
“Oh, we can get a lot done in two minutes.” Conwell grinned, wagging his brows. “If you know what I mean.”
Killian pinched the bridge of his nose, tapping his foot. “Riggs…a little help?”
“I mean, sure, your brother can join too.” Conwell peeked over Killian’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah…he’s a looker.”
“I’m flattered,” Riggs said, approaching the bars. “But no thanks. I like ’em a little more fuller, and a little less cocky, if you know what I mean.”
Killian stepped back, letting Riggs take over. He could feel his anger peaking to the point of explosion and needed to take a breather.
“I never thanked you.” Riggs chuckled, rocking the kitten like a baby. “You know, for the bag, and the suit. It was exquisite.”
Conwell shifted his stance, swallowing before speaking, “What do you want, pretty boy?” His eyes skimmed over the animal in Riggs' arms, brows bunching. “Do you always carry a cat with you?”
“Not important.” Riggs asked, “What do you know about the missing princess?”
“I told you.” Conwell bit his lip, staring at Riggs like he was ice cream he wanted to lick. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ll strike a deal with you.”
Conwell rested his fist under his chin. “I’m listening.”
Riggs spoke gently, “What do you say we trade something…you tell me what I want to know, and I’ll convince the one in charge to let you free.”
“Prove it.” Conwell cocked his head to the side. “Because I don’t believe a word.”
Riggs looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Killian, pass the keys.” He threw him a wink.
Killian rolled his eyes and tossed him the keys. Riggs was fibbing—using it as leverage. He knew his brother’s tactics—sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t.
Killian observed his brother dangle the keys in front of Conwell like he was some damn dog on the streets begging for food.
“I have the keys to your cell,” Riggs taunted.
Killian rubbed his temples to relieve his headache.
Conwell lunged, reaching his hands outward.
“Whoa, now.” Riggs stepped back, clicking his tongue. “Now tell me something I don’t know.”
Conwell dragged his hands across his face. “Okay, okay. Fine.” He glared, muttering profanities under his breath. “I was meeting someone. I don’t know anything about the princess.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry.”
The kitten hissed, scratching at the bars.
Killian threw his head back and exhaled a drawn-out breath.
“Okay, Conwell, here’s the thing. I know you’re full of crap. So, spill it,” Riggs urged, his tone laced with frustration.
“Time’s up.” Brodie thundered down the stairs, his eyes bulging. “My father’s back, hurry.”
Killian slammed his eyes closed.
Fuck me.