Page 124 of Carnal Wagers

“You’re not leaving.”

My lips curled up, every one of my limbs tensing up for a fight, as I marched right up to him. “Say that to me again.”

He must have been able to tell how fed up I was, because his arms dropped, and an odd look scrunched his face.

“This is serious,” he said, trying to placate me.

“Move.”

“Alice, I have enemies.”

“Oh, that is big news,” I mocked. “No other criminal mastermind does.”

“Not like this.”

“Move, or I will make you.”

He clutched me by the arms and shook me. “Will you listen? This isn’t about some gangster with a gun.”

“No, it is about your own insecurities.”

“Jesus fecking Christ, woman. You’re so stubborn. Not everyone has a goddamn fucking serial killer after them.”

I wrestled against his hold, and he gave me another harsh shake.

“Did you hear me? A serial killer, Alice. A bleeding madwoman who gets off on killing any woman my brothers and I even get halfway involved with.”

My struggles slowed, and I frowned up at him, trying to gauge the veracity of his words. He forced our foreheads together. Fine lines creased around his eyes, as if this pained him.

“You go out there on your own, she’ll get you. By all accounts, the only reason you haven’t become her next victim is that I haven’t left your side. Don’t make me lose you too.”

He held me firm against him by the nape, his fingers kneading up and down my vertebrae. It was a small reassurance compared to whatever this new information was.

“This…does not make sense.”

“I swear, it’s not a lie. Every stepmother I’ve ever had, the Love Knot Killer killed. Every lover I’ve had or my brothers have had ends up poisoned, stabbed in the heart, and branded. That’s not conjecture. It’s fact. I can’t have that happen to you. I won’t fucking let it.”

“I’ve never heard of this before. It would have come up in my research.” And it never had. At all.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Throw enough money at something, and it vanishes. Everything has its price, and we couldn’t have it stain our name. No one wants to do business with people plagued by a serial killer.”

“But your family had financial trouble. That was why you married m—Alizé, no?”

“I’m never sure whether I should be flattered you know so much about me or not.”

I mock-slapped his shoulder, and he snorted. “Answer the question.”

“Aye, we had trouble, but that was after my da lost himself to gambling. Wasn’t always so. My mam came from old money. When she died, he moved us here from Ireland and made a name for himself using her inheritance.”

I narrowed my eyes with skepticism. “There had to be an investigation into this serial killer’s victims.”

“There was. There still is, but the FBI redacted our information from the investigation after we became targets of victims’ families when rumors leaked that the O’Learys had something to do with the killer. I wasn’t even ten the first time someone came after me.” He lifted my hand to his skull and trailed my finger down a bumpy, jagged scar hidden by his hairline. “Broken bottle.”

“Purée,” I cursed in French.

“I got lucky. Liam wasn’t so. He has a scar from armpit to waist from another attack.”

“The FBI hasn’t found her?”