Page 1

one

Seven days.

Seven long fucking days.

Davey Wilde groaned and leaned back in his office chair. His first official week as the head of Wilde Security Worldwide was a goddamn disaster.

It started with him being tied to his bed on Christmas Eve and having his dog stolen by a woman he couldn’t decide if he hated or was helplessly, irrationally attracted to. Rowan fucking Bristow—danger wrapped in temptation, a beautiful weapon he’d never learned how to resist. Sleek and lethal, all sun-warmed skin over wiry muscle, straight dark hair spilling down her back like ink, and those damned golden eyes that saw straight through him. Every smirk, every sharp-edged taunt was a calculated strike, designed to burrow under his skin, to make him forget what was at stake.

He’d chased her across three states, following every scrap of intel, every whisper, every hint she might’ve left behind, only to find himself one step behind each time. The woman was an expert at disappearing, and every dead end stoked his frustration to dangerous new heights.

But Rowan wasn’t his only problem.

Half his cousins were considering mutiny—led by Cade, the smug asshole—and two major clients were threatening to pull their contracts unless certain vague “security concerns” were addressed immediately. He’d barely had time to breathe, much less sleep, caught in a constant battle between managing the company and tracking down the one woman who’d always had the power to tear his carefully controlled life to pieces.

He still couldn’t believe she’d gotten the drop on him like that. Tied to his bed with his own fucking Christmas lights—could she have chosen anything more humiliating?—while she calmly made off with Luka.

His dog, for Christ’s sake.

It was a low blow, even for her.

And the worst part? He still wanted her. Even now, his pulse raced at the thought of her, at the memory of her body pressed against his, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered tauntingly, teasingly. He should have known better— did know better—and still, he’d let himself fall into her carefully laid trap.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, fingertips rasping against days-old stubble. Sleep had become a distant luxury. Every time he closed his eyes, Rowan’s face—sharp angles softened by full lips, tiger eyes gleaming with mischief and challenge—was right there.

Haunting him.

Daring him to chase her down again.

And, dammit, he knew he would.

And not only because her father had hired him to find her.

The weight of responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders, but he refused to let it crush him. He was a Wilde, dammit, and Wildes didn’t buckle under pressure. They thrived on it.

As he sat in his new office, poring over the latest report from his cousin Daphne about a cyberattack on their network, his cell phone buzzed against his uncle’s—no, his . It was his mahogany desk now. Solid, heavy, imposing. The kind of desk meant for a man who commanded a room with a single look and made decisions that shaped empires.

Would he ever get used to sitting here, making the decisions that used to be Uncle Greer’s to make?

Jesus.

He needed to get his shit together. Fast.

His phone vibrated again. Elliot, his middle brother. He started to pick it up?—

The door burst open.

A tall, blond man strode in without knocking, moving with the easy arrogance of someone who had never once hesitated before inserting himself into a situation. He was all effortless charm and careless confidence, dressed in a crisp, open-collared button-down and dark slacks that should have looked polished but somehow gave the impression he’d just rolled out of bed wearing them. His golden hair was too long, a little too artfully tousled, as if he’d spent the morning tangled in silk sheets—or wanted people to think he had.

Jean-Sabin Cavalier was the kind of man who made bad decisions look like a good time.

Davey dragged a hand down his face again, inhaled deeply, and exhaled even slower.

Of course.

Because the universe wasn’t content with just testing him this week—it wanted to see exactly how close he was to snapping.

He steeled himself, locking down his patience before lifting his gaze to meet Sabin’s smug grin. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

Sabin threw his long body down in one of the worn leather chairs and hooked a leg over the arm. He never sat like a normal person.

“Ever heard of this crazy new invention called an orgasm?” His voice was thick with bayou heat, a slow Cajun drawl that made every sentence sound just a little bit like trouble. “Best stress relief there is, for real.”

Davey pinched the bridge of his nose. As irritating as Sabin could be, the man was a genius when it came to intelligence gathering—and he was one of the very few people Davey trusted implicitly. Even if that trust came at the expense of his sanity.

“What do you want, Sabin?”

Sabin’s grin widened, white teeth flashing against his tanned face. “To win the office bettin’ pool on when you’ll finally snap and attack your computer with a baseball bat. I know you a stubborn bastard so I said you wouldn’t, but it been a week and you done nothing but boudee . I’m seeing cracks in the armor, mon ami . Gotta shore ‘em up, or you’re gonna lose me some serious cash.”

A growl rumbled deep in Davey’s chest, even though amusement threaded reluctantly through his irritation. Sabin had a gift for cutting tension—often by making Davey want to strangle him. “Your concern for my mental health is touching.” His phone vibrated again, and he reached for it. “Unless you’ve got anything useful?—”

Sabin leaned forward, eyes crinkling mischievously. “Actually, I do got somethin’.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, smoothing it carefully on the polished wood.

Davey eyed it with suspicion. It looked like Sabin had fished it straight from the trash. Still, he picked it up, scanning the printout of a map dotted with red marks. “What’s this?”

“That is a list of places upstate where Rowan might be hiding out. My contacts came through with some intel.”

By “contacts,” he almost certainly meant his old man. Jean-Luc Cavalier, retired mercenary and former right-hand man to Gabe Bristow before he retired to spend his days fishing on Lake Pontchartrain. “Tell me you didn’t mention that I lost Bristow’s daughter while she’s supposed to be under my protection.”

Sabin grinned. “ Mon père can keep a secret better than anyone— mais , no, I didn’t tell him. He’s outta the game now and likes it that way. This came from some old buddies from my less-than-legal days before I got respectable-ish. They still got fingers in them pies that are a bit too hot for regular hands.”

Davey exhaled slowly, his frustration ebbing as he studied the map. He needed something—anything—to go on. “All right, what’s the catch?”

Sabin’s smile dimmed just a fraction. “These ain’t the usual hidin’ spots. They’re places folks don’t ask questions ‘cause they’re too scared of the answers. If Rowan’s there, gettin’ her out won’t be a simple extraction.”

Davey nodded, scenarios already clicking into place. He’d known Rowan wouldn’t hide somewhere safe and predictable—not her style. “And what do you get out of this?”

Sabin spread his hands wide, a shrug lifting his shoulders slightly. “Just doin’ my part for Wilde Security Worldwide. Hopin’ to keep my boss from spiralin’ into sleepless nights and unshaved mornin’s. Nobody wants to see that.” His grin returned. “If you find Rowan, we all look good, yeah?”

“You’re protecting your bet in the pool, aren’t you?”

Sabin laughed, a big, boisterous sound that filled the office. “Guilty as charged.” He stood, rolling smoothly out of the chair. “Consider this part community service, part self-preservation.”

“I appreciate the intel.” Davey also rose, folding the map and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Seriously, Sabin. I owe you one.”

Sabin paused at the door, glancing back with a familiar, mischievous gleam. “Put in a good word with your cousin, and we’ll call it even.”

“Which cousin? I have nine.” Only four were female, but he wouldn’t put it past Sabin to try his luck with any one of them.

Sabin’s grin turned wicked, blue eyes sparking with mischief. “The lovely Fiona, of course. That woman tougher than gator hide, but I think I’m wearin’ her down. Yesterday, she almost smiled at me— mais , I felt that one straight in my bones.”

“What makes you think I have any sway with her?”

“Come on, Davey. Fiona respects you more than most. A little nudge from you? Might just tip them scales in my favor.”

“She thinks you’re trouble, Sabin. And she’s not wrong.”

“Pshh.” He waved that off with a lazy flick of his wrist. “What’s life without a little trouble? You tell her I ain’t near as bad as the stories say. Maybe even throw in a lil’ somethin’ about my legendary charm and devastatin’ good looks.”

“How about you just focus on keeping yourself out of the kind of trouble that ends with more paperwork for me?”

Sabin’s rich laugh echoed down the hallway as he left. He was definitely not going to stay out of trouble.

Davey turned back to his desk with a sigh. He’d talk to Fiona later—not that he could change her mind about Sabin, but at least he could warn her before she got tangled too deep with the incorrigible ex-thief.

As silence reclaimed the office, his thoughts drifted back to Rowan. He unfolded the map again, fingertip tracing the red marks Sabin had made. Each dot was a possibility, a place Rowan might be hiding—or trapped. His gut clenched at the thought. She was dangerous, infuriating, and completely unpredictable, yet somehow, he couldn’t stop himself from worrying about her.

He’d underestimated her once. Thought she was just another job: protect the daughter of a fellow ex-SEAL. Easy.

Except Rowan was anything but easy.

She was a firecracker, a deadly mix of danger and allure that mesmerized and exploded through his life, leaving nothing behind but sparks, smoke, and an unfamiliar ache in his chest.

Davey shoved the map into his jacket pocket and stood. It didn’t matter how far she ran or how much hell he had to wade through. He was going to find Rowan Bristow—and when he did, they’d settle this thing between them. For good.