Page 24

twenty-four

Rowan had a bad feeling.

It had settled in the moment Davey announced he was going to meet Cade alone, and it hadn’t gone away since.

She paced the length of the apartment, arms crossed tight over her chest, trying to ignore the two men keeping watch over her like a pair of sentinels.

Liam hovered near the door, arms folded, watching her like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Which, unfortunately, he did.

But if she left, she wasn’t going to make a run for the door. No, she’d use the fire escape. Without her climbing equipment, it was her only option as she wasn’t too keen on free-soloing down the side of the building.

The problem was Sabin.

He sat sprawled in the armchair, one ankle resting on his knee, flipping a coin between his fingers like he hadn’t a care in the world. But his lazy grin was deceptive. Jean-Sabin Cavalier never missed a thing, and as a former thief, he knew the fire escape was her only option.

Which was why he’d positioned himself at just the right angle to see the window.

Not directly, not obviously—but enough that if she so much as touched the latch, he’d clock it.

Rowan narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if he was actually watching her or just playing some elaborate game of psychological warfare.

Sabin caught her look and smirked. “Problem, princess?”

Damn him.

“No.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawled. “You’re fidgeting. I suspect that means you fixin’ to do something reckless.”

Rowan stopped pacing long enough to glare at him. “I don’t fidget.”

Liam arched a brow.

Shit. She was definitely fidgeting.

Damn them both.

She exhaled sharply. “You don’t have to hover. I’m not going to vanish into thin air. I’m not a magician.”

Sabin grinned like he’d already won the argument. “Mm. Now, cher, that’s exactly what a magician would say.”

Liam snorted.

Rowan rolled her eyes and turned toward the window, but before she could start pacing again, Daphne closed her laptop and pushed up from the table. “I gotta go back to my lab.”

Rowan turned to her. She’s almost forgotten the other woman was there. “Why does she get to leave?”

“Maybe because she wasn’t stabbed a few days ago,” Sabin suggested.

Daphne pushed her glasses up her nose. “And unlike the rest of you people, I have actual work to do.”

Liam unfolded his arms. “I’ll drive you.”

Rowan whirled toward him, seizing on the opportunity to get out of his apartment. “I’ll go with?—”

“No.” Liam shot her a look. “Not a debate.” Then he softened the blow with a faint smile. “You gotta be hungry. I’ll grab some food on the way back.”

Sabin stretched, still looking thoroughly unbothered. “ Mais , yeah, I’m hungry. Get me fries.”

Liam didn’t dignify that with a response.

Daphne, already halfway to the door, smirked over her shoulder. “He means extra fries.”

Sabin grinned.

Rowan crossed her arms. “And what about you?” she asked Sabin. “Shouldn’t you be Liam’s backup?”

Sabin gave her an exaggerated yawn. “Nah. You’re my priority. Plus, it takes a very special kind of idiot to go after Liam. He’ll be fine.”

Rowan’s unease didn’t just settle—it sank, deep and heavy, like a storm rolling in.

The longer she stood there, the worse it got, tightening low in her ribs like a warning she couldn’t shake. She turned back to the window, scanning the street below. “I don’t like this.”

Sabin flipped his coin, caught it, and flicked it into the air again. “You don’t like anything.”

She shot him a glare. “I mean it. Something feels wrong.”

Sabin sighed. “Rowan. Davey’s not stupid.”

“You sure about that?”

He smirked. “Okay, fine, he’s stupid, but not the suicidal kind. And if Cade was going to put a bullet in him, he’d have done it years ago.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she muttered.

Sabin arched a brow. “Then what?”

She hesitated, half afraid that if she put it into words, and it would become reality.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down her face. “He’s out in the open. In a public place. With people watching.”

Sabin flipped his coin lazily. “Yeah, that was kind of the point. Neutral ground, witnesses. Harder for Cade to try anything.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened. “And easier for someone else to take a shot.”

Now she had his attention.

Sabin caught the coin mid-flip, his long fingers closing around the metal. “You think this is a setup?”

“I think Davey’s has more enemies than friends right now. So, yeah, I think if someone wanted to take him out, this would be a damn good opportunity.”

Sabin considered that. “So why let him go?”

Rowan exhaled sharply, forcing herself to unclench her fists. “Because we’re all working off scraps right now. We don’t know who’s pulling the strings. We don’t even know if we’re playing the same game. Talking to Cade was our only option.”

Sabin’s eyes narrowed. “So what do you want to do about it?”

She wanted to call Davey, but if something had already gone sideways, she didn’t want to distract him. She wanted to run straight to him, but if she was wrong, she’d just make herself a target.

She turned back toward the window, gaze flicking down to the street again. The light was different now. Time had passed.

More time than she’d realized.

She’d spent the last hour pacing this fucking apartment like a caged cat, obsessing over Davey’s meeting, and she hadn’t even noticed how long it had been since Liam walked out that door.

A sharp prickle of unease ran down her spine. She glanced over at the door, frown deepening. “How long ago did Liam leave?”

Sabin didn’t answer immediately. He was still watching her, reading her, and that only made the unease in her stomach twist tighter.

Finally, he shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe an hour? Hour and a half?”

Too long.

WSW wasn’t far. Neither was a damn burger joint.

So where the hell was he?

Her pulse kicked up.

Had something already happened at the meeting? Was that why Liam hadn’t come back?

But no—Sabin would know if something had gone wrong. Wouldn’t he?

Unless—

Unless there hadn’t been time to call.

Her stomach dropped.

Her mind started ticking through every possibility, every terrible fucking scenario.

What if Liam never made it to WSW? What if someone had been waiting for him?

What if he’d walked into a trap?

She turned back to Sabin, heartbeat too loud in her ears.

“He should be back.”

Sabin’s smirk faded completely. His posture shifted, subtle but noticeable. “You worried about Liam now?”

Rowan clenched her jaw. “He should be back,” she repeated, sharper this time.

But saying it out loud didn’t make it true.

The uneasy weight in her chest solidified into something colder, heavier.

This wasn’t just paranoia.

Something was wrong.

She could feel it, crawling up her spine, pressing against the back of her skull like a warning too loud to ignore.

Rowan glanced back at the window one last time, like she’d see Liam or Davey walking down the street—like she’d been wrong.

But the street was empty.

Enough.

She spun away from the window, pulse thrumming in her throat. “I’m taking a shower.”

Sabin’s grin returned instantly. “So this is the part where we pretend you’re not about to do something incredibly reckless, yeah?”

Rowan didn’t answer, just headed for the bedroom. Slow. Controlled. Like she wasn’t already halfway out the door.

“Don’t you go closing that bedroom door,” Sabin warned idly.

“Yeah, you’d like to see me naked, wouldn’t you?”

“As appealing as you are, cher, I’d like to keep my balls intact more and Davey’ll have them for earrings if he thinks I saw anything.”

Rowan shot him a sidelong glance before shutting the door. She could hear his chuckle on the other side. “We both know what you’re gonna do. You get a five minute head start, then I’m comin’ after you.”

She didn’t bother turning on the shower. Sabin already knew it was a ruse, so why waste the water? She grabbed her Glock from the nightstand, checked the mag, and slid it into the holster at the small of her back. A blade followed—a slim, wickedly sharp karambit, strapped to her thigh.

Prepared, not paranoid. That had been drilled into her since she was a kid.

Only now, it didn’t feel like paranoia.

It felt like survival.

Her boots barely made a sound as she slipped to the window, pried it open, and climbed out onto the fire escape.

By the time her feet hit the pavement, she was already running toward the café thirteen blocks away.

Because she knew .

She didn’t know how she knew. Maybe it was gut instinct. Maybe it was a lifetime of training. Maybe it was the simple, unshakable fact that Davey Wilde attracted trouble like a damn magnet.

And right now, something wasn’t right.

Then—the first gunshot cracked through the afternoon air.

Rowan froze.

Then she ran.

Another shot.

Her pulse hammered as she reached the café, barely processing the chaos—patrons screaming, tables overturned, the sharp crack of glass as a bullet shattered another window.

Then—movement.

Davey.

He was running into the street.

What the hell was he doing?

And then she saw it.

He was drawing fire away from the civilians.

The sniper was hunting him.

Rowan’s stomach twisted, her fingers already reaching for the gun at the small of her back.

A shadow moved at her side, and she didn’t have to turn to know Sabin had caught up to her.

He was watching, his usual easy grin gone. His expression was sharp now, calculating.

“Is he out of his fucking mind?” he murmured.

Rowan’s grip tightened around her weapon. “Always.”

Davey kept moving, deliberately making himself a target.

The sniper didn’t fire.

Rowan didn’t trust that silence.

“Come on.” She was already in motion, but Sabin grabbed her wrist.

“Wait.”

Her pulse jumped. “What?—”

“The cops.”

Red and blue lights flickered down the street.

Rowan cursed.

The sniper was gone.

And now, the cops were here.

Davey had stopped moving. He stood at the center of the chaos, gun still in his hand, breathing hard. He looked wired—adrenaline still riding him hard—but his eyes found hers immediately.

She didn’t know what he was expecting.

Relief? Praise?

Too bad.

She stalked toward him.

“What the hell was that?” she snapped.

Davey dragged a hand through his hair. “Buying you time.”

She swore. “You?—”

“I need to know where Liam is.”

That stopped her.

She blinked. “What?”

Davey turned to Sabin, his expression sharp. “Tell me you were with him. Tell me you know exactly where he is.”

Silence.

Sabin hesitated. “No. He—uh—went to take Daphne back to her lab and get food.”

“When?” Davey’s voice came out too sharp, too fast. A single, deadly demand.

Rowan’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t just urgency. It was fear.

Sabin rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “He said he’d be back in an hour. I figure he’s at the safe house wondering where the hell we are.”

Davey’s jaw clenched. “Then let’s go.”

Rowan didn’t argue.

Because suddenly, her gut was screaming again.