Page 5

five

Davey stepped off the elevator into the sleek, glass-walled command center of Wilde Security Worldwide, each step sending a sharp ache radiating up from his leg. The adrenaline rush of the chase had faded, leaving only a bitter cocktail of frustration and exhaustion in its wake. He ran a rough hand over his face, suddenly feeling every hour of lost sleep, every dead-end lead, and every maddening encounter with Rowan Bristow.

Damn that woman.

WSW’s top-floor operations room buzzed with activity, agents and analysts exchanging rapid-fire information beneath the cool glow of dozens of screens—satellite imagery, live security feeds, and encrypted data streams. It was cutting-edge tech, the best money could buy, but even all their resources couldn’t pin down one stubbornly evasive woman.

He caught the quick, sideways glances from the team. Sympathy mixed with curiosity. The unspoken question lingered heavy in the air: How the hell had she managed to slip away again?

Luka, waiting near Elliot’s desk, lifted his head at the change in Davey’s scent. As soon as he spotted him, the Malinois rose gracefully to his feet, padding over and pressing his warm, solid weight against Davey’s leg. He let out a low huff, as if sensing his frustration. Davey gave his head a quick rub, grateful for the grounding presence.

“Hey!” Dominic’s too-bright voice sliced through the tense hum, instantly grating on Davey’s frayed nerves. Dom bounded toward him, all restless energy, a coffee mug sloshing precariously in one hand. His dark hair was a tousled mess, and he flashed a grin wide enough to make Davey’s eye twitch.

Luka’s ears perked up, tracking Dom’s movement like he wasn’t sure whether to expect a fight or another game. The dog had long since learned that Dominic’s energy was unpredictable at best.

“Look who’s back from another round of hide-and-seek. You look terrible, big brother.”

Davey gave him a flat, withering look. “Not. Now.”

Dom didn’t miss a beat, practically bouncing alongside him like an overgrown golden retriever. “What happened this time? Rowan drug you again? Steal your dog? Your manhood?”

“Dom, he’s about two seconds from throttling you.” Across the room, Elliot didn’t even glance up from his workstation. “Stop pushing your luck.”

“Aw, c’mon. We all know I’m his favorite brother.”

“Maybe his favorite pain-in-the-ass,” Elliot said.

Dom scowled over at him. “Don’t you have some spreadsheets to cuddle or something?”

Elliot finally looked up, his sharp blue eyes narrowing thoughtfully behind his glasses. He was dressed casually today in a dark crewneck sweater, his sleeves precisely folded back to his forearms. “As annoying as he is, Dom’s right. You look like hell. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Davey grumbled.

“Uh-huh.” Elliot’s brow furrowed, concern hidden behind his typically calm expression. “It might be worth handing this one off—at least temporarily—to someone… a little less emotionally invested.”

Heat crawled up Davey’s neck. “I’m not emotionally invested.”

Luka let out a small, almost skeptical huff.

Davey scowled down at his dog. Traitor .

Dominic snorted loudly. “Denial isn’t just a river, and even your dog knows it.”

Elliot held up a placating hand. “I just mean, a fresh perspective might help. Rowan knows exactly how to push your buttons, Davey. You can’t deny that.”

“Yeah, face it,” Dom chimed in. “She’s your kryptonite.”

“Both of you,” Davey warned darkly, his jaw aching from how tightly he’d clenched it, “back off.”

Jean-Sabin Cavalier, lounging at his workstation nearby, tilted his head back and laughed. “ Mais ya, your brothers got a point. That woman more slippery than a catfish in the bayou. You sure you ain’t lettin’ her go on purpose? I think you like the chase.”

Davey shot him a glare. “Remind me why I hired you again?”

“You didn’t. Your uncle did.”

“Then remind me why I haven’t fired you?”

Sabin’s blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he flashed an easy Cajun grin. “My charmin’ personality and stunnin’ good looks, of course. Plus, I keep you humble, mon ami .”

Brody O’Connell swiveled lazily in his chair at the workstation next to Elliot. “Send me after her. I’ll have her back here within the hour.”

“She’d eat you alive,” Davey muttered.

Brody’s grin widened. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Davey narrowed his eyes, annoyance bleeding into every word. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, O’Connell? Like guarding a witness?”

He waved an unconcerned hand. “I needed a break, so Sully stepped in for a few hours.”

“Yeah, well, break’s over. Get back to the safe house and do your job.”

Brody heaved an exaggerated sigh and levered out of his seat. “Fine, I’ll go babysit,” he said, giving a mock salute. “But when you strike out again, my offer still stands.”

Davey glared at Brody’s retreating back as he sauntered to the elevator, whistling cheerfully enough to set his teeth on edge. He closed his eyes for just a second, inhaling long and slow, forcing down the hot sting of annoyance and the dull, persistent ache radiating from his leg. The last thing he needed was to let his team see just how deeply Rowan Bristow had gotten under his skin.

It was time to refocus. He exhaled deliberately, feeling the tension ease from his jaw, his shoulders, his spine, as he wrestled his frustration into submission and locked it down tight. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in command—focused, calm, unshakeable.

Rowan was still out there, alone and in danger. Whatever had happened between them personally, whatever tangled web of emotions and mistakes lay behind him, the team needed clear-headed leadership right now—not a hot-tempered, lovesick fool distracted by his own wounded pride.

He straightened, and the lingering chatter in the ops center immediately quieted, every gaze snapping to attention. The teasing was over. He had a job to do.

“Listen up,” he said, voice clear and steady, every word infused with authority. “Rowan’s in deeper trouble than we realized. The guys after her tonight meant business—heavy hitters, well-armed, and clearly desperate to silence her.”

The words settled over the room, leaving a charged silence in their wake. He could practically hear the gears turning in his team’s heads, processing the seriousness of the threat. He opened his mouth to continue—to outline their next steps, lay out the plan—but before he could speak again, the elevator doors slid open, drawing everyone’s attention.

Cade strode into the room, and instantly, tension thickened like a storm about to break. Everyone knew Cade’s resentment simmered beneath the surface. After years preparing to lead Wilde Security, their uncles had handed the reins to Davey instead, and Cade had punched him at Christmas when he found out.

“Failed again?” Cade’s voice was cold, each word deliberate. “How many more resources are you going to waste before you admit you’re not up to this task?”

Davey crossed his arms. “Didn’t ask for your opinion, Cade.”

“You don’t need to ask. This is family business, and your incompetence affects all of us.”

“You want to talk about incompetence?” Davey’s voice was low, dangerous. “Then let’s revisit Belgrade.”

Cade took a step closer, and his fists balled at his sides as if he were considering throwing another punch. “That has nothing to do with your inability to bring in one woman.”

Luka stiffened, ears pricking forward, eyes locked on Cade like he was assessing a threat.

Davey felt the tension ripple through the dog’s body and reached down, brushing his fingers over the Malinois’s collar in a silent command to stand down.

Luka relaxed but still kept his eyes glued to Cade.

“She’s not just ‘one woman,’ and you know it. Rowan’s been trained by the best. She knows our tactics, our tech. She’s?—”

“Special?” Cade interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yes, we’ve all heard how ‘special’ she is. But the fact remains, she’s a threat to our reputation if you don’t bring her in. Time to hand her off to someone who isn’t constantly sidetracked by a nice ass.”

The words hit with all the cold calculation of a sniper’s bullet. Davey could feel the eyes of everyone in the room boring into him. This wasn’t just a verbal sparring match; this was Cade laying down the gauntlet, a public challenge to his leadership. His pulse thudded in his ears, a mix of anger and the crushing weight of responsibility. Cade’s words cut deep because they echoed his own insecurities—the nagging fear that maybe he wasn’t enough, that maybe Cade was right. But he couldn’t let those doubts show. Any show of weakness would only bolster Cade’s twisted sense of superiority. The guy had been waiting for this moment—waiting for him to fail so he could swoop in and claim what he thought was rightfully his.

“What, someone like you?”

Cade’s eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Face it. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger. Every time you get close, she bats those pretty eyes, and you falter. It’s pathetic.”

“You want to talk pathetic? How about spending years sulking because you never get Daddy’s approval? You’re forever living in the shadow of your hero younger brother.” As soon as the words left his tongue, he knew he’d gone too far.

Brennan’s death was not something the family spoke about.

Ever.

Silence fell like a bomb…

Until Sabin let out a low whistle and kicked back in his chair, planting his boots on the corner of his desk. “Ooh, this is gettin’ spicy.”

“Sabin, how about you don’t fan the flames?” Elliot muttered.

Cade ignored them. His expression was a mask of fury, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked near his temple. He jabbed a finger at Davey’s chest. “Don’t you dare bring Brennan into this.”

Shame burned through him. He’d be furious, too, if their roles were reversed, but he couldn’t back down now. Letting Cade win this confrontation would only set him up for more challenges in the future. “Then don’t question my ability to do my job. I’ll bring Rowan in. My way.”

He turned away, intending to end the argument, but Cade’s next words stopped him mid-step.

“Careful, Davey. Just because you run WSW now doesn’t mean you’re untouchable.”

He swung back. “Is that a threat?”

“A warning. Your failures reflect on all of us. If you can’t handle this, step aside.”

Davey stepped into Cade’s space. Cade was bigger, more muscular, but Davey was taller by a couple inches. He used the slight height difference to his advantage, crowding Cade until he was forced to take a step backward.

“Let me make something crystal clear. This is my op. My responsibility. My company . So unless you want to take it up with the uncles, back the fuck off.”

Cade’s lips curled into a sneer. “You didn’t earn this position. It was handed to you.”

“And maybe that’s because you can’t get through a single mission without burning bridges. Ever wonder if that’s why they picked me over you?”

Direct hit. Davey saw it instantly—the flicker of pain in Cade’s eyes, the tightening at the corners of his mouth. For half a heartbeat, the arrogant mask slipped, revealing raw bitterness beneath.

Davey almost felt bad.

Almost.

Then Cade’s expression hardened again, sharper and colder than before. “At least I don’t let my emotions cloud my judgment.”

“Because the only emotion you’ve mastered is being pissed off,” Davey shot back.

“You want to see me pissed off? Keep pushing. See what happens.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Elliot cut in, stepping between them. He pressed a hand to Davey’s shoulder and Cade’s chest, giving them both a hard shove. “This isn’t productive.”

“Aw, let ‘em whip their dicks out,” Sabin chimed in and reached into his desk drawer, withdrawing a ruler. “We can measure. Course, I ain’t participatin’. Don’t wanna embarrass y’all too bad.”

Davey shot Sabin a scorching glare, but it only made the Cajun’s grin widen. But it was enough of a distraction, allowing common sense to prevail. He couldn’t let Cade goad him into a fight, not here in front of everyone. It would only further undermine his authority, which was precisely what Cade wanted.

He backed up a step. “I don’t have time for this.”

Cade’s face flushed red, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. For a moment, Davey thought he might actually take a swing at him like he had at Christmas. Part of him almost wanted it—an excuse to let loose some of the frustration and anger boiling inside him.

But he couldn’t.

He was the leader now, and leaders didn’t lose control like that.

He took a deep breath, forcing his fists to unclench. “This conversation is over. I’ve got work to do.”

He turned his back on Cade, a deliberate dismissal that he knew would sting. As he strode toward his office, he heard Cade’s parting shot:

“You’re going to regret this.”

A warm weight pressed against his leg. Luka. Silent, steady, and unwavering. The Malinois nudged his thigh, then sat at his feet, his presence grounding in a way nothing else was.

Davey exhaled slowly, his fingers threading through Luka’s thick fur as he let the worst of his frustration drain away.

“Well, that was entertainin’,” Sabin drawled from behind him. “You two should charge admission next time.”

“Shut it, Cavalier,” he growled, but there was no real heat behind it. He straightened to find them all gathered in the doorway—Sabin, his brothers. “Show’s over. Back to work. Pull up Rowan’s tracker. Let’s figure out where she’s headed.”

Sabin patted his shoulder. “Don’t you worry, mon ami . We’ll find your femme fatale before she drives you completely fou .”

Davey shook his head, exasperated but grateful beneath it all. “Too late, Sabin. Way too fucking late.”

Sabin obediently—for once—returned to his station, but Dominic approached, his earlier teasing replaced by genuine concern. “You good?”

Davey ran a hand through his hair. The confrontation had left him drained, the ache in his leg more pronounced than ever. “I’m fine. Cade can go to hell.”

“You know he’s not going to let this go, right?” Elliot said quietly, shutting the door and leaning back against it.

Davey sighed, sinking into the big leather chair behind his desk. “I know, but I can’t worry about him right now. We need to focus on Rowan.”

Dom perched on the edge of the desk. “About that... maybe everyone has a point, and you’re not the right person for this.”

Davey’s gaze snapped up, frustration flaring again. “Jesus, not you, too.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Dom said, lifting his hands in surrender. “Would it really hurt to let someone else take point? She did tie you up with Christmas lights last time you were alone.”

Christmas lights. Davey nearly laughed, a bitter sound he swallowed down. Dominic had no idea that Christmas wasn’t the last time he’d tangled with Rowan, and the memory of the motel room flooded back—her body warm and supple beneath his hands, her breath hitching softly against his mouth. She’d been so close, so perfectly within reach—and he’d let her slip away. Again.

He forced the memory down, clenching his jaw. “I’m not handing this off to anyone. Uncle Greer trusted me with this, and I’m going to finish it.”

Dominic shot Elliot a helpless glance. Elliot’s steady, thoughtful expression didn’t waver as he pushed off the door, adjusting his glasses. “Your closeness to Rowan cuts both ways, Davey. It gives you insight, sure, but it also makes you vulnerable. She knows you too well, and she’s proven she’s willing to exploit that.”

Davey felt the words sink like stones into his gut. Elliot wasn’t taking shots to hurt him—he was telling the uncomfortable truth, voicing concerns Davey had privately admitted to himself more times than he cared to count.

“Who says I’m trying to get away? This is just foreplay.”

He flexed his hands and swore he could still feel the heat of her skin under his palms. His brothers weren’t wrong. He was too close, too involved… but admitting that felt too much like admitting defeat.

But before Davey could respond—before he could find a way to dismiss Elliot’s point without admitting he was right—Sabin threw open the door, narrowly missing Elliot, who stumbled back with a muttered curse.

Elliot shot him an exasperated glare, adjusting his glasses as he stepped aside. “Seriously, Sabin?”

Sabin ignored him. “Bossman, we got trouble—Rowan’s tracker just went dark. Looks like your femme fatale done pulled another vanishin’ act.”

Davey’s stomach dropped. Son of a bitch. Of course she had.