Page 121 of Wilde and Deadly

It was like a damn family reunion. The only ones missing were Fiona’s brother, Griffin, who was on an op in France, and, of course, Liam. And they were all kitted up, ready for war—primed like a loaded gun, waiting for Daphne to aim them in the right direction. A stack of weapons sat on one of the long conference tables.

“… really thought he could make us believeLiamis a traitor?” Bridger was saying as Davey and Rowan stepped through the door. His voice was as calm and measured as always, but the fury in his eyes betrayed him.

“Brody mistook quiet for suspicious,” Daphne said, glancing over her shoulder. She did a double-take when she spotted Davey and Rowan, and a smile tipped up the corner of her mouth. “Someone took my advice literally.”

“Hey, I ate,” Sabin drawled, stretching like a cat full up on gumbo, lazy and content. “And I’m breathing just fine, thank you. I even tried fucking, but wouldn’t you know—some folks got no appreciation for my generosity.” He tipped a smirk toward Fiona, who didn’t so much as glance up from her tablet. “Ain’t that right, cher? Shot me down so cold, I damn near caught frostbite.”

Fiona didn’t even blink. “You’d have a better chance arguing a contract clause with me than getting me in your bed, Cavalier. And we both know how that would go.”

Sabin let out a low whistle. “Oof. Y’all hear that? Brutal. She’s got a mean streak, that one.”

Fiona flicked him a cool glance. “Not mean, Sabin. Efficient.”

Sabin grinned, unbothered. “Efficiently breakin’ my heart, sugar. But I like a challenge.” His grin turned wicked as he eyed Davey and Rowan. “Glad at least someone got to relax.”

Rowan’s cheeks flushed. She cleared her throat, glancing anywhere but at Sabin as she smoothed a hand over her hair. “So, uh—Brody. You found him?”

“Actually, I’m looking for Liam, but Brody is definitely with him.” Daphne turned back to her computer, typing rapidly. Several of the wall screens filled with data, maps, and an overlay of a city grid.

Davey walked forward to stand beside Bridger. He settled a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, squeezing once in a silent show of support before shifting his gaze back to the screens. “How?”

Celeste popped the lollipop from her mouth. “Liam’s cochlear implant,” she said, twirling the stick between her fingers. “He had us add some fun upgrades to it last year because he was struggling to wear an earpiece during missions, so we integrated BlueLink.”

Davey’s pulse spiked. “GPS?”

Daphne scowled. “No, but you can bet I’m gonna patch that in as soon as we have him back. I’m slapping hardcode GPS on all of you.”

Sabin raised his hand. “Uh, question. Is that mandatory?”

“Yeah, no,” Dom said and finally stopped pacing. “Definitely passing on that.”

Weston spoke up. “Wholeheartedly seconding that no.”

“Third,” Cade said.

Daphne grumbled something about pain-in-the-ass cousins under her breath.

Celeste patted her shoulder in sympathy and then turned toward the group. “BlueLink is our internal encrypted short-range communication system. It’s what connects all of your earpieces when we’re on an op, and we rigged Liam’s implant to connect directly to the system, his gear, and any nearby WSW devices. No earpieces, no lag, no jamming. Unhackable. Well…” She stuck her lollipop back into her mouth and grinned at her sister. “Unless we’re hacking it.”

“Youhacked his implant?” Bridger asked, enunciating each word in disbelief.

“That’s like hyper-blackhat bullshit,” Weston muttered, rubbing his jaw. “I mean, I’m impressed but also mildly concerned that you can hack medical equipment implanted in someone’s skull.”

“You should be,” Celeste said sweetly. “Nothing is completely safe.”

“Mon Dieu. You’re cute, but you are utterly terrifying,” Sabin said with a shake of his head.

Celeste curtsied. “Thank you.”

“Okay, but how does this help us find him?” Davey asked to get everyone back on track and scanned the maps on screen.

Daphne barely spared him a glance as she typed at lightning speed, the screens shifting to display a new data overlay. “It helps because I can hear what he hears,” she said like it was obvious. “BlueLink isn’t just a comm tool—it’s integrated into his implant’s audio processing. Even damaged, it still transmits, which means?—”

She hit a key.

A wave of static-filled audio crackled through the speakers.

For a second, nothing but distortion. Then, through the garbled noise—a voice.

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