Page 14 of Wilde and Deadly

The pounding rhythm of the bus wheels against the cracked highway throbbed in time with Rowan’s growing headache. The lush forests of the Catskills had long since given way to the suburban sprawl of downstate New York as the bus hurtled toward the city. She slumped against the window, staring blankly at the changing scenery.

Her lips still tingled from kissing Davey, the taste of him burned into her memory. Reckless. Stupid. A moment of weakness she couldn’t afford. But God help her, she’d never been able to resist him. That man ignited fires in her that no amount of distance could smother.

Distance. Right.

That had been the whole point of drugging him and leaving him and his dog in the motel room.

Her chest tightened as she thought about the job—the deal that had dragged her into this mess. She’d accepted it with ruthless precision: no emotions, no attachments. Just business. Easy.

Until it wasn’t.

When she failed the first time last summer, the threats against her family had sent her running. She’d promised herself she’d stay away from Davey until she figured out how to fix it. But then Christmas Eve happened, and once again, she’d ended up in his bed, right back where she’d sworn never to be again.

But then Davey had… well, been Davey. Infuriating, loyal, stubborn, sexy Davey Wilde.

Rowan closed her eyes, her pulse quickening as the memories rushed back—the way his intense blue gaze burned into hers, hungry and possessive. The way his strong hands had gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him like he couldn’t get her close enough. How he’d pinned her down, mouth hot and demanding, teeth scraping gently along her throat, his breath ragged against her skin. The way she’d shuddered beneath his touch, coming apart for him, helplessly tangled in the sheets and his arms.

She exhaled sharply, frustration and longing twisting into an aching knot deep in her chest.

Enough.

She sat up straighter, rubbing the gritty exhaustion from her eyes, forcing herself back into the cold reality of the moment. Her focus needed to stay locked on what came next.

Ahead of her, the city loomed, a concrete jungle teeming with possibilities and hidden dangers. Her contact wouldn’t wait forever, and the information he held could change everything.

The bus lurched to a stop in the grimy Port Authority terminal, and Rowan hefted her backpack, slipping silently into the crowd. The cacophony of the city engulfed her— horns blaring, people shouting, the constant hum of energy from the city that never sleeps. Perfect for losing herself, for becoming just another face in the throng.

The seedy bar where she was to meet her contact was tucked away in a less savory part of town, the kind of place where questions weren’t asked, and discretion was guaranteed for the right price.

Rowan pushed open the heavy wooden door, the stench of stale beer and cigarettes curling around her like an unwelcome embrace. The bar was the kind of place where people kept their heads down, their business to themselves—exactly the type of place Benji preferred.

Her gaze swept the room, past the hunched figures nursing their drinks at the bar, past the murmured conversations drifting from shadowy booths. Then she spotted him in the farthest corner, half-hidden in the dim light, hunched over his ever-present laptop bag like a dragon guarding its hoard. His wire-rimmed glasses sat crooked on his nose, and his knee bounced under the table in a telltale nervous rhythm.

She forced a smile as she approached. “Hello, Benji.”

He startled, nearly knocking over his beer. “Jesus. Would it kill you to make a little noise when you walk? You move like a damn ghost.”

She slid into the seat across from him, ignoring his dramatics. “You have what I need?”

Benji licked his lips, his fingers drumming against the sticky tabletop. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. But listen, this is—this is big, all right? Bigger than I thought. And, uh…” He hesitated, shifting in his seat like an over-caffeinated squirrel. “The price went up.”

Rowan leveled him with a flat stare. “Benji.”

“It’s not greed!” he yelped, holding up his hands. “It’s hazard pay! You don’t even know the kind of digital footprints I had to cover, the firewalls I had to dodge, the?—”

She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a dangerous whisper. “Benji, you change the deal on me again, and the only hazard you’ll have to worry about is whether I let you keep those twitchy little fingers.”

Benji swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the knife she’d casually drawn and rested on the table. “Okay, okay, no need to get all stabby,” he muttered, fishing a flash drive from his pocket. “Here. Just, you know, try not to get me murdered with it.”

Rowan reached for the drive?—

Crash.

The bar door slammed open, cutting through the low hum of conversation. Every muscle in her body tensed as her instincts screamed danger?—

Then she saw the broad silhouette framed in the doorway, shoulders squared, stance radiating controlled fury. He filled the space, his powerful frame accentuated by the dark tactical shirt molded to every hard line of his chest, the sleeves hugging his muscular arms like a second skin. His jaw was tight, eyes blazing a stormy blue, utterly focused on her. The slight limp in his stride only heightened his intensity, a visible reminder that he’d survived worse than anything this bar could throw at him.

He moved forward with a predator’s ease, each deliberate step brimming with lethal potential. Power and determination rippled off him, palpable enough to silence the room around them.

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