Page 19 of Wilde and Deadly

“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. “Maisya, 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.”

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