Page 2 of Wilde and Deadly

Sabin threw his long body down in one of the worn leather chairs and hooked a leg over the arm. He never sat like a normal person.

“Ever heard of this crazy new invention called an orgasm?” His voice was thick with bayou heat, a slow Cajun drawl that made every sentence sound just a little bit like trouble. “Best stress relief there is, for real.”

Davey pinched the bridge of his nose. As irritating as Sabin could be, the man was a genius when it came to intelligence gathering—and he was one of the very few people Davey trusted implicitly. Even if that trust came at the expense of his sanity.

“What do you want, Sabin?”

Sabin’s grin widened, white teeth flashing against his tanned face. “To win the office bettin’ pool on when you’ll finally snap and attack your computer with a baseball bat. I know you a stubborn bastard so I said you wouldn’t, but it been a week and you done nothing butboudee. I’m seeing cracks in the armor,mon ami. Gotta shore ‘em up,or you’re gonna lose me some serious cash.”

A growl rumbled deep in Davey’s chest, even though amusement threaded reluctantly through his irritation. Sabin had a gift for cutting tension—often by making Davey want to strangle him. “Your concern for my mental health is touching.” His phone vibrated again, and he reached for it. “Unless you’ve got anything useful?—”

Sabin leaned forward, eyes crinkling mischievously. “Actually, I do got somethin’.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, smoothing it carefully on the polished wood.

Davey eyed it with suspicion. It looked like Sabin had fished it straight from the trash. Still, he picked it up, scanning the printout of a map dotted with red marks. “What’s this?”

“That is a list of places upstate where Rowan might be hiding out. My contacts came through with some intel.”

By “contacts,” he almost certainly meant his old man. Jean-Luc Cavalier, retired mercenary and former right-hand man to Gabe Bristow before he retired to spend his days fishing on Lake Pontchartrain. “Tell me you didn’t mention that I lost Bristow’s daughter while she’s supposed to be under my protection.”

Sabin grinned. “Mon pèrecan keep a secret better than anyone—mais, no, I didn’t tell him. He’s outta the game now and likes it that way. This came from some old buddies from my less-than-legal days before I got respectable-ish. They still got fingers in them pies that are a bit too hot for regular hands.”

Davey exhaled slowly, his frustration ebbing as he studied the map. He needed something—anything—to go on. “All right, what’s the catch?”

Sabin’s smile dimmed just a fraction. “These ain’t the usual hidin’ spots. They’re places folks don’t ask questions ‘cause they’re too scared of the answers. If Rowan’s there, gettin’ her out won’t be a simple extraction.”

Davey nodded, scenarios already clicking into place. He’d known Rowan wouldn’t hide somewhere safe and predictable—not her style. “And what do you get out of this?”

Sabin spread his hands wide, a shrug lifting his shoulders slightly. “Just doin’ my part for Wilde Security Worldwide. Hopin’ to keep my boss from spiralin’ into sleepless nights and unshaved mornin’s. Nobody wants to see that.” His grin returned. “If you find Rowan, we all look good, yeah?”

“You’re protecting your bet in the pool, aren’t you?”

Sabin laughed, a big, boisterous sound that filled the office. “Guilty as charged.” He stood, rolling smoothly out of the chair. “Consider this part community service, part self-preservation.”

“I appreciate the intel.” Davey also rose, folding the map and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Seriously, Sabin. I owe you one.”

Sabin paused at the door, glancing back with a familiar, mischievous gleam. “Put in a good word with your cousin, and we’ll call it even.”

“Which cousin? I have nine.” Only four were female, but he wouldn’t put it past Sabin to try his luck with any one of them.

Sabin’s grin turned wicked, blue eyes sparking with mischief. “The lovely Fiona, of course. That woman tougher than gator hide, but I think I’m wearin’ her down. Yesterday, she almost smiled at me—mais, I felt that one straight in my bones.”

“What makes you think I have any sway with her?”

“Come on, Davey. Fiona respects you more than most. A little nudge from you? Might just tip them scales in my favor.”

“She thinks you’re trouble, Sabin. And she’s not wrong.”

“Pshh.” He waved that off with a lazy flick of his wrist. “What’s life without a little trouble? You tell her I ain’t near as bad as the stories say. Maybe even throw in a lil’ somethin’ about my legendary charm and devastatin’ good looks.”

“How about you just focus on keeping yourself out of the kind of trouble that ends with more paperwork for me?”

Sabin’s rich laugh echoed down the hallway as he left. He was definitelynotgoing to stay out of trouble.

Davey turned back to his desk with a sigh. He’d talk to Fiona later—not that he could change her mind about Sabin, but at least he could warn her before she got tangled too deep with the incorrigible ex-thief.

As silence reclaimed the office, his thoughts drifted back to Rowan. He unfolded the map again, fingertip tracing the red marks Sabin had made. Each dot was a possibility, a place Rowan might be hiding—or trapped. His gut clenched at the thought. She was dangerous, infuriating, and completely unpredictable, yet somehow, he couldn’t stop himself from worrying about her.

He’d underestimated her once. Thought she was just another job: protect the daughter of a fellow ex-SEAL. Easy.

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