Page 3 of Wilde and Deadly

Except Rowan was anything but easy.

She was a firecracker, a deadly mix of danger and allure that mesmerized and exploded through his life, leaving nothing behind but sparks, smoke, and an unfamiliar ache in his chest.

Davey shoved the map into his jacket pocket and stood. It didn’t matter how far she ran or how much hell he had to wade through. He was going to find Rowan Bristow—and when he did, they’d settle this thing between them. For good.

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The crackedmotel mirror reflected a face she barely recognized—her father’s sharp angles and hazel eyes staring back, shadowed with exhaustion. She didn’t remember the lines around her mouth being quite so deep, but maybe that’s what running did to a person. Maybe that was what hiding cost.

God, she was tired.

At the foot of the bed, Luka shifted, letting out a sleepy sigh as he nestled his head against her knee. Rowan stroked his velvety ears, anchoring herself in the dog's calm presence. She’d dragged Davey’s dog halfway across the country, justifying it in every way except the one that mattered.

She wanted him to come for her.

Every choice she had made, every step she had taken, had brought her here. A dingy motel room miles away from home. Miles away from family. The kind of place where guilt and regret crept under the door like the draft of cold January air.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, and Rowan’s pulse jumped, a traitorous flicker of hope flaring before she could crush it. Davey? Her stomach tightened, dread replacing hope as quickly as it had surfaced.

It wasn’t Davey.

It was Rue.

She nearly ignored the call—but Rue never called just to chat. In Rowan’s experience, her younger sister only reached out when she was neck-deep in trouble and needed rescuing—again. Rue was mayhem incarnate, always diving headfirst into chaos and expecting Rowan to pull her out before she drowned.

But what if this call was about Dad? Fear tightened in her chest, sharp and sudden. Ignoring Rue wasn’t an option—not when their father was still recovering from surgery.

Five minutes. She could spare at least five minutes. The line was encrypted, and she was safe.

She tapped the screen. “All right, Rue. What trouble are you in this time?”

Rue’s face filled the screen, her expression immediately morphing into a mixture of relief, irritation, and concern. With her honey-blonde hair, scattering of freckles, and ridiculously dainty features, Rue was so much like their mother that it sometimes stole Rowan’s breath.

“What trouble amIin?” Rue scoffed. “You can't be serious! You're the one who’s been MIA for months. Where the hell are you?”

Rowan sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. “Are you okay? Are Mom and Dad?”

“Well, Mom’s worried sick about you, and Dad...” Rue trailed off, and her expression softened.

“Dad, what?” Rowan asked, her heart rate quickening. “Is he okay?”

Rue’s eyes narrowed again, that softness evaporating like it had never been there. “Oh, now you care?”

“That’s not fair. I’ve always cared. You know that.”

“Running away in the middle of the night after he had major surgery without so much as a goodbye doesn’t exactly scream‘I care.’”

Guilt twisted sharply in Rowan’s gut, heavy and bitter. Rue wasn’t wrong—but Rowan couldn’t tell her the truth, either. It would only endanger her sister further. “I had my reasons,” she finally managed, knowing the words were hollow even as she said them.

“Oh, I’m sure you did.” Rue’s tone was biting. “Let me guess— it has something to do with that Wilde guy you’re so obsessed with. You know Dad hired him to find you?”

Heat crept up Rowan’s neck. “I am not obsessed with Davey.”

At the sound of Davey’s name, Luka lifted his head from her knee. The dog’s brown eyes were steady, warm with a loyalty Rowan knew she didn’t deserve. She swallowed hard, guilt and longing colliding inside her, painful and sharp.

“Right,” Rue said. “That’s why you stole his dog.”

“I didn’t steal him. I... borrowed him.” Even as she said the words, she realized how dumb they sounded.

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