Page 39 of Wilde and Deadly

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she added. “I put you at risk.”

“What kind of trouble are you in?” he asked finally. “Who’s after you?”

She shook her head. “The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”

His expression darkened. His next breath came slow, measured—controlled only because he was forcing it to be.

“Don’t do that,” he said, voice rough. “Don’t stand there with a hole in your side and tell me to stay out of it.”

“Well, I am. This isn’t your fight. You don’t need to be involved.”

“I was involved the moment they hurt you.”

A sharp twist of emotion punched through her.

No.

She wouldn’t let this touch him. Wouldn’t let her wrecking-ball life crash into his. “I can handle it on my own.”

He barked out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, you were handling it real well when you were bleeding all over the sidewalk out front.”

Her breath caught at a sudden sliver of memory—his hands on her, pressing against the wound, the fear in his eyes before the darkness swallowed her whole.

She hated that he’d seen her like that. Hated that she’d let herself get that weak.

“That won’t happen again,” she said, willing her voice to stay steady. “I’ll be more careful.”

Davey’s eyes flashed. “More careful? You nearlydied, Rowan. If you hadn’t made it here…” He trailed off, dragging a hand through his hair, making it stand up in an endearing cowlick. His throat worked as he swallowed. “Just… stay. Let me help you.”

The earnestness in his voice made her chest ache. For a moment—a single, splintering second—she wanted to say yes. Wanted to sink into his warmth, let him wrap his arms around her, just for a little while.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Davey, but I have to go.”

She turned toward the kitchen, forcing her feet to move, forcing herself not to look back.

Just grab the backpack.

Get out.

But Davey was faster.

In two quick strides, he was between her and the island, his broad frame blocking her path.

“Move,” she growled, glaring up at him.

“No.” He crowded her until her back hit the wall, until all she could see, all she could breathe, was him. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Her patience snapped.

She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“Dammit, Wilde! Why can’t you just let me go?”

Her voice cracked.

She hated that.

Hated that he was too damn steady, too damn stubborn, too damnhim.

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