Page 6 of Wilde and Deadly

Rue rolled her eyes. “Uh, hello? Remember who we live with. Our ‘uncles’ are as scary as our father. I think they can handle a bit of danger.”

The “uncles” were not blood-related but Dad’s brothers-in-arms. They could handle themselves, but they were all mostly retired now.

“It’s not just a bit of danger,” Rowan said, frustration seeping into her tone. “It’s not something they can handle with an old rifle and a couple of hand grenades.”

Rue’s golden-brown eyes narrowed. “So what’s your plan, then? Run away and hide forever?”

Rowan glanced down at Luka again, his warm body comforting against her leg. She had no intention of hiding, but she wasn’t about to tell Rue that. “If that’s what it takes.”

Her sister sighed heavily and ran a hand through her honey-colored hair in a gesture that was so reminiscent of their father that it made Rowan’s heart clench. “That’s not what Dad would want.”

“Dad can’t dictate my life forever.”

“No,” Rue said quietly. “Of course not. But he loves you, and he wants you safe.”

But I’m not safe. Nobody I love is safe.

Silence stretched between them for several seconds before Rue finally spoke again. “Mom wants to talk to you.”

A lump formed in Rowan’s throat. She hadn’t spoken to her mother since she’d disappeared from home months ago. As much as she wanted to hear her mother’s voice, she also dreaded the conversation that would follow. Audrey Bristow wasn’t a woman who minced words.

“She’d be pissed if I said no, wouldn’t she?”

“Oh, furious.”

And in Rowan’s opinion, their easy-going mom’s fury was much more frightening than their dad’s. She glanced at the clock in the corner of her screen. More than five minutes had passed, but she could spare a few more. “Okay, give her the phone. ButnotDad.”

The screen was blank for a moment, and then came the familiar face of her mother. Audrey Bristow was undeniably beautiful even in her sixties, with her gray hair styled in loose waves around her face. She’d streaked in some color since Rowan had last seen her—purples and teals. Her amber eyes sparkled with a warmth that Rowan wanted to wrap herself up in.

“Rowan Kendra Bristow,” Audrey chided gently, her tone laced with exasperated affection. “You’re every bit as stubborn as your father.”

Tears burned suddenly in Rowan’s eyes, catching her off guard. She felt like she was five again, trapped in a nightmare, desperately wanting her mother’s arms around her. “Hi, Mom.”

“There’s my fierce girl,” Audrey murmured. “You’ve been missed.”

Silence fell between them. What could she say? That she had missed them too? That she wished things were different?

“I’m sorry,” she finally managed to choke out.

“Honey, I know,” Audrey said softly. “And although I don’t understand your reasons for leaving, I trust you have them. But you need to come home. Whatever trouble you’re in... you don’t have to face it alone. We’re your family, remember? Your dad—your uncles—they can protect you. Let us help.”

As much as Rowan longed to heed her mother’s advice, she knew the danger she was in—and she knew she could not risk bringing it home to those she loved. And part of her was afraid that once they found out why she was running, once her dad found out, they wouldn’t be nearly so understanding. What she’d done… what she’d agreed to do…

How could they ever forgive her?

How could Davey ever forgive her?

She was just tired. So tired. And alone. And scared.

Rowan swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. She couldn’t break down in front of her mother. If she did, Audrey would move heaven and earth to get her home.

“I... I can’t explain everything right now. But please trust me when I say it’s safer for everyone if I stay away.”

Audrey’s eyes softened with understanding and a hint of sadness. “Oh, sweetheart. You didn’t just get your father’s stubbornness. You got his heart, too. Always trying to protect everyone, even at your own expense.”

But that wasn’t true. Gabe Bristow was a hero, a man who’d spent his life rushing into danger to save others. Rowan was none of those things.

“Mom, I...” she began, but the words trailed off, caught in the knot of emotions tightening in her throat. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

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