Page 65 of Wilde and Deadly

Brody, sensing something, leaned forward with a shit-eating grin. “Wait. Are we glossing over something juicy here?”

Sullivan elbowed him. “Not our business.”

“Oui, let’s not get distracted.” Sabin stretched, looking far too pleased with himself. “We got a mission to run, yeah?”

Dominic muttered something under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, but his ears? Red as hell. It was gone in an instant—the muttered curse, the tension in his jaw—but Davey clocked it.

Vivi.

Fucking hell.

Of all the people Sabin could pull into this mess, it had to beher?

Davey didn’t know what happened between the two of them since he’d still been with the SEALs and was gone more often than not, but he knew it had ended messily. Messy enough that Dom avoided even hearing her name. Messy enough that Vivi had looked right through him the last time they’d crossed paths.

But Sabin was right. Rowan did need a dress, and Vivi was the most discreet option.

“All right,” he said, bringing the focus back. “We have a plan. Rowan gets a dress. We go in as guests. We’ll sneak Sabin, Dom, and Liam in as catering staff.”

“What about us?” Brody gestured between himself and Sullivan.

Davey considered. “Brody, work the crowd as they come into the lobby and hotel bar. Find an excuse to get near Frost’s people and listen.”

Brody smirked. “So, be my usual charming self?”

“Yeah,” Elliot said dryly. “Just this time, don’t flirt your way into a gunfight.”

Brody sighed. “One time.”

Davey turned to Sullivan. “You’re security. Quiet, armed, and watching our backs.”

Sullivan nodded once. “Got it.”

“And Elliot will run point from here and make sure our guest”—he pinned Benji with a cold stare—“doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Elliot exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before picking up his glasses. “Babysitting duty. Fantastic.” He slid his glasses on and shot Benji a flat look. “Anything else you’d like me to do? Fold his laundry? Tuck him in?”

Benji shrank under their combined stares, his fingers tightening around his hoodie. He looked like he wanted to disappear, shoulders curling inward like that might somehow make him less of a target. His gaze darted toward the door again.

Davey had seen plenty of fear before—men in combat, civilians in warzones, people with a price on their heads. Benji wasn’t a fighter. He was just a guy who knew too much, standing in a room full of people he didn’t trust.

And that made him a liability. But it also made him Davey’s responsibility. If someone wanted Benji dead, they’d have to work a hell of a lot harder for it because nobody was putting the kid in the ground on his watch.

Davey turned to Sabin. “Call your sister.”

Sabin pulled out his phone with a theatrical flourish. As he dialed and raised the phone to his ear, he eyed Dominic. “Oh, Vivi’s gonna love this.”

Dominic cursed under his breath.

Davey scrubbed a hand down his face. This mission was already giving him a migraine—and he had a feeling it was only getting worse from here on out.

sixteen

Rowan had survived gunfights,explosions, and more assassination attempts than she cared to count. But nothing—absolutelynothing—had prepared her for Vivianna Cavalier sweeping into the hotel suite like a goddamn fashion hurricane.

Of course, she knew the Cavaliers. She had grown up with both Sabin and Vivi. Their dad had been one of her father’s men until he retired and was, honestly, one of her favorite honorary uncles. But she hadn’t seen Vivi since they were teenagers and hadn’t known what to expect.

“Where is she?” Vivi’s accent reminded Rowan of sweet tea and slow Southern summers. It had the same lyrical lilt as Sabin’s, but where his accent danced on the sharper edges of their Cajun roots, Vivi’s was smoother, softer—refined by years of high society, but still carrying the unmistakable rhythm of the bayou.

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