Page 99 of Wilde and Deadly

By the time her feet hit the pavement, she was already running toward the café thirteen blocks away.

Because sheknew.

She didn’t know how she knew. Maybe it was gut instinct. Maybe it was a lifetime of training. Maybe it was the simple, unshakable fact that Davey Wilde attracted trouble like a damn magnet.

And right now, something wasn’t right.

Then—the first gunshot cracked through the afternoon air.

Rowan froze.

Then she ran.

Another shot.

Her pulse hammered as she reached the café, barely processing the chaos—patrons screaming, tables overturned, the sharp crack of glass as a bullet shattered another window.

Then—movement.

Davey.

He was running into the street.

What the hell was he doing?

And then she saw it.

He was drawing fire away from the civilians.

The sniper was hunting him.

Rowan’s stomach twisted, her fingers already reaching for the gun at the small of her back.

A shadow moved at her side, and she didn’t have to turn to know Sabin had caught up to her.

He was watching, his usual easy grin gone. His expression was sharp now, calculating.

“Is he out of his fucking mind?” he murmured.

Rowan’s grip tightened around her weapon. “Always.”

Davey kept moving, deliberately making himself a target.

The sniper didn’t fire.

Rowan didn’t trust that silence.

“Come on.” She was already in motion, but Sabin grabbed her wrist.

“Wait.”

Her pulse jumped. “What?—”

“The cops.”

Red and blue lights flickered down the street.

Rowan cursed.

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