A Wilde Christmas (Wilde Security Worldwide #0.5)

Chapter 1

one

One thing that could be said about Davey Wilde’s family: a holiday with them was anything but boring. If his dad weren’t scheming and causing chaos—a favorite pastime for the youngest of the original five Wildes—then one of his brothers, uncles, or many cousins would pick up the slack.

But Davey could do with a little bit of boring.

And some quiet.

He wasn’t going to get either, judging by the noise level coming from his parents’ house when he opened his car door. The family was already well into the chaos, and it wasn’t even dark yet.

“This is going to be a long-ass weekend.”

His Belgian Malinois, Luka, grumbled an agreement from the passenger seat. He glanced over at the former military working dog. “Are you ready for this?”

Luka wagged.

Davey sucked in a fortifying breath and gathered the two large bags of gifts from his backseat. This was his first Christmas as a civilian, and he wasn’t ready for it.

Much to his Marine father’s chagrin, he’d wanted to be a SEAL from the moment he was old enough to understand Uncle Vaughn’s stories about the Teams. He’d joined the Navy right out of high school and made it through all the rigorous training on sheer stubbornness, securing his trident at nineteen. And he had loved every second of being a Special Operator for almost fifteen years…

Only to lose it all because his dumb ass had driven his team over an anti-tank landmine. His career hadn’t ended in a heroic firefight or a stunning blaze of glory. They hadn’t even been on a mission. He’d simply been driving along the barely-there desert road one minute, and then the world tipped upside-down. He hadn’t even known what happened at first until he looked over and saw the entire passenger side of the Humvee gone. Luckily, Luka hadn’t been sitting there beside him like he usually was. His dog hadn’t escaped injury, but at least they had both walked away from it.

Or, in Davey’s case, limped away.

His femur was mostly metal, and he had more pins than a voodoo doll. He had a permanent limp and loss of range of motion in that leg, making him a liability. He could’ve stayed on in a desk job or as a trainer, but he no longer knew what he was fighting for. It was the same old war his dad and uncles had fought thirty-five years ago. They had changed nothing. He and his teammates had changed nothing.

It just didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Since he knew he always had a job waiting at Wilde Security Worldwide, he’d bugged out of the Navy and adopted Luka when they retired him. Now, faced with spending Christmas with his family, he wondered if he’d made the right call.

He loved his family. It was just…

They were a lot.

They meant well—especially Mom—but they had been smothering him since his medical discharge.

The noise increased to a roar when he opened the front door of the big house he’d grown up in.

A football sailed by inches from his face, and he stumbled back a step. “Jesus.”

“Run now,” Daphne said. She was one of only four female cousins in the army of Wilde men. She sat on the stairs to the left of the door, tucked away in the shadows of the second-floor landing. Her dark hair sported one hot pink streak that fell over her eye when she looked up from her laptop. The highlight was probably the work of her twin, given that Daphne’s favorite color was the opposite of pink. “Save yourself while you still can.”

He righted himself and set his bags in the foyer to scoop up the football. Luka eyed the ball with intense interest, but he didn’t release the dog yet. “Aw, come on. It can’t be that bad, Daph.”

“I’ve been in war zones that are less dangerous than a Wilde family Christmas. Tessa had the right idea taking that humanitarian aide job in Kyrgyzstan. She’s probably safer there than here.”

He shrugged, trying to sound cool and collected even though he felt anything but. “So there’s usually at least one trip to the hospital, but nobody’s ever died.”

“Yet.”

“Hey, Davey!” Another cousin, Weston, appeared under the archway between the living room and foyer and held up his hands for the football. He was a carbon copy of his dad, Camden—messy dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a crooked good old boy smile.

Davey tossed the ball to him. “Good to see you, West.”

“You, too, man.” Something like worry passed over Weston’s face as he did a surreptitious up-down assessment of Davey with his eyes. It was there and gone in an instant, quickly replaced with his trademark smile. “We’re taking bets on who draws first blood this year. You want in?”

Christ, he hated how they all looked at him like he’d break. “My bet is always on my dad.”

“Yeah, given family history, it’s a safe bet.”

“I don’t know.” Daphne closed her laptop and came down the stairs. “This could be the year my dad murders yours.”

“Her Highness, the vampire queen, has a point,” Weston said. “Uncle Reece is more uptight than usual this year, and Uncle Jude is already provoking him.”

Daphne rolled her eyes and gave him the finger.

He grinned again. “Aw, can’t you feel the love? Makes me all warm and tingly.”

“Ew,” Daphne said.

“And we haven’t even dipped into the eggnog yet. This is gonna be fun.”

“We have very different ideas of fun,” Davey said.

“Everyone’s here except my sister. She’s off being Saint Tessa again. Oh, here.” Quick as a snake, Weston snapped up the bags of gifts from the floor. The sly little shit had been waiting for his opening to strike. “Let me grab those for you.”

“I’m capable of?—”

“It’s no problem. I’ll put them in by the tree.” He didn’t give Davey a chance to argue further and disappeared into the living room with the bags.

Davey bladed his hands on his hips and stared up at the ceiling, praying for patience. His whole family had treated him like he was as fragile as a fucking egg since he was discharged from the hospital in Germany and returned Stateside for physical therapy. It was starting to grate on his nerves.

“I told you,” Daphne said and retreated up the stairs. “Run.”

He glanced at the front door and seriously considered it for a split second. The naked woman he’d left in his bed at home was a lot more fun than this… but he shook his head. “It’d break Mom’s heart. She’s looking forward to having all her boys home for Christmas this year.”

Daphne’s lips curved into a brief smile. “You really are the best of us, aren’t you?”

His stomach soured. He wasn’t sure about that.

Daphne tilted her chin toward the back of the house before sitting down with her computer again. “Aunt Libby’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks.” He released Luka to explore and headed toward the back of the house, passing Daphne’s sister as she came out of the kitchen. The twins were identical but were as different as two people could be. Each took after one of their parents, who were a classic case of opposites attract. Daphne was a dark and intense storm cloud like their dad, Reece, and Celeste was sparkle and color, a chaotic rainbow like their mom, Shelby.

Celeste’s Christmas outfit was a soft pink sweater with a giant bow on the shoulder and a red skirt that swirled and shimmered with her every movement. Davey knew little about fashion—he was a jeans and T-shirt guy when he wasn’t in camo and combat boots—but he always thought Celeste’s outfits shouldn’t work. She liked colors and patterns that shouldn’t fit together, yet she always pulled them off. Her dark hair sported several more pink streaks than her sister’s and fell around her face in carefully constructed ringlets. She topped the outfit with pink reindeer horns that, again, should look ridiculous, but she made it look like a hot new fashion accessory from a Paris runway.

“Is my dear sister hiding out here with her computer?” she singsonged, then lit up when she spotted him and threw her arms around him in a hug. “Oh! Yay! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He tugged on one of her bright pink curls. “And, yes, Daphne’s hiding on the stairs. How did you talk her into the pink? I thought she was allergic to color.”

Celeste gave a smile that was all sweetness and bright as a sunbeam. “Blackmail.”

The abrupt laugh caught him by surprise. He hadn’t laughed much over the last year, and… he missed it. He’d missed this. Them. His family in all of their crazy, loud, meddling wildness.

Maybe this weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all.

He leaned in to kiss Celeste’s forehead. “I don’t know how you can be both adorable and terrifying at the same time.”

“It’s a gift. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go pester my sister into being social. She’s moodier than usual, brooding over some guy she met on her last mission.”

“Really? Daphne ? Our Daphne? Brooding over a guy?”

“I know, weird, right? Failed relationships are usually my specialty.” She lowered her voice and leaned in as if telling a secret. “But she’s been all tight-lipped about the whole thing since she got home. Whatever he did to her, he better watch his six. I’m scary, but a pissed-off Daphne is a thing of nightmares.” Then she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

He waited as Celeste bounced up the stairs, counting the seconds in his head until… Yep. There was Daphne’s growl of annoyance right on cue. He continued into the kitchen with a smile on his face.

The kitchen had always been the heart of their home. His parents both enjoyed cooking, and he remembered many evenings sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, doing his homework and admiring how they moved together in the kitchen as they made dinner—like a choreographed dance that they never had to practice. After dinner was cleared and homework finished, they’d spend nights at the table playing cards or board games until bedtime. Of course, being Wildes, the games always devolved into mini-wars.

Sometimes, he missed those days when the only wars he fought were with his brothers.

Mom was hurrying around the kitchen, finishing last-minute prep for dinner. She looked stunning in a sweater the color of red wine, with her blond hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail and diamond stud earrings sparkling every time she moved.

Libby Wilde had worked her way up from an assistant district attorney to an appointment as general counsel for the Department of Defense. She spent several years serving as special advisor to the president, then returned to the family business as the head counsel for Wilde Security Worldwide before finally retiring last month and passing the legal reins to his cousin Fiona.

Retirement looked good on her. She carried less stress in her shoulders and around her eyes.

Davey wanted to hug her, but he knew better than to get in her way while she was cooking, so he stopped in the doorway. “Hey, Mom. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“If you could grab the—” When she turned and saw which of her three sons was asking, she stopped, and her eyes widened behind her glasses. “No, no. I’ve got it. You go and sit down; get off that leg.”

“My leg’s fine.”

“Your dad and brothers are in there watching football,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“More like playing football,” he muttered.

A crash sounded from the other room.

Libby closed her eyes and sucked in a breath that had Davey backing up a step. He knew that look. He’d seen it directed at him and his brothers enough times. Mom was on the warpath.

“Jude Wilde, I swear to God, if you knock over the Christmas tree again this year, you’re sleeping on the couch until next Christmas!”

Dad appeared in the doorway. His hair was still more pepper than salt, but there were a few more streaks of silver in it than the last time Davey had seen him. He wore a shockingly green sweater that said, “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal,” in blinking lights.

Because, of course, he did.

Dad wouldn’t be Dad without the traditional ugly Christmas sweater. Jude Wilde was a prankster who loved any excuse to dress up in absurd costumes—he’d even worn a Hawaiian shirt to his wedding, which Davey still couldn’t believe Mom had allowed.

Jude held up his hands in supplication. “I swear I didn’t break anything. Cam and Vaughn were... having a disagreement.”

“One you provoked, I’m sure.”

He just grinned, looped his arms around her, and kissed her.

She smacked his chest. “Ugh, you drive me crazy, you know that?”

“Aw, Libs, but you still love me. You must for putting up with me for thirty-five years.”

“Yes, I do,” she said on a long exhale. “So maybe I’m already crazy.” She swatted him. “Now get out of my kitchen. Go annoy your brothers.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all afternoon?” He laughed and gave her another kiss, then straightened and stole a roll from the tray on the counter behind her. “Hey, Davey,” he said a little too casually and took a bite. “Glad to have you home. If you have a minute after dinner, your uncles and I want to talk to you about something.”

Dad was up to something.

“Mom.” Davey hooked a thumb toward his retreating father’s back. “What was that?”

“Oh, who knows?” She shrugged, but the hint of a smile before she turned away told him she knew. And she wasn’t telling.

Shit.