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They parked in the garage and Hollis leaned into Sawyer’s side as they headed upstairs. Vander didn’t stop on the main level. He led them to a private elevator.
When they reached the top, a woman stood on the landing, waiting for them.
She was a few inches shorter than Hollis, with a fit body, and brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Sharp, pale-blue eyes took them in.
“Hi, Hollis, I’m Brynn Norcross. I’m a huge fan.”
Hollis got the impression of intelligence and confidence. A woman who could handle herself.
“Sorry to disrupt your night.”
Brynn smiled and threw her husband an amused smile. “Don’t worry, we’re used to that around here.”
She held out a hand and Hollis shook it.
The woman’s blue gaze switched to Sawyer. “How many stitches?”
“Seven.”
Brynn gave him a quick hug. “Pfft, that’s nothing. I had fifteen once.”
Hollis blinked.
“I’m a police detective. Come in.” Brynn stepped back and waved them inside.
Their place had the same industrial vibe as the office below. There were wooden floors and touches of black iron. A wall of accordion doors, currently closed, led onto a roof terrace. Beyond it, the buildings of the city speared up, offering a fabulous view.
Dragging her gaze off the terrace, Hollis noticed Parker sitting at the kitchen island, cradling a steaming mug.
“Hey,” Park said. “Only seven stitches, huh? That’s barely a scratch.”
Hollis glared at him. “I don’t want to know how many stitches you’ve had in the past. He took a knife for me.”
Sawyer ran a hand over her back. “She’s still a bit tense.”
“I’ll make you some herbal tea, Hollis,” Brynn said. “It sounds gross, but we have some good ones.”
“I’ll help you.” She shot Sawyer a look. “Sit.”
She waited until he sank onto the black leather couch before she followed Brynn to the kitchen.
There was a loudwoof. A dog appeared. It was a Belgian Malinois, with a black face and ears, and a tan-colored body.
It raced to Brynn for a pat, then the dog made a beeline for Vander. The man ran his hand along the dog’s back.
“This is Shadow.”
“Hi, Shadow,” Hollis said. She’d always wanted a dog growing up.
The dog, who didn’t look much past the pup stage, headed toward her and nudged her with his nose, his tail wagging.
Then, he headed for the couch.
“Good looking dog,” Sawyer said.
Brynn smiled. “We sort of accidentally adopted him.”
Soon, Shadow was snuggled into Sawyer’s uninjured side on the couch.