Page 4

ABU DHABI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES

“Hollyn! Oh, sheesh!” The woman—Lei, he was pretty sure he’d heard—grabbed one of Hollyn’s arms. Stood tiptoe in high heels. Leaned forward, trying to keep her dress away from Hollyn’s vomit. Looked like she might lose it too.

Davis stalked down the path. Fury trotted at his side.

The guy with glasses too large for his face held back Hollyn’s hair that had swept forward. Handed her a tissue when she stood. He eyed Davis. Angled in slightly when Davis approached, so that Hollyn was behind him.

Oh please, twerp.

The skinny nerd was hardly the threat he tried to be.

Hollyn moaned and wiped the napkin across her mouth. Stumbled to the side.

So this was the woman she’d become. Going out and getting wasted just days after her parents had died?

Not the person he once knew. Not even close.

“Davis?” she slurred.

“Yeah,” he said coldly.

He kicked himself for having been worried about Hollyn. For praying she was still alive. A phone call to the lawyer right before the military hop over had confirmed no one had found her at the crash site. Or heard from her. He’d been imagining her lying in a ditch somewhere. Bleeding out. Not in a limo, clearly partying it up while her parents lay in the morgue.

Given her past, it was especially surprising.

Davis shook his head. “Why haven’t you been answering your cell?”

“And she answers to you because?” Twerp demanded.

Davis didn’t dignify that with a response. Didn’t even pan a look in the guy’s direction. Side pressed to Davis’s leg, Fury growled low. Davis gripped the lead tighter, just in case. Though, here was one instance he’d be fine with the lug teaching some respect.

Hollyn looked confused. “My cell? I accidentally left it here the night of the gala.”

“I’d answer my cell if you called,” Lei teased with an arched eyebrow.

Davis ignored her. Pinned Hollyn with a hard look. “Ski trip? Are you serious?”

Hollyn shouldered her bag. Fury reached his nose toward it. Sniffed.

Did she have something in there?

“Wait.” She held up a shaky hand. Looked like death warmed over. “Why are you here?”

Heat flared up his neck. Why was he here? “Why wouldn’t I be?” They were essentially parents to him too.

“Okay, well.” Lei stepped back, tugging at the twerp, who hadn’t stopped sizing Davis up. “You two clearly have business, so we’ll leave. But, uh . . . ” Her heavy-lashed gaze seared its way up his frame. “Call me if you want a personal tour of the city.”

Not on her life.

She slipped into the limo behind Twerp, and the vehicle drove off.

“Who’s the dog?” Hollyn reached toward Fury.

“Don’t.” With lightning-fast reflexes, he grabbed her wrist. Though, it surprised him that Fury hadn’t growled at her. “He’s a military working dog. Not a pet.”

She wrinkled her nose. Yanked her arm away. “My, my,” she said dramatically. Then bypassed him for the front door. Drifted side to side as her unsteady gait carried her.

Drunk.

Mr. Reinhardt would roll over in his grave. Davis clenched his jaw. Moved to help her with her keys. No need. Didn’t have any. Instead, she pressed her thumb to a pad above the door handle. The lock disengaged.

“Why fingerprint access?” He couldn’t stop the words, even though irritation bit through them.

“Locks are easy to figure out. Biometric authentication is much harder.” She shot him a small grin that reminded him of the girl he used to know. Even this close, her different colored eyes could almost be missed.

One blue. One green.

Davis remembered the first time he’d been suspended from school for punching someone making fun of her heterochromia.

When Hollyn sauntered inside, he grabbed his ruck and followed. Tried to keep his anger in check.

Gonna lose that battle.

Whack!

Davis bit down on a curse when his leg rammed an awkwardly placed entry table he hadn’t paid attention to.

Fury stepped forward like she was suddenly his handler.

“Hey,” Davis warned. Rubbed his leg less as a recall than to rid himself of the thrumming pain. “Fuss.”

With a spin, the RMWD complied and pressed up against his leg, soulful brown eyes on him. Davis roughed a hand over his furry neck.

“Dad? Mum?” Hollyn looked around.

Whoa. Hold up.

His heart thudded—did she seriously not know? Another curse rattled through him. Didn’t want to be the one to tell her. But he also couldn’t stand here and say nothing. He cleared his throat. Set his ruck down. “Hol.”

She pressed a hand to her forehead like she had a headache. “You didn’t have to wait out on the porch, you know. All you had to do was knock. Dad loves you—he would’ve let you in.”

“Hol.” He tried again.

Her bag dropped to the floor, and she sank onto the living room couch, face contorted. “I’m actually surprised they didn’t see you on the cameras and come out.”

“Hollyn.” He spoke more firmly.

“What?” Head whipping his direction, she glared at him. Squeezed her eyes closed momentarily. “Sorry, I’m just . . . ” She waggled her hands like she couldn’t come up with the words.

How was he supposed to do this?

Davis sat in one of the white chairs, while Fury decided to have a look around the room. “Uh . . . ” He ran a hand down his face. Time to man up. “There was an accident.”

She frowned. “Accident? What are you talking about?”

“It’s your parents. There . . . was a car crash.”

Panic rose in her eyes. She leaned forward. “W-what are you saying?”

“Just that your parents—they . . . ” Was there even a way to soften this?

“No.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Trembled in a way that had his gut twisting.

He balled a fist on the padded armrest. “They’re gone, Hollyn.”

Her eyes widened, pooled. Hand flew to her mouth. But she didn’t make a sound.

“I’m so sorry.”

She just sat there for a minute. Then her head was shaking. “No,” she snapped. “No. You’re wrong.” Hollyn stood. Swayed.

He was up and trying to steady her before he knew it. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“No!” A shout this time. She shoved.

He let her push him back.

Fury growled. Barked a warning. Davis motioned for him to stop.

“Dad! Mum!” She turned. All but ran down the wide hall connecting to the living room.

“Fury, here.” Davis sent the firm command to the RMWD before the dog’s training kicked in and he tore off after her.

It didn’t escape his notice that he never had to question if Fury would obey. Almost made him wish he was keeping the big guy.

Almost.

Gutted, Davis watched Hollyn check the rooms, knowing what she would find—emptiness. In more ways than one. The way she kept calling for her parents, voice growing more erratic with each second, gouged a deep line through his chest.

No one would be answering her yells.

Hollyn raced down a flight of stairs—without falling face-first, amazingly enough—and through a door at the bottom. He followed with Fury. They stepped into a connecting apartment that Davis assumed was Hollyn’s. She snatched a cell off the coffee table in her living room, hands shaking so badly it dropped with a thud.

A small sob broke free as she clawed for it again. The glow of the screen lit her face. Highlighted her tortured expression. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Sank onto the couch. “Seventeen calls from Randall,” she breathed, tears sliding down her flushed cheeks.

Davis felt like he should do something. Didn’t know what. He sat next to her as she tapped the first voicemail. By the time she was on the fifth, Randall’s recording had moved on to asking if she was alive.

Fury’s head tilted to the side as he looked at the device, focus pinned to the voice without a body.

“Hollyn, it’s absolutely imperative that I get ahold of you regarding your parents. There’s been an accident. We haven’t found you at the crash site, so I’m choosing to believe you’re okay.”

“No,” Hollyn cried, grief-stricken eyes colliding with his. “They were f-fine when I left with Leila and Archie. I-I don’t believe it.”

Next to him, Fury watched her intently.

Davis wished he could take away this pain. Wished he could hold her. But they weren’t in that place anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time. Instead, he put an awkward hand on her back. She felt so frail beneath his palm. “It’s true, Hol.”

She shook her head. Tapped Cooper’s number and put the phone on speaker.

“Miss Reinhardt?” The guy sounded hopeful.

“Is it true?” Hollyn cut straight to the chase.

Why did it bug Davis that she wanted confirmation from someone else?

For a moment, Cooper was silent on the other end. “I’m . . . afraid so.”

Hollyn’s whole body was shaking. Tears ran down her cheeks. Davis had always been terrible with tears. Especially hers. Felt water pricking his own eyes. Swallowed the lump in his throat at seeing her this way.

The cell jiggled in her hands. Dropped to her lap. She let out a strangled cry.

“Hollyn?” Cooper asked. “Hollyn!”

Davis retrieved the phone, then hesitated as he glanced at Hollyn. Decided to step in—at least he could do this for her. He took the phone off speaker. Put it to his ear. “Uh, Davis Ledger here.”

“Ah, very good,” Cooper said. “I’m glad someone is with her. Did she say where she was? Is she okay? Injured?”

Hollyn stood. Walked around the side of the couch.

“She’s shaken by the news, of course, but otherwise fine.” He lifted his gaze and visually trailed her across the room. “So, Cooper—what’s the next step here?”

“I can come to the house and go over the necessary details with her. The Reinhardts were specific on how they wanted the funeral handled, so there isn’t much for Hollyn to worry about. Are you staying with her?”

He eyed Hollyn. Hadn’t planned to stay, but he couldn’t imagine leaving her like this. Debated his answer for a minute. “For now.” He rubbed his neck. Tried to stretch the muscles leading to his bum shoulder. It was time for more pain meds. He turned to check on Hollyn, but she wasn’t in the room anymore. Neither was Fury.

Great.

Davis punched to his feet. Started searching the apartment.

“Good, good. I’ll come by tomorrow morning around ten, if that suits?”

“That’s fine.” He ended the call without waiting for a response as he hunted for her. Bedrooms were empty. Hollyn and Fury weren’t on the staircase either. He took the steps two at a time to the first level of the main house. Back down the hallway, clearing more bedrooms as he went. Nothing.

His pulse ticked up. If Hollyn accidentally made the wrong move?—

Davis whistled. “Fury, here!” he called.

They weren’t in the living room or kitchen. He stalked around the massive island.

Where the blazes had they gone?

Soft sobs drew him up short in front of another doorway.

A bedroom—Ansel and Lydia’s? It was definitely the primary suite. Much larger than the others.

Hollyn sat on the end of the bed, crying as she clung to a dress shirt with one hand. The other . . . ran mindlessly over the four-legged hero’s thick sable neck.

Holy fluff . . . she had no idea how close she was to danger, to losing a digit or two.

Fury had posted himself at her side. Leaning against the comforter, his muzzle rested on her leg.

The RMWD watched Davis but didn’t move. Looked relaxed. That didn’t do anything for the tension radiating through Davis’s body, though. It only took a split second for things to go wrong with a working dog. And Fury wasn’t that stable to begin with these days.

He needed to get control of the GSD. Slid the leash out of his pocket and stepped forward. He’d rather be dropped into a war zone than try to navigate a crying woman. Of course this was where he’d find himself: trying to keep Hollyn calm while securing the shepherd who was capable of inflicting more pain than she could imagine.

* * *

“Hollyn.” Davis’s voice broke into her thoughts.

She kept running her hand down the dog’s warm neck. His fur was both coarse and smooth, if that was even possible. She wasn’t really a dog person, but something about his presence was comforting. The weight of his head on her leg grounded her in this painful, agonizing moment. Somehow made it more bearable.

“Don’t make any sudden moves.” Davis’s voice was closer.

She barely registered his words.

“Good boy.” His hand broke the plane of her lowered gaze as he casually clipped a lead onto the dog’s collar. “I told you—Fury’s not a pet.”

Fury. What kind of name was that for such a sweet animal?

Hollyn sniffed repeatedly. Wiped at her puffy eyes as her stomach continued its irritated churning from before. Her headache still lingered but had dulled to a mild throb. A photograph of her with her parents a few years ago sat on the dresser across from where she sat. Tears pooled on top of each other. She needed a tissue. Or ten.

How could they be gone? How could she be on her own . . . again?

Another wave of sadness washed over her. Pressed in hard and tumultuous. She wrapped her arms around Dad’s shirt. The fabric was soft. The scent of his cologne still lingered within the threads. Crumbling into another round of sobs, she squeezed her eyes closed.

Why them? Why had God taken away the family she’d prayed for and finally found? Just when she’d dropped her guard and felt like she was whole again. Like the scars of the past couldn’t touch her.

She should’ve known.

The Grim Reaper was never far away. It stalked her no matter how much distance she tried to put between them, carrying behind it a thick chain linking them together. The happier she was, the closer it got. She would never be free.

The bed sagged beneath Davis’s intrusion into her grief. His arm brushed hers. She remembered how many times he’d sat with her during those first few years they’d been friends. He hadn’t had the brightest childhood either, yet somehow he’d always made her feel better. Like she wasn’t alone. He’d been her best friend.

I was going to marry him. And they’d been going to have two kids and three cats and live in a house by the ocean. She’d had it all planned out. Then . . . he’d left.

“I wish I could change this for you, Hol.” His tone was warm. Genuine.

“I should have been in the car with them.” Her voice wobbled as she held back another flood of tears. “I was. But then?—” She wiped at her eyes. Shook her head. She never should’ve gone with her friends.

Fury whined and pressed his weight into her leg. She went to reach for his head but stopped herself when Davis’s warning about him not being a pet flashed to mind. To avoid disaster, she kept her hands to herself.

Davis wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Hollyn sank into his embrace. She buried her face in his shoulder. Thought she felt him tense for a moment before his other arm came around her. He held her close. Didn’t say a word as she cried. He didn’t need to. Just like countless times before, his presence alone softened the blows of the world and gave her a safe place to fall.

Hollyn didn’t know what to do now. She felt so lost. So alone. All she knew for sure was that it felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest and shredded to pieces. She cried until sleep finally enveloped her.

* * *

Eyes feeling puffy, throat raw, Hollyn forced herself out from under the weight of slumber. Her teal floral comforter lay on top of her, the fabric cool to the touch. She reached up to manipulate the necklace Dad had given her. It rested in the hollow of her throat. She tugged the globe back down below her collarbone.

When had she made it to her room? The last thing she remembered?—

Davis.

Hollyn propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the dark room. He wasn’t there. Did she really expect that he would be?

The house was silent.

“Davis?” she called out.

Silence was her only reply. Had she dreamt that he’d come? Dreamt all of it? Hope flared. She reached out for her phone on the nightstand. Tapped open the voicemails. All eighteen from Randall glared back at her. Her chin quivered. That part, to her dismay, was true, then.

Dad and Mum. Gone. Forever.

Drawing on the last ounce of strength she had left, Hollyn shoved the blankets back and got out of bed. Turned on the light. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d fallen asleep in jeans. It was really uncomfortable. Before heading out to her living room, Hollyn changed into sweatpants.

Despair permeated her bones.

“Davis?” She called once more, even as her brain told her that part wasn’t true. The combined living-dining room showed no sign he’d ever been there, proving the lie her mind was trying to pass off as truth. Probably just the imaginings born of desperation. The mind was a powerful thing. She knew that.

Through the giant glass doors that led to the lower level of the backyard, all she could see was pitch black. Hollyn just stood there next to her couch, unsure what to do. Eat? She didn’t feel like it. Call Leila? Archie? And say what? Hello, my parents are dead?

Her chin quivered even as the sound of rustling paperwork upstairs caught her attention.

Dad!

But reality scaled her heart almost as soon as the thought popped into her head. No. It wasn’t him. Wouldn’t be ever again.

Davis, then?

She flung herself at the short staircase to her parents’ living room. The upper floor was dark. Not a single light on. Yet she continued to hear someone in Dad’s office. “Davis? Is that . . . ”

Keen familiarity with the home’s layout made it easy to maneuver despite the lack of light. Even the moon wasn’t shining brightly tonight. Hollyn trod along the runner behind the couch, turned the corner to the left, heading toward the study.

Why didn’t he have any lights on?

Before she could reach the switches, the sound of drawers slamming shut preceded shoes running. A figure barreled into her. Collided. Threw her back. She screamed as the heavy force of the person hauled her off her feet. Fear surged. Her legs flew up as a strong arm wrapped around her waist and rammed her into the floor. The back of her head smacked against the hardwoods.

“Agh!” She reached toward her head.

Panic lit through her.

A hand squeezed her throat as air whooshed from her lungs. She could feel a hard knee pressed into her stomach. The intruder held one of Hollyn’s hands up by her head. Crushed her knuckles against the hard surface.

Hollyn flailed. Tried to scream for dear life, but air—she couldn’t get any. She thrashed. Pounded her free hand against his wrist. It didn’t help. The guy didn’t even budge. Terror rose as oxygen drained.

She was going to die!

“Give it to me!” the man demanded. His voice was hard. Gravelly. He leaned into her throat.

Hollyn coughed around the hand. Frantically tried to press it back a little so she could breathe, but he squeezed harder. Her muscles shook with fear and fatigue. She could feel pressure building in her face the longer she went without air. Pins started pricking her vision.

“You know where it is! Give it to me now or I’ll kill you.”

What was he talking about?

Her vision faded.

Faintly, the barking of a dog filtered into the back of her consciousness. At the sound of shattering glass and the alarm blaring, the grip on her neck released. The intruder swore and bolted away from her seconds before the barking grew louder. A dog shot past her in the darkness as she rolled to the side, gasping for oxygen.

“Hollyn!”

A hand clasped onto her shoulder.

Hollyn screamed and threw out a fist. It collided with flesh.

“Freakin—” The guy grabbed her wrist to stop the blows. “Hollyn, it’s me!” She froze.

That voice.

“Davis.” Hollyn’s breaths came short and fast.

In the dark, it was hard to tell.

“Yeah. Here.” He spoke loudly over the alarm. With quick motions, he helped her sit up. “Was he alone? Are you okay?”

Outside, Fury was barking like crazy.

“I’m fine. I think he was the only one.” She coughed again. Her heart raced so hard she thought it might beat right out of her chest. She rubbed her tender neck.

“Stay here.” Davis was gone in the next instant.

Hollyn stood and rushed to the keypad on the wall to stop the shrieking sound. Flipped on the light. Relief filled her when she saw it was nothing that couldn’t be undone. Wearily, she glanced out the wall of windows facing the backyard. Could kind of see Davis with Fury. Carefully working around the glass littering the entryway, she moved in for a better look while still keeping herself hidden behind the solid part of the wall. The dog was trying to scale the nine-foot fence. Again and again, he jumped.

What she didn’t see was her attacker. Was he hiding? Should she turn on the porch lights? Go out there and help?

Yeah, right, Hollyn. You’d be a big help.

She was all but cemented to her hiding spot anyway. Arms wrapped around her middle, she curled into herself. Her neck was on fire. Nightmares from this new trauma would plague her for a long time. Add it to the list of others.

Piercing sirens grew louder as police cars approached.

She felt a strange, intangible weight lifted from her shoulders when Davis and Fury stepped back inside. How many times could her life be turned upside down in the span of twenty-four hours? Was it even safe to ask that question? Had she just jinxed herself?

The gnawing in the pit of her stomach warned that even thinking the question was akin to playing with fire . . . an inferno that would consume her life.