Page 34

T he ringing of a phone cut through the room, jolting Holden from dead asleep to wide awake.

His eyes shot open. Clara was the first thing he saw. Her hair was splayed over his chest, her cheek lying right over his heart.

Then he looked at the sun piercing through the curtains. He’d slept in. He never slept in.

Gently, he slid out from under her. When a soft hum slipped from her chest, he almost ignored the call and lay back down.

But the call could be important. It better be.

He stood and lifted his phone to see Deb’s name on the screen.

So probably not that important.

With a sigh, he stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door with a soft click before answering the call.

“Deb, is everything okay?”

“Hi, Holden. Sorry to call so early, but I went to leave today and the lock you installed won’t engage properly. It’s happened a couple of times, but I’ve always managed to get it. Today, I just can’t seem to make it lock at all, and I’m late for work.”

Holden ran his fingers through his hair. “It could be that the strike plate isn’t aligned properly, but that’s something I would have picked up on at installation.”

“Is there any chance you’re free now to come by? I really need to get going.”

Footsteps sounded behind him. Then warm arms curled around his waist and a cheek pressed to his back.

Fuck, he loved it when Clara was close.

He set a hand over her smaller one. “I can be there in ten.”

A relieved sigh sounded over the line. “Thank you. I’ll let work know I’ll be late.”

Holden hung up and turned, his arms going around Clara’s waist.

She looked up at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Something’s wrong with Deb’s door. I need to run over and fix it so she can get to work.” He hated the idea of leaving her alone though. “Maybe you should come?”

“Holden, I need to get ready. It’s the Amber Ridge street party today.”

“We’re not due to get there until ten.”

“Exactly. And before then I need to shower and wash my hair and dry it. I have to choose something to wear. Do my makeup…”

He frowned. “We’re just going for a couple of hours.”

“Don’t you want me to look pretty?”

He could have laughed. “You are always the most beautiful woman in every room.”

“Pfft. You have to say that.”

“I don’t. And I don’t like leaving you alone.”

“I’ll lock the door. I’ll be fine.”

He still didn’t like it. “On one condition. You call me at the first sign of trouble.”

“Does that include croissant withdrawals?”

“Clara—”

“ Yes . I’ll call you at the first sign of trouble.” She lifted to her toes. “I love you.”

“You have no idea.” He kissed her, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and holding her body tighter against his. He growled. “Deb can wait.”

She playfully whacked his chest. “She cannot wait. She’ll be late for work.”

“I don’t care.” He began lowering his head again, but Clara put a finger against his lips.

“I do. And so will Amber Ridge Hospital.”

She was right. Dammit. “Fine.”

Quickly, he threw on some clothes. When he reached his truck, he sent a quick text to Jesse.

Holden: Is Malcolm awake yet?

When Jesse didn’t respond, he headed toward Deb’s house. She lived about ten minutes away, a bit farther out than most of his clients. But it should take him less than ten minutes to fix her door.

When he reached Deb’s house, he grabbed his tools from the back and crossed to the door. Thank God he kept his tools in his truck and didn’t need to make a stop at his place first.

He knocked. When a few seconds passed and she didn’t answer, he tried again. Same thing.

Frowning, he tried her door. It wasn’t locked, but then, of course it wasn’t. That was the entire reason he was here.

He stepped into her hall. “Deb?”

Silence.

What the hell was going on?

He moved into her living area. “Deb? It’s Holden. Are you here?”

He turned toward her kitchen—only to stop at the sight of blood on the kitchen floor.

The fuck?

He sprinted into the kitchen and found Deb on the floor behind the island, a bullet wound in her chest.

Fuck.

He dropped beside her and touched her pulse. Faint but there. Quickly, he reached for the towel that hung from the oven and pressed it to the wound with one hand before pulling his cell from his pocket.

First, he called for an ambulance. Once they were on their way, he called Jesse, who picked up after a few rings.

“Holden—”

“Deborah Fuller’s been shot.”

“ What ?”

“She asked me to come fix the lock on her door, and I found her on the floor in the kitchen.”

“Shit. I’m on my way.” There was a small pause. “I was just going to call you…Malcolm had a setback last night.”

“What kind of setback?”

“Not the natural kind. It looks like someone drugged him and he almost died.”

Holden’s heart beat faster. Was Clara in danger? Shit! He shouldn’t have left her alone. “Jesse…Clara’s alone.”

Clara stepped out of the shower, steam thick in the air.

She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Hadn’t been able to wipe it off her face since she’d woken.

Holden loved her. He loved her, and he wanted to be with her. Not for a night. Or a month. Forever.

Her heart sang at that thought.

For so long, this was what she’d wanted, but after she’d told him how she felt three years ago, she’d thought it wasn’t going to happen.

She pulled on jeans and a cropped tee and was about to make the bed when a knock sounded at the door. Not the front door, but the acupuncture studio door.

She frowned. She didn’t have any appointments. Everything was closed the day of the street party because that’s where everyone went.

Moving into her studio, she looked through the peephole to see Briar.

Her brows flickered. She shouldn’t open the door. But what was she going to do? Yell through the thing?

With a deep breath, she cracked the door open. “Briar. What are you doing here?”

The other woman frowned and looked at her watch. “Eight thirty? Sorry, I’m fifteen minutes early.”

Clara shook head. “ I’m sorry, I think you must have your days mixed up. We’re closed today.”

“No. I booked for Saturday at eight thirty.”

That wasn’t possible. “Do you have a confirmation email?”

The other woman pulled out her phone and started scrolling.

“I do. I only booked it last night. It says…” She stopped.

“Crap. It’s the thirteenth of next month, not this one.

” She looked up, rubbing her brow. “Look, is there any chance you could fit me in? Normally I wouldn’t care, but with everything that’s going on at the hospital and Malcolm…

I really need something for the stress.”

Clara opened her mouth to say no—of course, in the nicest way possible—when tears gathered in Briar’s eyes.

“Please,” she said softly. “I kind of feel like my head’s underwater right now.”

Guilt pricked at her chest. “It’ll have to be a short appointment, though.”

Relief filled the other woman’s face. “Thank you!” Briar stepped inside.

“To make it quick, we don’t need to do the usual sit-down-and-chat first,” Clara said. “I know what points to do to help you relax and de-stress. Why don’t you lie on the table, and I’ll check your pulse.”

“Sure.” Briar slipped off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, and Clara lifted her wrist. “Why do you check the pulse?”

“To assess the flow of energy and balance in your body. It helps me understand your overall health and identify any areas that may need attention so I can create the most effective treatment plan.”

Briar scoffed. “Bet my energy and balance aren’t feeling too good.”

“It’s a bit irregular. It could be from stress or something else.”

“Bucket loads of stress.”

Clara turned and prepared her needles before facing Briar again. Minutes later, once they were all in, she turned the soft music on, dimmed the lights, and set the buzzer by Briar’s hand. “Press that if you need me.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clara grabbed her laptop and stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She waited until she reached her room before sitting on her bed to log onto her booking system.

Yep. Briar had booked the wrong month. She canceled that appointment and went to stand, only to knock her phone to the floor. It slid under the bed a bit, so Clara dropped to her knees to grab it.

That’s when she saw something poking out from behind one of the frame legs.

Wait…was that the USB?

No. It couldn’t be. But her bedroom was right off the hall where she’d been attacked.

There was no way her attacker would have left without it though. Unless they saw on her phone that she’d called for help and run?

Quickly, she crawled under the bed. Her heart started to beat faster as she reached for it. When it was in her hand, she rose to her bed and slipped it into her laptop.

There was one file on the USB, labeled A Prescription for Revenge .

She frowned. Revenge? Revenge for what?

Her fingers trembled as she clicked into it.

It started off as an affair. It ended in murder and sabotage.

Briar Winslow, a nurse at Amber Ridge Hospital, has been targeting a well-respected doctor, Malcolm Trundle, after a brief romantic encounter gone wrong.

According to insiders, Winslow was hurt and angry after Dr. Trundle, who had reportedly engaged in several affairs, ended his relationship with Winslow without warning or explanation.

His affair with local massage therapist Lauren Tabs then spurred Winslow to take matters into her own hands, manipulating the care of Dr. Trundle’s patients.

Clara’s pulse pounded in her temples as she skimmed the rest of the report in disbelief.

It was Briar? Briar who was, right now, in her treatment room?

Oh God.

She was just reaching for her phone when a noise sounded from somewhere in her house. The soft click of a door opening. Her treatment room door?

Her heart lurched, panic seizing her body.

Quickly, she dragged the file over to save it on her desktop before yanking the USB from the laptop. Then she turned and slipped it inside a pillowcase. She’d just risen when the bedroom door opened, and Briar appeared.

“Briar.” Clara worked hard to keep the panic from her voice. “Is everything okay? Where are the needles?”

“I pulled them out because I was feeling a bit dizzy. Any chance I could get some water?”

“Oh, of course.” She swallowed, grabbing her phone from the mattress and passing Briar to move into the kitchen.

She grabbed a bottle from the fridge, but when she turned, Briar wasn’t behind her.

Where—

Briar stepped into the kitchen, laptop in one hand, gun in the other.

Clara gasped. “What are you doing?”

“I see the article your roommate wrote is right here on your laptop screen. You must have found the USB.”

The report…she’d forgotten to click out of it. Shit. “I didn’t read it.”

“I’m not stupid, Clara, so don’t treat me like I am. Give me the USB.”

Her heart pounded. “You killed that patient. Then Scarlett. You’ve made people sick. If I give you that USB, you’ll kill me too.”

Briar lifted a brow as she shortened the distance between them. “I’ll kill you if you don’t give it to me.”

“No, you won’t.” Her phone started to ring, and her gaze flashed down.

“Answer it and I shoot your shoulder. Throw the phone over here.”

Dammit .

She slid her phone across the floor and watched as Briar stomped on it.

“Now,” Briar said slowly. “I just forced Deb to call Holden to get him out of the house, all so I could get into this house to search for that USB again. Of course, Deb started asking too many questions, so I killed her. I’ll kill you, too, without so much as blinking.”

Clara’s breath stalled. “You killed Deb?”

“Last chance, Clara.”

“You won’t kill me, because I’m the only one who knows where the USB is,” she said firmly, refusing to let her voice shake. “And I’ve already told Jesse I found it. He’s on his way right now.”

“You’re lying.”

Of course she was lying. Her life depended on not just lying, but lying well. “I’m not. He’s coming right now. You won’t have time to find it before he gets here, and if I’m dead, he’ll scour this house for the USB. He won’t stop until he finds it.”

Anger distorted her features, and she lunged.

Clara moved instinctively, grabbing the fruit bowl and smashing it over Briar’s head.

She cried out and fell, the gun discharging with a deafening crack, causing a wall tile to shatter.

Clara took advantage of the distraction and ran, sprinting around the island and toward the front door.

A growl followed by footsteps sounded behind her.

She grabbed keys from her hallway table, flung the door open, and sprinted outside.

Her hands shook as she opened her car door and slid behind the wheel. The engine was loud as it roared to life.

Briar appeared at the front door, pure rage in her eyes. But she didn’t shoot.

As Clara backed out of the drive, she watched in the rearview mirror as Briar sprinted toward her own car.

Clara’s tires squealed as she swerved onto the street, pressing her foot to the floor, praying she made it away in time.