Chapter 4

ABU DHABI, UAE

". . . so as you see, the death certificates should be taken care of in a matter of days." Randall's voice sounded more monotone than not as he went over the necessary details he'd come to discuss. "My connections here are helping speed the process along. Your parents had no outstanding debts either, so that helps as well. And of course, the funeral will be held three days from today. I know you're aware of that, but still."

Sitting here in the living room, Hollyn felt numb. She burrowed back against the soft sofa, staring at the vanilla candle she'd lit on the end table. The small flame flickered and danced, and every now and then gave a small pop.

Weariness pressed down on her. She and Davis had been listening to Randall for the last hour about how he was working on taking care of all the paperwork related to her parents' deaths. And she was thankful. Really was. But she couldn't handle much more of this. On top of everything else, she was still shaken up from the attack the night before.

After the break-in, the local police had said they'd find whoever was responsible, but it hadn't stopped her mind from reeling at every sound during the night. She felt so vulnerable. Even running a virtual screen through the house security system hadn't turned up answers as to how the guy had gotten into the house without triggering the alarm.

At Davis's feet, Fury lay, looking relaxed. But his keen gaze roamed over Hollyn and Randall. Watching. Waiting. Seeing if they were friend or foe?

"Thanks, Cooper." Davis's voice broke the silence that had fallen over the room.

Hollyn slid her gaze to him.

A mixture of concern and frustration clouded his face. He hadn't changed much since she'd last seen him. Except maybe filled out a little. The dark stubble on his jaw added another layer of striking good looks to him. Still, his ring finger sat glaringly empty. Why?

Davis cleared his throat, and she realized she'd been staring.

What would Dad say? He'd probably smile knowingly and see how things played out. He'd never made his hopes that the two of them would end up together a secret.

Oh, Dad . . .

Back then, Hollyn had been caught up in her crush on Davis. How many times had she scrawled Hollyn Ledger in her notebooks? An embarrassing number.

Hollyn rubbed her forehead as she nearly lost her grip on precarious emotions. Her limbs each weighed a thousand pounds. People weren't lying when they said grief was heavy. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"

Randall, ever the gentleman, let her lapse in focus slide. "Just that the police have almost finished processing your parents' things that were in the car and should be releasing them this afternoon. I can pick everything up and bring it here. You should also be aware that there was a break-in at the lab the night of the gala."

"There was?" Hollyn's heart clenched.

Another violation of her personal space, since the lab had practically been a second home to her. The one place she could relax and be herself. Archie'd told her many times that he felt the same way. While Leila was Hollyn's closest friend, she and Archie were most alike. Both lifelong geeks and still good-standing members of the Socially Awkward Club.

"They reported nothing stolen, and repairs are underway," Randall went on. "But we thought it was important for you to know."

Hollyn's brow furrowed. What was happening? Break-in at the lab. Break-in at her home. The world was no safer as an adult than as a child.

"Thanks for letting us know," Davis said.

In control and unshakeable. Just as he'd always been. She admired his calmness. Craved the stability of it.

"Of course." Randall reached for his leather briefcase.

"Is Isayus dead too?" Hollyn was well aware how callous that sounded, but she didn't have the strength to ask in a more tactful way.

"He is."

Numb still, she nodded. "And have you heard from Bongani?" He and Isayus had been close friends. He must be devastated too.

"Not at this time," Randall said. "Do you want me to reach out?"

"That's okay." She'd call him herself.

Davis looked to her. "Who are they?"

Hollyn was getting wearier by the minute. "Bongani is our driver—um, my driver"—the metaphorical dagger in her heart cut deeper—"and Isayus would fill in on Bongani's days off or under special circumstances."

He seemed to mull that over. "But Bongani wasn't driving that night? Why?"

"He drove us there, but then came down sick during the gala."

The muscle in his jaw flexed. What did that mean? She was desperate for the closeness they used to share. But Davis had clearly been through things that had changed him. He still cared, she could tell that much, but he seemed to be holding her at arm's length, which confused her.

A strained moment of silence passed between the three before Randall broke in. "As the executor of the estate, you will have various paperwork you'll need to sign along the way, Hollyn. I can bring it here, or you're welcome to come to my office."

"Thank you." Did she look as drained as she felt? Why did she even care right now anyway?

"As we discussed this morning, I brought the will with me," Randall said. "You two are the only named parties, so it's really a simple situation." He looked between her and Davis. "Unless you'd prefer another time."

Biting her lip, pressure rising in her chest, Hollyn couldn't help but think that the reading of the will seemed so final. As if there was still hope if it remained unread. She jiggled the gold globe on her necklace back and forth and lifted her gaze to Davis, willing him to step in. Give her guidance or something.

"Up to you," he replied to her silent plea.

Right. Under the weight of both men's focus, Hollyn could feel the room getting smaller. She could say she wasn't feeling up to it. That was certainly true. They'd understand. Probably wouldn't even question it.

The thought of hearing things her parents had planned out before their death made her queasy, but there was no sense in putting this off. It wouldn't be easier tomorrow. Or the next day. Better to just get it over with.

"Okay, let's get this done." Her chin quivered and she took in a slow breath. She didn't want to break down again. She'd cried more in the last twenty-four hours than all her high-school years combined. She wanted to be strong.

Ha! That's a pipe dream, Hollyn. You're not strong.

Randall gave her a practiced smile and pulled a folder from his briefcase. "All right."

Hollyn sank back against the fluffy couch as Randall began.

"Davis." He handed over a piece of paper. "To you, the Reinhardts left their cabin on the Minlan, Tennessee, property and ten acres surrounding it. They owned it free and clear and created a stipend to cover the annual costs such as property tax and upkeep."

Hollyn managed a small grin. She knew how much that would mean to Davis. From the time they'd become friends in fifth grade all the way through to high-school graduation, the cabin built in the early 1800s near the lake had been his favorite spot on their property. On more than one occasion, he'd said it was the only place he felt at home. His family life had been broken at best, much like hers before getting adopted.

Turned out Dad had listened and stored that information away. So like him. Generous and kindhearted.

A pang of sadness nearly took her down, but she fought to recover.

"You'll also see listed the financial portion of the inheritance as well as the stocks and bonds they wished transferred to you. Ansel was also insistent that you take possession of the 1948 Willys Jeep. It's been stored in an enclosure at the cabin."

Davis's knee bobbed rapidly up and down. The corded muscles in his forearm flexed, but his facial expression remained unchanged. Stoic and somber.

So . . . not happy, then? Or was she simply unable to read his poker face?

"Hollyn." Randall handed her a piece of paper as well. "Everything else has been entrusted to you, including your father's controlling interest in Reinhardt Tech."

"What?" she breathed. She'd assumed that if anything ever happened to Dad, the company shares would be divvied up between the other funding members of the company. But this . . . She was only a couple years past being an intern. Now she had a place at the table where all the decisions were made? It was too much pressure! The board would not be happy about this.

Dad, what were you thinking?

Randall moved on. "This villa, I'm sure you know, is under a seven-year lease. There are two years remaining. If you want to stay after that time, we can renegotiate a new lease. Or there are the options of simply living here until the end of the contract or terminating the lease early. The home in Tennessee is currently rented out."

Hollyn's head was spinning. She dropped her gaze to her hands, clasped so tightly in her lap they were hurting. There was a dry patch of skin on her first finger. She scraped it over and over with her thumbnail. Tried to buy herself a second to soak all of this in, but her mind was racing.

Davis reached over and gave her wrist a soft squeeze before settling back, not looking at her. There he went again. Giving just enough to reel her in before he put the wall back up between them. Despite herself, she instantly missed his touch. There was something reassuring about it. As if everything would be okay.

But it wasn't going to be okay. Not ever again.

Hollyn heard Randall rummaging around in his briefcase. Looked up.

"Ansel made a video for you, Davis. And instructed me to give you this letter." He spoke the last to Hollyn, holding out a folded piece of paper to her. The wax seal with an embellished R in the middle reminded her of all the times she'd sealed letters with the same stamp as a kid. She'd felt so grown up.

Gingerly, she took the letter but knew there was no way she could read it. At least, not . . . yet. She tried not to be upset that her parents had recorded a video message for Davis but not her. They always had a reason for the things they did.

The German shepherd's head popped up, and he nosed the drive Davis was handed.

"Easy," Davis murmured to Fury.

"I'll leave you to it, then." Randall and Davis stood. Hollyn slowly followed suit. "If you need anything at all, let me know."

She nodded. "Thank you, Randall. For everything."

He shot her a tight grin before Davis walked him out. She watched the men make their way out into the foyer and stared after them, heart and thoughts heavy. A weight pressed against her leg, and she glanced down to find Fury sitting, his muscular shoulder leaning on her thigh.

A gust of warm air brushed through the open door, making her very glad they'd been able to get a window repairman out first thing this morning to replace the glass Davis had shattered to save her.

Hollyn's legs gave out and she dropped back onto the couch. A few rogue tears trailed down her cheeks. This couldn't be her life now. She sensed Davis come back into the room.

Even without making a sound, he had a presence that demanded notice. "How about some food? I can make you something."

Why was his voice so . . . peaceful?

Hollyn shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"Come on, Hol." Concern edged into his tone. "You didn't have breakfast."

But she didn't care if she ever ate again. Food was the absolute last thing on her mind right now. "I'm fine." She didn't dare look up at him, because she knew she'd cave.

He was quiet for a while before whistling to Fury. "Come on, bud."

When she heard his door close down the hall, Hollyn finally stood. Walked into Dad's study. The walls were lined with mahogany bookshelves, filled to the brim with books on everything from classics to theology to tech. The section of classics was actually a secret door that hid a large safe.

Grabbing the afghan off Dad's reading chair, Hollyn sank onto the carpeted floor—letter still clutched in her hand. The strength to read it evaded her. She was curious what her parents had recorded for Davis. Wondered what their last thoughts were. What they'd deemed important enough to record for this moment. She wished more than anything they were still here. There was nothing she wouldn't give to have them back for even an hour. Not getting to say goodbye to them had reopened a deep wound.

Hollyn's chin quivered as she slid the remote off the side table. She hit the button to close the blinds. The room slowly descended into darkness and took with it any chance that she'd find happiness again.

* * *

Turning the USB drive in his fingers, Davis paced his room. He ran a hand over the stubble on his cheek before finally dropping onto the desk chair and sliding the USB drive into his laptop. No time like the present to find out what Ansel had put onto the device.

Even through the closed window beside him, he could faintly hear the midday adhan being recited from mosque loudspeakers in the distance. Fury panted next to him, tail swishing across the wooden floor, thinking he was about to get a scruff on the head. Davis obliged.

When Ansel appeared on screen, Davis steeled himself against sadness at seeing the familiar face again, and his hand went reflexively to the shepherd's head.

Fury nudged his knee a couple times. The RMWD was going to go nuts cooped up in this house without a job to do. A solid reminder that their time together was temporary. He cast a glance out the window. Drew in a steadying breath as his gaze scanned the local vegetation and palm trees lining the property. It had surprised him how pristine Abu Dhabi properties were, at least in the Reinhardts' neighborhood, compared to the ghetto he'd grown up in.

Davis turned back to the computer, effectively closing the door on memories of his volatile childhood. Opened the lone file on the drive. The fact he'd been named in the will—not to mention the things bestowed on him—was like salt in a gaping wound. Guilt at the distance he'd put between them piled on thick. How many years had it been since he'd met in person with the man who'd been like a dad to him? Too many. He should've done better. Should have made the effort to visit while on leave.

Didn't feel right keeping the money from the inheritance. Maybe he should donate it to ABA. Give him some leverage behind not wanting to join their team.

Too bad he couldn't use this to strong-arm the med board into reversing their decision.

One blow after another lately.

"All right, let's see what he says," Davis said to Fury when he hit play. He roughed up the RMWD's ears. Thumped a hand on the dog's shoulder a few times.

Fury pressed into him. Put a paw on his knee.

"Davis." Ansel's voice drew his attention to the screen.

In his usual solid-colored button-up shirt, the man who'd been like a father to him wasn't massive by any means but still took up almost the whole frame. For a guy in tech, Hollyn's dad had never quite mastered recordings of himself. Davis had seen plenty of home videos with half of Ansel's face or an angle with more of the underside of his chin than anything else.

White hair. Familiar grin. Steady gaze. Seeing Ansel now took Davis back to a simpler time.

"If you're seeing this, then things . . . turned out differently than I'd planned." A pensive expression passed over the man's face. "You were always like a son to me and Lydia."

Hearing that was a knife to the gut.

Yeah, a son that'd abandoned the people who cared about him most.

"Remember near the cabin, you and Hollyn found that nest with sparrow eggs that had fallen to the ground?"

Davis frowned. It was a strange memory to bring up.

"Hollyn was so upset and you comforted her. Stayed with her. We got the incubator, and you two checked on the eggs constantly until the day the nestlings hatched. Then fed them every day till it was time for the birds to fly away."

Davis remembered. It had been the first summer he'd spent most of his days with the Reinhardts. He'd been eleven, still unsure if he should even be there. It'd been about a year after the accident. But Hollyn had been sure enough for the both of them.

Why was Ansel talking about this?

A serious expression came over Ansel. "Protect the sparrow, Davis."

Davis paused the video. Sparrow? Did he mean Hollyn? Had to be. It was the nickname Ansel had used for his daughter.

" . . . things . . . turned out differently than I'd planned . . . "

Davis's mind drifted to last night's break-in. To the lab incident Randall had just told them about. Man, if a knot wasn't forming in his gut right now. Were they connected? Seemed too coincidental not to be.

Video resumed, he rested his forearms on his knees. Shoulders taut. Hands fisted. Willed Ansel to tell him to stand down. That he was overreacting.

Instead, warning . . .

"It's of the utmost importance now. Be watchful. Trust is earned, not given. First boy who was paired with Hollyn at the sixth-grade science fair, five eight."

Do what? Davis paused the video. Ran it back and listened again. Okay, so he hadn't misheard it, but it sure as heck didn't make sense. He listened again. And again. A couple more times. What did that mean? Tried to figure out that last sentence. Almost sounded like a Bible reference.

He roughed a hand over his face.

All these riddles. Clear sign something wasn't right. Did the coded message mean he'd suspected it might fall into the wrong hands? Randall was the only one with access. Didn't Ansel trust the guy? Or was he just being cautious?

Davis itched for a team to work this out with. Come up with a game plan—if that was needed. Maybe reach out to Chapel. With what evidence, though? At this point, all he had was a hunch.

Davis bounced his knee as he thought.

The video mentioned the science fair . . . He thought about sixth grade. Didn't remember much of it. Wasn't something he looked back on often. The face of Hollyn's lab partner came to mind, but the name was slipping him.

That last line in Ansel's video, and the way the last line sounded like a verse reference, stuck out to him. Hollyn's dad was known for quoting scripture at the drop of a hat. Seemed to have a verse for everything. It'd been so foreign to Davis at first, then started to get ingrained in him as the years went by. Somewhere along the way, since joining up, he'd stepped away from that way of thinking.

He repeated the line to himself, running through possibilities.

Boy who was paired with Hollyn at the sixth-grade science fair could be a book of the Bible if the verse theory was correct.

Paul? Not a book of the Bible. Timothy? Peter.

Bingo. Davis pulled up the verse on his phone—the first letter of Peter, since the second only had three chapters. Hoped he was on the right track.

Couldn't have given me a little clearer direction, could you?

"Be sober-minded, be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."

He clenched his jaw. Any doubt in his mind about things not being connected was instantly incinerated. "Okay, Ansel." He tapped Play once more. "Message received."

"We want you to know how proud we are of you, Davis. Your commitment to God and country is extremely admirable."

Talk about a punch to the gut.

"We've been praying for you. For peace. For purpose."

He shook his head. Their prayers had apparently fallen on deaf ears, because here he was. Tossed out of the Army and wholly without purpose. The military had been his life. His identity. What did he have now but plans in ashes and a shoulder that kept him from doing what he loved?

Ansel went on for a while longer before the video cut out.

Arms crossed, Davis thought about what Hollyn's dad had said at the beginning. Wished he had a better idea of what was going on. But the mission was clear: protect Hollyn.

Davis leaned back in the chair. "What were you into, Ansel?"