Chapter 5

ABU DHABI, UAE

The next morning, Hollyn made her way to the kitchen after sending Davis the security footage of the break-in that he'd asked for. She wanted to think about something more pleasant than that night, and pancakes sounded good.

Archie would be here any minute, and he always wanted breakfast foods.

It was the first time since finding out about her parents that she felt like she had any kind of energy, and she wanted to take advantage of it. Passing through the living room, she eyed the overcast sky. Looked like rain was a possibility. Good. Sunshine would just feel like a slap in the face—besides, Mum loved the rain.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she stopped in front of the kitchen sink to wash her hands before sending music through the speaker system via her phone. Christmas instrumentals. Her and Mum's favorite. She didn't care that it was long past the acceptable time to listen to them.

Through the kitchen window, she spied Davis in the microyard, working out—push-ups, sit-ups. He was definitely easy on the eyes and his presence a balm to her fears. And there was Fury, repeatedly dropping his funky, black rubber toy at Davis's feet. Both were working up an appetite, so maybe extra pancakes were in order. Not that she thought he would let his dog eat human food. But still.

Hollyn went for an apron from one of the drawers. Her hand stalled over the one Mum always used—it'd been her great-grandma's. It was white with hand-stitched floral embroidery and ruffled edging around the sides and bottom. Swallowing a sudden bout of misery, Hollyn scooped up the apron and put it on, feeling as if she had some loved ones back. Wrapped in their love. She then grabbed the recipe book from the cupboard. Not that she needed it. With as many times as she'd made pancakes with her parents over the years, she had it memorized. But taking the book out was part of a comforting pattern.

Embrace the routine.

Gathering the ingredients and measuring cups, Hollyn placed everything on the island. Last thing was a bowl. The large one that had also been Grana Mae's. She looked in the lower cabinets with no luck.

"Where did it go?" she murmured as she began opening the uppers, growing more frustrated with each dead end. When she opened the last cabinet, something slid off the top shelf. Flew at her.

"Augh!" In the split second that gravity flung it at her, she recognized it—Grana Mae's yellow glass bowl. Tried to catch the heirloom but slipped thanks to her socks, which provided no traction on the tile floor. She hit the floor just as the bowl did.

Crash!

Shards of the cherished bowl spread across the floor around her.

"No, no!" Hollyn pressed up and hissed when pain shot through her hand. When she reached out, she saw a large piece of the bowl embedded in her palm. It looked deep. Blood trailed from the wound onto the floor. Triggered by the sight, she swallowed the bile that leapt up her throat.

What had she done? Hollyn scootched back against the cabinets, clinging to her injured hand. Didn't care that she might be sitting on glass. Pain thrummed with the beat of her pulse. Teeth gritted in annoyance, she closed her eyes. But rather than tears of sadness, tears of anger burned in her eyes.

"Why?" she shouted to the ceiling. "Why them?"

She screamed her frustration. Pressed her head back against the cabinet.

The side door opened. "Christmas music? Really?" Davis called out.

She could hear Fury bouncing around.

Swallowing down the ball of ire heating her throat, Hollyn managed to look up just as they rounded the corner.

"There should be a law against—" The grin on Davis's face disappeared the second he saw her, replaced by a frown. "What happened?" He was suddenly all business as he rushed around the island toward her.

"Careful," she pushed the word out. "Glass."

Davis used a hand signal for Fury. "Down."

The RMWD instantly dropped and held position like a statue, watching his handler's every move. Davis brushed aside slivers of the bowl with his foot. He took a knee in front of Hollyn and reached for her. In gym shorts and a T-shirt that hugged tight around his muscular arms and chest, he looked much more casual than he had since he first got here.

His proximity was both unnerving and . . . something else she couldn't figure out.

Before he even touched her hand, Hollyn went rigid. "Wait." Jostling the injury was torture. If she held perfectly still, it helped.

"I need to see it, Hol." His calloused hand gently took hers. The warmth of it only mildly distracted her from the pain.

Slowly, he turned her palm to the side.

Hollyn sucked in a sharp breath. Instinct had her free hand jutting out to stop him.

"Easy," he soothed, even as he blocked her attempt to intervene. His gaze found hers.

Body stilling, breathing ragged, the world tunneled until the only thing in focus was him. She could feel beads of perspiration forming on her forehead and was keenly aware that her reaction was more than a little over the top for what had actually happened. Her brain told her to calm down, but her trauma response was fully engaged now.

"You're okay." He was the definition of calm. "Just hold still, all right?"

Hollyn mentally braced herself and nodded. Whatever came, it was nothing compared to what her parents must have felt. She clenched her teeth.

"Looks deep." Davis grabbed a dishtowel off the stove next to them and dabbed up the blood, doing a good job avoiding shifting the shard embedded in her skin. Still, it sent bolts of fire up and down her arm. "I'll take you to have it checked out."

"No!" The word was out before she could stop it. "No hospitals."

"Hollyn—"

"No." There was no way on this earth.

There went the muscle in his jaw again. "Fine. Hold on." He stood and left the kitchen.

Hollyn looked over at Fury. The good boy hadn't moved an inch. "Think he's just gonna chop the whole thing off?" she joked. Ran her good arm across her forehead.

Fury's tail swished once and then he returned to his statuesque state. His only movement was panting, razor-sharp white teeth set off against his dark, sable fur. He could probably crush her arm if he wanted to.

For the first time, she noticed how intimidating he looked. Maybe it was because she was eye level with him now. Though, thankfully, he was on the other side of the kitchen. The way he tracked her was unnerving, to say the least.

Davis was back in a flash with a canvas pouch that he unzipped as he knelt. Took out a handful of packaged first-aid items and tweezers before holding her hand once more. "Looks like it should have missed the tendons."

Blood continued to ooze out. She'd never been good with the sight of it. Felt like she might pass out. Or throw up. Or both. It was nearly enough to make her reconsider the hospital option. But no. That was out of the question. Never again. Not after . . .

A small moan escaped her.

"Look at something else," Davis told her while he readied the tweezers. Her fingers curled around his thumb as he kept her hand from closing into a fist. "Try not to tense up."

A strangled laugh bubbled out of her mouth. "Yeah, sure. This is basically a spa day." She looked up at the kitchen window.

His chuckle pulled a grin from her. "That's the spirit."

A bird flew up to the glass. Hovered just on the other side. The grin drained from her lips. It felt like God was rubbing salt in her wound as she watched the bird flit up and down in the sky without a care.

Dumb bird.

She made the mistake of glancing down as the tweezers neared. "Agh!" She threw a hand out. When the corded muscles of his arm tensed beneath her touch as he paused, she stilled.

Davis eyed her. "Good?"

Hollyn's heart pounded. For more than one reason. She released her hold. Closing her eyes, she nodded.

The glass being tugged from her palm was what she imagined having a knife blade run across her skin would be like. She hissed in pain. Tried to hold still, but her hand was shaking uncontrollably now.

Fury whined.

"Almost there," Davis told her.

Just when she was at her breaking point, the pressure was gone.

"Done." Davis grabbed some gauze and pressed it firmly into her palm.

Hollyn groaned and opened her eyes.

The doorbell chimed as he kept working on her hand. She slipped her phone from the apron pocket. Noticed the fabric covered with blood droplets. The corner of her lip curled in disgust.

Perfect. You destroyed two heirlooms in one morning.

A tap brought up the porch camera feed.

"It's Archie," Hollyn stated. Dread weighed her down. She didn't want to do this. Any of this. But she'd already told him she would.

"Leave him out there." Davis didn't look up as he readied a tube that read liquid stitches with one hand. He moved through the steps like he'd done it a thousand times.

Which he probably had, she realized.

"The fresh air will do him good."

"What's the deal with you two?" she breathed. "You spoke, like, five words to each other when you met."

"Five too many."

She shook her head. "I don't know why you two don't get along."

"I get along with everyone," he countered with a mischievous expression. Just as quickly, it was replaced by a look of disdain. "It's that?—"

Hollyn arched an eyebrow even as pain continued pulsing in her palm.

"—twerp"—the stress he put on the word told her he had other names in mind for Archie—"that doesn't get along with me."

Maybe it was her fault. She'd mentioned Davis and his career to Archie a few times. Had she inadvertently said something that would put her friend on edge before he had a chance to even get to know Davis?

On her phone, Hollyn tapped the button that unlocked the front door. "Yes, you do seem to have a very warm and inviting disposition when it comes to him. Much like a caged tiger looking for dinner?"

Davis smirked as the front door opened and closed. "One of my better features. Stay." His command stalled the shepherd's upward motion even as his wink sent Hollyn's heart fluttering.

How many different emotions could she feel in the span of a few minutes? It was dizzying.

Gaze dropping to his mouth, her vision tunneled. She'd always wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

"Hollyn." His voice was deep. Gravelly.

Their eyes met even as she felt frozen in place. Could he feel whatever this was between them too?

You're playing with fire.

Archie entered the room. Davis cleared his throat and started applying the bandages.

"Hollyn!"

Fury hopped up and let off a growl in the direction of her friend as he neared the kitchen. The fur along his spine rose.

"Down," Davis muttered like he didn't really want to call the dog off.

Archie's face blanched at the sight of the dog, whom he side-skirted, a laptop in hand. He was here for her help on a work project. When they'd talked early this morning, he'd let it slip that he was having trouble. At first, he'd refused her help because he didn't want to add to her plate, but she begged him to let her in on it. Now she was regretting that decision.

"Are you okay?" Archie asked her.

"I'm—"

Archie leveled a hard look at Davis. "What happened?"

Cradling her hand in his, Davis glanced at her friend. Did a double take when he realized he was the one Archie was targeting. "It's called an accident."

Archie jutted his chin. "You sure?"

"What's your problem?" Davis demanded.

"Hey, you're the one who has the problem," Archie countered.

Davis turned back to working on Hollyn's hand. "One I'd like to get rid of," he said under his breath.

"What's that?"

"Step off, Twerp." Davis scowled as he held Hollyn's wound closed while the liquid dried. It didn't escape her that her blood coated his skin.

Fury growled. It was enough to push Archie farther away from the dog.

Not enough, however, to stop him from more snarky comments. "Not happening, GI Joe."

Seriously! Why were these two always at each other's throats? "Okay!" She tried to stop them.

Davis placed a nonstick pad on the dried stitches and started covering her hand with self-adherent wrap. Softly, Hollyn noted. Even though he was upset—evidenced by the firm set of his jaw and twitch of his cheek muscle—he was still being gentle with her.

"You military types are all the same," Archie snapped. "Only thing you know how to do is shoot, kill, and injure."

"Archie!" Wow. Where had that come from?

He ignored her. "We're"—he motioned between himself and Hollyn—"trying to help humanity."

"What would the world do without you?" Davis's words were coated in thick sarcasm.

Hollyn nearly rolled her eyes. She'd never seen Archie act this way—or Davis, for that matter. "Guys, come on!"

Both men looked at her.

"Just—stop, okay?" Annoyed, she looked up at Archie. "A bowl fell and a piece of it got stuck in my hand. Davis was helping me. Not hurting me."

Why was she even explaining this? They were acting like children. While Davis hadn't started this, he also hadn't let it go. Not that it surprised her.

When Davis slid an arm around Hollyn to help her up, she thought Archie might launch himself across the kitchen. She gripped Davis's solid shoulder with her good hand as he stood. Felt him tense. Didn't miss the way her heart fluttered again being pressed against him but quickly pushed the feeling away when he released her. Missed his touch when his hand slid from her waist.

No matter how much her heart still wished he were the one, he didn't feel that way about her. And even if he did, she was dangerous. The people she loved always ended up dead.

"Let's just go over the project, all right?" Hollyn hoped Archie could see the plea in her eyes for him to give it a rest.

He looked between her and Davis before his shoulders dropped and he nodded. "Yeah, okay. Sorry, Hollyn."

An apology for her. But not Davis.

She tugged at the loose apron knot at her back with one hand and set the garment on the counter. "I'm just going to clean this up first." She moved toward the pantry for the broom, but Davis caught her arm.

"I'll do it. You two . . . do what you need to." It looked like the words were physically painful for him to say.

If looks could kill, Archie would be dead a thousand ways already. Bandaged hand up against her chest to lessen the throbbing pain, Hollyn didn't waste time walking toward her friend. She needed to get him out of here before he started running his mouth again.

When Archie turned the corner toward Dad's office, Hollyn cast a glance back at Davis and found his primal gaze fixed on her. She bit her lip before stepping into the study.

If she weren't careful, these two would eventually engage in a battle she wouldn't be able to stop.

* * *

Irritation heated his neck as Davis flicked on the faucet to wash his hands.

Freaking twerp.

Gazing into the sink, he watched the blood mix with water and funnel down the drain. An unbidden flashback from that night shot to mind. Smoke in the air. In his lungs. Truck on fire. Loud shouts. Luke's body.

He gripped the edge of the countertop. Fought back the images.

He hadn't wanted to fix up Hollyn's hand. Didn't need anything else going wrong on his watch. But the way she'd begged him not to take her to the hospital . . . maybe he should have taken her. Wouldn't have had to deal with the twerp if he had. But there wasn't much he'd deny Hollyn.

From the office, the sound of muffled voices and the clacking of keyboards broke into his thoughts. He yanked some paper towels free. Dried his hands before finding the broom to sweep up the last of the glass. Sanitized the floor of the blood. Worked on getting the dark stains out of the apron.

Fury watched the office door like he didn't like the guy either.

Twerp was toeing the line of what Davis would deal with. And what was with him assuming Davis had hurt Hollyn?

That ticked him off more than anything. He'd never laid a hand on a woman. Ever. The punk calling his integrity into question had him seeing red.

Since he couldn't throw the guy out on his backside like he wanted to, Davis headed up to his guest room to get rid of his post-workout funk with a shower and clean clothes. Decided to go over the security footage Hollyn had sent him earlier. See what he could find.

When he stepped from the bathroom, Fury was sprawled out on the bed. His tail thumped down on the blankets. "Hey. You failed me down there. What good are those razor-sharp canines if you aren't going to eat his throat or at least take a chunk out of his smug butt?" Davis asked the lug. "Show him one of your trademark snarls?"

Fury sneezed.

"Whatever." He laughed, grabbing his laptop.

On the bed, he pulled up the recording. It wasn't easy seeing Hollyn attacked on camera, but on the fourth time, he realized something so glaringly obvious that he should've picked up on it on the first pass. Blame his preoccupation with the petite woman who still seemed to have a vise grip on his brain.

The burglar negotiated the house as if he'd been inside a hundred times. Seemed to know where every piece of furniture was and moved around it with ease even in the dark. Didn't bump into a single thing or trip on a rug.

Could've had the blueprints of the house memorized. But that wouldn't account for where furniture was. Davis still had a bruise where his leg had nailed the corner of that entry table.

In the office, the guy didn't mess around with the closest drawers. He went straight for the drawer farthest from the door.

Why?

Insider knowledge? Or . . . insider?

Davis closed the laptop and motioned to Fury with it. "Come on."

They walked down the hall to the study, and he opened the door. Didn't really care if he was interrupting the twerp. Hoped he was.

Behind the thick-rimmed BCGs on the bridge of his nose, Twerp balked. Was practically steaming.

Mission success.

"Hey, Davis." Hollyn greeted him with a small smile. Her elbow was propped up on the desk, bandaged hand in the air. "What's up?"

"Can we talk?"

He had Twerp's full attention now.

"Alone." He dared Twerp to intervene.

"Uh . . . " Hollyn cast a sidelong glance at Twerp. "Sure. We were pretty much done here anyway, right, Archie?"

Mouth opening, Twerp grunted, then deflated.

Mission victory.

"Yeah. I think we're good." With more than a huff, he got his stuff together. Stood and hugged Hollyn—a little longer than necessary.

Fury let out a low rumble of objection.

That's my boy. Well, Crew's, but . . .

Chin up, Twerp skated Fury a nervous glance and scurried out the door. "See you 'round."

Davis bit back the retort on the edge of his tongue. Moved toward Hollyn. This close to her, his heart thundered in his chest. "How's the hand?"

She shrugged. "Not great but I'll live." Sliding her light auburn hair behind her ear, she smiled up at him. Those gorgeous eyes were going to get him in trouble one of these days. "Thanks for your help." Was she blushing?

The front door rattled when it closed with extra force.

Davis ignored the outburst. "Course."

Fury came up beside Hollyn and pressed his weight into her leg. She smiled. Reached for him, then pulled her hand back. "Is it okay?" She looked to Davis.

He considered the request. "Slowly."

Without missing a beat, she reached down to Fury's back. Ran her hand over his fur. The lug panted happily.

He wasn't sure what to make of the way the landshark acted with her.

"What did you need to talk about?" Hollyn sank quietly onto one of the large chairs near the windows. Pretzeled her legs under her like she always used to. Cradled her injured hand in her lap.

Though he didn't want to freak her out, they needed to get to the bottom of this, so he dropped into the other chair and rested his laptop on his knee. "I was going over the security footage"—he saw the confidence in her smile falter—"and I noticed that whoever broke in knew not only the layout but had an intimate knowledge of furniture and décor placement."

Davis opened the laptop and replayed the footage. Pointed when the burglar stepped around the entry table near the door to the study. "It's like he's been inside before."

The crease in her brow deepened. "Like he's broken in before and we didn't notice?" Hollyn looked scared.

Fix it.

"Whether he broke in or was let in"—he watched her absorb that information—"he's been here before. Does the way he moves look familiar?"

Touching her throat as she leaned in, she watched the video.

"Anything about him remind you of someone you know? What about your driver?"

Her gaze snapped back to him. "No! Bongani wouldn't do something like this. Please, just—shut it off." She looked away and he closed the laptop.

Davis was inching closer to losing her. Couldn't stop, though. Had to get her to think about the details while they were fresh in her mind. He was playing catch-up here. Didn't know the people in her life.

For a moment, he considered telling her about her dad's warning but shoved the idea away. He needed more intel first. If Ansel had wanted her to know, he would have addressed the message to them both. "Think about it . . . "

"I don't want to think about it!" Hollyn punched from the chair. "It was just a burglar, and the police will find him." Was she trying to convince him or herself? She paced back and forth. "I don't appreciate you implying that Bongani could be to blame either."

Davis didn't say anything. It wouldn't help. She wasn't thinking logically.

"Of all the people here, he's been one of the kindest to our family."

Yeah, maybe in order to get close to whatever's here.

"These things just happen sometimes, you know?"

"Not this time, Hol." He worked to keep his tone even. "Think about it: your parents. The lab. The break-in here." He came to his feet. "Ian Fleming said, ‘Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence.'"

Hollyn stopped pacing, eyes wide, arms wrapped around her middle. "And three?—you mentioned three."

He held her gaze. "Enemy action." He exhaled heavily. "I do think we're beyond coincidence here, Hollyn. It's connected—your parents' murder?—"

"Murder?"

"—the lab break-in, the break-in last night. To me, the pattern suggests someone close to the victim is responsible."

She spun on her heel. "The victim—you mean my dad!"

"Ansel, yes. I think he knew who killed him. The pattern suggests?—"

"But not always. Right?"

Come on, Hollyn. Her piqued voice and frantic expression told him even she didn't believe what she was desperate for him to agree with.

"Right?" she asked with more force.

"Not always, but?—"

"Then"—she flared her nostrils beneath the way she exclaimed that one word—"until we have some kind of hard evidence, I'm not going to be suspicious of the people closest to me." She touched her temples. "I just . . . can't. I can't live that way."

Davis frowned. Sighed. She was waist-deep in denial. "Fine."

Hollyn was going to continue to see the good in people. That's just who she was. Who she'd always been. He, on the other hand, had been around the block too many times and knew few people were really good. In fact, he recalled a Bible verse that said no one was good but God. That was a rule by which he approached life and ops.

Was that callous? Maybe. But he'd been tasked with ending too many snakes in this world to think differently.

Wouldn't stop her, though. If she was willing to stake her trust in them, so be it.

As far as he was concerned, the list of suspects numbered two, and he wouldn't stop till he narrowed it down to one.