Page 23 of Fury

“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?”

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.

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