Page 21 of Fury

“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 middayadhanbeing 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.”

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