Chapter 4
Colby Kendrick had known he was in trouble the moment that puppy had started yapping.
He’d had no choice at the time except to grab it and try to quiet it.
His ex-wife slept like a log—usually a drugged one—but he couldn’t risk it.
So he’d picked up the dog, who had wiggled so much it hurt his bleeding arm to hang on to him, and then he’d put him down on the ground back here in the trees so he could try to stop the bleeding.
And as he’d hoped, the territory outside his fenced yard fascinated him enough he’d just started sniffing and exploring.
But now Colby was obviously in more trouble than he ever had been in his life.
That was what he got for sitting here in the rain for what, a couple of hours?
But Liz had been so furious about the window he had been worried about his little girl.
He heard the whole fight from here in the trees.
His brave, courageous little girl who had immediately told her mother she had broken the window accidentally.
He didn’t think Liz would physically abuse her, but at this point he wasn’t certain of anything. And he wasn’t about to leave Grace alone, even if he was bleeding.
And that was when everything had changed.
When that other dog had arrived. He’d looked like a police dog or something when he’d first come racing out of the trees at him, and Colby had wondered if he was about to get bitten on top of everything.
But it all changed again, and he was acting like a well-behaved pet. Well-behaved and…friendly.
“We need to have a discussion,” the tall, powerful-looking man who had come up beside the dog said.
That was when a sudden thought struck him. “Did she call you? You work for them?”
“Them?” The woman who had come with the man spoke now. He assumed they were a couple, presumably the owners of the dog. There was something about the way they were together…
He nearly laughed aloud at himself, for thinking he had a clue. After all, he’d thought Liz loved him, too.
“Who?” the man asked, and there was an edge in his voice that said he wasn’t a guy to mess with. And that instinct Colby trusted. So he answered.
“The Hollens.”
He saw recognition of the name cross both of their faces. But unless he was completely wrong—entirely possible—he also saw a tinge of distaste.
“Hollen? Grace told me that was her mother’s last name.”
Colby’s gaze snapped to Ali. And it happened again, just as it had the first moment he’d looked at her, before she’d explained and he realized she was that new friend Grace had told him about.
That hair, the color of the reddest leaves in autumn.
And her eyes, green like the other woman’s but different, lighter, like the first growth of spring.
And that voice, low and deep and rich, sending an oddly shivery sensation down his spine.
He hadn’t had a reaction like this to a woman in… forever.
Never let it be said your timing doesn’t suck, Kendrick.
“Yeah. She never changed it when we got married. She was on the outs with the family then, but the name was…socially significant, she used to say.”
“They are kind of…famous around here,” the other woman explained to the new arrival. The man beside her snorted audibly, and he knew he’d been right about the distaste. “We’re not a densely populated county, but if there’s a family that is known by most residents, one way or another, it’s them.”
“You mean they’re…a big deal?” the redhead asked, an undeniable emphasis on the last two words, as if she were quoting them.
“So they think,” the man said. “Big real estate moguls, who like to buy up beautiful parcels of rural property and turn them into concrete canyons. Never mind the trees or the wildlife. Or that the roads and local facilities can’t handle it.
” His tone matched that snort, and Colby felt a spark of hope.
If that was how they felt about the Hollens…
“That’s what Grace said about her mom. That she thinks she’s a ‘big deal.’”
“And I’m not,” Colby said wearily. “And don’t want to be. Never did. Which is why the divorce.” He grimaced. “She thought I’d want to take advantage of the connection and move up—way up—in their world.”
The woman called Ali hesitated, those lovely eyes looking troubled. “Her mother wants to change her last name to Hollen, but Grace doesn’t want to. They fight over it, apparently.”
Colby bit his lip but couldn’t stop the moisture from welling up in his eyes.
They’d fought over her first name, too. Grace had been his choice.
She’d won that one, and the name on the birth certificate was Brianna, after her father, Brian.
Well, she’d sort of won. Until Grace got old enough to choose for herself, and refused to respond to anything but Grace.
The redhead moved suddenly, crouching down as if she wanted to be on his level, eye to eye. The big dog nudged her, gently, and she looked at the animal. And Colby would swear, if it wasn’t crazy, that the dog nodded.
Then she looked back at him and said, very quietly, “She told me she loves you, very much, and she wants to keep your name.”
He lost the battle this time, and had to swipe at the tear that was starting down his right cheek. He didn’t dare try to speak. Was sure nothing could get past the knot in his throat her words had caused. He felt a touch on his left hand, and his gaze shot back to her face.
And then, somewhere out of left field, she asked in a normal voice, “Did you and Grace really build that birdhouse? Or should I say, bird apartment complex?”
He knew he was gaping at her, but he couldn’t seem to help it. But his throat loosened up enough that he thought he could get some words out.
“Yes. Yes, we did. Last summer, at my place.” Then his brow furrowed. “She still has it?”
“No. I do.”
He blinked. “What?”
“It’s in my garage for now, out of sight,” she said, nodding toward the cottage-style home he’d always liked better than the overdone thing Liz had insisted on. “Grace said that’s what you do. Build things.”
“Yes. I’m a carpenter,” he said, a little defiantly. “A good one. It’s what I love to do. I never wanted to build skyscrapers or industrial parks. Just things for…people.”
“And birds?” Ali asked gently. He nodded. “She asked me to hide it for her. To keep it safe.”
His eyes closed. He had to suck in a deep breath. And couldn’t keep the note of bitterness out of his voice when he said, “Yeah. Her mother wanted to burn it.”
“And she tried to. It’s a little scorched on one side, but no real damage that couldn’t be fixed, I think.”
He jolted upright. “Tried to? Who stopped her?”
“Grace pulled it out of the firepit in the backyard.”
He swore, harshly, not even trying to keep it under his breath. “She could have been hurt.”
She was looking at him now as if what he’d said had decided her somehow.
She looked up at the couple, who had been oddly silent through this exchange.
And then the dog moved, reaching out to gently nuzzle his hand.
The uninjured arm, he noticed, although the dog couldn’t possibly understand that.
His instinctive response was to pet the dark head, but he did so warily, given how the animal had first approached him.
The moment his fingers stroked over the dark fur, he felt an impossible wave of calm go through him, a reassuring kind of feeling.
That he could feel that now, in the midst of near-panic about his baby girl, the pain in his arm and the specter of the Hollens hanging over him, was a little unsettling.
As was the fact that it was coming from this dog he’d just moments ago feared was going to rip his throat out.
“Question,” said the man towering over him. Colby looked up, waiting. “You broke the window?”
He hesitated, decided trying to lie wasn’t going to do him any good, since he sucked at it, as Liz had often told him. And there was something about this guy, some air of authority or something, that told him it wouldn’t be smart to lie to him anyway.
“Yes. It was locked, and Grace was in there, curled up on her bed crying really hard. Screaming, in fact. I was afraid maybe…it had become physical.”
“Has it been before?” the woman asked, her tone sharp. The man’s wife, judging by the ring on her finger, sounded oddly concerned for someone who didn’t know him, or Grace, although they apparently at least knew of Liz’s family.
“Not that I’ve seen any sign of, and believe me, I’ve checked.”
“What happened then?” Quinn asked.
“Grace got up and came running to the window when I broke it, but then Liz stormed in. I ducked just in time, when I heard her stomping down the hall.”
He shrugged, wincing as it tugged on the cut on his forearm. He also felt a splat on his nose, as rain began.
“So she didn’t see you?”
“No.” He closed his eyes, and gave a slow, aching shake of his head. “Grace…she screamed at her that she broke it, trying to get away from her.”
“Quick thinking,” the man said.
His eyes snapped open and he looked up at the man again. “My Grace is a very, very smart kid.”
“Her mother could have called the police. You could have been caught. You’re hurt and bleeding. Yet you’re still here. Why?”
“I couldn’t leave Grace here alone with her when she was that angry.
” He nodded toward the big house, which was visible through the trees.
“Here at least I can still hear what’s going on, and see if she leaves with her.
” He lowered his gaze again. “She’s always threatening to vanish with her, to keep her away from me. ”
“Is there a custody agreement?” the woman asked.
He laughed bitterly. “Sure. But when your name’s Hollen you don’t have to worry about those little details.”
“May I suggest,” Ali said, “that we take this inside before the rain really gets going again? I have some first aid supplies, we can take a look at your arm, too.”
“Good idea,” the other woman said.
“Very,” said the man, as the skies opened up again.
Colby didn’t move. Looked toward the big house. “It’s okay,” Ali said gently. “You’ll still be able to see the house from inside.”
“And there will be four of us to watch,” the other man said briskly.
Colby got to his feet slowly, warily. He looked from Ali to the other man, then back to her. For some reason she was the one he trusted, if only because Grace trusted her, and as he’d said, his girl was a very, very smart kid.
He nodded toward the couple. “They’re friends of yours?”
Ali smiled, and it was breath-stealing. “I think they will be, although we just met. They brought my puppy home, after he—” she nodded at the big dog “—brought him to them.”
Colby winced. “I’m really sorry about that, I had to quiet him or Liz would have seen me. Then while I was trying to stop the bleeding, I lost track of him.”
“He’s home safe now, thanks to Cutter, here.” She seemed to be watching him rather carefully when she added, “And these are Cutter’s people, Quinn and Hayley Foxworth.”
He blinked. “Foxworth?”
“Nice to meet you,” the man said blandly. “Now can we get inside before we’re all drenched?”
Colby followed the trio toward the cottage. The dog, however, stuck to his side as if he were his owner, not the couple ahead of them. Maybe he was a herding dog or something, making sure the straggler stayed in line.
Foxworth?
It couldn’t be, could it? But it would certainly explain why Ali had been watching him so intently when she introduced them.
Because Foxworth was a name well known in these parts.
He knew it, not just because of the headlines when they’d toppled their twisted governor, but because of a job he’d done last year.
Was this just coincidence, them showing up here?
He’d known they were based in the area, but had no idea they were this close. He—
His racing, tumbling thoughts broke off as the dog at his side nudged his hand. He automatically reached to pat the dark head, and felt it again, that soothing, somehow reassuring rush of sensation he couldn’t even begin to explain.
He gave his head a sharp shake, trying to clear it. He was all tangled up with the emotions he’d felt when he’d heard Grace wailing, when he’d seen her tearstained face. Plus, he hadn’t slept last night, nor had he eaten, so he knew he couldn’t think straight just now.
Maybe that was why he just numbly followed these people he’d never even met before.
Or maybe it was that reassuring dog.