Holding On (The Callahans #3)

PROLOGUE

Her name pops up on my cell phone and I tap my screen as fast as possible to connect the call on speaker. When we spoke to her just before taking off from London, her updates had been a mix of okay, bad, and terrible news.

“What do you know?” I don’t waste my breath or her time with pleasantries.

“Is Wells with you?” Daphne Cromwell asks as the background noise of wherever she is fades away. Her firm is on retainer with our company and she was my first call en route to the airport after we heard the news.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Wells leans forward from his seat on the other side of the table, his knuckles white from gripping the armrest. Our company jet departed London two hours ago, but despite being billionaires, we can’t change the fact that it’s a seven-plus-hour flight to New York City.

We’ve barely spoken to each other in the last few hours since we got the call, unless it was related to trying to find out more information about the situation.

“I wish I had better news to report, but I just got an update from her surgical team.” Daphne’s voice cracks on the last word, and that’s unheard of when it comes to her typical British stiff upper lip ways.

My stomach lurches because if Daphne is struggling to tell us, then it’s even worse than we initially heard.

“Just say it, Daph,” Wells says barely above a whisper.

Daphne clears her throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what to tell you right now, but I don’t think she’s going to make it. It’s bad, it’s really fucking bad.”