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“It’s on my to-do list.” His tone said that the to-do list was about as long as a redwood was tall.
“Any word on Lucy’s condition?” Connelly asked. The rescue had taken hours, and Lucy had lost consciousness before they managed to free her.
“She’s very dehydrated and has lost a lot of blood. She slipped into a coma, but the doctors are still optimistic about her chances. Sawyer’s staying with her.”
Connelly smirked. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Said he promised her or some shit. I still can’t believe you sent the blind man into a cave.”
“Worked, didn’t it? He found her and kept her calm until the calvary arrived.”
Ash grunted. “If you want updates on her, he’d be the one to contact. I’m headed to your place now to meet the forensics unit.”
“If you need me, I’m at Veronica’s.” Though, this place was nothing like how he pictured Veronica’s home. He picked up the hand towel hanging beside the sink and shook his head at the rooster printed on it. Farmhouse chic. Veronica almost certainly didn’t buy that. It must have come with the rental, like everything else. There was nothing of the fierce, vibrant woman he’d known here and he could hardly picture the once fiercely independent Veronica living amidst these rooster-printed hand towels and dainty floral motifs. The Veronica he knew had loved bold artwork that made a statement and sharp colors. Her old apartment had been an eclectic mix of pop art and abstract paintings that seemed to shout out their existence at anyone who entered, each piece selected for its vibrancy and ability to stir emotions.
Now, Connelly stood amidst the neutral tones of this quaint country cabin, a place as calming as a cup of chamomile tea on a quiet morning, and heavy sadness filled his chest. He ran his fingers over the coarse fabric, picturing Veronica’s smiling face from the days of their reckless youth. Those bright, wild eyes that dared the world to hold her back.
“I’ll need to talk to her,” Ash said, drawing him back to the conversation.
He sighed and set the towel down. “I know. I’ll prepare her for it.”
There was a lot of shuffling on the other end then Ash came back to the line. “How is she?”
Connelly looked at the closed bathroom door. “Not sure yet.”
“I need to catch this fucking asshole,” Ash muttered. “Don’t let Veronica out of your sight until I do.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. Hey, Ash?” he added before Ash could end the call. “I need a gun. I bought one the other day but the waiting period... I can’t wait any longer.”
“No, you can’t. I’ll get you one.”
“Thanks,” he said but Ash was already gone. He set the phone on the counter and scrubbed his hands through his hair. Crusted mud fell to the floor at his feet.
“Okay. Shower,” he said to Rebel, who was sitting next to the door, watching him suspiciously. “Then it’s your turn.”
Her ears flattened and she crouched down, making herself as small as possible.
“That’s not going to save you, girl.”
He washed off the mud, then pulled Rebel into the stall with him and scrubbed the blood off her. It amused him when he scratched under her ears and both of her legs thumped on the tile floor.
“You’re a good girl.” He kissed her long nose. “Thanks for protecting our Vee today. You’re getting all the treats with dinner.”
At the T-word Rebel’s ears perked and she turned a tight circle in the small room, nearly knocking him off his feet.
“Okay. Okay!” He laughed and opened the bathroom door, intending to let her out while he dressed. She had other ideas. She ripped his towel off and burst through the door, prancing right past a wide-eyed Veronica, the towel flying behind her like a white flag.
Veronica stared at him, her eyes going even wider as her gaze slid down the front of him.
“Shit. Sorry.” He reached blindly for the first thing he could find to cover himself—the hand towel.
Veronica burst out laughing.
He looked down and saw the cock covering his cock and his ears burned with embarrassment. He pushed the door shut with his foot, threw the stupid cock towel in the trash can, and quickly dressed. He wasn’t usually self-conscious about his body, but this was Veronica. She’d never seen him naked before and he’d always hoped if she ever did, it would be under sexier circumstances. Not because a dog stole his towel.
Jesus.
He waited until his face stopped burning before opening the door. To his surprise, Veronica wasn’t in the living room anymore. He peeked into her room, but she wasn’t there either. Nor was she in the kitchen, though there was a freshly opened bottle of wine on the counter next to an empty, unused glass. A cool, salted breeze swept across the kitchen and he looked toward the back door, his heart jumping into his throat when he saw it open.
