Chapter 2 - THE DOG WHO WOULDN’T COME HOME
By the time Rowan Fiero realized Bobby was missing, the storm had already swallowed half the estate.
Rain struck the mansion windows so violently that the glass seemed to tremble in its frames. Wind tore branches from the old oaks lining the eastern drive, and lightning flashed above the hills in hard white fractures.
The power had failed twice.
The backup generators were running.
Three security cameras along the southern fence had gone dark.
And Bobby had been gone for twenty-three minutes.
Rowan stood in the main foyer with rainwater dripping from the shoulders of his black overcoat.
“Again,” he said.
His security chief, Marcus Vale, checked the tablet in his hand.
“East lawn clear. Garages clear. Kennels clear. West orchard clear.”
“Bobby doesn’t leave the grounds.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t even leave the house in weather like this.”
Marcus hesitated.
“There is something else.”
Rowan looked at him.
“One of the housemaids is missing.”
Something about the sentence bothered him immediately.
“Which one?”
“The new woman. Dalia Ashford.”
Rowan’s memory produced her face faster than he expected.
Dark hair usually pinned at the nape of her neck.
Quiet gray-green eyes.
A woman who somehow managed to move through a room without asking the room to acknowledge her.
And Bobby liked her.
That mattered.
The dog did not like people easily.
“When was she last seen?”
Mrs. Hargrove answered from the staircase.
“Seven thirty. She was bringing clean linens to the east guest rooms.”
Rowan glanced at the grandfather clock.
It was after ten.
“Her car?”
“Still in the employee lot.”
“Phone?”
Marcus checked.
“Found charging in the staff lounge.”
Rowan’s expression changed.
A person who intended to leave did not abandon her car and phone during the worst storm of the decade.
“Search every building.”
“We have.”
“Search again.”
Thunder shook the foyer.
Then a sound came from outside.
A deep, violent bark.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
Rowan turned before anyone else.
“Bobby.”
He was already moving.
Marcus followed him through the front entrance.
Rain hit like thrown gravel.
“Sir, we should take a vehicle.”
Rowan ignored him.
The barking came from beyond the formal gardens.
Toward the old orchard.
Toward a section of the estate no one used anymore.
Bobby appeared between two trees.
His massive body was soaked black with rain.
Mud coated his legs.
He ran toward Rowan, then stopped fifteen feet away.
He barked.
Turned.
Ran back toward the woods.
Stopped again.
“Something’s wrong,” Marcus said.
Rowan followed.
Bobby led them off the maintained path.
Branches whipped against Rowan’s face.
Mud sucked at his shoes.
Twice Marcus shouted for the other security men to bring lights.
Then Bobby disappeared over a low stone wall.
Rowan climbed after him.
He knew this part of the land.
Barely.
The cistern had been built before the Fiero family purchased the property nearly seventy years ago.
It had once collected water for livestock.
After a child from a neighboring property nearly fell into it decades earlier, Rowan’s father had ordered it sealed.
Or claimed he had.
Bobby stood beside the opening now, barking down into blackness.
Rowan stopped breathing.
“Light.”
Marcus lifted his flashlight.
The beam cut through the rain.
At first Rowan saw only water.
Then something moved.
A pale face.
Dark hair floating around it.
“DALIA!”
Her head lifted.
“Rowan?”
Her voice was barely audible.
He dropped to his knees at the edge.
The water was nearly at her waist.
“How badly are you hurt?”
“My wrists.”
“Anything broken?”
“I don’t think so.”
The relief that hit him made him furious.
At himself.
At whoever had done this.
At the fact that her voice sounded so small.
Marcus was already calling for ropes.
Rowan stripped off his overcoat.
Dalia looked upward.
“You need to hurry.”
“We’re getting you out.”
“No.”
Her breathing sounded wrong.
Fast.
Panicked.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain after you’re out.”
She closed her eyes.
“I’m pregnant.”
Everything inside Rowan stopped.
Rain ran down his face.
Marcus slowly looked toward him.
“How far?”
“Twelve weeks.”
Dalia swallowed hard.
“I think.”
“You think?”
“I haven’t had another appointment.”
A rope arrived.
Rowan secured it around his waist before Marcus could object.
“Sir—”
“I’m going down.”
“We have men trained for extraction.”
“And she knows me.”
That ended the argument.
Rowan descended.
The stone walls were slick.
Cold water hit his thighs when he reached the bottom.
Dalia was shaking violently.
Her hands were bound behind her with plastic restraints, and blood mixed with rainwater along one side of her mouth.
Rowan moved toward her.
“It’s me.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to cut your hands free.”
She jerked when he touched her wrist.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
It wasn’t.
He saw the bruising around her arms.
Finger marks.
Someone had dragged her.
Not pushed.
Not frightened.
Dragged.
He cut the restraints.
Her hands immediately went toward her abdomen.
That movement told him more than the words had.
“You’re bleeding anywhere else?”
“No.”
“Cramping?”
“A little.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“You are getting out of here.”
Something in her expression broke.
Not tears.
Trust.
She nodded.
Rowan secured the harness around her.
“Take her first!” he shouted.
The men above pulled.
Dalia rose toward the opening.
Bobby’s enormous head appeared over the edge.
The moment she reached the top, he began whining.
Marcus helped her onto solid ground.
Rowan climbed out behind her.
An SUV had already arrived.
Mrs. Hargrove stood beside it holding blankets.
The older woman’s face went white when she saw Dalia.
“Oh, my God.”
Dalia grabbed Rowan’s sleeve.
“Don’t take me to the mansion.”
He looked down.
“What?”
“Hospital.”
“Yes.”
“No mansion first.”
“We weren’t going—”
“They can’t know I survived.”
Rowan went very still.
“Who?”
Dalia looked toward the house.
Lightning illuminated the distant roofline.
“Someone inside.”
Marcus heard.
His hand immediately went toward his weapon.
Rowan’s voice changed.
“Who put you in there?”
“I didn’t see their faces.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Men?”
“Yes.”
“They spoke?”
“Not enough.”
Rowan crouched closer.
“What did they want?”
Dalia hesitated.
That hesitation made his anger sharpen.
“Dalia.”
“They asked where I put the copy.”
“What copy?”
She closed her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
“Then why would they ask you?”
“Because of Daniel.”
“Who is Daniel?”
Her lips trembled.
“The father of my baby.”
Before Rowan could ask another question, Dalia doubled over.
Pain tore across her face.
His anger vanished beneath immediate fear.
“Get her in the car.”
They moved.
Rowan climbed into the back beside her.
Marcus took the front.
Bobby jumped in without invitation.
Normally Rowan would have ordered him out.
Tonight he said nothing.
Dalia curled beneath the blanket.
“Stay awake.”
“I’m trying.”
“Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Daniel.”
Her eyes opened.
Even in the darkness, Rowan saw fear.
“Daniel Marsh.”
The name meant nothing for half a second.
Then it did.
Rowan’s body went rigid.
No.
Impossible.
“Daniel Marsh?”
Dalia noticed.
“You know him.”
Rowan stared at her.
“His sister is Celeste Marsh.”
Dalia whispered, “Yes.”
Celeste.
The woman Rowan was expected to announce his engagement to in ten days.
A marriage his uncle had spent a year negotiating.
A marriage that would merge two shipping dynasties and end a decades-old commercial rivalry.
Rowan felt the entire world tilt.
Dalia had overheard Daniel saying:
Once my sister marries him, the door opens from the inside.
His sister.
Celeste.
Rowan.
The Fiero estate.
The shipping company.
The succession window.
“What else did Daniel say?” Rowan asked.
Dalia looked at the front seats.
“Not here.”
“Marcus has been with me fifteen years.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Marcus did not look offended.
He nodded.
“She’s right.”
Rowan stared at the back of his security chief’s head.
Something cold settled inside him.
Dalia had been buried alive on his property.
Someone inside the estate had known where old surveillance gaps existed.
Someone knew the storm would disable the rest.
Someone knew exactly where to hide a body.
And now the woman beside him was carrying the child of a man connected to Rowan’s future bride.
His own family had negotiated that marriage.
His own household had nearly become Dalia’s grave.
At the hospital, doctors took her immediately.
Rowan remained in the corridor.
Bobby lay at his feet, soaked and muddy.
Marcus stood near the elevator.
“Sir.”
Rowan looked up.
Marcus held Dalia’s recovered employee badge.
“There’s blood on the back.”
“So?”
“Not hers.”
Rowan stood.
“You’re sure?”
“I checked the wound in her mouth. No cut on her hands large enough.”
Marcus turned the badge over.
A dark fingerprint stained the plastic edge.
“Whoever grabbed her lost blood.”
Rowan looked through the hospital doors.
“We test it.”
“Yes.”
“And Marcus?”
“Sir?”
“No one at the house learns she’s alive.”
Marcus nodded.
Rowan’s voice became colder.
“No one.”
An hour later, a doctor approached.
“Mr. Fiero?”
Rowan rose.
“Dalia Ashford is stable.”
His chest loosened.
“And the baby?”
The physician smiled slightly.
“Heartbeat is strong.”
Rowan closed his eyes for one brief second.
Then the doctor added, “She asked to speak with you privately.”
Dalia lay beneath white hospital sheets when Rowan entered.
Her face was pale.
Purple bruises had begun forming around her wrists.
He sat beside the bed.
“You’re safe.”
“No.”
He frowned.
She reached beneath the blanket and removed a small brass key hanging from a cord around her neck.
“I wasn’t hiding from Daniel because I was afraid he would take the baby.”
She placed the key in Rowan’s palm.
“I was hiding because I stole something from him.”
Rowan looked at the key.
“What?”
“A ledger.”
His eyes lifted.
“He kept copies of everything in a safe-deposit box under my name.”
“Why yours?”
“Because he thought if authorities ever found it, I would take the fall.”
Rowan’s expression hardened.
Dalia continued.
“The night I left, I opened it.”
“What was inside?”
“Payments.”
“To whom?”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“Members of your family.”
Rowan stopped moving.
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Names.”
“I only recognized one.”
“Who?”
Dalia swallowed.
“Your uncle.”
And in that instant Rowan understood something worse than betrayal.
May you like
His enemies had not broken into the Fiero family.
They had been invited in years ago.
