Birthright

“C’mon, Holly. You’re being hard on yourself.” Daniel kept his voice low. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair again. His eyes, too, were on the receptionist. “You’re not supposed to know how to disarm purse snatchers and make tourniquets and throw cops off the trail.” The scent of Rhys’ blood wafted to him again. He closed his eyes, burrowed his nose into her hair, and concentrated. “You won’t have to call Shannon.”