In all her time managing the K-9 arson dog’s health, Stephanie Lowe had never seen Max so happy to see anyone. He flattened the investigator with all 68 pounds of his wiry muscle. A low spluttering laughter could be heard from beyond the dog’s lapping. She reached for the leash and tugged him off.

Max moved away reluctantly, and it took a moment for recognition to hit her. When it did, it sucked the air right out of her lungs. Gideon Grimes. No, Ryan had called him Grimm. It had been almost two years since she’d seen him lying in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around his head. His skin was darker now. The close-to-death pallor had been a mixture of a major concussion, and the shock of losing his best friend.

A best friend who was also her cousin. Tears burned the back of her eyes as she tried to get her emotions under control. Questions could come later. No recognition lit the depths of his eye staring back at her. They had spoken on the phone but never met before the hospital, so she shouldn’t be surprised. Maybe the shock of that night had wiped his memory. Or the concussion.

His hand covered his left eye and she realized a loose bandage clung to his skin. She sucked in a breath and dropped to her knees beside him. Max tried to tug free and she pulled him up short. He sat with a huff next to her, but his tail wagged hard enough to slap the concrete.

“Here, let me take him, doc.” Torres swooped in and took the leash. Max wouldn’t move from Gideon’s side. If anything, his muscles bunched with the urge to keep his spot no matter what.

“Thanks, Torres.” She did a quick visual inspection of Grimm. “No broken bones or anything?” Her gaze lingered a little too long on his broad chest and heat flooded her cheeks. She jerked her attention back to his face and found a knowing smirk.

“Besides my pride? Not at all. I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

She snorted. “That’s what they all say. Fur dog there is the biggest baby of them all. And he knows when to sucker the best of us.”

She reached up to brush his hand away from his eye, and an electric shock of awareness jumped between them. His green eye darkened. Hesitantly he let his hand fall and she froze, staring. “Heterochromia iridium.” She said the words without thinking.

Torres hovered over them both. “Hetero, what? Is that some kind of magic spell or something?” Torres tried to pull Max again, but the dog wouldn’t budge. “Whoa, man, what happened to your eye?”

The smile fell from his face and he clenched his jaw. “She said heterochromia iridium. It means I have two different colored eyes.”

One eye was jade green and the other was a pale blue. It was beautiful, like a cat she had when she was a kid. “You know people pay a lot of money on colored contacts for stuff like that. I think it looks awesome.” She grinned and held out her hand.

He took it and rose to his feet. She noticed how his fingers engulfed hers, and how he hesitated to let her go. “Well, they can have it.” He released her and bent to pick up his glasses. Max stretched to the end of the leash and Gideon scratched the dog behind his ears. Grimm put the glasses back on and the magic spell was broken.

“So this is Max, then?” The two males regarded each other for a few moments. Then both broke down into grins. A strand of hair fell across Gideon’s brow that she was tempted to brush it back.

For two years she’d wondered what happened to him. Now she knew. The questions she wanted to ask were on the tip of her tongue, but she focused on Max. “He’s a handful, but healthy.”

“Maxie here is our arson dog. Ol’ Alex was his handler, but he died a few weeks ago.”

Stephanie shoved her fists in her scrub shirt’s pockets since her fingers still itched to fix Gideon’s hair. “He’s still not eating properly. I’m not sure what we can do at this point.” She caught Gideon staring at her and returned the favor. “With you around, there may be hope. No one else on your team seems to be able to handle him.”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean by handle him?”

Stephanie shrugged. “He’s one of your team. A valuable asset to Dallas, and he hasn’t clicked with anyone else. Surely you know how he’s been without Alex—“

“This is my first day—what was your name again?”

Bitter disappointment burned inside her. That concussion he had must have rattled his brains more than she thought. “Stephanie Lowe. I’m this guy’s veterinarian.”

“Gideon Grimes, but everyone calls me Grimm.” He held out his hand.

She took it without hesitation and smiled at the firm grip. A man who didn’t try to soften his handshake just because she was a woman. That was a nice touch. “Nice to meet you, Grimm.”

Stephanie smiled when she said the nickname. Ryan had anointed him with it back when they’d been in rookie training together. “Alex was his handler, but he passed away.” What would Grimm think if he knew all the hilarious stories Ryan had shared about their exploits in and out of the station house? He let her go with that same reluctance from earlier.

Torres grunted. “A few weeks ago, in a carbon monoxide poisoning at his place, out in Parker. The neighbors called in a disturbance because Max here was going nuts trying to get back inside the house. This guy hasn’t been the same since.”

“An arson investigator died of CO poisoning?”

Torres nodded. “It happens, man. We get just as careless as everyone else. It was deemed an accident.”

Stephanie hated losing Alex. The man had loved Max like he was his own. Now the dog was getting too up in years to keep working. “They brought him to me when he wouldn’t eat. He grew listless. Actually, until about the time you showed up, he was cranky and a pain in the butt.”

Torres laughed it off. “We gotta get goin’, Steph. Does the great furry monstrosity need anything?”

“Just regular food and some patience. Contact the training group and see if any of them have suggestions about Max’s recovery. He misses Alex.”

“We all do.” Torres cleared his throat. “Now that the rookie is taking on Max, we have to get a whole lot more stuff done.”

Panic had her eyes widening. Seeing Grimm on her doorstep had all but erased what was left of her senses. If she didn’t move now, it might be another two years before she could talk to him. “Just a minute.” She ducked back into the hallway and grabbed a business card from her office. Writing down her cell number and email address took a few more moments. She even spent a few extra moments making sure it was readable. Her chicken scratch writing usually took two assistants and several jokes before deciphering. She didn’t want to mess up this chance.

Taking a deep breath, she rushed back out the door where both men and a grinning dog waited. She shoved the card in his hand. “Call me when you go to pick up his dog food. If Max doesn’t eat, if he won’t sleep, or does anything else that causes you concern, call me immediately.”

“Will do.” Grimm lived up to his nickname. That tight-jawed expression was back and his gaze darted from somewhere over her shoulder and back down to the card in his hand. She glanced to her left and saw nothing.

“Can you read my writing?”

“Barely.” He glanced back up and his left eye was closed. It was cute and endearing, though she missed the lovely blue of that intriguing eye.

“Thanks. Now get him out of here before he decides to lose his mind again.” She dropped to a squat and stared into Max’s eyes. For the first time since Alex’s death the black lab had life back in his gaze. “Don’t give him too hard a time, boy.” If anything, the dog’s grin widened.

As they walked back down the loading dock stairs, Stephanie couldn’t help but wonder why fate had brought this man back into her life once more. She wasn’t much into superstition, but she couldn’t help feeling as though Ryan had a hand in making their paths cross again. He had her number, so now the ball was in his court.

Stephanie Lowe. The name sounded familiar, but he’d remember seeing such a beautiful smile in person, wouldn’t he? Max trotted up to the truck and Grimm opened the rear passenger door. The pooch jumped right up without making a sound.

“Hey man, what are you doing? Max has a kennel in the back.” Torres gestured to the rear of the truck.

Grimm clenched his jaw. Beyond Torres’s shoulder stood the ghost of the one man who haunted his every waking moment. Ryan. Guilt burned through Grimm. Guilt and anger at himself. For two years, he’d fought to find his purpose. Why did he see the dead with this weird eye? Was it the way he was struck? Some concussion thing? Or was he insane like he feared? He wore the patches to block that eye’s sight. And yet, somehow, when the burning behind his eye started, something always caused the bandage to come free.

Max whimpered and put his head between the seats. Grimm scratched him behind his ears, and glanced beyond his best friend to the woman still watching them from the rear of her Vet clinic. Ryan turned toward her as well. His facemask glinted eerily in the morning light. Ryan still wore his SCBA gear. Soot and grime covered every inch of his uniform. This was the Ryan after the fall. If the man turned, Grimm would likely see a grisly sight. Lucky for him, his best friend only turned his head toward Stephanie.

He glanced between the two. Never before had the ghost of his friend ever done anything but stare at him.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

Torres’s voice jerked him out of his reverie. That’s right, normal people didn’t see ghosts. And normal people sure as hell didn’t tell anyone else if they did. “You heard the doc. We need to keep him surrounded by people he’s comfortable with. Besides, with the way you drive, the dog would end up with a broken neck after the first turn.”

“Ah, a wise ass.” Torres gave a half shrug. “Why not? The deputy chief can have my ass later.”

Grimm pulled on his seatbelt. He wanted to cover his left eye, to block the sight of his dead best friend. But for once, he let it be. Stephanie Lowe. He flipped the card over in his fingers. Her handwriting was messy and fun.

And she hadn’t freaked out when she saw his eye. He’d give her a call later.