Edge of midnight the mcclouds friends book 4 shannon mckenna

Edge of Midnight (The McClouds & Friends Book 4) Shannon Mckenna

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SHANNON MCKENNA

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Nopartof this publicationmaybe sold,copied,distributed,reproducedor transmittedinanyformor byanymeans,mechanicalor digital, includingphotocopyingandrecordingor byanyinformationstorage andretrievalsystemwithoutthe prior writtenpermissionof boththe publisher,Oliver Heber Books andthe author,ShannonMcKenna,exceptinthe case of brief quotations embodiedincriticalarticles and reviews.

PUBLISHER'SNOTE:This is a workof fiction Names,characters,places,andincidents either are the productof the author's imaginationor are usedfictitiously Anyresemblance toactualpersons,livingor dead,business establishments,events,or locales is entirelycoincidental

Copyright©ShannonMcKenna

Cover DesignbyWickedSmartDesigns

PublishedbyOliver-Heber Books

0987654321

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

Gordon cleaned his guns, one after the other, as he streamed his favorite series on TV. It was a calming post-job ritual, even though he had not used them for today’s hit Images of blood-soaked bodies from the multiple murder-suicide he’d staged that day appeared whenever he closed his eyes.

The show was a screwball romantic comedy. He’d found that the sillier stuff worked best for soothing his jagged nerves.

Occupational stress

It was a bitch, but he was coping

Tonight’s evening news had buzzed with the shocking story of the famous Seattle cardiologist who had snapped under the strain of his job, murdered his beautiful wife and two young sons, and then ended his own life. Dreadful. Tragic. Almost jerked tears into Gordon’s own eyes.

Though the bank transfer of the second half of the kill fee would dry them very fast, he reflected. All in all, it had been a satisfying day.

The episode ended as the main actress tearfully confessed her secret pregnancy, and Gordon switched over to a local news channel. That was how he saw her. By pure, random chance.

A hot-cold rush of shock went through him. He had seen that perfect face only once. Magnified through the scope of a sniper rifle

He would never forget those big, dreamy gray eyes. His heart thudded.

The program was a tedious feel-good piece about the revitalization project in historic downtown Endicott Falls. A perky commentator was interviewing his lost girl about her new bookstore café. Gordon picked up the phone, dialed. His fingers vibrated with excitement.

The man who answered the phone did not waste words. “Yes?”

“I found the girl,” Gordon said. “From the Midnight Project fuck-up.”

There was a startled pause. “You’re sure it’s her?” his sometime employer asked. “After fifteen years? She was just a teenager.”

Gordon didn’t bother to answer the insulting question “Want to find out what she knows before I take her out?” His eyes explored the lush curves of his lost girl’s body. “I’ll interrogate her. No extra charge.”

The other man grunted. “Forget indulging yourself. It’s been years. Just end it. Get a police file started first. Some dirty letters, a dead pet, and when you finally do kill her, nobody’ll be surprised.”

Hah. Like he needed to be told how to do his job. Gordon hung up, still studying her face on the screen, smiling, talking. Just look at her. Fresh as a daisy or so she seemed. He knew the truth. She was sly. Selfish. Look what she’d done to him; disappearing on him, eluding him for fifteen years, putting a massive dent in his professional reputation

Anger rose inside him like a boil, ugly and inflamed He reveled in its hot, burning itch Gave himself up to it. Just look at that bad, bad girl. She’d been laughing at him, all that time. Thinking she’d made a fool of him. Thinking she’d won.

Self-satisfied bitch. She was about to discover how wrong she was.

He freeze-framed, and placed his finger against her throat on the screen. Traced the laughing curve of her scornful pink mouth, imagining its hot moisture Electricity from the screen buzzed against his finger.

This was going to be fun.

CHAPTER1

He had this dream so often, it gave him déjà vu. His twin, Kevin, sat on the rock behind the house, lookingas he had right before he died, twenty-one, sunburned, cutoffs, flip-flops. Dirtblond hair he’d cropped himselfwithkitchenshears. Adimple carved deep into his face, like therewassomebigsecretjokethatSeaneternallyfailedtoget.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Seansnarled. “Would itbe askingtoo muchfor youto justcutout this shit and leave me alone? Go into the light, or wherever the fuck it is you need to go. Move on, already!”

I just want to help, Kev said mildly. You could use some help. You’re going down the drain, buddy. Swish, glug, bye-bye.

“Youcan’thelp me!” Seanbellowed. “Youare dead! And this bullshitis torture!Itdoes nothelp me!Itwill never helpme!”

Kev was unperturbed by his rudeness. Stop freaking out. His ghost voice took on that irritating tone he’d always used whendealingwithhis more volatile twin. You’ve got to do something about Liv’s car. She’s

“ForgetaboutLiv!Stoptorturingme!Leavemealone!”

Alone…alone…alone… The echo accompanied himinto wakingconsciousness, where there was never anywaytobracehimselffor it.

Hehadtosortitall outover again.Likeithadjusthappened.

Yeah, itwas another fuckingday. Yeah, Kev was still dead. And yeah, Kev was goingto keep on beingdead.Forever.

Itwould be so mucheasier to acceptthis ifhis twinwould quititwiththe spectral visits. Buttry explainingthattoKev.Stubbornjerk.

Light pried between his gummy eyelids. He ventured a slit-eyed peek. Unfamiliar room. His phone was on the bedside table. He grabbed it. 12:47, it said. Data crunched in his aching brain. Realitysettleddown,heavyandcold.

Another failure. His annual effort to erase August the eighteenth off the calendar hadn’t worked yet.Pinheadedoptimistthathewas,though,hejustkeptrightontrying.Thetimetickedover to12:48. Elevenhoursandtwelveminutesofthisgoddamndaytogetthrough.

He startedtoroll over,stoppingas his legencountereda silkythigh.The angle ofthatthightothat asswasn’tanatomicallypossible.

He struggled to focus his eyes. Oh. Yeah. There was more thanone pair offemale legs inthe bed. Thestripesoflightslantingthroughtheblindsmadeittoughtosortoutthetangleofslender limbs. Twogirls laycrosswise toeachother.Ablonde anda brunette.Nice buttcheeks,all four ofthem. Round and smooth as duck eggs. The brunette lay with her face hidden by a heavy fall of dark hair.

Theblonde’sheadwasunder thepillow,curlywispspokingout.

He stroked the butt cheeks closest to himand scanned the roomfor evidence that he had engaged inprotectedsex.One,two,three…huh,afourthcondomwrapper,onthebedsidetable.Itwouldseem hehaddonehissacredmanlydutybythesleepingcuties.Thatwasgood.

And itwas startingto come backto him, indisconnected chunks. Stacey. The blonde was Stacey. ThebrunettewasKendra.

He extricated himself carefully from the bed. He didn’t want the babes to wake up on him, no matter how round and rosy their collective butt cheeks were. He wasn’t up to being sweet and charmingtoday.

He stared at them, trying to reconstruct the impulse that had drawn him to them last night. Probablythe brunette. Withthose kissable dimples inthe small ofher back, he could almostimagine shewasLiv.

Notthathe’d ever seenLiv’s naked ass. He’d justworshipped her fromafar, like the loftyvirgin goddessthatshewas.Althoughhe’dworshippedher prettythoroughlywithhisfingersonce.

His dick jumped up like a puppy whenever he thought of that warm summer night when he’d cornered her in the historical collection room, and put his hand up her skirt. He remembered her pussy, tender and snug around his fingers. The way her soft thighs squeezed his hand. The choked, helplesssoundsshemadewhenshecame.

Thesmell ofoldbooksmadehimhardtothisday.

That sashaydownmemorylane had rendered himstone hard, hangover and all. He massaged his turgidcock.Eyedthebrunette’speachyass.Halftemptedtosuitupwithlatex,closehiseyes,and…

Christ, no. He shook away the bad idea, and froze, motionless, as a punishing bolt of pain reverberated throughhis head like one ofthose bigChinese gongs. Ouch. Fifteenyears, and still hung uponthatchick.

Itwouldbefunny,ifitweren’tsofuckingpathetic.

Seanmassaged his throbbingforehead and letthe Liv tape playthroughhis head;he’d done her a favor, dropping her before doing anything unforgivably stupid like marrying her, the equivalent of lyingdownand offeringto be her personal throw rug. He would have tied himself inknots tryingto be a good boy, and ultimatelyfailed. Torture, agony, humiliation, blahblahblah. He knew the drill so well,heboredhimself.

But he still saw the look in her eyes when he told her to get lost. He saw it every night, at four AM and whatever girl’s bed he woke in. Always with that same sucking hole in his gut as he ponderedthemostspectacular fuck-upofhislife.Theonethatdefinedhimasaperson.

He eyed the brunette’s tantalizingass, and sighed. He musthave screwed hundreds ofgirls inhis effort to get that chick out of his system. Hadn’t worked so far, but hey. He was nothing if not persistent.

He felt betrayed by his own body. The amount of tequila he’d drunk last night should have guaranteedalonger blackout.

Maybe he should bashhimselfover the head witha bigger pharmaceutical nightstick. Hard drugs weren’t his scene, though. The desperation that clung to the people who dealt and used themwas a big, flesh-crawling downer. He didn’t even like alcohol that much. It made him fuck up in embarrassingways.Notthatwakingupbehindbars or intheemergencyroomreallymortifiedhimall thatmuch,butitupsetthehell outofhisbrothers.Upright,respectablefamilymenthattheynow were. Pillars ofthecommunity.Legallywedtotheir fineandlovelyladywives.Soontospawnbigfamilies too.

Connor and Erinwere well ontheir way. Onlyfour months to D-Day. Ababy, whoa. Uncle Sean. Socheerful andnormal.Asifhisbrothershadn’tgrownupinthesamegonzoparallel universethathe had.CrazyEamon’swildboys.

Even worse was this new family phenomenon he now faced; a pack of concerned sisters-in-law ganginguponhim,tryingtogethimtoopenupand share.SufferingChrist,savehim.Theyweregreat women,anditwassweetofthemtocare,butnofuckingway,thankyou.

His jeans were draped on a leather couch, beneath assorted lingerie. Another condom wrapper fluttered to the ground as he pulled on his jeans. He grunted, unimpressed, and rooted through his pockets.

Typical. He’d blownhis emergencycab fare buyingdrinks for those girls, fromthe looks ofthem. So he was stranded, on foot, who the fuck knew where. Partying was such a freaking chore sometimes.

A trip to the john revealed two more condom wrappers. Evidently he’d engaged in sink and/or shower sex. He stared at the scraps of foil as he pissed, trying to remember the aquatic adventures. Hefeltsoiled,paradoxicallyenough.

Not that he had moral problems with an anonymous three-way. On the contrary. Girls were yummy.Bring’emon.Hewasjustlower thandirtdepressedtoday.Anditwasjustgoingtogetworse fromhere.

The face thatstared backfromthe bathroommirror was bothfamiliar and strange. The face ofhis dead identical twin, as Kev might have been. They hadn’t looked as much alike as some twins did, buthisownmugwasstill Sean’sbestpointofreference.Thesuperficial detailswerethesame.Hardmuscled body, give or take a few scars. Wavy dirt-blond hair, which had gotten shaggy lately. A mirror imageofKev’sone-sideddimpleinhisownlean,stubblycheek.

The grim face that stared back at him had no dimple today. Eye sockets smudged with purplish shadows, which made his light green irises look weirdly pale. The hollows under his cheekbones lookedlikethey’dbeenchoppedoutwithahatchet.Helookedgrayishintheharshlight.Zombiepale. Somethingtoscarethekiddiesintogoodbehavior.

Lookinginto a mirror onAugusteighteenthforced himto reflectonhow muchhis face resembled Kev’s andhow muchitnolonger did.

He was harder, sharper, after fifteenyears ofhard living. Had a fanofsquintycrinkles around his eyes.Groovesbracketinghismouth.

Years would go by, and the resemblance would continue to fade, until Sean was a gnarled, toothless,yammeringoldcootwho’dlivedmanytimes the spanofKev’s shortlife.Ayawninggulfof years.

Heyankedopenthemedicinecabinetandscannedthecontents.

Excedrin.Heshookoutfour,tossedthemin,crunched,gulped.

Heleanedover,pressinghisthrobbingforeheadagainstthecool porcelainsink,andletoutalong, hissingstringofviciousprofanity.

This sucked ass. Utterly. Shouldn’t time have healed him? Wasn’t it a natural process, like continental drift? He tried so hard to dodge it, but this goddamn feeling circled him like a vulture, waitingfor itschancetopickouthiseyesandfeedonhisflesh.Sometimeshejustwantedtoliedown flatonhisbackandletthatoldvulturehaveitsway.

Andsoitbegan.Theloud,embarrassingsuckingsoundofSeangoingdownthedrain.

He had to get the fuck out of here. Slinking away without coffee and pleasantries was rude, but better to leave before the charmingsexmachine oflastnightmutated before their eyes into a grunting

zombie.

Acautious sniff at his pits practicallyknocked himout. Ashower was too risky, though. So was coffee, he concluded with regret, gazing at the gleaming coffee technology on display in the kitchen. The bean grinder would wake up the cuties, and there he’d be, up shit creek. Forced to smile, chat, flirt,givethemhisnumber.Godsavehim.

He stumbled out into a bland residential neighborhood. No money, no wallet. He never went out onthe eve ofAugusteighteenthwithcreditcards, or anythingwithhis address printed onit. Justcash and condoms. Flashing lights, blasting music, sex, dancing, liquor, anything that blotted out higher cognitivefunction.

Fighting worked fine, too, if anybody was ass-for-brains stupid enough to get in his face. He lovedagoodfight.

He had no clue whichdirectionto go, so he picked a vaguelydownhill slope. Uphill would make hisheartbeatfaster,andevery lub-dub smackedathisbraintissuesliketheblow ofasplittingmall.

Downhill. Downthe drain, like Kev’s dreamscolding. The partying, the fucking, the fighting, on days like this he saw itfor whatitwas: a cheaptricktodistracthimfromthe sinkhole under his solar plexus.

Hiswholelife,onebiggoddamnflinch.

The sinkhole was gettingbigger, ground shifting, threateningto pitchhimin. He might never find his waybackup ifhe fell. Dad hadn’t. Neither had Kev. They’d fallenlike rocks. All the wayto the bottom.

Thunk. The muted thump of a car door had him spinning around and sinking down into guard beforeheknew he’dmoved.

The tension sagged when he saw his brothers getting out of Seth Mackey’s Avalanche. Seth got out.ThenMiles,fromthepassenger side.

Sean’sstomachsank.Itwasanambush.Hewassoscrewed.

The guys flicked eachother glances thatmade himfeel aboutsixyears old. Sean’s having one of his freak-outs. Quick, get the trank gun.

The one person in the world who had known himbetter than Con and Davy knew himhad died fifteenyears ago, to the day. He’d have calculated itto the second, ifhe could, but time ofdeathhad been impossible to determine. Kev’s body had been charred beyond recognition, after taking that swan dive into Hagen’s Canyon. He’d plowed through the guardrail, fallen for a few timeless seconds,thenarendingcrash,ahot whump asthepickupexploded andthatwasit.

Theblunt,chopped-offfinalityofitstill baffledhim.

There had been no skid marks leading up to the ragged hole in the guardrail. He’d searched and searched.Kevhadn’ttriedtobrake.

Sean saw Kev’s falling pickup reflected in Davy and Connor’s eyes too. He looked away fast. Couldn’tbear it, couldn’tshare it. He had no comfortto offer, and he was too raw to acceptanyfrom them.

Hejustwantedtohide,alone.Inaculvertsomewhere.

It was easier to look Seth and Miles in the face than his brothers. He directed his glare there. “Whoinvitedyouguystothisfreakshow?”

Miles shrugged, his face worried. Seth’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “I had a brother once.Idon’tneedaninvitation.”

Ouch. True enough. Seth’s younger brother had died too. Very badly, and only a couple of years ago.Hislosswasfresher thanSean’s.

Great.Another thingtofeel likeshitabout.Thanks,guys.

Sean’s gaze slid away, leaving himwith no place at all to rest it except for Seth’s black Chevy. “How’dyouguysfindme?Areyoumonitoringmyfuckingphone?”

“We monitoredyouthis time,” Consaid.“Froma safe distance.Bailingyououtofjail for a drunk anddisorderlyisembarrassing.”

“Don’tbother, nexttime,” Seansuggested. “Leave me to rot.” He fished his cell outofhis pocket and gave it anunfriendlylook. Usually, it gave himthe warmfuzzies that his familycared enoughto plantatracker onhim.Aw,how cute,andall that.

Connor, Davy, and Seth had all had freaky wild adventures that had convinced them that being abletomonitor eachother fromadistancewasagreatideafor thewholefamily.

Most of the time, he agreed. Maybe if Kev had carried a tracking device on his person, Sean mighthavefoundhimintimetostophimfrom

No. Don’tgothere,hetoldhimself.Justdon’t.

Impotent fury welled up inside him. He hurled the thing over a chain-link fence. It exploded againstasphaltwithatinklingsmash.

“Thatwasstupidandwasteful,”wasDavy’sdour observation.

Seankeptonwalking.Hisbrothers,Miles,andSethkeptpacebehindhim.Likedogshangingonto a bone. The onlywayto get rid of themwould be to beat theminto unconsciousness, but eachof the threeolder menwasmoreor lessamatchfor him.EvenMileswasn’thalfbadthesedays,withall the traininghe’dbeenputtinginatthedojo.Thefour ofthemtogether…nah.

Painsucked.He’dpass.

“Hewasour brother too,”Davysaidquietly.

Seansucked ina sharp breath. “Ihad no intentionofinflictingmytantrumonanyone. Still don’t. I loveyouguys,butfuckoff.”

Therewasabriefpause.“Nope,”Connor saidsimply.

“Don’tbother askingagain,”Davysaid.

Therewasabriefpause.“Uh,ditto,”Sethaddedbelatedly.

Sean sagged down onto a low stone wall that bordered a flower bed, and rested his hot face againsthishands.“WhereamI?”

“Auburn,”Davyreplied.“Wefollowedyouaroundlastnight.”

“I’ll getthetruck,”Sethsaid.“Youguyskeepaneyeonhim.”

Seangruntedhisdisgust.Liketheyexpectedhimtostarttwitchingandfrothing.

“Whosehousedidyoujustcomeoutof?”Connor asked. He shrugged. “Couple ofgirls,” he mumbled. “Ablonde, a brunette. Nice bodies. Metthematthe Hole,Ithink.”

“Youfilthyslut.”Davy’svoicehadasuperior note,whichbuggedtheshitoutofSean.

“Don’t judge me,” he growled. “You’ve got the love of your life in your bed every night. So do Connor and Seth. So fuck you all, OK? The rest of us assholes have to get through the night somehow.”

“Poor lovelorn baby,” Davy said. Miles made a choked, snorting sound. Connor covered his mouthandlookedaway.TheAvalanchepulledup.DavyandConnor seizedhiselbows.

Sean wrenched out of their grip and got to his feet unassisted. “May I ask what is the point of bustingmyballstoday?”

“You may ask, if you like, but we don’t need a point,” Davy replied. “We bust your balls out of sheer habit.Mouthylittlepunk.”

Hardlylittle. He was as tall as either ofhis brothers, and bulkier thanConnor, buthe didn’thave the energy to argue. He heaved himself into the back of the Avalanche. Connor got in on one side, Milesontheother,squishinghimintoimmobility.Sethputthevehicleingear.

“Youfreetotakeonsomework?”heasked.“Youdon’tlookbusy.”

Sean stifled a groan. He sometimes did freelance bodyguarding for SafeGuard, Inc., the security companythatSethand Davyhad recentlyfounded. Usuallytheycalled himwhentheyhad explosives todeal with.

Today,theideaboredhimintoastateapproachingrigor mortis.

“What, a bodyguarding gig nobody else wants? I’mnot in the mood to ego-fluff some executive asshole,or carryshoppingbagsfor somefatcat’strophywife.Takemeoffyour list.Permanently.”

“It’s nota bodyguardinggig,” Connor said. “And it’s notfor SafeGuard. It’s for me. I’mworking on a weird case. Real flesh-creeper. The Cave called me in to consult. Thought you might be interested.”

AndConnor’s consultinggigs for various law enforcementagencies were always fascinating,ina gruesomesortofway.

Hecavedalmostinstantly.“What’ssocreepyaboutit?”

“We’vegotapredator wholikesmathandsciencegeeks.”

“Huh.”Seanblinked.“Wow.Weird.”

“Yeah. Six cases in four months. College age, males and females both. They turn up dead, ostensiblyanOD outside dance clubs, but nobodyremembers seeingtheminside. All gifted inmath, computers, engineering. All with the same unexplained cerebral damage. None of themhave family. Someone’spickingthemoutreal carefully.”

Seanconsideredit.“Evidenceofsexual violence?”

“In the girls there’s evidence of recent sexual activity, but this prick’s careful not to leave any DNA. He doesn’tlike to fuckthe boys, evidently. I’ve alreadygotMiles onit. Icould use your help, too.”

Seanhad his private misgivings about“the Cave,” the covertFBItaskforce thathis brother used to belong to. Mostly because they’d practically gotten Connor slaughtered, on more than one occasion.

“WhatmakesyouthinkIcouldhelp?”hegrowled.

“Don’tbeanasshole,”Consaid.“You’reuseful,whenyou’renotbouncingoffthewalls.Andyou could,ah,useadistraction.”

“Ah,”Seansaidslowly.“Sothisis,like,amercyfuck.”

“Shutup,”Connor snapped.“You’rebuggingme.”

“It’s mutual,” Seansaid. “Don’t project your owntwisted copingmechanisms onto me, Con. The Superman cape drags on the ground when I wear it. I’ll find my own distractions. A hot three-way withacouplecutebabesismoremyspeed.Shallow butterflythatIam.”

“I’ve known you since you were born,” Connor said wearily. “Don’t even try.” He passed a brutally scarred hand over his face, a souvenir of one of those near-death experiences. Sean got an unwelcomeflashofjusthow badhisbrother felt.Heblockedit.Didn’twanttoknow.

He shook himself. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not hurting for money. I’ve got my own projects to keep me busy. Consulting for law enforcement agencies feels too much like real work to me.”

“It is real work, youlazyslob,” Connor lectured him. “Youcome into focus whenyou’ve gotreal work. That’s what you should be doing, not this frivolous bullshit…what’s your latest craze again?

Consultingfor goddamnfightfilms?Givemeafuckingbreak.”

Sean had gotten very sick of this deep-rooted disagreement long ago. “It’s lucrative frivolous bullshit,”hegrowled.“I’mbusy,I’moffthestreets,I’mnotintroublewiththelaw,andI’mnothitting youguysupfor money.Whatthefuckmoredoyouwantfromme?”

“Not from you. For you.” Davy swiveled his head, fixed his brother with a laser beam gaze. “This isn’t about money. It’s about you concentrating on something other than your own miserable self.”

Sean flung his head back against the seat and sealed the light out with his hand. Here was the bloodpricehehadtopayfor aridehome.

Experiencehadtaughthimthattoputupa fightatthis pointinthe lecturewas useless.They’djust keepathimwiththeir meatmalletsuntil hewasaquivering,bloodypulp.Notthattheyhadfar togo.

Besttokeepthemtalkinguntil hegotachancetocutandrun.

“You’re going down the drain, and we’re sick of sitting around with our thumbs up our asses, watchingithappen,”Davywenton.

Going down the drain GoosebumpsprickledupSean’sback.

“Funnyyoushould saythat,” he said. “It gives me the shivers. Kev said the exact same words to melastnight.”

Connor suckedinasharpbreath.“I hate itwhenyoudothat.”

HistonejoltedSeanoutofhisreverie.“Huh?WhathaveIdone?”

“TalkedaboutKevasifhewerealive,”Davysaidheavily.“Please,pleasedon’tdothat.Itmakes usreallynervous.”

Therewasalong,unhappysilence.Seantookadeepbreath.

“Listen,guys.Iknow Kevis dead.”Hekepthis voicesteelycalm.“I’mnothearinglittlevoices.I don’tthinkanybody’souttogetme.Ihavenointentionsofdrivingoffacliff.Everybodyrelax.OK?”

“Soyouhadoneofthosedreamslastnight?”Connor demanded.

Sean winced. He’d confessed the Kev dreams to Connor some years back, and he’d regretted it bitterly.Connor hadgottenfreakedout,haddraggedDavyintoit,yadayada.Verybadscene.

But the dreams had been driving him bugfuck. Always Kev, insisting he wasn’t crazy, that he hadn’treallykilled himself. ThatLiv was still indanger. And thatSeanwas a no-balls, dick-brained chump if he fell for this lame ass cover-up. Study my sketchbook, he exhorted. The proof is right there. Open your eyes. Dumb-ass.

But they had studied that sketchbook, goddamnit. They’d picked it apart, analyzed it fromevery direction.They’dcomeupwithfuck-all.

Because there was nothing to come up with. Kev had been sick, like Dad. The bad guys, the cover-up, the danger for Liv all paranoid delusions. That was the painful conclusion that Con and Davyhadfinallycometo.ThenoteinKev’ssketchbooklookedwaytoomuchlikeDad’smadravings duringhis last years. Seandidn’t remember Dad’s paranoia as clearlyas his older brothers did, but hedidremember it.

Still, it had taken himlonger to accept their verdict. Maybe he never really had accepted it. His brothersworriedthathewasasnutsoparanoidashistwin.Maybehewas.Whoknew?Didn’tmatter.

He couldn’t make the dreams stop. He couldn’t make himself believe something by sheer brute force. It was impossible to swallow, that his twin had offed himself, never asking for help. At least notuntil hesentLivrunningwiththesketchbook.Andbythen,ithadbeentoolate.

“Ihave dreams aboutKev, now and then,” he said quietly. “It’s no bigdeal anymore. I’mused to them.Don’tworryaboutit.”

The five of themmaintained a heavy silence for the time it took to get to Sean’s condo. Images rolled around behind his closed eyes; writhingbodies, flashinglights, naked girls passed out inbed. Con’spredator,lurkinglikeatroll under abridge,eatinggeeksfor breakfast.

Andthenthereal kicker.Theonehenever gotawayfrom.

Livstaringathim,grayeyeshugewithshockandhurt.Fifteenyearsagotoday.Thedaythatall the trulybadshitcamedown.

She’d come to the lock-up, rattled fromher encounter withKev. Tearful, because her folks were trying to bully her onto a plane for Boston. He’d been chilling in the drunk tank while Bart and AmeliaEndicotttriedtofigureouthow tokeephimawayfromtheir daughter.

Theyneedn’thavebothered.Fatehaddonetheir workfor them.

The policemanhadn’tlether take Kev’s sketchbookin, butshe’d tornKev’s note outand stuckit in her bra. It was written in one of Dad’s codes. He could read those codes as easily as he read English.

Midnight Project is trying to kill me. They saw Liv. Will kill her if they find her. Make her leave town today or she’s meat Do the hard thing Proof on the flash drive in EFPV HC behind count birds B63.

He’d believed every goddamn word, at least the ones he’d understood. Why shouldn’t he have? Christ, he’d grownup inEamonMcCloud’s household. The manhad believed enemies were stalking himeveryminute of his life. Up to the bitter end. Seanhad never knowna time that theyweren’t on alert for Dad’s baddies. And besides, Kev had never led himwrong. Kev had never lied inhis life. Kevwasbrilliant,brave,steadyasarock.Sean’sanchor.

Do the hard thing. Itwas a catchphrase oftheir father’s. Amandid whathad to be done, evenif ithurt. Liv was indanger. She had to leave. Ifhe told her this, she would resist, argue, and ifshe got killed,itwouldbehisfault.For beingsoft.For notdoingthehardthing.

Sohe’ddoneit.Simpleaspullingthetrigger ofagun.

Hestuckthenoteinhispocket.Madehiseyesgoflatandcold.

“Baby? Youknow what? It’s notgoingto workoutbetweenus,” he said. “Justleave, OK? Go to Boston.Idon’twanttoseeyouanymore.”

She’d been bewildered. He’d repeated himself, stone cold. Yep, she heard him right. Nope, he didn’twanther anymore.Bye.

Shefloundered,confused.“But Ithoughtyouwanted ”

“To nail you? Yeah. I had three hundred bucks riding on it. I like to keep things casual, though. You’re way too intense. You’ll have to get some college boy to pop your cherry, ’cause it ain’t me, babe.”

Shestaredathim,slack-jawed.“Threehundred…?”

“The construction crew. We had a pool going. I’ve been giving them a blow by blow. So to speak.”Helaughed,ashort,uglysound.“Butthingsaregoingtoofuckingslow.I’mboredwithit.” “B-b-bored?”shewhispered.

He leaned forward, eyes boringinto hers. “I. Do. Not. Love. You. Getit? Ido notwanta spoiled princess,crampingmystyle.DaddyandMommywanttosendyoubackEast?Good.Getlost.Go.”

He waited. She was frozensolid. He tooka deep breath, gathered his energy, flungthe words at her likeagrenade.“Fuck,Liv. Go!”

Ithadworked.She’dgone.She’dleftfor Boston,thatverynight.

He’dpaidthe price ever since.He knew justhow those surgeons felt.The poor bastards youread aboutinmagazines,theoneswhofuckedupandcutoutthewrongeye,or lung,or kidney. Oops.

Sethpulled up atthe curb outside Sean’s condo, pulled outhis cell phone, and dangled itinfront ofSean’sface.“Here.”

Seanwaveditaway.“Forgetit.Idon’twant ”

“Takeit,”Sethsnarled.“Or elseI’ll hityouwithit.”

Seansighed,shoveditintohispocket.

“Short string gets to babysit this bozo `til midnight.” Davy held out his huge fist. Four pieces of stringdangledfromit.

“Aw,shit,”Seanprotested.“Idon’tneed ”

“Shut up,” Davy said harshly. He pulled out a string long. Con grabbed his. Long. Seth and Milesdrew.

Milesgruntedinresignation.Hehadtheshortstring.

“Congratulations.Yougotyour workcutoutfor you,”Sethsaid.

“Thisishumiliating,”Seancomplained.

“Tough.Ifyoudon’tlikeit,stopdoingthistouseveryyear.”

Sean shut his eyes. The weight of his eyelids made his eyeballs throb. Red bloomed like a bloodstaininhis head. Blackbloomed fromthe center and tookits place. Red again. Thenblack. The drumbeatofhisstubbornheart.Andbehindit,Kev’spickup.Endlesslyfalling.

Milesshovedopenthedoor andslidout.Seanfollowedhim.

“Hey.Erinhadasonogramyesterday,”Connor saidabruptly.

“Oh,yeah?”heinquiredpolitely.“Everything’sfine,Itrust?”

“Yeah,everything’sgreat.It’saboy,”Consaid.

“Ah. Uh…good. Congratulations.” He felt like he should say something more profound, but his mindwasasblankasthewhitesky.

“We’regoingtonamehimKevin,”Conadded.

Somethingsqueezedlikeavisearoundhislarynx,horriblytight.

Con laid his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “It helps, you know?” his brother said, his voice intense. “Tryingtomake a difference.Andifitall comes together andyougetthere intime tosave somebody, oh,man.It’sthebestdamnthingintheworld.Itmakesupfor somuch.”

“Yeah?Andthen?Whathappensafter?Whenthethrill isgone?”

Connor hesitated.“Yougetoutthereanddoitagain.”

Seannodded.“Right,”hemuttered.“Itnever lasts,doesit?”

“No,”Connor admitted.“Butthenagain.Whatdoes?”

Seancontemplatedthat.“Soundspointlessandexhausting.”

His brother did not contradict him. He just turned away, his face stony. Sean let the door swing shut.TheChevyspedaway.

CHAPTER2

Seanand Miles stared at eachother. Miles’s mouthwas settled into a flat, stubbornline. “Don’t evenstart,”hesaid.“It’suseless.”

Seangroaned inwardly. Not that he didn’t love the guyto pieces. Miles was a great kid. A good friend. Crazyuseful whenitcame to the gearhead techie computer details thatbored Seanoutof his skull. In the last couple years since he’d taken on the role of McCloud mascot, he’d proved his worthmanytimes over. But Seanwasn’t up to beinganybody’s mentor, love counselor, cheerleader, or fashiongurutoday.

“Buddy? You know I love you, right? But I don’t want company,” he said wearily. “So get lost. Disappear.Seeya.”

“Nope.”Miles’sfacewasimplacable.

Seanrealizedthatclenchinghisteethsohardwasmakinghisheadthrobharder.Hemadeaneffort to relax his jaw. “OK. Let me phrase this differently,” he said. “Disappear, or I’ll rearrange your face.”

Miles looked unimpressed. “IfIleave youalone and yougetinto trouble tonight, Davy, Con, and Seth will rip my head off and plant it on a stake. There’s only one of you. There’s three of them. Forgetit.”

Seanstarted up the stairs to his condo. Eachstep was a hammer blow to his skull. “Iwon’tgetin trouble.Idon’thavetheenergy.”

“I’mnotgoingto getinyour face, either.” Miles followed himup the stairs. “Justpretend Idon’t exist.I’musedtoit.Lookatmytrackrecordwiththewomen.I’m,like,theInvisibleMan.”

SeanshotMilesacritical glanceasheunlockedhisdoor.“Donotsaystufflikethatifyouwantto getluckywithwomen,”helectured,outofhabit.“Don’teventhinkit.It’sthekissofdeath.”

“Yeah.”Milesrolledhiseyes.“Bytheway.Ineedafavor.”

Seanslappedthedoor open.“It’snotagooddaytoaskfavors.”

“Youoweme,”Milesreminded,followinghimin.“Big-time.”

Seanspunaround,plantedhis feet,andgave Miles a deathlookthatknockedhimbacktwopaces. “Whatthefuckdoyouwant,Miles?”

Milesgulped.“IwantyoutodrivemeuptoEndicottFalls.”

Seanstarted to laughat the ironyof it. He breathed the shakingfeelingdownbefore it made him hurl all over his own kitchen. “Dreamon, buddy. I hate that town, especially today, and it hates me worse.”

“I taught your Thursday kickboxing classes for the entire past month when you were in L.A.,” Milesremindedhim.“Ispentthreedaysfixingyour computer whenitcrashed,freeofcharge.”

“Aw,shutup.Whatdoyouwantwiththatbackwardhole,anyhow?”Athoughtstruckhim.Heshot

Milesadarklysuspiciouslook.“Isn’tCindyupthere,doingbandcamp?Don’ttell meyou’restill ”

“Absolutelynot.Iamtotallyover Cindy.” Miles’s tone was stony.“She’s upthere,butIavoidher likethefriggingplague.”

Sean was unconvinced. Miles had been pining for Cindy Riggs, Connor’s wife Erin’s seductive little sister, since before the McClouds had met him. He’d finallygottena clue, after a spectacularly public episode last summer at Connor’s wedding, but it had not made himhappier. On the contrary. He’dbeeninafunkever since.

“I’msound and lighttechnicianfor the HowlingFurballs atthe RockBottomRoadhouse tonight,” Miles told him. “And tomorrow, I start assistant teaching karate at the Endicott Falls School of Martial Arts.”

Seanwasstartled.“Noshit.You’vegot,what,abrownbeltnow?”

“Nope. Passed the test for my first dan black belt last month. Got an honorable mention for my kata,too.”TheprideinMiles’svoicewaspalpable.“Davygavemynametoaguywhorunsadojoin Endicott Falls. Theyneed someone to help withthe class while the regular teacher recuperates from kneesurgery,so…it’snobigdeal.”

“It’saverybigdeal,”Seansaid.“It’sgreat.Goodfor you.”

“Plus, myfolks justboughta car. They’re givingme their old Ford. This is the lasttime I’ll have toblackmail youintogivingmearide.”

“That’s reasonenoughinitself to drive youup,” Seansaid sourly. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Anearlytwothousandssedan,right?”

Mileslookedwary.“So?Whatofit?”

“Beige,right?I’ll betyoumyleftnutit’svomit-tintedbeige.”

Milesjerkedhisshouldersinadefensiveshrug.“Sowhatifitis?”

“Fogeymobile,” Sean said. “The Invisible Car, for the Invisible Man. You gotta drive something withtestosterone,myfriend.”

“It runs,” Miles grumbled. “It’s free. I know you think of motor vehicles as fashion accessories, butit’ssexier thantakingthebus.”

“Barely,”Seanmuttered.“IthoughtyouwereworkingonCon’snerdkiller project.”

“Iwill be.Cyber stuff.I’ll workfromupthere.”

Seangrunted,andyankedacouplebeersoutofthefridge.HehandedonetoMiles,chug-a-lugging half of his own. “God, I feel like shit.” The red light blinked insistentlyonhis message machine. He stabbedthebuttontoseewhattheoutsideworldwantedfromhim.

The first two calls were work-related; one about an invoice he’d sent for a consulting job he’d done a few weeks before, another from an independent film director in L.A. who was shooting a movie about GIs in Afghanistan. Sean punched the fast forward button over both of them. He’d deal withthemlater,whenhisbrainwasbackonline.

Thenextmessagerootedhiminplace,bottlepoisedathislips.

“Yo,CareyStrattonhere.Triedyour cell.Fucker wasturnedoff.Iwasdoingatrawl for your long lost lover-doll. Computer coughed up some new data. Olivia Endicott has had a misadventure, pal. Somebody burned down her bookstore. Oh, and she’s moved. She’s in Endicott Falls, Washington, now. That’s prettyclose to you, huh? This might be your chance. Go for it, buddy. The skulkingfrom afar shitisnotgoodfor your health,evenifitdoespaymyrent.Isentyouane-mail withthelinks.No chargefor thisservice.Takeiteasy,OK?Later,dude.”

Seanwasrootedtothefloor.Mindblank,mouthslack.

“Sean?”Miles’svoicewascautious.“You’respillingyour beer.”

Seanjerked, startled, and righted the bottle. He couldn’tbreathe. He tried to swallow. His throat waschokydry,likedesertsand.

Liv.BackinEndicottFalls.Thelastnewshe’dgottenfromtheprivateinvestigator hadplacedher in Cincinnati, Ohio, working as a research librarian. The latest photos Carey Stratton had sent him had been taken there last December. High resolution, long range lens. Liv, coming out of her apartment. Liv, pettinga dog, smiling. Liv gettingher mail, hair swirlingaround her head like a halo, patterned skirt billowing in the wind. Her socialite bitch mother Amelia Endicott had loathed those long,swishy,hippie-mamaskirts.

SoLivwasstill arebel.ThankGodfor that.

Themostrecentphotos,plus his all-timefavorites,hehadprintedout.Hekepttheminafolder on theshelfover hiscomputer.Convenientlynear tohand.

Theyweredog-earedandbatteredaroundtheedges.

He slipped in the puddle of beer as he bolted for the computer room, downloaded Carey’s message, clicked the links. Read themall. Read themagain. Itwas true. Arson, for Christ’s sake. His handsshook.

“Soshe’stheone,huh?”

Miles’s quiet voice fromthe doorwaymade himjump. He’d forgottenthe kid was there. “What? She’swhatone?”

“The one youkeep that huge computer file on,” Miles said. “The reasonyounever staywithany onegirl for morethanfour days.”

“What the hell do you know about my file?” he barked. “I never gave you permission to mess aroundinmyprivatefiles!”

Milesdroppedhislongbodyintotheother computer chair andgaveSeanhislong-sufferingpuppy dog look. “Remember those three days I spent trying to recuperate your data when your system crashed?”

“Oh.”Seancoveredhisfacewithhisshakinghand.“Fuckme.”

Miles cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, real hard to keep secrets fromyour computer doctor.” His tone wasapologetic.“Sorry.”

Seanstared into the screen. His face felt hot. Nobodywas supposed to know about his hobbyof keepingtabs onLiv Endicott. It was just a small, private insanitythat did not bear close inspection. Byanyone.Nothisbrothers,certainly.Nothimself.

“Younever saidanythingaboutit,”hemuttered. Miles shrugged. “Figured I had no right to point fingers. It was funny, though. Didn’t know you haditinyou.Tobeobsessed,Imean.”

Seanwinced. “I amnot obsessed. And it’s no weirder thanthat vid clip of Cindyblowinga kiss that youused for your screensaver,” he said throughclenched teeth. “Now that’s obsessionfor you, dude.”

“Itrashed thatscreensaver,” Miles said, his voice lofty. “Now Ihave a flockofmigratingbirds. It’sveryrelaxing.”

Sean whistled. “Wow, sounds like a real dick-tingler. Relaxation is not what you need, buddy. Youneed ”

“To get my bone kissed, yeah. You’ve told me that already, like, a thousand times,” Miles said impatiently.“Sowhoisshe,anyway?”

Seanburied his hot, throbbingface inhis hands. “Hometowngirl,” he said reluctantly. “Adirect descendantofour city’s illustrious founder, Augustus Endicott. His great-great-granddaughter, Ithink.

Youknow thatbronze statue ofthe pioneers infrontofthe library? The tall guyinthe frontwho looks likehe’sgotarifleshoveduphisass?”

“Oh, man,” Miles said, whistling. “Them? So she’s, like the heir to that huge construction company?Yowsa.BartEndicottpracticallyownsthistown.Andwhathedoesn’town,hebuilt.”

“Tell meaboutit.”Sean’svoicewasbleak.

Miles studied him, slouched in the chair, his dark eyes heavy lidded and thoughtful. “Huh. So she’sthereasonyoudoit,then?”

Seangavehimawarylook.“Dowhat?”

Miles’seyebrow lifted.“Fuckeverythingthathasapulse.”

Sean was stung. “I do not fuck everything that has a pulse,” he said haughtily. “I have my standards. I limit myself to endoskeletal organisms. I always go for vertebrates. And I don’t do reptiles.Ever.”

“Aw,shutup,youslut,”Milesgrumbled.“It’snotfair.”

Sean gave him an appraising glance. Miles had changed since he’d started hanging with the McClouds. The results of two years of relentless martial arts training, datingfromthe historic battle oftheAlleyCatClub,tosaveCindyfromher pusbagpimpofathen-boyfriend.

Miles got pulped that night, but he’d developed a burning yen to learn to fight, just like the McClouds. Which was a tall order, but they’d made big progress. He had a black belt, for God’s sake. They’d finally gotten himto stand up straight, and his lanky frame and sunken chest had filled out nicely with all the weightlifting Davy made himdo. He ate real food now, not just Doritos and Red Bull, so he no longer looked like an undernourished vampire. Sean’s tireless lecturing about groomingwas beginningto bear fruit, too. Miles wasn’ta sharp dresser yet, byanymeans, buthis Tshirtwasclean,andhisblackhair waspulledbackintoashinyponytail,nolonger lank,greasywings framing a pallid face. He’d ditched the weird round glasses, and his big hooked nose looked better without them. He’d taken antibiotics for his zits, praise God. The resultant scarring gave his face a tough,weatheredlook.

Addinthe bigpuppydogeyes andthe bulgingbiceps,andvoilà.Nottoofuckingbad.Ifhe would just lighten up, maybe even smile occasionally, he would look like a guy who could get laid with minimal effortonhispart.Abouttime,too.Theguywasavolcanoabouttoexplode.

“Arethesekarateclassesyou’reteachingmixed?”Seanasked. Milessnorted.“I’mworkingwithlittlekids.Agesfour totwelve.”

Seanshrugged.“There’salwayshotandhungrysinglemoms.”

“This mightcome as a shockto you, butsome people actuallydo things for reasons whichare not specificallyaimedatobtainingsex.”

Sean widened his eyes. “Really? It worries me to hear a healthy twenty-five-year-old male say stuff like that. Either you’re ill, you’re pathologically screwed in the head, you’re a closet gay, or you’relying.”

“I’mnot ”

“Gay,yes.Iknow damnwell you’renot,”Seanfinished.“You’vebeenobsessedwithCindysince Imetyou.Youdon’tlooksick,either.Thatleaves screwedup,or lying.Takeyour pick.I’dbuyeither one.”

Miles’s mouthhardened.“Iamtotallyover her.AndIdonotwanttohear her name spokenfor the restofmynatural life.Getit?”

Sean winced, pained. He’d overdone it again. He was used to kicking around his rawhide brothers. Sometimes their little buddyMiles was too softfor hard-core McCloud style teasing. “Fair

enough.Sorry.”

“So, what’s the deal? Are yougivingme a ride?” Miles gave hima craftylook. “Youdo wantto checkoutthisgirl’sbookstore,don’tyou?”

Sean let out a grim snort. Opportunistic, guilt-tripping little bastard. He turned back to the computer andreadthearticlesagain.

Hewouldn’t,ofcourse.Hewasn’tthatstupid,thatmasochistic.

Butsomethinginside himwas buzzing, wide-eyed, totallyzinged fromhearingLiv’s name spoken aloud.Hehadn’tfeltthatkindofbuzzsincehedidn’tevenremember.Maybenotsince…

Sincehe’dseenher last?Oh,please.Givehimafuckingbreak.

He’d do a thorough and exhaustive inventory of every single high point in his life before he’d admittothat.Talkaboutpathetic.

Still.Who was she,now?

Not that this burning itch of curiosity would be mutual. On the contrary. Liv hated his guts. She thought he was the embodiment of all evil inthe knownuniverse. Rightlyso. And gettingdisdained, spurned,scorned,or otherwisedissedbyLivEndicott,well…damn.

Thatwouldsucklikeavacuumcleaner.

CHAPTER3

Itwasthebouquetofwhiteirisesthatgottoher themost.Thesneering,in-your-facerudenessofit. Asiftheguyhadspitonher.

Liv clenched her fists and tried to breathe. Her belly muscles were so rigid, she had to deliberately unknot themto let her lungs expand. That coffee she’d drunk some time ago churned in her belly, threateningto rushbackup the wayit came. She might be better off without it, but barfing made her cry, and the firebug who had torched her bookstore might be watching through a pair of binoculars.

Gigglingevillyto himself. Lickinghis slaveringchops. Watchingher out of his cold, beadylittle reptileeyes,likeaTyrannosaurusrex.

She scanned the buildings around her, their outlines blurred by the haze of smoke. He could be watchingfromone of those windows. She shivered. She would not let himsee her snivel like a hurt littlegirl.

T-Rex had left the bouquet on top of the kerosene, right out front. No attempt to hide what he’d done. He’d even attached a letter. For Olivia, with love, from You Know Who, was printed on the front.Samefonthe’dusedfor hispreviouse-mails.Theonesshe’dtriedtoignore.

Evidently,T-Rexdidn’trespondwell tobeingignored.

Well, hell. She was paying attention now. He’d gotten the big reaction he was looking for. The police were completely disgusted with her for contaminating the crime scene. She hadn’t thought about practical details like fingerprints, etc., whenshe’d ripped the flowers apart and stomped them into the ground, shrieking at the top of her lungs. She’d put on quite a floor show. Her parents had beenmortified.

Ah,well.Nobodywasperfect.

Sheforcedoutabreath.Her mindkeptchurningoutplatitudes aboutthevirtues ofnon-attachment. All things must pass, blah, blah. The stuff she’d so recently stocked her Self-Help, Spirituality and New Age sections with.Bigsellers,all thatwoowoostuff.Itmade her wanttosmacksomeone.Who caredabouttheillusorynatureofrealitywhenyouwerestaringattheruinsofyour lifelongdream?

Shewasn’tevolvedenoughnottofeel liketotal crapaboutit.

And she was so angry. She wanted to hurtthe guywho did this. Hurthimbad. Make itlast. Make himsorryhisparentshadever met.

This,froma womanwhocaughtspiders andputtheminthe yardbecause she couldn’tbear tokill them.Eventhebig,freaky,hairyones.

God,ithurt.She’dinvestedsomuchofherselfintothisplace.Everythingshehad,andawholelot morebesides.She’dnever caredsomuch.Ever,inher life.Aboutanything.

Except for one notable occasion,her inner commentator pipedup.

Oh no. Uh-uh. No way was she going to let herself think about Sean McCloud. One charred disaster atatime,thankyouverymuch.

She scuffed through the ashes, mind churning. Who was this guy? What did he have against her? She had no natural enemies. She was Miss Compromise. Sweetness and light. Whatyoureap is what yousow,wasn’tthathow itworked?Wasn’tthereagoddamn rule?

That New Age fluff she’d been ordering had done a number on her brain. Or maybe she’d done something horrible in a past life. She’d left a swathe of destruction in her wake. The Countess Dracula,or somesuch.She’djustgether inner evil countess tohuntthis guydownandservehis balls uptohimonaplate.Hereyago,buddy.Openwide.

If he didn’t get her first She shivered, despite the August sun, and the heat waves that rose, shimmering,fromthesmokingcoals.

She dashed the tears away with grimy hands and blinked madly, staring at the mess. All those monthsofwork,reducedtonothing.

It had felt so good, bringing her dream bookstore into reality. Like she’d finally come home. Books & Brew was her baby. Her idea, her investment, her risk. Her own miserable, incinerated failure.

Be grateful it happened at night. The fire didn’t spread. The staff was home. No one got hurt, she reminded herself, for the zillionth time.

Ahand clapped down on her shoulder. She jumped. “Don’t worry,” came a familiar voice. “It’s nobigdeal.It’sall insured,right?”

It was Blair Madden, the VP of Endicott Construction Enterprises, and her father’s right-hand man.Blair hadnever possessedmuchofwhatyoumightcall tact,butthiswasabitraw,evenfor him.

Livturned.“Excuseme?Nobigdeal?Don’t worry aboutit?”

“All Imeantis thatit’s replaceable.” Blair tookhis handoffher bare,dirtyshoulder andwipedit discreetly on his perfectly creased tan pants. “It’s not like it was a cultural landmark. Keep it in perspective.”

“Livvy?GoodGod!You’re still here?”

Liv winced atthe razor tone ofher mother’s voice. Amelia Endicottclimbed outofthe Mercedes idlingonthe curb and minced toward them, careful notto smudge her sandals. “Youshouldn’tbe out intheopen!”shescolded.

“I’ll comewhenI’mready,Mother,”Livsaid.

The older woman’s hackles rose, visibly. “I see,” she said. “As always. You have to do things your ownway.Youmustsuityourself.”

“Yeah,right,”Livmuttered.“Asalways.”

Ittookenergy, opposingher mother. The womanhad runher childhood like a dictator, pickingher clothes,her schools,her friends.

Except for that one very memorable summer.

Yeah,right.Mother hadcastthe Seandebacle uptoher for years as anexample ofwhathappened whenLivdidn’tlistentoher.For once,she’dactuallyhadapoint.ItstuckinLiv’scraw evennow.

She’d finally forced her parents to accept that she was an adult who made her own decisions. Enter T-Rex, with a can of kerosene, and suddenly her parents felt justified in bundling her into a suffocatinggiftboxagain.Tyingher upwithabigsilkenbow.OliviaEndicott,groomedtobeacredit to the family name, if she would only: 1) lose that pesky fifteen pounds, 2) wear the right shoes, 3) dresslikealady,4) marryBlair Madden,and5) workfor EndicottConstructionEnterprises.

Blair chose this inopportune moment to throw his arm around her shoulder. She jerked away

beforeshecouldcontrol thereflex.

Blair folded his arms over his chest, affronted. “I’mjust trying to help,” he said stiffly. “You’re beingchildish,youknow.Andbitchy.”

I’m under a wee bit of stress, in case you haven’t noticed. Shebitthesarcasticwords back.“I’m sorry,Blair,”shesaid.“Ijustcan’tstandbeingtouchedrightnow.”

Her mother’s eyes flicked downover Liv’s body, mouthtightening. “Ican’tbelieve youare outin publicdressedlikethat.”

Liv looked downather baggypants, the shrunkentanktop. She’d rushed to the fire rightafter she got the call, not bothering to change out of her jammies. She hadn’t had a belly flat enough for that look when she was twenty, let alone thirty-two. No bra, either. Woo hah, she could throw ’emover her shoulder like a continental soldier.Andas for her pants,well…bestnottofocus onher bigbuttat all.

But the scolding made her chin go up. “I’m decent,” she said. “The important bits are covered. Nobody’ll faintfromseeingmyjammies.”

Certainly not Blair, she refrained from adding. He’d been badgering her for years in a halfjoking-but-not-really way about giving into the inevitable, and marrying him. Sometimes, when she was lonely, she was a tinybit tempted. Blair was smart, nice, hardworking. Her parents would have frothingfitsofjoy.Anditwouldbecompany.

Buttherewasnoheatbetweenthem.Absolutelynone.

Of course, her criteria of “heat” was based almost exclusively on her memories of Sean McCloud. Maybe she’d just imagined all that wild intensity, that giddy excitement. She’d been not quiteeighteen,after all.

She swallowed, her throat raspy from smoke and suppressed tears. Maybe a marriage without heatwould be more stable. After all, all she had to do was lookaround to see the damage heatcould do.

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” Amelia said. “I’ll see you at home, when you condescendtocome.”Sheflouncedbacktoher car.

“I’ll take you home,” Blair said. “You’re aware that you have to be accompanied everywhere now,right?Youshouldpackyour things.”

The look on his face abruptly reminded her of why she kept saying no to Blair’s proposals. Pompousbossinesswassounsexy.

“Pack?”sheasked.“WhyamIpacking?WhereamIgoing?”

“You can’t stay at your place, Liv,” he lectured. “It’s too remote, up on the hill, and you don’t even have an alarm. You’ll be staying at Endicott House, where we can keep an eye on you. Bart’s contactingasecurityfirmtoprovideyouwithfull-timebodyguards.”

“Bodyguards?”Her smoke-roughenedvoicebrokeontheword.

“Ofcourse.” His chestpuffed out. “I’mgoingto tell Bartand the police where we’re going. Stay whereIcanseeyou,for God’ssake.”

Shestaredbleaklyafter Blair.Bodyguards?Full time?

Now her parents could monitor her night and day. Make sure she was constantlylivingup to the Endicott standard. She might as well just embalm herself right now, and save everyone else the trouble.

“Hey,Liv,”alow malevoicesaidfrombehindher.

Oh, God. She knew that voice. She couldn’t turn. Her muscles wouldn’t move. It was like that time she’d gone rock climbing. She had looked down in the middle of a steep bit and frozen solid,

fingersnumb.Her bones,all rubberyandflexible.Her insides,vastandempty. Hedidn’tspeakagain.Maybestresshaddrivenher toauditoryhallucinations.Andtherewasonly onewaytofindout,so move.

Shecommandedher musclestoobey,andturned.

Ohboy.ItreallywasSean.Her insidestightened.Shefeltfaint.

Holycrap, justlookathim. He occupied so muchspace. The air around himseemed charged. He wassotall.Soincredibly…big.

Hadhereallybeenthatbigfifteenyearsago?

Certainly she herself hadn’t been. The thought stung like a spider bite. To think that with her bookstore trashed, her dreams in ruins and T-Rex to stress about, she was still uptight about her oversizedbum.

And her tank top did nothing to control the jiggle and sway of her boobs, which were likewise bigger now,ifsomewhat,well…lower.Plus, the poochyside pockets onher pants hadbeendesigned bythedevil himselftomakeher hipslookevenwider thantheyreallywere.

Shetriedtospeak,buther voicewas roughandhoarsefromall thesmoke.Shecoughed,andtried again.“Hi,”shesqueaked.

She didn’t want himto see her like this. Wounded, bereft. It was too muchlike the last time he’d seen her. Except that then, the smoking ruin had been her heart. And he was the arsonist who had torchedit.

Theystaredateachother.Shefeltempty-headed,exposed.

She’d pictured runninginto himafter she’d decided to come backto Endicott Falls. Manytimes. But inher fantasies, she’d beenthinner. Boobs hoisted highina power bra. Romantic, swishywhite skirtandpoet’s blouse,showingafaint,tasteful hintofsexycleavage. Eat your heart out, you braindead chump beingthesubtlenon-verbal message.

She’d be bustling around in her crowded bookstore, looking trim, taut and fabulous. Hair swept upinatousledtwist.Skillfullyunderstatedmakeup.Elegantgoldearrings.Busy,happy,fulfilledLiv!

“Seanwho?” she’d say. Thenher eyes would widen, recognitiondawningas she looked past the beer paunch, or whatever other defects he’d developed that had rendered him harmless. “Oh! I’m terriblysorry,Ijustdidn’trecognizeyou!”she’dsay,ohsosweetly.“How are you?”

This was notthe currentscenario.Her eyes keptdropping,dartingup,tryingtoreconcile this man with the Sean of her girlhood memories. He’d been dimpled, laughing, gorgeous. A sinuous young panther ontheprowl.Theembodimentofdangerousmalesexuality.

Thatsucculentgoldenboyhadbecomeagrim,inscrutableman.

FadedjeansandagreenT-shirtshowedoffalong,powerful bodythatseemedthicker,denser than she remembered. His face seemed carved outofsomethinghard. Longishhair blew loose and shaggy around his face inthe hotgusts ofair. Sunglinted offthe bronze ends. Adiamond stud flashed bright rainbow fireinhisear.

His eyes were keen, shadowed. No twinkle. No dimple. No flash of white teeth. He looked tempered,andtough.Harmless,her ass.

Helookedaboutasharmlessasalong,sharpknife.

She had to tear her eyes away and look at her feet before her lungs would unlock and suck in a shudderinggaspofbadlyneededair.

Wow. He had a flair for the dramatic entrance. Deliberate or not, it was effective, how he’d framed himselfina fire-blackened brickarchofthe turn-of-the-centurybreweryshe’d converted into her bookstore.

Backlitbysunslantingthroughthe arch, wreathed withbillows ofsmoke, he was like a rockidol takingthe stage. Acceptingthe adulationofhis screamingfans as his rightand due. He smiled ather, andshecrossedher armsover tinglingbreasts.No,notlikearockstar.

Morelikeafallenarchangel,guardingthegatesofhell.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted. “I thought you’d left. Everyone said ” She stopped, realizinghow muchher wordsrevealed.

Bleak amusement flashed in his eyes. “My brothers and I keep Dad’s old place up behind the Bluffs for occasional weekends, but we all live in the Seattle area now.” He hesitated. “So don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.” Embarrassment sharpened her voice. “So did you just come to gawk? Quiteaspectacle,isn’tit?”

Helookedaround.“Yes,itis.”

“Mustbeareal satisfactiontoyou.”Sheregrettedthewords instantly.Everythingthatcameoutof her puther atadisadvantage.

Hiseyesflickered.“Notintheleast,”hesaidquietly.“Inever wishedyouanythingbutthebest.”

Her vertebraestacked,clickity-click.Thatsnottybastard.After all thehorriblethings he’dsaidto her, he dared to get up on his high horse and make her feel in the wrong. “Isn’t that sweet,” she snapped.“I’msotouched,butthatdoesn’texplainwhatthehell you’redoinghere.”

Hecrossedhisarmsover hischest,andittookall her willpower nottostareathisropy,powerful forearms. His long, graceful hands. The bulge of his biceps, distending his T-shirt sleeve. “I heard aboutthefire,”hesaidsimply.“IwantedtomakesureyouwereOK.”

Sheswallowedbackanunreasonablequiveringinher throat.

“This place…” She gestured around with her hand. “This used to be my brand new, fabulous, beautiful bookstore.Didyouknow that?”

“Yeah,”hesaid,hisfacesomber.“Ididknow that.”

“Somereptilianassholeburneditdown,”shesaid.“Onpurpose.” Henodded.“Thatsucks.You’vegotnoideawho ?”

“None.” She struggled with the quiver in her throat. “I assume it’s T-Rex, though. The weirdo who’sbeensendingmethee-mails.”

Hiseyessharpened.“Who’sT-Rex?Whate-mails?”

“I’ve beengettinge-mails for the pastfew weeks,” she explained wearily. “Icall himT-Rex, just to call himsomething. Declarations oflove, comments onwhatI’mwearing. He’s beenwatchingme. Upclose.”

“Youtoldthepoliceaboutthee-mails?”heasked.

“Of course,” she said. “What could they do? There was nothing particularly threatening in them. Just,youknow,slime.”

“Didheleaveanotetoday?”hedemanded.

She choked off the laughter before it could become hysterical. “Oh, yes. Todayhe told me how I would twistand burninthe fire ofhis passion, and then…how did he putit? Thatsoonwe would be as one. Thatour unionwould be explosive. All writteninthis sticky, pseudo-poetic prose thatmakes myfleshcrawl.”

Seanmade a sound inhis throat, like a wild animal’s growl. It made her hairs prickle up. “That sickfuckneedstobedisemboweled.”

She gaped at him, then forced her mouth to close. “Ah. Thank you, Sean, for putting that lovely imageinmyhead.”

“Sorry,”hemurmured.“Youhaven’tbeenintownverylong?”

“A few months. Ever since I bought the Old Brewery. I just opened the store about six weeks ago.” Her voice quivered again. “Itwas goingwell. Itwas a greatlocation. Ihad the college crowd, the writingworkshops at the Arts Center, and they’ve beenspiffingup the historic downtownfor the tourists,too.Itwouldhavepaidoff.I’msureofit.”

“SoamI,”hesaid.“I’msureitstill will.”

He was just humoringher, but it was all rushingout, dignitybe damned. “I always wanted to do this. Always, since I was a little girl.” Her voice was almost defiant. “Bookstores are my favorite places.They’relikewonderland.Endlessgoodies.Acandyshopfor themind.”

“It’sgoodtoknow whatyouwanttodo,”hesaid.“You’relucky.”

“Lucky?”Abitter laughhurther.Shelookedaroundherself.“Excuseme?Youcall thislucky?”

“You’ll getpastthis,” he said. “Itwould take more thana canofkerosene to keep youdown, Liv. Thisisjustabliponyour screen.”

Shefelther spinestraighten,her chingoup,her lungsfill.Hiswordsgaveher ajoltofenergyand pride. She didn’t dare examine the feeling too closely. She might kill it, and she needed all the help she could get. “I did a lot of renovating myself,” she hurried on. “I’ve studied woodworking. I can handlebigpower tools.Younameit,Icanuseit.”

“Wow.”Hiseyeswidened,impressed.

“Yeah, my folks about had kittens. And there was the café. Picking out fixtures, bar equipment. Orderingbooks. Iwas inhogheaven. I’mso deep indebt, it’s notevenfunny, butIdidn’tcare. Ijust didn’tgiveashit.”

“Goodfor you,”hesaidgently.

“I painted the murals in the children’s corner myself, did you know that? Of course you didn’t. Whatasillyquestion.Whywouldyou?”

She was barely making sense, at this point, but Sean was taking it in stride, his face calm and attentive. She rubbed furiously at her eyes. “They turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself,” she said, voice wobbling. “Scenes fromfairytales. I’mno Leonardo Da Vinci, but those murals weren’t halfbad.Theyreallyweren’t.”

“I’msuretheywerebeautiful.I’msorryInever gottoseethem.”

Oh,God.Hiswordsweresoexactlywhatshehadneededtohear.

Her parents had seemed hardly surprised by the disaster. What did she expect, when she went against their well-meant advice? They’d been tapping their feet, waiting for her to fail from the beginning.

Onecrumbofgenuinesympathy,andshefell righttopieces.

She covered her face with one hand and fished with the other one in her pocket for tissues. All thatwasleftwerewet,soggywads.Bleah.

She would staylike this forever. Acautionarytale for unwaryentrepreneurs. Birds could come to roostonher.Shedidn’tcare.

Sean’s warm hand came to rest tentatively on her shoulder. Awareness sparkled through her nerves at the gentle contact, and the sobbingeased down. Startled into hiding, no doubt. She peeked over her hand.“Idon’tsupposeyou’vegotatissue?I’mleaking.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was full of regret. “I’m not the kind of guy who carries packs of tissue around.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled. She couldn’t use her too short, too tight shirt to blot her facewithoutflashingher baretitstoSeanMcCloudandtherestoftheEndicottFallsbusinessdistrict,

but hey, why not offer the gawkers a final act of public indecency to round off the day’s array of entertainments?Itwasjustthatkindofaday.

She blinked to bringher visioninto focus, and sucked ina bubblygasp ofshock. Holycrap. Sean McCloud was pulling his shirt off. Right out here, in front of God and everyone. Talk about public indecency.

“Whatthehell doyouthinkyou’redoing?”shehissed.

He stopped partway through the act, the tight microfiber shirt jerked up high enough to show off histhick,broad,muscle-boundchest.

Oh, man. Amazing. The tight brown oblongs of his nipples adorned hard, cut pecs. His fuzz of bronze hair thickened into a treasure trail over his washboard belly, vanishing into jeans that hung low onleanhips. Hard muscles moved beneaththe gold skinofhis abdomen. Ajagged scar gleamed silvery,onhisside.Shewrenchedher gazeaway.

“It’s clean,” he said earnestly. “Just out ofthe dryer. And Itooka shower and smeared perfumed goop over myself,” he checked his watch, “justthree hours ago. Use itfor a handkerchief. Go ahead. Please.”

Oh, yeah. Like he didn’t know just how stunninghis bodywas. Dazzlingher to distract her from her sobfest.Thehumiliatingthingwas,itwasworking.“I’mnotusingyour damnshirtfor anything.”

“Ispentall thattime inanair-conditioned car, so I’ve barelysweated.” He whipped the shirtoff, and presented it to her. “It’s not worthy of your Divine Highness’s royal snot, but it’s all I’ve got to offer.”

No.Shewouldnotlaugh,andlethimscorepointsather expense.

“Go on,” he urged. “Justhonkrightinto it. Never letitbe said thatI’mnotwillingto sacrifice my shirtfor alady’sconvenience.”

Hestuckitinher hand.Her fingersclosedaroundit,leavingagreasyblacksplotch.Theshirtwas soft and incrediblywarm. Aspicy, woodsysmell rose fromit. Smothered giggles made her nose run evenmore copiously. “You’re makingit worse!” She thrust the shirt against his chest. “Put this thing backonbeforeyougetmeintrouble.”

He tookhis ownsweettime pullingitbackon. Sure enough, he had a blackhandprintonthe front oftheT-shirt,as ifshe’dgrabbedhis pecandgivenitatightsqueeze.Helookedatit.His smilemade her toescurl.

“You’ddoanythingtomakemestopcrying,right?”sheaccused.

“Nope. Tears don’t bother me,” he said. “It’s just that once Iget a laugh, Ihave to follow up and trytogetanother one.Ijustcan’thelpmyself.It’s,like,anobsessive-compulsivethingwithme.”

“I don’t want to hear about your obsessions or compulsions, thank you. That’s way too much informationfor me.”Shesniffedviolently,moppedher facewithher hand.“Sorryaboutyour shirt.”

He petted the blackmarktenderlywithhis hand. “I’mnot,” he said. “I’mnever washingthis thing again.IthinkI’ll frameit.”

Her breathstopped. She stared over the edge ofher hand. His eyes looked straightinto her mind, sifting through thoughts, memories, fantasies. Drawing his own inscrutable conclusions. His lips curved,asifwhathe’dseenhadgivenhimlicensetotakeanylibertiesheliked.

“Thethoughtofyouusingpower toolsisreallyarousing,”hesaid.

“I Icannotbelieveyoujustsaidthattome,”shefloundered.

“So put me inmyplace,” he said. “You’re Her Divine Highness, the CrownPrincess ofEndicott Falls.Whodarestomesswithyou?”

Who, indeed. She realized, after itwas too late to stop, thatshe was lickingher lips. “Younever

stayinanyplacethatyou’reput.”

He shrugged. “True enough. I can just see you, in my mind’s eye, looking sleek and powerful. Using a table saw. Dominating the hell out of it. Muscles flexing. Sweat dripping. Sawdust flying. Metal screaming.”

“Oh,youaresofull ofshit,”shesaid.“Juststopit,rightnow.”

“Scoldme.Show mewho’sboss.”Hiseyesglinted.“Igofor that.”

She covered her face again. “You can stop jerking me around any time now,” she forced out, betweenhelpless,hysterical giggles.

“Not yet. I drop to my knees and offer you a cold beer. You tilt the bottle back. A drop slides down, trembles on your collarbone, keeps on sliding. That’s when I fall on my face…and beg for mercy.”

She remembered that coaxingcharm, that could get her to agree to anythinghe wanted. But inthe end,hehadn’twantedit.Or her.

Shesteppedback.Shecouldn’tslideintothishoney-baitedtrap.

“So,”shesaidbrightly.“How areyour brothersthesedays?”

Sean’s eyes went blank as he switched gears from full-out seduction to bland pleasantries. His mouth twitched. “Uh, great,” he said. “Davy and Con are blissfully married. Con’s about to have a kid.”

“That’sfabulous.WhataboutKev?Isheblissfullymarried,too?”

His face hardened. A cold flash in his eyes sent a chill through her. “No,” he said. “You never heardaboutKev?”

Her stomachdropped.“Heard?WhatshouldIhaveheard?”

Sean’s throat worked. “Kev’s dead. Ran his truck off a cliff.” He paused, eyes boring into hers. “Youmeanyounever heardaboutthat?”

She tried to speakseveral times before her vocal cords would respond. “No,” she whispered. “I leftthatsamenight.Theyputmeonaplanefor Boston.Nooneever saidanythingtomeaboutit.”

“Ofcoursetheydidn’t,”hesaid.“Whywouldyouask?”

Thathurt.Itimpliedthatshedidn’tcare,whichwasunfair.

Buthis eyes were hauntedwitholdpain.How petty,togethuffyaboutsemantics inthe face ofhis loss.“I’msorry.Kevwasspecial.”

Seansilentlyinclinedhishead,acceptingher words.

Shegulpedbeforeaskingthenextquestion.“So,um,wasit…” “Suicide?”Seanjerkedhischin.“Sotheysay.Whoknows?”

“Andthatstuffhetoldme?Abouttheguystryingtokill him?”

Seanpaused.“Wenever foundanyevidencethatitwastrue.”

Shetookamomenttoprocessthat.“Soitwas…hewas…”

“Yeah. Paranoid delusions. Persecutioncomplex. Like our dad. That was the official conclusion, anyhow.”

Thebitternessinhisvoicepromptedher toask.“Andyour ownconclusion?”

“Myownconclusiondoesn’tcountfor shit.Ikeepittomyself.”

She could think of nothing to say. Or rather, she could think of many things, none of which were appropriate. Like grabbinghimbythe throat, yellingthat he shouldn’t have gone throughthat without her.

Stupid bastard. Her throattightened,likeafist.

“What the hell?” Blair was loping towards her, his face alarmed. “Liv! Are you OK? You look

likeyou’vebeencrying.Didhe ”

“Myeyeswerewatering,”shesaidhastily.“Fromthesmoke.”

Blair handed her a handkerchief. When she came up for air, Sean and Blair were having a curiouslyhostilestaringmatch.

“I’msurprisedyouhavethenervetoshow your face,”Blair said.

Sean’seyebrowslifted.“IwantedtomakesureLivwasOK.”

“Liv’sfine,”Blair saidstiffly.“We’vegother covered.”

“I’ll leave youinhis capable hands, then,” Seansaid to Liv. “Take iteasy, princess.” He nodded politelyather,turned,andwalkedaway.

Like a scene out of an old western. Broad-shouldered guy strides off into the sunset. Liv felt perverselyabandonedasshestaredathisretreatingback.

CHAPTER4

One foot in front of the other. Play it cool. Don’t look back.

Or he’d mashthat lyingpiece-of-shit Madden’s nose into pulp. And thendragLiv off to a cave. He narrowlymissed walkinginto a telephone pole. His mind was blank, hands shaking, stomachwonky.

Madden’s sticky, possessive vibe made him want to cave that arrogant prick’s head in with a rock.The shit-eatinginsectdidn’tdeserve tobreathe the same air as LivEndicott.Notthathe himself did,either,butwhatever.FuckBlair Maddenanyhow.

Wow. He thought he’d let that old anger go. After all, Blair’s amateur attempts to mess withhim back in the old days had paled in significance compared to the real problems Sean had faced. That was the thingabout the hammer blow of tragedy. It put the small stuff into perspective. And Madden wassmall.Like,scuttlingcockroachsmall.

Keep it together. Impulse control. Actions have consequences.

The endless stern lectures from his father and brothers had clubbed into his head looped in his braininachaoticbabbleofmental noise.

Hey,hewas trying.He’dcontrolledhis impulses.Exceptfor theimpulsetocomeontoLiv.There were limits to a guy’s self-control. One loftylookfromthose biggrayeyes turned himinto a grunting caveman.

Maybe itwas the sexpotcavewomanlookthatdid itto him;the wild hair, the soot-smudged face, thenotableabsenceofunderwear.

The effect could onlybe improved byrippingthe clothes off, pinningher downona fur rug, and havingather likeawildbeast.

God, she was fine. What a woman. Girl was too frivolous a word. The world was full of girls. Hisphonewasfull oftheir numbers. Girl wasacategory,aconcept.Aconsumable.

The word woman had a different feel to it. It filled his mouth. Round, soft, mysterious. Unique, singular.Liv,grownup,filledout.

Hehadlotsofphotos,butLivtendedtowear bigsweatersandlongskirtsinthewinter andloose, baggysundresses inthesummer.Abodylikethathadtobeseentobebelieved.She’ddevelopedfull, swaying tits. And that ass, those hourglass curves from waist to hip, Jesus. He’d thought she was perfectfifteenyears ago, butnature had decided to go all out. Fudge sauce, whipped cream, nuts and sprinkles.

Those scanty clothes showed every tremor and sway. No wonder half the town was lined up to watch. He was an equal opportunity ravening wolf-pig when it came to female yumminess. He appreciatedall colors,sizesandshapes,thoughheparticularlywentfor lushcurves.

ButLivwasadifferentcategoryoffemalebeautyaltogether.

It wasn’t just the wayshe looked, thoughshe was drop dead beautiful. It was somethingintrinsic toher.Somethingsoregal andproud.Dignified.Eleganttoher bones.She tooknoshitoffanyone.He felt like a dog on the furniture, unworthy to lick those tiny, arched feet, but slavering for it all the same. Bouncinglike a puppy, tongue hangingout. He’d do anythingto make her smile. Or better yet, get one of those smothered, giggling snorts. Scoring one of those was like winning the lottery. He’d gottenafew today.Hewasstill jitterywithtriumph.

So his sweet-talk still made her cheeks blush pink and her brights go on, ping. Raspberries, crowningthose jouncingta-tas. Whata rush, to getthe princess all hotand flustered usingnothingbut words.

That knife cut both ways, though. No coat, box or bag to camouflage his raging boner. He’d had the same problem the first time he saw her. He’d been working construction, and the crew had stopped dead whenthe boss’s daughter walked by. Gauzyskirt, tits bouncingunder her primblouse, cloudofdarkcurlyhair,downcasteyes.Luminous,rose-tintedskin.Nomakeup.Noneedfor it.

The whole package screamed “virgin.” Delicious, innocent, succulent virgin. Unaware of her power over men.Shehadn’tevennoticedthecrew wipingthestrings ofdrool offtheir chins.Shejust waftedalong.Onanother plane.Lalala.

He’d beennaked to the waist, wearingboots, ragged jeans and a hard hat. Drippingwithsweat, rankasagoat.Nowayinhell tohidehiswoody,notthatitmattered.Shedidn’tnoticehim.

Her sandalshadmadetiny,daintyprintsinthecementdust.

Ithadstartedoutasagame,justgettingthatfloatinguptownangel tonoticehisraggedy-assself.It swelled quicklyinto somethinghotter, wilder. He wanted to make her want him. He wanted to spirit her offintothewoods.Layher downonabedofpineneedlesandrocklilies,peel offher pantiesand lash away at her delicious, candy-sweet girl body with his tongue until she was begging him to deflower her.

Andhewouldoblige.Oh,yeah.He’dbeendyingfor it.

Thatplanhadbackfiredwhenhefell madlyinlovewithher.

Kev had beenpissed withhimfor goingafter a girl like Liv. She’s not the fuckbuddy type, he’d lectured. She’s gonna get hurt.

She won’t, he’d assured his worried twin. Hurting Liv was the last thing he’d ever do. He worshippedher.Hewassavingupfor adiamond.

Thinking about Kev made this morning’s dream flash through his mind again. You’ve got to do something about Liv’s car, Kevhadsaid.

Strange.Hedidn’tevenknow whatkindofcar shedrove.

What a jolt, when she’d asked about Kev. For a split second, it was like Kev had never died at all.Noneofthebadstuffhadhappened.

Kev had gottenhis doctorate, become a famous scientist, published papers, wonprizes, patented amazing inventions, fallen in love, gotten married, had kids. The whole sequence of Kev’s hypothetical lifeplayedthroughhisheadinablindingflash, whoosh.

Andman,ithurtwhenrealitycamecrashingbacktodisplaceit.

The sinkhole inhis gutwidened into a crater. He had to haul ass. Burstinginto tears indowntown EndicottFallswashisideaofhell.

He’d always sucked athidinghis feelings. Macho stoicismwas Davy’s specialty. Kev’s, too, ina lighter way. Davy’s stoicism had a steely weight to it, like Dad’s. Kev’s had been more like a zen monk’scalm.Likeareflectinglake.Somellow.

Christ,hemissedKevsobad.Histhroatfeltlikeaburningcoal.

He clenched his jaw, loping toward where his truck was parked. He was history. Miles was a grown-up.Hecouldfendfor himself.

You’ve got to do something about Liv’s car.

He wished he hadn’t interrupted Kev in the dreambefore he’d finished that sentence. Something waseludinghim.Ticklinghismind.

Our union will be explosive

HewishedhecouldlookatT-Rex’sletter.Thee-mails,too.

Stayaway. The cops were all over it. Her folks had mountains ofmoney. Ifanybodyever had her asscovered,itwasPrincessLiv.

The something’s-not-right feeling was swelling, bigger and badder. Fire ants in his head. Itching andtwitching.WhathadT-Rexsaid?Burninginthefireofhispassion? Our union will be explosive.

He’d stared at the twisted wreckage at the bottom of Hagen’s Canyon for hours, before they’d climbeddownandhauledhimaway.

Our union will be explosive. Repeated in his head, pounding like a jackhammer. His brother’s bodyhadbeencharredblack.Carbonized.

“Hey!How’ditgo?”

Seanjerkedasifhe’dbeenstungbyabee,butitwasjustMiles,comingoutofthecomputer store, hiseyesbigwithcuriosity.“Didyouseethatgirl?Whatdidshesay?Wasshesurprisedtoseeyou?”

Sean couldn’t speak for the pressure building inside him. He doubled over, pressed his hand againstthesuckingcrater inhistorso.

“Jeez.AreyouOK?”Milesgrabbedhisshoulder.“Areyousick?”

He was goingto hurl his coffee and sweetroll, rightinto the potted geraniums infrontofEndicott FallsFineAntiquesandCollectibles.Oh,man,whatawaytorepair hissocial image.

Our union will be explosive

He peered back through the haze of smoke. His eye fastened onto Liv’s graceful form. Blair Maddenmarchedbesideher,chestflungout.

Liv’s car. Burning. Explosive.

Theysplit to walkaround the battered pickup. That wasn’t a trophyvehicle a pompous dicklike Maddenwoulddrive.MustbeLiv’s.

Click. Itfell intoplace.Hispanicreleased,likeacoiledspring.

He tookofftowards thatpickup like he had rocketlaunchers under his feet. He barelyrecognized thathowlingvoice as his own.Time warped,like incombat.People flinchedawayas he poundedby. Maddengoggledathimbehindthewindshield.Liv’seyeswerehuge.

“Getawayfromthatcar!”hebellowed.“Get back!”

Livfroze,onefootalreadyinside.

Madden locked his door, lunged across the seat, grabbed Liv’s wrist to yank her in, the cretin. Fuck. Sean shattered the driver’s side window with a flying kick. He unlocked the door, wrenched Maddenout.

Theguygruntedas hehitthehotasphalt.Livbackedaway’til shehittheglass displaywindow of TrinketTroveGiftEmporium.

“Get away!” he yelled, waving his arms at her and everyone else he could see. “Back! Farther! Now,goddamnit!”

Everyoneobeyed.Nobodywantedtobenear thehowlingpsycho.

Thekeyswereintheignition.Hepoppedthehood.Anymovementcouldtripthebomb,buthehad totakethatriskuponhimself.Nobodywasgoingtobelievehim.Heknew thatfrombitter experience.

He wasn’t even sure he believed it himself, but hell. He had no choice but to trust an impulse strong enough to make himpractically blow chunks all over the spit-shined Endicott Falls shopping district.

He scanned the Toyota’s engine for bomb designs he was familiar with, but there were infinite variations, endless new strategies, and he’d never tinkered with the guts of an aging Toyota. He wouldn’t recognize a wire out of place if it bit himinthe ass. He stared at it, stomachchurning. He dropped to the ground, shimmied under the pickup on his back. Switched on the penlight on his keychain.Peeredaround.

A thrill of confirmation jolted his nerves. A wire wrapped around the drive train. Old classic. Easy to spot if you were looking for it, but why look? He poked around delicately. There it was. A wad of plastic explosives, molded betweenthe gas tankand the truckbody. If Maddenhad drivena few inches, the turning driveshaft would’ve pulled the trip, and ka-boom. He let out a jerky sigh. Tensiondrainedoutofhim.

The smell ofsunbaked asphalttickled his nose. Scratches onhis backbeganto sting. He stared at thedestructionclingingtothebellyofthetruck,likeamalignantgrowth.Soclose.

Hewiggledoutfromunder theToyota.Ittooksomeeye-rubbingtorecognizeOfficer TomRoarke. Themanhadputonweightinfifteenyears,butthehostilityinhisfacewasimmutable.

Sean hardly blamed him. Punching an officer of the law in the face and restraining himwith his owncuffswasaveryundesirablecourseofaction.Eveninhiswilder days,Seanhadknownthat.

Andall for nothing,intheend.He’dbeentoolatetosaveKev.

“Mr. McCloud, would you like to explain to me what you’re doing vandalizing Ms. Endicott’s car?”Roarke’svoicewasasharshasgravel.

“Verifyingthepresenceofunexplodedordnance,”Seanreplied. Roarke’sfacewentblank.“Huh?”

Sean sat up. “Take a look,” he offered. “There’s plastic explosives around the gas tank. Awire around the driveshaft. Could be a decoy, though. Somebody could be watching with a remote detonator.”

“You’rekidding.”Roarke’sfacewentanodd,purplishshade.

“IwishIwere.Isuggestyouevacuatethisblockrightnow.” Roarke yanked his walkie talkie outofhis belt. Seanturned, and found Liv standinginthe street, way too close to her car. Miles, too, was wandering closer than he should, goggle-eyed and slackjawed.

“Detonator?” she echoed faintly. “Youmean…a bomb? Inmypickup? ButIdrove itthis morning. IparkedithereatfiveAM.It’sbeenrightouthereinpublic,all morning.How onearth ”

“Get the fuck away from the car, Liv. You, too, Miles. Move!” Weird, to hear his father’s drill sergeantvoicecomingoutofhisownmouth.IthadnodiscernibleeffectonLiv,though.Shedidn’tbat aneye.Seanspunher around,andshoved.

“Getyour hands offher.” Itwas Madden, his voice shakyand high. His face was wetwithsweat. HegrabbedSean’sarm.

Sean just towed the guy along with them. “Let’s have this pissing contest out of blast range,” he growled.

“I’dliketoknow how youknew aboutthatbomb,McCloud.”

Sean’s gut clenched. A lot of people were going to be unpleasantly curious about that. I had a funny feeling didn’t get you far when people were casting around for a scapegoat, and he made a kick-assscapegoat.