Chapter One
Emily Donovan woke with stinging eyes, her body shuddering in the throes of a nightmare. The same
nightmare she had every night.
She closed her eyes against the unbearable ache in her chest and tried to fall back into oblivion, but the
memories were too vivid, too alive in her mind.
Sean.
How she missed him. He hadn’t deserved to die. He’d been too young, so full of life. He’d loved her
unreservedly, picked up the pieces of her shattered heart and helped put her back together.
As always when she thought of Sean, images of his two older brothers, Taggert and Greer, haunted her. It
angered her that she couldn’t separate her memories of Sean from the other two Donovan brothers, but
they were as much a part of her soul as Sean had been. But Sean had accepted her. Loved her. Taggert
and Greer had shoved her away.
The ache in her chest stole her breath, and she opened her eyes to stare at the blurred ceiling. The lamp at
the side of her bed cast elongated shadows, sometimes frightening, but the dark was scarier, so she always
left it on.
The days had gotten a little easier. She managed to perform normal activities. Eating. Sleeping—finally.
But her sleep was still tortured by images of that night. By Sean’s blood covering her hands. By his
whispered I love you and his warm smile before he took his last breath.
“It’s not fair,” she whispered fiercely. “It should have been me, not you.”
Her breath stuttered out in a sob that clawed at her throat. It hurt to inhale. It hurt to exhale. It hurt to live.
Giving up on sleep, she crawled out of bed, feeling much older than her twenty-five years. She’d always
been so much older than her years. Quieter, more mature. Only the Donovan brothers had been able to
bring her out of her shell, and she’d give anything to go back to those days in the Montana mountains
where only the skies were bigger than their dreams.
She’d lived hers. Just for a little while. Just as Tagg had always predicted. Their little songbird was
destined for bigger and better things than the Mountain Pass Ranch. But she hadn’t wanted fame and
fortune. She’d only wanted their love.
With a weary sigh, she walked into the kitchen clad in only her silky pajama top. Sean had bought it for
her, and when she’d laughingly informed him he got ripped off because only the top was there, he smugly
told her he preferred easy access and had thrown away the bottoms.
Mechanically she performed the rituals of morning. Preparing coffee that she didn’t even like, toasting a
bagel she wouldn’t taste. All the things that made her life feel normal.
The chair was cool on her bare legs, and she scooted up to the small, two-person table where she’d placed
her saucer and cup. She drank, barely wincing when the hot liquid hit her tongue. Chewing the bagel took
effort. Swallowing took more.
What was she supposed to do today? The question filtered calmly through her mind, and she stared at the
half-empty cup in her hand in bemusement. She had no job to go to. No appointments. No schedule. She
only had one goal. To survive another day.
Maybe she’d take a walk. Challenge herself to face the city she’d fled to. Its size and people would
swallow her up. Offer her the anonymity she desperately craved.
The mere idea of leaving her apartment without a specific destination in mind sent a wave of nausea
through her belly. The coffee bubbled like a volcano about to erupt, and she swallowed rapidly.
She couldn’t go on like this, living in the shadows, afraid to step into the light. Sean would hate the life
she led. He’d look at her with those intense blue eyes, and his lips would thin in disapproval.
She looked down, studying her fingers, and wondered how long it would take before she didn’t feel so
flayed alive when she thought of Sean. When she couldn’t feel the knife that had ended his life.
A firm knock sounded at the door. Her head whipped up, and panic hit her like a sledgehammer. Each
breath squeezed from her lungs, crushing her chest.
Stop being stupid.
No one knew she was here. She knew none of her neighbors. She was safe.
Who the hell could be at her door at five in the morning?
Renewed fear gripped her by the throat.
Maybe it was just her apartment manager. Or a neighbor.
At five in the morning?
Her gaze flickered over the four deadbolts she’d had installed. No one was getting in unless she let them.
The knock sounded again. Harder this time.
She flinched and hastily stood, her heart beating in a vicious cadence.
She didn’t have to answer. She could pretend to be asleep. Or not at home.
Hesitating, she turned away from the door only to yank back around when the knocking persisted.