“Wake up, honey. Just open your eyes for me. Please, Keira.” The voice invades my consciousness.

My eyelids are so heavy. I draw in a breath, but a weight sits on my chest. “Uhhh.”

“Keira! Honey! Come back to us. Please.”

A hand grips mine and squeezes. My vision blurs around the edges as I force my eyes open.

I want to ask, What happened? But it comes out more like “Whaaarrrppp?”

“You’re okay. You’re going to be fine, Keira. Just fine.”

My throat hurts. My shoulder hurts. My head hurts. Everything hurts. I feel like I never want to move again.

I swear I’ve felt like this before.

White walls. Antiseptic. Beeping.

Am I dreaming?

A voice in my head yells at me to wake the hell up, and I blink twice before my sight clears.

But the face in front of mine isn’t the one I expected to see.

I jerk up in the hospital bed, my head swiveling from side to side. There’s no empty bed beside mine this time.

I groan, trying to force another sound from my throat, but it comes out as a scratchy moan.

Where is he? That’s the first thought that enters my brain. Where is Lachlan?

But it’s not the question that leaves my lips.

“Mom?”

“Thank God. Don’t you ever scare us like that again.” Her green eyes, a shade darker than my own, fill with tears, and her face looks years older than it did in the last picture I saw of her.

“Sweet Jesus. Thank you, Lord.” My dad’s deep voice overpowers hers as he steps into my field of vision.

“Dad?” It doesn’t make sense. How did my parents get here? And where is Lachlan? “How—”

“Shhh, honey. Don’t talk. They had you under for hours in surgery. They said your throat would hurt from the breathing tube. Jesus Christ, when we got the call from the alarm company and then you didn’t answer, and then Millie called a few hours later saying you’d come in alone in an ambulance—” Alone? My mom’s voice breaks. “We broke every law to get here as fast as we could. She didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

Millie? My brain is slow to start chugging along as I search the room again, looking beyond them for the one face I need to see but know I won’t find.

Millie. My mom’s cousin, and an ER nurse. That explains how my parents found out . . . but alone?

“What happened?” I ask again, my brain fuzzy from whatever drugs they’ve pumped through me. “Where—”

“You were shot,” my dad says. “EMTs and the ambulance that brought you in are missing. What the fuck happened to you, girl?” My dad’s tone is layered with anger and fear, and more emotion that I’ve heard from him in a long time.

When I swallow and my lips crack, my mom springs into action.

“Water. You need water.” She has the bendy straw to my mouth before I can reply.

I take a sip, and it trickles down my throat with cool relief. “Shot?”

“Shhh, honey. It’s okay. You don’t need to worry right now. Just . . . rest. We’re just so happy to see your pretty eyes. Let me call for the nurse.”

“I need to know who the hell hurt my little girl, so I can get my shotgun and shovel and take care of business.” My dad’s gruff words pull me further out of the haze.

“I don’t know,” I murmur, and close my eyes. They’re still so freaking heavy.

“Anything. Name. Place. Hair color. I’ll hunt them down myself.”

“Shhh, David. Stop it.”

“Don’t tell me to stop it, Kath. Someone shot my little girl.”

I keep my eyes closed while my parents argue quietly. My lungs draw in and release one shallow breath at a time, and I focus on that because nothing else makes sense.

My memory is so fuzzy. Worse than the morning I woke up in Dublin.

Dublin.

“Dance with me, Lachlan. Dance with me in Dublin.”

“Where is he?” My croaking question rivals a bullfrog in the swamp.

“Who?” my dad demands. “The man who did this?”

I try to shake my head, but moving it makes me too dizzy. Is that a bandage wrapped around it?

I attempt to lift my arm to touch it, but it’s so heavy. No, it’s strapped down.

“What happened?” I ask again as I tilt my gaze downward to see a sling around my shoulder.

“That’s what we’re asking you.”

Bodies. Magnolia. Oh my God.

“Mags?”

“Did she have something to do with this?” My mom’s voice rises an octave. “Is she involved?”

I’m saved from having to answer any more questions when the door opens and several people enter.

“Ms. Kilgore, so happy to see you awake. How are you feeling?” a blond woman asks, and I tense.

Blond. My breathing picks up.

“Who are you?” My words come out on huffs of breath.

“She’s the doctor, honey. She’s been here all along. And here’s Millie. She’s been hanging around all night, waiting with us.”

I stare at the blond woman, my body’s fight-or-flight response poised for flight. Is that her? The fractured pieces of my memory are still cracked and broken, so I don’t know. My hands curl into claws, but I have no weapon. Nothing to keep me safe.

She’s the doctor. That’s what my mom said, but I can’t trust anyone. Not now. Where is Lachlan?

I look beyond the blonde, hoping to find his dark gaze on me, but all I see is a plump brunette who always has a ready smile on her face.

“Good to see you awake, Keira,” Millie says.

“Can you tell us how you’re feeling?” the doctor asks me again.

“Tired. Sore.” I keep my answers short. Not only do I not trust her, but my brain feels broken.

“I imagine. You sustained a gunshot wound in addition to head trauma. Can you remember what happened?”

I shake my head, but it’s a bad idea. Dizziness assails me, and I’m reminded of the last time I woke up in a hospital-like setting.

“I don’t remember anything,” I tell her. I don’t even have to try to make it sound convincing. My voice is wrecked.

“Does she have amnesia?” my mom blurts out.

“It’s possible that she could have some memory loss due to the head injury.”

I want to tell my mom I don’t have amnesia. I just can’t grasp all the pieces floating through my mind, because without the one man who should be in this room, nothing makes sense. My left hand curls into a weak fist against my chest, and I still, my gaze darting down.

My ring is gone. I lift my right hand to my throat. My necklace is gone too.

The doctor speaks to my parents, but I tune it all out as a terrifying question slams into my brain.

Did I imagine all of it? Is that why he’s not here? Is Lachlan Mount a figment of my imagination?

No. That’s not possible. He’s real. What we have is real. Isn’t it? He’s not a ghost. He’s real. Right?

I look around the room, blood rushing in my ears, drowning out everything but my own thoughts.

“What happened?” I force the question out, and everyone around me goes quiet.

“That’s what we’d really like to figure out, Keira,” the doctor says. “Don’t push yourself. Just rest. Some of your memories may come back if you let your brain rest.”

“Are you sure?” Again, another panicked question from my mom, but I want to demand answers too.

The doctor pauses. “It’s possible she may not remember everything. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Wait and see? Someone shot my little girl!”

“David!” Mom snaps, and Dad quiets.

Then everyone fusses over me, checking my heart and my breathing, taking my blood . . . and I let my eyes drift closed again.

* * *

The next time I wake up, my mom is still there but my dad is gone. I’m less fuzzy this time but still totally confused, because the man I want to see in my room is missing.

I can’t ask about him. My mom doesn’t know Lachlan Mount exists.

But I do. He is real. I know that. Where is he, then?

“Honey, drink some more water.” Again, Mom lifts the bendy straw to my lips and I sip. “Your dad is going out of his mind.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shhh. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be shot. I’m sure of that. But the police have been waiting, and they have a lot of questions that we don’t have any answers to, except . . .”

“What?” I ask, my gaze locking on hers.

“The fire at the rackhouse. They found your assistant.”

“Temperance! Is she okay?”

How the hell could I have forgotten about her?

“Hush. Don’t get worked up. She’s fine. She got clubbed over the head. The fire department found her unconscious just inside the building when they busted down the door.”

“Oh my God.” My heart slams into my chest when I think of what could have happened to her. “She’s okay, though?” Tears burn behind my eyes. This is all because of me. Temperance could have died, and it would all be my fault.

“She’s fine. Smoke inhalation. They were lucky they got to her in time. They kept her overnight for observation for her head, but released her the next morning. She just went to go to the bathroom. She’s been keeping vigil with us here ever since.”

The next morning? How much time have I missed?

“What day is it?”

“You’ve been sleeping on and off for two days, honey.”

“Two days?”

My mom nods. “She’s been at your bedside with your dad and me. She’s a good friend to you.”

Friend. The word triggers another piece of my broken memory to snap into place.

“Magnolia.” Her name bursts from my lips. “Is she . . . Is she . . .” I can’t voice the last word, but I remember her smooth skin and thready pulse under my fingertips.

My mom’s features tense and her lips wobble. “She’s in a coma, Keira. They don’t know if she’s gonna make it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “No. No. She can’t— We . . . I need to talk to her. She can’t—”

“Shhh. It’s okay. We’re praying for her too. The doctors are taking care of her. I’ve checked in on her myself. I knew you’d want me to.”

I can’t fathom my last words to my best friend being those of anger, regardless of what she did. Conflicting emotions wring tears from my eyes, and I want to beg for someone to tell me where Lachlan is, but I can’t.

My dad reenters the room with Temperance behind him. Two police officers trail after them.

“Keira!” Temperance rushes around Dad to reach me first. “Oh, thank God. You’re awake.”

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her.

“For what? This isn’t your fault.”

That’s where she’s wrong. Even with my battered body and nearly broken brain, I know that this is one hundred percent my fault. Nothing would have happened to Temperance if not for me.

“Ms. Kilgore, do you think you might be able to answer a few questions for us?”

“Not right now, gentlemen.” A nurse sweeps in and comes toward me, ready to poke and prod and do whatever it is they’ve been doing for the last couple of days. “You need to let her rest.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, we need some answers so we can carry on our investigation.”

Temperance turns toward them. “You don’t think working with the fire department to figure out who started the fire at the rackhouse is enough to keep you busy? Because we sure as hell don’t have any answers to that one yet. Or who clubbed me over the head? You could maybe try to figure that one out.”

“Ma’am, it’s not our fault your security cameras malfunctioned completely.”

“What? How?” I ask.

“Sorry, ma’am. We don’t know,” the officer says. “It’s been ruled as arson, but they’re still working on the motive.”

“Then you better work on that, because I already told you, we didn’t do it.” Temperance’s tone is bullwhip sharp. “We need every freaking barrel to fill the orders we have. So, if you’re looking for insurance money as a motive, you need to go back to detective school.”

“We weren’t implying—”

“Of course you weren’t,” my dad says, interrupting him. “Because no Kilgore or Seven Sinners employee would ever let something happen to that whiskey. It’s our blood. Our heritage. Our legacy.” My dad gives Temperance an approving nod like they’re a team.

Shafts of guilt stab into me because I know I caused this. Neither of them have a clue. “I’m sorry, Dad—”

He snaps around to look at me. “This isn’t your fault. Whoever did this is going to pay. We’ll make them pay.”

I blink as tears burn my eyes once more. The one man who could answer every single one of these questions is gone.

Was the blonde behind all of it? I remember bits and pieces of her. His destiny. Who was she, though?

“We’re not trying to suggest that you had something to do with this. We’re just looking for answers the same way you are.”

“I don’t remember.” Everyone looks at me as the lie leaves my lips. “I don’t remember anything. I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”

My insides are shredding—old loyalties versus new. Regardless of what happened and why, telling the cops isn’t going to help. Justice is delivered differently now. At least, it will be if he ever comes back.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the same question bounces through my brain like a pinball. Where is he?

“I’ll leave my card in case you remember anything,” the cop says, and I can’t read his tone.

Am I a bad liar? Can he tell?

“We’ll be sure to call, but in the meantime, do your damned jobs.”

My dad’s farewell sends the officers out of the room as I attempt to piece together the rest of what happened. I open my eyes, fixing my gaze on Temperance. I need to talk to her alone, but I don’t think my mom is going to let that happen.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

My COO nods. “I’m fine. I come from strong stock. It would take more than a whack to the head to end me.”

“Your brother . . .”

Her eyes narrow meaningfully. “He’s looking into things.”

Is that what Lachlan is doing too? Is that why he’s not here?

Temperance glances down at my naked left hand and then meets my gaze. “Anyone else you want me to call?”

“Do you have my phone?” Another memory slips into place. I was going to call Lachlan when everything went dark.

“No. Do you remember where you lost it?”

The implications of not having a phone have never been quite so dire. Without my phone, I can’t contact my husband. I don’t know his number.

“The rackhouse. I had it there,” I tell her, panic rising.

“No one said they found it, but I can call anyone you want.”

I bite my lip. “I . . . I appreciate the offer. But I really need my phone.”

Temperance nods, understanding dawning on her features. “I’ll ask the firefighters. Maybe they found it and kept it as evidence, and forgot to mention it.”

“Thank you.”

“What else can I do?”

“You can leave her alone to rest,” my dad says, his voice gruff now that he’s chased away two cops. Apparently, his respect for Temperance has worn off quickly.

“Dad, stop. Temperance is my COO. She’s amazing. Be nice.”

“COO?” His head jerks toward her. “Thought you were a secretary.”

“Stop,” I say, my voice weakening. “I can’t handle this right now.”

“David, I need more coffee,” my mom says.

“But I just got you—”

“More. Now.”

My dad grumbles and turns to leave.

Mom gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry, honey. He’s been worked up.”

Temperance reaches down and threads her fingers through mine. “Do you want me here, or do you want me to hold down the fort?”

“You should be home, resting.”

“Boss, you know me better than that. Besides, I just got knocked on the head. No one put a hole in me. I’m fine.”

“I’m not asking you to work. No way.”

She smiles. “You don’t have to. I’d do it anyway. If you need anything at all, call me.”

As she releases my fingers, I want to beg her to find Lachlan and bring him to me, but I never even told her about him in precise terms. The only person in my world who knows about him is Magnolia, and she’s somewhere in this hospital, in a coma. Because of that crazy blond bitch.

Who was she? Is that why he’s gone? Did she hurt him? The thought crushes me, sending me mentally stumbling backward. Is he dead?

No. No. No.

I refuse to believe that.

Lachlan Mount is superhuman. Not even a bullet could stop him. It didn’t before.

Then why isn’t he here? I’m torn between anger and desperation, willing to bargain away my soul just to see his face and make sure he’s okay.

He wouldn’t leave me. He wouldn’t.

I’m tiring again, but I have to ask my mom one very important question.

“Have I had any other visitors, Mom?” When she nods, my heart lifts. “Who?”

“Pretty much everyone we know in this town has stopped by. Your dad has kept them all in the hall, but it’s been quite the parade.”

“Anyone . . . anyone you didn’t know?”

Her brow creases. “What do you mean, honey?”

I want to ask her so badly, but I can’t. Instead, I take the coward’s way out and close my eyes to feign sleep as my heart cracks again.

Where is he?