Doogan simply stared at him as Zoey felt tears burning her eyes. As he said, this would kill Billy. He idolized Jack. Their parents were dead and they had no other family. Billy would feel lost without Jack, and Zoey wouldn’t blame him.

“Sorry ’bout this, Doogan . . .” Jack lifted his arm, fully intent on firing.

Zoey’s finger tightened on the trigger. A second before she would have fired her own shot, Jack’s eyes widened and the sound of a weapon discharging exploded through the shadowed apartment.

Doogan threw himself toward Zoey as she ducked, the gun still gripped in her hand when Doogan grabbed it from her and rolled to his back, aiming at the hall entrance across from them.

Peeping beneath the table, she saw Jack’s fallen form stretched out on the floor, blood pooling beneath his body, his lifeless gaze directed toward the back of the apartment.

“Are you okay, Zoey?” Billy’s voice came from the hall, low, and filled with aching pain.

Billy had killed his brother. Her friend had looked up to his brother just as Zoey looked up to Dawg; killing him would be ripping Billy’s heart out.

“Toss your weapon where I can see it, Billy,” Doogan ordered him.

The gun clattered across the floor. “I found Harley outside,” Billy said, his voice hollow. “He’s hurt pretty bad, but he was able to tell me who ’bout killed him tonight. Mackays are on their way. Jack wasn’t going to wait any longer, though, was he, Doogan?” Billy was still hidden by the wall that extended beyond the kitchen.

“He wasn’t going to wait,” Doogan agreed.

Reaching for Zoey, he drew her to her feet as he rose, keeping her carefully behind him.

“That’s what I thought.” Billy sounded almost dazed.

“Billy, I need you to show yourself,” Doogan ordered, his gaze and his weapon never wavering as Zoey pressed her head to his back, shaking it slowly.

“Is Zoey okay?” Billy asked, rather than doing as Doogan commanded. “He didn’t hurt her, did he?”

“Zoey’s fine. Do as I said, Billy.” Doogan’s tone hardened, his body tensing.

“Can’t do that.” The weak, hollow sound of his voice caused Zoey to clench her hands at Doogan’s back.

“Why not, Billy?” Doogan wasn’t relenting. His fingers gripped her arm when Zoey would have moved around him, holding her back.

“Hell, I don’t think I can stand back up, man.” A heavy breath filled his voice. “I followed him. I heard him on the phone. Heard him say Zoey had to be taken out.” The disillusionment was horrible to hear. “I followed him after he left. Slipped in the garage door behind him. Hell, Zoey, did you give him your code?”

A sob broke from her voice. “He had the code to the back garage,” she answered as she followed Doogan’s slow advance to the edge of the kitchen.

Sirens could be heard racing closer now. The cavalry was coming, but they were coming far too late to save Billy from the most horrible decision Zoey could imagine he’d ever had to make in his life.

“I’m so sorry, Zoey.” Billy’s voice was low, weak.

“Hurry. Please,” she begged Doogan. “Don’t let anything happen to him, Doogan. Please. He’s my friend.”

He was one of the few friends she’d claimed in the past year. One of the few who had never run to her brother to tattle on her.

“Stay here.” Low, hard, the order was a lash of inner rage that sent a chill racing down her spine as he stopped her only inches from the entrance to the hall.

Doogan stepped to the edge of the wall, looked down it slowly, and then with a low “Come on,” he moved to Billy’s fallen form.

Sirens and flashing lights filled the apartment as Zoey rushed to Billy, kneeling beside him. The wound where the bullet had been dug from his side had torn open. Blood stained his T-shirt and dripped to the floor. Pale, weak, he stared up at her miserably as Doogan rushed back to the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry, Zoey,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Holding his hand, Zoey patted it gently, aware of Doogan hurrying back, a stack of her dishcloths in his hand.

“I’m still beating your ass in that race at the end of the month. That scratch on your side won’t save you.” It was impossible to keep the tears from her voice or from falling down her face.

His head lolled to the side, resting on her shoulder as Doogan worked to stop the bleeding, his eyes so hard, so cold, it broke her heart.

He was distancing himself, pulling away from anything he might feel.

“I killed my brother, Zoey,” Billy said, misery spilling from him. “I killed him.”

“No, Billy, you didn’t kill your brother.” Doogan’s head jerked up, that inner rage so reflected in his gaze that Zoey flinched. “Trust me, the man you killed, killed your brother. He wasn’t your brother when he made the choice to betray everyone who trusted him. He ceased being your brother in that single second. You hear me?”

“Like your brother?” Billy asked, the words sending shock racing through Zoey. “When he betrayed you?”

“Like my brother,” Doogan agreed, the rage, the flash of pain, all of it receding beneath the ice as he stared back at Zoey.

He’d lost so much and she hadn’t even known. He hadn’t shared any of it with her, no part of himself but the pleasure they’d shared.

“Makes you dead inside?” Billy sighed as the security system to the doors activated, notifying the intruders tearing through the house that law enforcement had been called and they were now being recorded.

Mackays, their in-laws, and their friends were filling the rooms; EMTs rushed behind them and Zoey’s world became chaos. And through it all, she knew the one thing she would remember most was Doogan rising to his feet, turning his back, and walking away.

Walking away from her.

NINETEEN

Three weeks later

Doogan stepped into the shadowed, cold stone walls of the Doogan ancestral home, and for the first time in far too long, he didn’t feel as though he were smothering from the loss of his daughter’s laughter ringing through the halls.

The pain was still there, bittersweet, regretful, and tinged with guilt. He’d always blame himself for his sweet Katie’s death and the confused horror he knew she must have felt that day. She’d known she wasn’t supposed to leave the house with anyone, but her uncle Regan had come for her. Her nanny wasn’t around; of course she hadn’t known Uncle Regan had locked the nanny in a closet, and her “unca” promised her it was all right to leave.

Her uncle promised her that her mommy was waiting to give her the bicycle she wanted so bad, and of course he’d already told her daddy. It was fine. And his sweet, trusting Katie had left with him.

And then her mother and her uncle Regan had tried to make her get in the car with a strange man. A man whose face frightened her. One she knew her daddy wouldn’t want her with. She hadn’t known Rigsby, but she’d seen the evil in him.

Katie had broken away from them. Her flight was caught by a security camera on a nearby business. The fear in her face, the tears, and her mother’s and uncle’s rage as they tried to catch her. She’d run in front of the car before anyone could do anything. There had been no way the driver, whose speed had been clocked at no more than six miles under the speed limit for the residential street, could have seen her. Still, it had been too fast to stop, to keep from slamming into the little girl racing from between the parked cars.

Doogan hadn’t even been able to tell her good-bye.

The driver said Regan had been inconsolable, that Katie’s final words had destroyed him.

“Why, unca? Why did you let me get hurt? My da will miss me, unca. I want my da.” Then Katie’s sweet eyes had closed and never opened again.