Book 3 in The Ash Trilogy

also available in audio


Nia Hollister doesn’t scare easily. Come hell or high water, she intends to find her cousin’s killer. She returns to Ash, Kentucky, for answers. What she doesn’t expect is to ache with desire every time she sees Law Reilly. If any man can help her escape the nightmares for a while, it’s him. But can she allow herself to take comfort in those strong arms when a murderer still roams free?

Unknown to Nia, as she quietly slips into Law Reilly’s home, is that she’s being watched—by someone who is waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Timing is everything, though he can’t wait forever. If she’s not frightened, she soon will be. Nia has made a vow to find her cousin’s killer. She should be careful what she wishes for.


The house was silent…completely and utterly silent, save for the slow, measured sound of Law Reilly’s breathing as he lifted the bar up, lowered it, lifted.

Sweat rolled down his brow, along his arms. He ignored it, focusing on the weighted bar. Just like he ignored the trembling in his arms—especially in his right. That arm, still trying to heal from that bad break, didn’t seem as strong as it should be, and by the time he was done with the third set of reps, his muscles were quivering, all but begging for a rest.

He ignored them, moved to the next set of exercises, and the next. It wasn’t until he’d worked his body into a numb state of exhaustion that he let himself leave the gym he’d set up in his basement. On his way down the hall, he passed by a closed door.

Months ago, it had been his office.

Now, it was nothing but unused space.

A while back, he’d finally admitted the obvious and moved his books and everything else out of the room, turning his living room into his office. Wasn’t like he had a lot of company out here anyway.

There was just no way he could work in that room again—that room where a man had died, slowly, painfully. Although the professional team had gotten the blood out of the floor, although he’d redecorated, even put down a new floor, he couldn’t look at the room without seeing it the way it had been that night. Without seeing the blood.

Shit, there were days when he didn’t even wanted to live in this house—it wasn’t just the office, but the house. But Law wasn’t about to give in to that—wouldn’t let the bastard win that battle.

He’d keep his damn house, but the office…no. He wasn’t fighting that one. He couldn’t stand to go in there—even though it no longer looked anything like it had looked all those months ago. Law still couldn’t look at that room without seeing blood.

Screw tearing it down—burn it, and salt the earth, make sure no demons from the past could rise to haunt them. Then he’d move to Fiji, buy a shack on the beach and write from there.

But he was too fucking stubborn to do that. Too stubborn, too determined.

And he knew the demons would still be there anyway.

The demons lived in his memories, not in the house, not in the earth. He couldn’t eradicate them from his memory, so he’d just have to deal with them, live with them.

Those memories weren’t going to win, damn it. They weren’t.

It was over. Completely over.

He’d just started up the steps when the phone rang.

His muscles turned to lead as he turned to stare. It was late. There had been a time when late calls wouldn’t faze him but after the past year, it was hard to ignore the dread creeping through him. Hard to ignore the worry, the fear.

Not too many people would be calling him. Not too many people had his number—and none of them would call him this late unless it was an emergency.
Scowling, he moved to the phone, stared at the caller ID.

Virginia. Did he know anybody in Virginia?

The machine picked up and he stood there, dumbly, as a voice rolled out. Low and smooth, soft and sexy as black velvet draped over a woman’s nude body.

“Hello. I’m…looking for Law Reilly. My name is Nia Hollister. I…ah, we met a few months ago…”

Yeah. He hadn’t forgotten. They’d met the day she accused him of killing her cousin. The day she’d punched him, drawn a gun on him—not exactly the sort of woman a guy was going to forget.

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Audio… Tantor