The Three Fates of Ryan Love

P
RAISE FOR
T
HE
F
IVE
D
EATHS OF
R
OXANNE
L
OVE

“One of the best books I've read all year.”

—
Literal Addiction

“A strong series debut. . . . Intense and satisfying sex scenes. . . . Nicely resolved plot tangles and interesting characters bode well for future books.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“I was completely captivated. . . . The pull is magnetic, and you CANNOT put the book down.”

—
Paranormal Haven

“This story drags its characters through the bowels of hell while driving them closer and closer together, making you savor every moment of happiness in all the turmoil.”

—
Coffee Time Romance

“Outstanding. . . . Quinn uses innovative ideas to make her story constantly spellbinding. . . . Filled with blazing passion.”

—
Single Titles

“Creative, unbelievably action-packed, with a really heartwarming romance.”

—
Smitten with Reading

“Quinn never disappoints, as she proves with this brand-new series.”

—
The Good, the Bad and the Unread

“There is only one word to describe this first book in a new series: Amazing!”

—
BTS Book Reviews Magazine

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To my mother, who's read every word of every book. Twice. I love you, Mom.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am so grateful to my amazing editor, Abby Zidle, who pushes (okay, sometimes shoves) me in the right direction and makes me a better writer. Thank you.

Many thanks also go to my longtime agent, Paige Wheeler, who keeps me sane, which is no easy feat.

And from the bottom of my heart, thanks to you, reader, for selecting my books when you have so many wonderful books to choose from. I hope Ryan's story will make you glad you did.

R
yan heard the first of the sirens as he turned into the home stretch of his run. He ran most every night after he closed Love's, the bar he owned with his two sisters. The exercise usually cleared his mind, but not tonight. A storm had started brewing as he'd clocked the first mile and the kind of cold that was indigenous to the desert seeped beneath his skin and made old wounds ache. The glowering sky pressed down on him, sinister against the excessive Christmas lights twinkling merrily around every palm tree and the festive banners that snapped in the bitter wind. Instead of clearheaded, Ryan felt chased.

His German shepherd, Brandy, ran at his side, ears up and swiveling. Even she didn't seem to be enjoying the ritual as much as usual.

Glad when Love's came into sight, Ryan slowed his steps and tried to catch his breath. The sirens were closer now and a police car flew past to join more flashing lights about a block down the street. It was after two in the morning, but Mill Avenue near Arizona State University never really slept. Probably drunks out causing trouble. Maybe even the three he'd thrown out of Love's that night. They'd left him with a bruised face and sore ribs.

Watching through the spitting rain, Ryan cut across an alley and into the parking lot behind Love's. That's when he heard the woman scream.

He spun to face the nook between the south wall of Love's and the cinder-block barrier that hid the side door to the kitchen. He peered into the dark recess, sure that's where the sound had come from, but nothing moved. Brandy's ear swiveled as she barked, trying to sniff and see everything at once. She didn't seem able to pinpoint the scream either.

The next scream echoed around him at the same time pressure filled the space behind his ears and made him feel unbalanced. He stumbled back as lightning flashed and a tremendous bolt snapped down right in front of him. When he looked again, a woman sat inside the small, sheltered alcove with her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around them. Seconds ago, only darkness had waited there. Long, dark hair gleamed under the muted light, spilling over her shoulders and hiding her face. Her skin had an alabaster sheen. There was a lot of it, too. He frowned. She was naked.

With a hand signal for Brandy to sit, Ryan wiped the rain from his face and approached her cautiously. The walls and awning shielded her from the rain, but not the cold. She shivered violently as he crouched down in front of her.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice. “How'd you get here? Are you okay?”

She looked up with wide, clear eyes as blue as a desert sky. Even in the dark the color was vivid and they shimmered with something he couldn't begin to define. Long lashes the same rich shade as her hair framed them and accented their luminescent glow. They tilted at the corners, catlike. The dark wings of her brows drew focus to the shape of her face, the smooth line of her nose, the dusting of freckles that covered it.

He dropped his gaze and saw a raw scrape on her shin, another up high on her thigh. A third marred her shoulder. He thought of the sirens and police he'd heard. Was she involved in whatever had been happening?

“Ryan?” she whispered, chasing that thought right out of his head.

The sound of his name on her lips raised the hairs at the back of his neck, somehow trumping everything else. Like who she was, what she was doing here stark naked in the middle of the night.

“You know me?”

He peered into her face, sure he'd never seen her before.

“You're Ryan,” she said with more certainty.

Her gaze shifted to something behind him. Ryan looked over his shoulder to find Brandy right at his heels with perked ears and a wet, wagging tail, watching the woman. The woman stared back at his dog with what Ryan would swear was wonder.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Sabelle,” she replied, still watching his dog.

Brandy got down on her belly, inching closer in the most unthreatening manner a ninety-five-pound German shepherd could manage.

“Where are your clothes, Sybil?”

She shook her head, pulling her gaze from Brandy to look him in the eye. “S'
belle
,” she corrected. “Not Sybil.”

“S'belle,” he pronounced carefully. “Why are you naked?”

A hot flush turned her skin pink a second before she lied. “I don't remember.”

She shifted with agitation and Brandy made a sound low in her throat. Not aggressive. Consoling. The dog had managed to army-crawl close enough to put her big fluffy head on the woman's lap. Sabelle's lips parted as she settled her fingers on Brandy's silky black ear.

She shivered and goose bumps rose on her skin. Ryan quickly reached over his head and pulled off his shirt. It was warm from his body, but damp from the rain. It would cover her, though.

“Here, put this on,” he said, handing it over.

She accepted it, fingering the soft fabric before she pressed it to her face, smelling it. The action was so surprising that at first all he could think to do was mumble, “Sorry, it's all I have,” while hot embarrassment flooded his face.

“It smells like you,” she said.

Like it was a good thing.

His mouth opened but no words came out. He lowered his eyes while she pulled the shirt over her head. When he looked back, she was covered, thank God. His shirt was huge on her. The shoulders drooped to her elbows and the long sleeves hid her hands.

She huddled in it, her gaze roaming his face, lingering on the cut over his nose, the puffy skin on his cheek, and his swollen jaw. He almost felt the quicksilver stare on his bare chest and bruised ribs. He must look like a big, ugly thug to her.

She had bruises and scrapes of her own. He could only hope that her wounds had come from something less violent than his had.

“What happened to you? Did someone hurt you?” he asked.

“No,” she said with a definitive shake of her head.

“You screamed.”

“I didn't expect it to be painful.”

“You didn't expect
what
to be painful?”

She flinched at his sharp tone. “Coming here.”

He didn't know what to say to that.
Here
—in the parking lot in the middle of the night—wasn't anyplace she should be, but she'd obviously been hurt, was probably in shock. She might not even know where she was. He dug his phone out of his pocket and leaned in so the rain running down his back wouldn't get it wet as he dialed 911.

The storm picked up its pace, hitting the asphalt with such force that raindrops bounced and pooled, pounding the awning overhead with fury. Storms moved fast in Arizona, but this was insane.

“Who are you calling?” she asked.

“The police. They'll—”

She snatched the phone out of his hand and hit the screen repeatedly until the ring cut off.

Ryan's mouth was open again. “Okay, now it's getting weird.”

“No police,” she said. “What time is it?”

When he didn't answer immediately, she repeated the question sharply.

“I don't know. Two, three in the morning?”

Her eyes rounded and she scrambled to get her feet under her. “We need to go. Now, Ryan.”

She stood, long legs protruding from his big shirt. Her hair brushed her shoulders and impatiently she swiped it back. Standing as well, Ryan reached out to steady her as she swayed.

“Easy, girl,” he murmured gently. “Slow down. Take a breath. You're safe now. Let's get the police here. They'll get everything worked out.”

“No police,” she insisted. “They can't help.”

“Yeah, well . . .”
Neither could he.
“Can I have my phone back?”

She turned and started out of the shelter.

“Wait,” he said. “Sabelle Whoever-You-Are. Wait.”

She seemed more alert, more focused, but she'd obviously hit her head. She tucked her arms tight, hands jammed under her pits and head bent as she gingerly picked her way through the glass, gravel, mud, and puddles covering the parking lot, ignoring him until she stepped on something sharp and gasped.

“Hold up. Would you stop?” he said, exasperated. “Let me help you.”

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the back door before she could protest. She wasn't a big woman, but she was lush with all the right curves in all the right places. She felt solid against his chest and soft in ways that played games with his traitorous thoughts and made him glad for the bracing rain. Brandy escorted them like a devoted admirer, her wet nose brushing Sabelle's feet whenever the dog could reach them. Ryan paused before opening the door, half convinced he was making a big mistake. This was the kind of thing you saw on the news where some dumb putz just trying to help ended up accused of wrongdoing.

He jockeyed her weight as he fumbled his keys from his pocket into the lock. Sabelle tightened her arms around him, pressing all those feminine curves closer as Ryan tried valiantly not to notice.

Darkness clustered just inside and obscured the stairs all the way up. The rain boomed against the roof and the cold made plumes of their breath. His skin felt icy.

Except where he held Sabelle. She was like a furnace heating his bare chest.

The door slammed shut behind them as Ryan hit the lights and set Sabelle on her feet again. She continued to hold on to him, staring into his face as if to memorize his features. For all her crazy talk, her eyes looked clear and focused in the dim glow.

Then she twisted away and started up the stairs to his apartment without asking or waiting for an invitation. With a muttered curse, Ryan started to follow, but fingers of disquiet played down his spine, making him pause.

The area under the stairs to his apartment served as storage for cases of beer and other supplies. A door straight ahead made a convenient back entrance to the bar, just as the door behind him was a quick shortcut to the parking lot. Usually the stairwell smelled of cardboard, hops, and old french fries. Familiar, comfortable odors that lingered in most bars. Tonight a whiff of rotten eggs hung over it.

Sabelle was already at his front door, waiting. He'd figured out what smelled after he dealt with her. She tried the knob, found it unlocked, and let herself in before he made it up the stairs. Stunned by her audacity, he picked up his pace. Brandy raced ahead and was beside her as Sabelle padded past the kitchen breakfast bar, trailing fingers over the back of the couch as she took in her surroundings.

His apartment was a loft that stretched over Love's. One room with a wall of windows, it had a spacious, open feel that suited him. Her gaze lingered on the screen sectioning off his bedroom before moving to the clock on the microwave. The digital display read 2:30. He saw her note it with a deep breath and a nod.

“There's still time.” She faced him with determination. “I've come with a warning. Your life is in danger.”

He might have smiled if she hadn't looked so distressed. “Okay,” he said carefully.

She nodded, apparently satisfied with that response. “Good. I'd hoped you'd understand. We need to leave here.” She glanced at the clock again. “Quickly.”

“And go where?” he said, not understanding at all.

“Away from here.
Here
is where it happens.”

Ryan studied her, suddenly weary to the bone. Ever since his brother's bizarre death—
Murder? Suicide?
Ryan doubted he'd ever know the truth—Love's had been a tourist attraction for lunatics. Fanatics who thought that Ryan's twin brother and sister were blessed by the heavens or cursed by demons had always been on the fringe of their lives. Reece and Roxanne had died—and miraculously been revived—more than once. It went with the territory.

Some of the crazies were dangerous, others merely curious. He didn't know which camp Sabelle fell into, but the sooner he got her out of here, the better.

“You don't believe me,” Sabelle said with a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I don't know why I'm surprised. It's in your nature to be suspicious. You have trust issues.”

Maybe so. But that was his business. “What's this danger I'm supposedly in?” he asked politely.

“Death,” she replied almost eagerly. “Yours, I mean.”

He let out a deep breath and shook his head. “Listen, Sabelle. I'd like to help you, get you someplace safe. How about back home?”
Or the psych ward you escaped from?

“I can never go home,” she said vehemently.

He lifted his hands, palms out. “Fair enough. But you can't stay here. I just pulled a twelve-hour shift. I'm tired. All I want is a hot shower and bed.”

Her eyes widened and she shot another quick glance at the screen that hid his bed. Something darkly erotic flashed across her features. For a moment, he couldn't look away.

“I know you don't believe me,” she said, her voice breathy and low, “but this isn't a game or a joke. You can't just take a shower and pretend it will go away. Do you think I would risk so much to warn you if there was nothing to fear?”