Cavanaugh Reunion
Marie Ferrarella
MILLS & BOON
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Table of Contents
USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author MARIE FERRARELLA has written two hundred books, some under the name of Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website at www.marieferrarella.com.
Dear Reader,
So here we are with another Cavanaugh story. By all rights, this is also the last one. And if you believe that, you don’t know me. I have a great deal of trouble letting go, except for a truly awful experience. In essence, I am an emotional pack rat.
Case in point: when I was a teenager in New York City, every year we had a real Christmas tree. I would plead for our tree to stay well into January and once actually into February (Valentine bush, anyone?). As with everything else, it had been a source of joy once and I didn’t want to let it go. So how could I possibly say goodbye to a family I have come to love?
Sidebar: this is my two hundredth book. Not bad for a person who thought she had only one, possibly two books in her when she started out. I have loved every nail-biting minute and hope to write another two hundred! As ever, thank you for reading my books, and from the bottom of my heart I wish you someone to love who loves you back.
Marie Ferrarella
To the wonderful Intrigue family, and especially Patience Smith, who more than lives up to her name. I thank you all for making my dreams come true. Also, to Pat Teal, who started it all by asking, “Would you like to write a romance?” Thank God I said, “Yes.” And last, but by no means least, to you, beloved readers, thank you! I wouldn’t be here without you.
He smelled it before he saw it.
His mind elsewhere, Detective Ethan O’Brien’s attention was immediately captured by the distinct, soul-disturbing smell that swept in, riding the evening breeze. Without warning, it maliciously announced that someone’s dreams were being dashed even as they were being burnt to cinders.
Or, at the very least, they were damaged enough to generate a feeling of overwhelming sorrow and hopelessness.
Summers in California meant fires, they always had. Natives and transplants would joke that fires, earthquakes and mudslides were the dues they paid for having the best, most temperate overall weather in the country. But they only joked when nothing was burning, shaking or sliding away. Because during these catastrophic events, life proved to be all too tenuous, and there was no time for humor, only action. Humor was a salve at best, before and after the fact. Action was a way to hopefully curtail the amount of damage, if at all humanly possible.
But it wasn’t summer. It was spring, and ordinarily, devastating fires should have still been many headlines away from becoming a very real threat.
Except that they were a real threat.
There were fires blazing all over the southern section of Aurora. Not the spontaneous fires that arose from spurts of bone-melting heat, or because a capricious wind had seized a not-quite-dead ember and turned it into something lethal by carrying it off and depositing it into the brush. These fires, ten so far and counting in the last two months, were man-made, the work of some bedeviled soul for reasons that Ethan had yet to understand.
But he swore to himself that he would.
He’d been assigned to his very first task force by Brian Cavanaugh, the Aurora Police Department’s chief of detectives, and, as he’d come to learn in the last nine months, also his paternal uncle.
Knowledge