twin brother, Ryan, shrugged. “Maybe they want a picture of us crying over Dad, so they can show everyone that we’re sad.”
“I’m not going to do that for them,” Rogan said stubbornly. “I wish they’d just go away and leave us be.” He wandered away from the window, his gaze coming to rest on the closed bedroom door. His mother hadn’t come out all morning.
She’d had good days and bad in the month since their father’s death. On the good days, she managed to appear at the dinner table, usually wrapped in her dressing gown. Food didn’t interest her, nor did conversation. She’d just sit, ignoring her four children, before shuffling back to the bedroom.
She’d become a ghost of herself, frail and silent, her vacant eyes fixed on some imaginary figure in the room.
Rogan had experienced the loss of his father and it had been devastating, but he’d survived the pain. Why had his mother become a victim? Rogan had realized then what love and loss had done to his mother, how it had turned into a poison that sapped her strength and stole her happiness.
Rogan had thought about this so many times over the past few weeks. What was it about the love that existed between his father and mother that was so special? Perhaps it was something only adults understood. Maybe it had to do with sex.
At eight years old, he wasn’t sure of all the details of what went on between a man and a woman, but he’d heard stories. The whispered speculation of his friends sprinkled with a bit of firsthand knowledge. He’d even glimpsed a few photos on the internet, though they’d only created more questions than answers.
But Rogan sensed that when he got older, he’d understand his mother’s grief. He just never wanted it to happen to him.
Rogan rapped on the bedroom door. “Mum? Can I bring you some tea?”
He waited, hoping that this time she’d reply, but there was only silence. He spun around and strode to the window again, cursing beneath his breath at the media vultures that seemed to hover over them. If they’d just go away, maybe she’d come back, maybe she’d be the mother they’d always known—the mother who laughed with them and loved them.
“I’m going out there,” Rogan muttered.
“No, don’t,” Ryan said, grabbing his arm. “Grandmum said we just have to pretend that they’re not there. She’ll be home soon. She’ll run them off.”
“I’m not going to wait for her,” Rogan said. “We can do this. Are you coming?”
There was very little that the twins didn’t do together, Rogan usually leading and Ryan backing him up. This time, Ryan thought about the request for a long moment, then nodded solemnly. “All right.”
Rogan reached for the door and pulled it open. The instant the reporters saw them, they rushed the fence, shouting out questions. Cameras flashed and Rogan held up his hand to ward off the assault. But as he watched them warily, his anger began to build.
With a silent curse, Rogan ran down the front steps and grabbed a clod of dirt from his grandmother’s flower bed. With all his strength, he heaved it at the group. “Leave us alone,” he cried. “Just go away. We don’t want to talk to you.”
The shower of dirt was enough to send them all running. Ryan joined him, heaving clumps of soil over the fence until everyone had retreated to their cars. Rogan found a small rock and hit the windscreen of the closest car. As it drove off, he picked up another and heaved it.
One by one, the reporters and photographers scurried away, and when the street in front of their grandparents’ home was finally empty, Rogan looked at his brother and smiled. “Cowards,” he muttered.
Ryan chuckled. “We really showed them, didn’t we.”
“You ain’t wrong,” Rogan replied.
When they returned to the house, Rogan was surprised to find their mother standing at the window, her fingers clutching at the curtains. She gazed at him and Ryan and gave them a weak smile. “Good work,” she murmured before moving away.
“Mum? Can I make you a cup of tea?” Rogan asked again.
She stopped and drew a deep breath, and Rogan watched her narrow shoulders rise and fall. “That would be lovely,” she said, nodding her head. “I could use a cup of tea.”
Rogan and Ryan hurried over to her, each of them taking a hand and leading her to the sofa. They sat down on either side of her and she wrapped her arms around their shoulders and pulled them close, kissing the tops of their heads.
“You’re my brave, strong boys,” she whispered. “Promise you’ll never leave me.”
“I promise, Mum,” Rogan said.
“Me, too.”
Rogan silently made another promise to himself. If this was what love did to his mother, then he wanted no part of it. It only brought despair and loneliness. No girl would ever be worth all that.
THE SOUND OF his mobile woke Rogan out of a deep sleep. He moaned as he rolled over and searched for the phone on the bedside table.
Delicate feminine fingers smoothed over his belly and he smiled as her warm naked body curled closer.
“Are you going to answer that?” Kaylee murmured.
He squinted his eyes to read the display. If it wasn’t his mum or one of his siblings, he could let the call go to voice mail. But when he saw the name of his next expedition client, Dr. Claudia Mathison, Rogan changed his mind. “This will just take a second,” he said.
Kaylee sighed. “Make it quick. I have to leave soon.”
He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then held the phone up to his ear. “Dr. Mathison,” he said in a sleep-tinged voice.
“Good morning, Mr. Quinn. I hope I’ve caught you at a convenient time?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I just have a few more things that I’d like to discuss. Details that are important to make this trip go as smoothly as possible.”
Psychologist Claudia Mathison had been calling him at least twice a day over the past few weeks with her little “details,” and frankly she was beginning to drive him mad with all her requests. Yes, he understood that this trip would be a big challenge for her five phobic clients. But these were people who lived in the real world, not some invalids who could barely care for themselves.
When Rogan had booked the expedition, he’d bragged to his brothers, Malcolm and Ryan, how this could provide a whole new market for Max Adrenaline, the family’s adventure-guiding business. Over the past couple of years, they’d been hit hard by a rival Kiwi—their father’s former business partner, in fact—who ran his own outfit off South Island. But Rogan argued that by opening themselves up to new and different clientele, they may just be able to expand on their core business of climbing and trekking expeditions and gain an edge on their competition.
But Rogan also had an ulterior motive for bringing in new business. Though at first, he’d been happy to work with
