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again. They followed, giving him space. They knew him so well, he thought.
    He could remember how, growing up, they’d fought constantly, driving his parents insane. He had been expected to behave the best because he was the oldest. Most of the time, he had stopped things before they got too bad. They’d been brothers, though. Whenever anyone went up against one of them, they’d shown a united front. They were the Flynn brothers, as close-knit as a clan could be when the chips were down.
    But then he’d gone into the military, trading his service for money to help with his education. Even when he was gone overseas, he’d gotten family visits, of course—at least when he was stationed in Germany. But it hadn’t been the same as being here. He’d moved on first. The other two had been, if not at home, at least in the state and near the family home. And Jeremy and Zach shared their love of music—not that he wasn’t fond of it—which further bonded them. Then, when he came home for good, he’d gone into the FBI. The classes had been fascinating, even if rigorous, but somehow, the structure of it all—maybe because of his years in the military—had felt uncomfortable and constraining. He’d left, hopefully with no hard feelings. He was pretty sure he was in the clear; he’d gotten discreet help a few times when he’d come up against dead ends through civilian channels.
    Then, of course, there had been Serena.
    It all came down to Serena. She’d been the real beginning of his world.
    And the end.
    She’d been through it all with him, going back to high school. She’d helped him work through his doubts over all his major decisions. College or the military? Graphics or criminology? Stay with the military or go for a job with the FBI?
    Then life changed in an instant, and he was sorry they hadn’t put aside his work and her political career. A doped-up drag racer had jumped the median, and Serena had been killed. And after that, nothing mattered at all.
    But that had been five years ago. And despite doing work he was proud of, in spite of the good things he’d accomplished for other people, he still had no real purpose in life. Days came, and days went.
    “I don’t think the two of you can begin to imagine how much work you’re talking about here,” he said. “And the licenses and the permits and insurance and—”
    “Don’t sweat it. We’re the brothers Flynn,” Zachary said, stepping between Aidan and Jeremy and setting an arm around each of their shoulders. “How can we go wrong?”
    Aidan looked up at the house. He felt an odd sense of dread again, which wasn’t like him at all. He was the logical, pragmatic brother. He didn’t get strange sensations like this.
    He gave himself a mental shake. Well, what the hell?
    “The brothers Flynn,” he agreed.

2
    D amn.
    They were here already.
    The heirs hadn’t been around when Amelia was sick, and they hadn’t been around when she died. According to the lawyer, they hadn’t even known she existed until he contacted them with news of their inheritance, an excuse that sounded pretty damn suspect to her.
    Kendall Montgomery receded from the balcony, where she had so often sat with Amelia, back into the master bedroom, hoping she hadn’t been seen. She knew that the attorney had met with the Flynns and given them title to the place.
    She just hadn’t expected them to show up here. Not yet.
    She had come to pick up the last of her things. Books and CDs she had loaned Amelia, some clothing she had left out here for the nights when she stayed over to keep the old woman company. She had done all she could to help Amelia, offering her love and loyalty, because the elderly woman had been there for her when she had needed someone so badly. Amelia had been a sweetheart, pleased to pass on fascinating bits and pieces of local history and the legend surrounding the house. Amelia had lived through a lot, and she had managed to hang on to the plantation—even