Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1) Read Online Free PDF

bathroom.
    "Aiden," she whispered.
    He scowled at her and headed for his bedroom, disappearing inside.
    She followed, coming to an abrupt stop when he closed the door. Bren reached for the knob, and it clicked. She jiggled it. "Aiden, open the door."
    "I hate you."
    "I didn't steal those horses, Aiden."
    "Dad thought you did."
    "Dad was wrong. Now open the door." The lock popped, and the knob turned in her hand.
    "What?" Angry brown eyes pierced her through the crack of the door.
    "It was the only way to wake this town up."
    "Whatever."
    That word, in particular, accompanied by Aiden's sarcastic tone, could set her teeth on edge. But tonight she ignored it. "I love you, A—"
    He pushed the door shut, and Bren's grip tightened on the knob. She counted to ten.
    Let him go. He's hurting.
    Tears pinched her eyes. She hurt, too. How could she help her sons when she couldn't help herself? Trembling, she was not the constant her boys depended on or the competent thirty-five-year-old director of a horse rescue farm. She'd fought injustices all her life, protected those who couldn't protect themselves. Yet, all five foot six, one hundred and twenty-five well-toned pounds of her wanted to slither to the floor in defeat. Where was the fierce, wrongly widowed farm girl now? She released the doorknob and escaped down the steps to the kitchen.
    The house hummed with the warmth from the furnace, but the chill wouldn't leave Bren. She scrubbed her arms, then reached up into the cabinet above the dishwasher and snagged the pretty-shaped bottle of Crown Royal they kept on hand for holidays and dropped it inside the large pocket of her robe.
    She climbed the stairs of the old farmhouse she'd shared with Tom. Tears leaked down her face. She didn't want to continue doing this alone. The horse rescue farm they called Grace... the boys... life.
    She wiped her face with the furry pink sleeve of her robe and entered her room. Her bed... hers and Tom's bed sat quiet and made with the comforter her mother had sewn sixteen years ago for their wedding. She hadn't slept there since Tom's death. No way could she disturb it—not tonight. Maybe not ever.
    Rather than head down the hall to the guest bedroom, Bren settled down in the wooden rocker Tom had bought when Aiden was born. She couldn't escape his memory. It reached out everywhere, like tiny pinpricks, reminding her she was alive and Tom wasn't.
    The cap of the bottle twisted off easily; she took her first swig. She winced when the Canadian whisky burned her throat.
    She managed several more swigs and began to relax. Raising the bottle, she toasted herself. "Way to go, Bren. Nice job screwing with your boys' heads." The tears that had dried down her cheeks reemerged, wet and flowing. She took another swig and rocked and held the bottle up again. "To Wes Connelly, you miserable bastard. Whatever it takes, I'll torment your murdering ass until you're broken and behind bars."
    Tom's handsome face flashed before her. He'd warned her. His remark the last night he was alive: "Stop antagonizing Wes. I've got too much to do around this farm to protect you from yourself." Headstrong and deliberate were her responses to everything, and Tom, amazingly, had been the guiding hand that had kept her from self-destructing. But Tom had been wrong about one thing.
    He was the one who needed protection.
    She lifted the bottle again, her hands sliding on the glass. "I'm sorry, baby." She let the bottle sink into her lap and closed her eyes. She continued to rock until she nodded off.
    The shrill peal of a cell phone, her cell phone, made her stand up. The bottle of Crown Royal dropped and poured out onto the hardwood floor. "Shit!" She bent over and righted it and lurched for the nightstand. Tom's name glowed on the screen of her phone. The room spun and Bren dropped onto the bed. Gripping the phone tight, she fumbled to flip it open, but the ringing stopped. Tom's name disappeared.
    "What the hell?" She scrolled