LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To Brenda, my friend and my editor and my own best critic.

      These Quinns are for you!

       Prologue

      THE CLOSET WAS dark and quiet. Ronan Quinn clutched the flashlight in his hand, the failing batteries providing a weak shaft of light. Closing his eyes, he tried to banish the disturbing images from his thoughts.

      The dreams had started just a few months ago, right after his eighth birthday party. It had been the first party his family had attempted since his parents had disappeared the previous year.

      Of course, it hadn’t been the same. Birthday parties were what his mother did best. She could turn an ordinary day into the most wonderful, magical event of a person’s life. For his seventh birthday, she’d taken him and his whole Cub Scout troop to the aquarium. They’d seen the most amazing thing. There’d been octopus cupcakes with long, licorice tentacles. And games like “Pin The Fin” on the shark. There had even been a fish shaped piñata filled with gum and jawbreakers and all his favorite candy.

      At the end of the day, after the party was over and he was exhausted from the excitement, he’d received his gift, a beautiful aquarium, placed on a stand right next to his bed. He remembered how he’d stayed up all night, just watching the fish swimming back and forth in the blue light.

      The aquarium was empty now, all the fish dead and the water drained. It was one of those things that had been forgotten once their world had been turned upside down. There was never any time to shop for fish. No one wanted to bother keeping the aquarium clean.

      This year, his grandfather and older brothers had planned a party on the family sailboat, gathering ten of Ronan’s classmates for a sail on the sound. But when they’d gotten to the dock, Ronan had refused to get on the boat.

      Fear had welled up inside of him as he stared at the dark water slapping against the hull. His stomach had begun to roil and his hands had grown ice cold. Ronan knew that if he got on the boat, the sea would swallow him up and pull him down to the very bottom where he would drown.

      Dermot had stayed with him on the dock while the rest of the party left. And though his older brother tried to reassure him that everything would be fine, Ronan had seen the looks on his friends’ faces. He’d already been marked as being different since his parents’ disappearance. Now, he’d be completely alone, the subject of whispers and pity.

      Ronan looked down at the book clutched in his arms. The huge picture book of ocean fish had been another gift from his mother. But this one had appeared next to his breakfast one morning. It hadn’t been his birthday or Christmas or any type of holiday at all. She’d just decided that he needed the book.

      He turned the flashlight onto the pages and stared at the pretty pictures. But when he flipped the page to the chapter on sharks, Ronan slammed the book closed and hugged his knees to his chest.

      There were always sharks in his nightmares. Sharks circling in the dark water. He tried not to think about what might have happened to his parents, but the nightmares brought it up again and again.

      He’d asked questions that his grandfather and brothers refused to answer. How long could they live in the water? How far could they swim? If they were in the life raft, wouldn’t they drift to land? But there were never any explanations. He’d just been told to accept the fact that his mother and father were gone.

      But he didn’t want to accept it. There was always a chance that they’d be found. Maybe on an island. Or maybe the boat was just floating around in the ocean, the sails torn or lost. Why couldn’t anyone see that?

      “Ronan?”

      His breath caught in his throat and he watched the door, shadows playing with the shaft of light. A few seconds later, the door swung open. His oldest brother, Cameron, stood in front of him.

      “What are you doing in here?”

      “Nothing,” Ronan said.

      “You got a book. Are you reading?”

      Ronan shook his head.

      “Come on,” Cameron said. “You need to get back to bed.”

      “I can’t,” Ronan said. “I’ll have bad dreams again.”

      Cameron squatted down and rubbed Ronan’s knee. “You’re having nightmares?”

      Ronan nodded. “Bad ones. With sharks. And Mom and Dad are swimming and trying to get away. But the water is dark and they can’t see anything.” Cameron held out his hands and Ronan crawled into his embrace. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

      “How about you sleep in my bed tonight,” Cameron said.

      “Okay,” Ronan said, a flood of relief washing over him. Cameron would be able to protect him from the bad dreams. His older brother could do anything.

      “You want to bring your book?” Cam asked. He handed it to Ronan. “Your fish book. You really like this book, don’t you?”

      “Mom gave it to me,” Ronan said.

      “You like fish? Maybe we could go fishing sometime.”

      Ronan frowned. He never wanted to go near the ocean again. “I don’t like fish that way,” he said. “I don’t want to go near the

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