Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy #3)

I attempt to lift my arm to touch it, but it’s so heavy. No, it’s strapped down.

“What happened?” I ask again as I tilt my gaze downward to see a sling around my shoulder.

“That’s what we’re asking you.”

Bodies. Magnolia. Oh my God.

“Mags?”

“Did she have something to do with this?” My mom’s voice rises an octave. “Is she involved?”

I’m saved from having to answer any more questions when the door opens and several people enter.

“Ms. Kilgore, so happy to see you awake. How are you feeling?” a blond woman asks, and I tense.

Blond. My breathing picks up.

“Who are you?” My words come out on huffs of breath.

“She’s the doctor, honey. She’s been here all along. And here’s Millie. She’s been hanging around all night, waiting with us.”

I stare at the blond woman, my body’s fight-or-flight response poised for flight. Is that her? The fractured pieces of my memory are still cracked and broken, so I don’t know. My hands curl into claws, but I have no weapon. Nothing to keep me safe.

She’s the doctor. That’s what my mom said, but I can’t trust anyone. Not now. Where is Lachlan?

I look beyond the blonde, hoping to find his dark gaze on me, but all I see is a plump brunette who always has a ready smile on her face.

“Good to see you awake, Keira,” Millie says.

“Can you tell us how you’re feeling?” the doctor asks me again.

“Tired. Sore.” I keep my answers short. Not only do I not trust her, but my brain feels broken.

“I imagine. You sustained a gunshot wound in addition to head trauma. Can you remember what happened?”

I shake my head, but it’s a bad idea. Dizziness assails me, and I’m reminded of the last time I woke up in a hospital-like setting.

“I don’t remember anything,” I tell her. I don’t even have to try to make it sound convincing. My voice is wrecked.

“Does she have amnesia?” my mom blurts out.

“It’s possible that she could have some memory loss due to the head injury.”

I want to tell my mom I don’t have amnesia. I just can’t grasp all the pieces floating through my mind, because without the one man who should be in this room, nothing makes sense. My left hand curls into a weak fist against my chest, and I still, my gaze darting down.

My ring is gone. I lift my right hand to my throat. My necklace is gone too.

The doctor speaks to my parents, but I tune it all out as a terrifying question slams into my brain.

Did I imagine all of it? Is that why he’s not here? Is Lachlan Mount a figment of my imagination?

No. That’s not possible. He’s real. What we have is real. Isn’t it? He’s not a ghost. He’s real. Right?

I look around the room, blood rushing in my ears, drowning out everything but my own thoughts.

“What happened?” I force the question out, and everyone around me goes quiet.

“That’s what we’d really like to figure out, Keira,” the doctor says. “Don’t push yourself. Just rest. Some of your memories may come back if you let your brain rest.”

“Are you sure?” Again, another panicked question from my mom, but I want to demand answers too.

The doctor pauses. “It’s possible she may not remember everything. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Wait and see? Someone shot my little girl!”

“David!” Mom snaps, and Dad quiets.

Then everyone fusses over me, checking my heart and my breathing, taking my blood . . . and I let my eyes drift closed again.



The next time I wake up, my mom is still there but my dad is gone. I’m less fuzzy this time but still totally confused, because the man I want to see in my room is missing.

I can’t ask about him. My mom doesn’t know Lachlan Mount exists.

But I do. He is real. I know that. Where is he, then?

“Honey, drink some more water.” Again, Mom lifts the bendy straw to my lips and I sip. “Your dad is going out of his mind.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shhh. This isn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be shot. I’m sure of that. But the police have been waiting, and they have a lot of questions that we don’t have any answers to, except . . .”

“What?” I ask, my gaze locking on hers.

“The fire at the rackhouse. They found your assistant.”

“Temperance! Is she okay?”

How the hell could I have forgotten about her?

“Hush. Don’t get worked up. She’s fine. She got clubbed over the head. The fire department found her unconscious just inside the building when they busted down the door.”

“Oh my God.” My heart slams into my chest when I think of what could have happened to her. “She’s okay, though?” Tears burn behind my eyes. This is all because of me. Temperance could have died, and it would all be my fault.

“She’s fine. Smoke inhalation. They were lucky they got to her in time. They kept her overnight for observation for her head, but released her the next morning. She just went to go to the bathroom. She’s been keeping vigil with us here ever since.”

The next morning? How much time have I missed?

“What day is it?”

“You’ve been sleeping on and off for two days, honey.”

“Two days?”

My mom nods. “She’s been at your bedside with your dad and me. She’s a good friend to you.”

Friend. The word triggers another piece of my broken memory to snap into place.

“Magnolia.” Her name bursts from my lips. “Is she . . . Is she . . .” I can’t voice the last word, but I remember her smooth skin and thready pulse under my fingertips.

My mom’s features tense and her lips wobble. “She’s in a coma, Keira. They don’t know if she’s gonna make it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “No. No. She can’t— We . . . I need to talk to her. She can’t—”

“Shhh. It’s okay. We’re praying for her too. The doctors are taking care of her. I’ve checked in on her myself. I knew you’d want me to.”

I can’t fathom my last words to my best friend being those of anger, regardless of what she did. Conflicting emotions wring tears from my eyes, and I want to beg for someone to tell me where Lachlan is, but I can’t.

My dad reenters the room with Temperance behind him. Two police officers trail after them.

“Keira!” Temperance rushes around Dad to reach me first. “Oh, thank God. You’re awake.”

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her.

“For what? This isn’t your fault.”

That’s where she’s wrong. Even with my battered body and nearly broken brain, I know that this is one hundred percent my fault. Nothing would have happened to Temperance if not for me.

“Ms. Kilgore, do you think you might be able to answer a few questions for us?”

“Not right now, gentlemen.” A nurse sweeps in and comes toward me, ready to poke and prod and do whatever it is they’ve been doing for the last couple of days. “You need to let her rest.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, we need some answers so we can carry on our investigation.”