"Wha-"

She realized she was yelling at the top of her lungs now, but she couldn't stop.

"You will never be as fine a person as Stacey Quinn, or anyone in that family. Give it up!"

Tim stared at her in quiet shock for a moment, then sneered. "I see you fell for Quinn's 'retarded little brother' sob story. Works like a charm. I wish I had a dollar for every blow job he's gotten out of-"

Audie shifted her weight, cocked back her right arm, and made solid contact with the left side of Tim Burke's face. He went sprawling to the floor in a puddle of tuxedo-in front of the full contingent of Chicago 's media elite.

She heard the whir and saw the flash of cameras all around her.

"That was from the Quinns, you total sleaze!" She headed for the ballroom exit and shouted over her shoulder, "And if you ever bother me again, you'll regret it!"

Her hands reached out to push open the doors but encountered a solid male chest instead. She whipped her head around to find Quinn blocking her way, frozen, his mouth open, his eyes wide, and his gun drawn, Drew panting at his side. Right behind them were four uniformed Chicago police officers.

So much passed through her in that instant of contact-heat and love and so many desperate questions and so much regret-that all she could do was let out an incoherent sob. Her hands fell away from his chest.

"Nice cut," he said.

She found her voice. "How long-?"

His eyes were intense. Determined. "Long enough, Homey."

Audie began to shake her head, trying to remember where she was, who she was, and whether she was asleep or awake. Then she became aware of the deafening silence of the ballroom, saw the cops run to help Tim Burke off the floor, and saw Quinn staring at her with his lion-at-breakfast look-and the world dissolved into a blur around them.

Audie watched as Quinn, without a word, grabbed her hand and slid his mother's claddagh ring off his pinkie and onto her left ring finger. Then his warm hand grasped hers. He smiled at her. And out of the corner of her eye,Audie saw Marjorie coming toward them.

It all happened so fast that later, when she'd try to sort through all the events of that night, it would seem like a single flash of time to her-an instant that contained a lifetime of joy and fear and horror.

Marjorie had a gun.

Audie got the briefest glimpse of Marjorie's empty, cold face before Quinn threw his body against her and she heard the pop! and her overwhelmed mind explained it away as a tire blowout or fireworks, but then the screams began and a dozen pop-pop-pops exploded from behind her. Audie couldn't breathe… couldn't breathe… because Quinn had fallen on her, dead weight on top of her, and it was then that she felt the heat seeping through the fabric of her dress. He was bleeding all over her.

Audie held his hand in hers and squeezed.

Drew's face was ashen. He looked broken and ill, but he'd stopped crying. And Audie was suddenly filled with a rush of love for her brother she had never thought possible.

The last few hours had provided answers to questions Audie didn't even know she had. Drew had told her everything that he'd been through. The police had made a copy of Marjorie's suicide note for them, and they'd read and re-read the horrible truth about their family and their mother's death until it finally seemed real.

For the first time, Audie could look back on the arc of her life and understand. She didn't like most of what she saw, but at least it made some sense. No wonder her parents' marriage seemed strained! No wonder Drew had been so bitter and unpleasant. No wonder Helen didn't have time for her daughter-she was too busy living the world's most elaborate lie!

Drew and Audie sat for several moments in stunned silence, only vaguely aware of the busy humming and clanking of the hospital just outside the door. The police had found a quiet office for them, and except for Audie's frequent trips to the nurses' station for news on Quinn, that's where they'd stayed.

Audie looked down at herself again and groaned with sadness. Her gown was saturated with Quinn's blood, though it was hardly visible. Not for the first time, she wondered if Marjorie had intentionally selected a dress that wouldn't show bloodstains. Marjorie's own preference for the evening had been white. And she'd been shot so many times…

"I'll go up there with you if you want, Audie."

She blinked away the gruesome image. "What?"

"I'll go with you to see the Quinns."

She smiled at him and shook her head. Drew was right. It was time for her to face the Quinns and whatever huge crowd had formed in the surgery waiting room. The problem was, she had no idea what awaited her up there.

Did the family think she'd slept with Tim Burke? Did they know Quinn had taken that bullet to save her life?

She closed her eyes and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Audie. He's going to make it."

She nodded silently.

"You're perfect for each other."

Her eyes went wide. "Huh?"

Drew chuckled a little at the shock on her face. "The guy's funny and smart and he loves you. I knew it the first time I talked with him. Go for it."

She stared at him.

"Go on up there. You're wearing his ring, and if you're going to marry him, you'll have to deal with the Hibernians from hell sooner or later. So go."

"You'll be OK?"

"Fine. Please call me at the house when there's news."

She kissed Drew on the forehead and left. On the way to the bank of elevators, she saw a wooden door with a stained-glass window and a brass plaque that read simply: "Chapel." She sucked in her breath and slipped inside. Audie slid into a pew toward the back and listened to the steady mechanical breath of the air-conditioning vents as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She saw a few solitary forms toward the front.

OK. She was going to try to have faith now. So she folded her hands and tried to say a prayer.

Not that she'd ever prayed for anything in her life. She didn't know who or what to send her prayer to or what words to use or feelings to feel. Maybe God would understand that she sucked at prayer.

She bowed her head and gripped her hands tight in her lap, and the tears plopped from her eyes onto the dark silk of her dress.

Quinn would live. She had faith. He had to live.

It was ridiculous, she knew, but when she thought of Quinn she saw just two things-the green fire in his eyes when he pulled her close and said, "Come here to me," and the wooden swing set in his backyard.

Stupid. Quinn's face in passion and a swing set-but that's all she saw, all she felt, all she was, and she focused on those images as if they would save her, save him.

"God, please let him live," she whispered out loud, not caring if anyone heard. "Please give me a chance to love him."

Next, she asked for courage-a lot of it. Then she took the elevator to the waiting room to face the Quinns.

The place was packed. She saw Jamie, Michael, Sheila, Kiley, and Little Pat, Aunt Esther, plus Stanny-O and Commander Connelly and an assortment of faces she recognized and many she didn't, and she realized she was just standing there, her chest heaving, her heart breaking, a ridiculous woman in a ball gown the color of blood, standing where she suspected she wasn't welcome.

Suddenly little Kiley stepped out from the row of chairs against the wall and ran to Audie, gripping her skirt.

She took in a sob of breath to ask the only question that mattered. "Is there any news?"

Michael narrowed his eyes at her and answered in a wooden voice, "Nothing more."

She nodded. Staring at her were at least two dozen members of the Garda Band, many of the Beverly neighbors she had met at the party' several Area 3 detectives, and a half-dozen uniformed officers.