Diana simply wanted to paint. Nothing more complex. When her grandmother found a grand-daughter she didn't know she had, a whole new world opened when she met Jane Foster.
They'd raised her to fit into society. Taught her to be diplomatic and polite. They'd taken all the color out of her life until the only place it existed was in her painting. Something her relatives called a sweet little hobby.
Then she met Jane and her friends.
Then she wandered into the state park and met a man in need of a serious shower but who knew how to cook a trout to perfection. A man who instantly seemed to find a weakness by leading her to a small valley filled with spring flowers just waiting to be captured on canvas.
One coincidence after another.
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She'd managed to survive. Even when she held her husband in her arms and watched him die because of an IED in the middle of Kosovo. She'd grown up keeping the girl buried deep inside. You can't be a girl in the middle of a war zone when rape is part of their plan.
Anya Miller lived out of her van, still afraid of being in one place. Even in Seattle. Until a quiet lunch turned into an attempt to kidnap one of her friends.