Bad for Her

by Christi Barth

  On top of that? It just didn’t occur to him that Mollie would care enough to keep the secret without being asked. Especially after all the revelations about how bad he’d been before coming to Bandon.

  No, it absofuckinglutely had not crossed Rafe’s mind that she would choose him over her precious town’s safety. That’s not how the world worked. At least, that’s not how the world he knew worked.

  Rafe was the one who always put himself through the ringer to keep everyone else safe. Being on the receiving end of that never occurred to him

  Except . . . that’s exactly what Mollie would do.

  She’d folded him under her umbrella of caring and wouldn’t, no, couldn’t rat him out. It wasn’t in her nature. She’d told him that she was falling in love with him. The ultimate gift of trust. And he’d repaid her gift by doubting it.

  Rafe dug his fingers into the dirt. The whole thing floored him. Her reaction to his life story. To learning that he was, essentially, a criminal on the run, if on the government’s dime. Mollie had listened to it all, put aside his criminal past and automatically known, without question in her heart, that she’d keep his secret.

  If she knew that, why didn’t he?

  Did he not trust himself to follow the rules and survive in this new life? To be a good guy? One who deserved a wonderful woman like Mollie at his side?

  No good answer to that. Because his brain was consumed with a far bigger question.

  How could he prove that he did trust her?

  Chapter 21

  Beach, 6:00 p.m.

  Mood on the shore—still jittery as fuck

  “We should have a beach day,” Kellan announced. He kicked off his flip-flops and left them propped at the edge of a tide pool. “A cooler full of beer. Chips. Tunes. Ogling girls in tiny bikinis. Everything from the movies.”

  “Beach movies are about California, not Oregon.” Rafe turned in a circle, spreading his arms wide. “You see anyone in a bikini?”

  “I don’t see anyone.”

  Damn straight. It was why they were at the beach at six o’clock on a Sunday night. “Hang on. You want to spend a day at the beach? With me? I thought you were busy giving me the cold shoulder for the rest of our lives.” He untied his boot laces, feeling a twinge in his chest as he bent over. Yeah, it hurt.

  But not as much as the memory of Mollie’s tear-stained face as she ran away from him last night.

  “I’m reserving that right, oh, forever.” Kellan plunged his hand into the rocky pool and toyed with a couple of striped shells. “But what happened yesterday made me realize something. I’ve been going through the classic Kübler-Ross model.”

  Kellan never tried to make his brothers feel dumb. But with all those extra years of learning packed into his brain, it sure happened often. Rafe dug his toes into the cool sand, then squatted next to him. “Gonna need more than that.”

  “You know it as the five stages of grief. Terminally ill patients—and their loved ones, to some extent—go through them.” He spread five shells out and pointed at each one in turn. “Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. That’s what I’ve been going through. Because the person I was, for all intents and purposes, died back in Chicago. I had to process it.”

  Yeah. Rafe had heard of that before. And damn, if it didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense. The Marshals Service had offered to send them to shrinks. Over a video chat, due to the need for secrecy. Maybe they should’ve. Nobody wanted to, and Delaney didn’t push it, but maybe it would’ve gotten them back to really feeling like brothers again sooner.

  The way he saw it was that by joining WITSEC? In shrink terms, Rafe had more or less killed off all three of them. Great. No guilt there at all. “Does that mean you accept it now?”

  “Don’t really have a choice, do I?” Kellan bumped Rafe’s shoulder with his own, almost unbalancing him. “But you did. That’s the part I was too stubborn to hone in on. You could’ve let Flynn go to jail. Or you and Flynn could’ve gone on the run and left me to live my life. The thing is, you chose us. The three of us, sticking together like always. Sure, I got dragged away from my life. It pissed me off. You, though. You made the choice to give up everything to keep us together.”

  “There was no other choice.” It was all of them or nothing. Because Rafe would have nothing without Kellan and Flynn.

  “You’re an awesome brother, Rafe. I should’ve thanked you months ago for saving me. For saving us.”

  “Are you yanking my chain?” This was the last thing he’d expected to hear tonight.

  “I’m serious. You’re not off the hook for lying to me my whole life. That’s not going to sit right for a long time. But I’ve been an asshole. You raised me to be man enough to admit it. There will still be plenty of days when I’m a total prick because I don’t know how to start over again, or I miss the chestnut glazed at Doughnut Vault. I’m going to work on having less of those, however.”

  Rafe didn’t know what to say. Hearing Kellan’s thanks was almost enough to make him throw his arms around his little brother.

  Almost.

  Flynn announced his arrival by tossing his sneakers down close enough to Rafe to spray sand onto his jeans. “I helped close at the Gorse last night, and went back today. My feet hurt, I’m tired, and I need to shovel about five tons of pasta into my face. Why the hell did you make us come to the damn beach at dinnertime?”

  “Because I knew we’d be the only ones here.”

  The sulk slid right off his face. Flynn crossed his arms. “We’re finishing the war council, aren’t we?”

  Nodding, Rafe said, “Thanks to your work schedule, this was our first chance. I didn’t want to risk talking in the house again.”

  “Christ, Rafe, we could’ve closed the windows and doors.”

  Clearly Flynn was off his game. Out of practice. “What if this is an inside job and someone from the FBI’s got us over a barrel? Don’t you think there’s a chance they’ve bugged our house as easy as they bugged our tablets and phones?”

  “Shit.” Flynn rubbed a hand across the back of his neck as he scanned along the empty beach. Empty except for ten-feet-tall rock outcroppings and a few fat, lazy gulls looking for scraps. That wasn’t any different from the lakeshore in Chicago. Damn sea rats.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  They all started walking closer to the dark edge of sand that marked where the water stopped with each wave. Rafe pointed at the enormous rock, right off the coast, shaped like a man’s profile. “Do you two like that?”

  “Face Rock?” Kellan’s whole expression lit up as he turned to face it. “Oh, yeah. It’s cool.”

  “More freaky than cool,” Flynn corrected.

  Right. Because it would literally kill his middle brother to show that anything in his current life ranked anywhere above a total suckfest. “I meant the whole view. The ocean. The rock formations. Do you like it here in Bandon?”

  Kellan swung back around. “Why?”

  “Because it’s time to take a stand. To claim Bandon as our home.”

  Kicking sand—but at least not at Rafe—Flynn grumbled, “Didn’t know we had an option otherwise.”

  And that wasn’t just a match for the fuse on his temper. It was an already burning stick of dynamite strapped on to it. “God damn it.” He picked up a rock and threw it into the water with the speed of a fastball across the plate. “That’s the kind of thing we’ve got to stop doing. Acting like we’re here as a punishment. We’re here as a god damned gift. It’s time to stop fucking around and commit to not just pretending to be a new person, but actually being one. That’s the only way we’ll survive.”

  People used to fucking cower when Rafe yelled his way through a speech like that. Unfortunately, his brothers were immune to his temper. Kellan just lifted one eyebrow. “Meaning?”

  “Kellan, if you don’t like your job, find a better one. Bitching about it won’t change anything. So what if you can’t use your almost-law d
egree? You’re still highly educated and smarter than probably nine-tenths of this town. Figure out what else you can do.”

  “That’s assuming we stay.”

  “Yes. Yes, for fuck’s sake, let’s assume we’ll stay here. The Marshals already said they won’t move us anywhere else. We don’t want to go on the run. So this is it. We’ve got to stop what-if-ing. Stop pining for Chicago like it’s a supermodel who took our virginity. We’re alive. We’re together. That makes this home.”

  Eyebrows cranked together into a single line, Flynn said, “Hey, I show up at work. I’m polite. I’m starting that community service thing with the Cranberry Festival. What more do you want?”

  “A wise man told me that I need to find something about Bandon to make me happy. Well, I’ve found a bunch of things. People, mostly. It’s your turn. Just showing up isn’t good enough.”

  “You just turned into an inspirational poster. There should be a cat hanging out of the toilet right next to you.”

  “Go on. Take your shots.” Rafe dug his big toe in, then swept his leg to the right. “See this? It is a literal god damned line in the sand.” He stepped over it. Away from the sea. Away from escape. Toward Bandon. “Take some time to bitch and moan. Call me every name in the book. After tonight, I expect you two to join me on this side. All in.”

  “I’m not waiting.” Kellan backed up a couple of steps. Then he made a running jump to end up next to Rafe. “You’ve kept us alive so far.”

  “That brings me to my next point.” Rafe barreled on without waiting for Flynn to pick a side. He’d give him some space. For a few hours, anyway. “We said we trust Delaney to keep us alive. Tomorrow, we go to her with our theory that a fed is blackmailing us.”

  “It’s the right call. She’ll keep us safe,” Kellan said.

  “Is that your reasoned, lawyer-mind talking? Because I’ve gotta say, it sounds a lot more like your dick talking.”

  “Yeah.” Flynn pinned his younger brother with a warning glare. “We’ve put up with your nonstop flirting with Delaney. We get that she’s hot, and you’re horny. But don’t forget—the marshal is off-limits. Big time. There’d be hell to pay with the Marshals if anything happened between you and Delaney.”

  “The way she gets all pissed every time you try to flirt with her? There may be hell to pay even if nothing happens. You behave, K.” Rafe shook a finger to show his seriousness. “Let me do all the talking.”

  “I don’t have to talk to flirt with a woman,” Kellan said smugly.

  “Christ. I’m not sticking around to hear made-up stories of all the coeds you seduced out of their panties.” Flynn started to walk away, then paused without bothering to turn back toward his brothers. “I’m with you. All the way. Always. No discussion necessary.”

  That was . . . something. Enough, anyway. Enough to set wheels in motion. As good as it felt to have that momentary unity, though, Rafe needed to shatter it. Potentially.

  “Hang on, Flynn. We’re not done.” As Flynn trudged back, Kellan squinted at him in confusion.

  “There’s nothing else we can do, if we’re leaving it up to the gorgeous marshal.”

  “There’s something else you have to know. Because I promised I’d never lie to you again.”

  “Uh-oh.” Kellan and Flynn said it simultaneously.

  “I told Mollie. Everything.”

  Flynn’s jaw dropped. He advanced on Rafe, one hand clenched into a fist at his side. “You texted us last night that you took care of it. We thought that meant she hadn’t actually heard much, or you made up some flimsy-ass excuse for whatever she did hear.”

  “I wanted to tell you in person. To explain.”

  “Explain what?” Kellan pushed against Rafe’s shoulder, hard enough to send him reeling back a step. “That you recklessly put us in jeopardy? Christ, Rafe, if she tells anyone else, I’d be yanked from WITSEC. Separated from you and Flynn. And if you idiots decide to come with me, and we lose our official protection, we could lose our fucking lives.”

  It figured that Kellan would be the most scared out of all of them. And Rafe knew he deserved their anger. Not, however, that he’d deserved Mollie’s. He’d stewed on that all day. Her anger over their placement in Bandon—which wasn’t his fault at all—pissed him off. It wasn’t fair.

  But normal couples had fights. All Rafe wanted was the chance to have that fight with Mollie, make up, and then keep going. Together.

  “She won’t tell anyone.”

  “How do you know? We keep the secret because our lives are at stake. She doesn’t have that hammer over her head.”

  “She does. Because she’s falling in love with me.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Flynn’s words barely cleared his mouth before his fist connected with Rafe’s chin. It wasn’t full power, so Rafe didn’t black out or go flying across the sand. It did, however, take all the strength in his body to hold his ground.

  And he would. Flynn and Kellan were in their rights to take their licks. Wouldn’t make him back down, though. “Go on. I won’t fight you. Either of you.”

  “Damn right you won’t,” Flynn shouted, his words pinging off the giant rocks around them. “You did all of this—put us through all of this—to save our lives. Now you’re risking them just for a piece of ass?”

  “Don’t call her that.” Before Rafe processed the thought, his fist split the skin under Flynn’s eyes. Because he’d caught him by surprise, Flynn’s ass did hit the sand. “I’m fucking falling in love with her, too, you idiot.” Then he immediately fell to the sand next to his brother as the truth and impact of his words registered in his brain and his gut. Who knew he’d say that for the first time in his life, tonight—and to his brother, no less?

  Kellan plopped down next to them. “This’ll be the smallest wedding ever. Exactly three people on the groom’s side. Including a marshal packing heat.”

  “Shut up.” Rafe threw a handful of sand his direction, but the wind took it away.

  Flynn touched his cut, then looked at the blood on his finger before looking back at Rafe. “You mean it? You love her? This is the real deal?”

  “I think so.” Rafe braced his hands on his thighs and sucked in a couple deep breaths. “Sorry I hit you.”

  “I’m not sorry I hit you. You had it coming.”

  “Agreed.”

  Flynn bumped his shoulder. “She’s worth it?”

  “Yeah. Definitely.”

  “Then I guess there’s nothing more to discuss. She’s one of us now, for better or for worse. Does she know how you feel?”

  “Nowhere fucking close to it,” he said fervently. Rafe had a couple more things to put in motion before he could fix what he’d broken between them. But at least nothing was broken with his brothers.

  One step at a time.

  This going good thing, committing to a new life, was more complicated than he’d anticipated.

  A few hours later, Rafe was back on the beach. He still wore a jacket in May, just like he would’ve back home.

  No.

  He made a tight fist, disappointed in himself for thinking like that. Not home. Bandon was home now. How could he demand his brothers get with the program if he’d already slipped up himself?

  Shit. Good intentions wouldn’t cut it. As punishment, he forced himself to walk closer to the inky black edge of the ocean. No way would he let some stupid fear of sea creatures keep him from putting down roots. He’d come out here every night, jog right along the crusty sand where the waves broke, just to show whatever might be out there that there was no scaring away Rafe Maguire.

  “Rafe? Is that you?” Mick’s voice came from around the side of a tall rock that got submerged at high tide.

  “It’s me, Colonel.”

  “If you came to try your hand at night fishing, it’s for crap. Nothing to look at.”

  “I came to find you.”

  “Uh-oh.” Mick took off his cap, creased the bill in his habitual gesture that Rafe now recognize
d as thinking or worry, and then settled it back on his crown.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nobody comes out to find me on patrol at ten at night unless there’s a reason. And it sure isn’t just to shoot the shit.”

  Prickly old bastard. “It sort of is.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I wanted to follow up on the last conversation we had out here. Let you know that I have found a reason to stay in Bandon. More than one, actually.”

  Mick’s weathered face creased up into a wide grin. He clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s good to hear, son.”

  Son.

  Nobody had called him that in a long time. It felt . . . good. It felt like a couple of solid shovelfuls of dirt tossed into a deep hole in his soul.

  Good—but not quite right. “It’s, ah, funny you call me that.”

  Mick waved his hand back and forth. “I’m not looking to adopt you and ask you to keep me out of a nursing home. I just see something in you. Something I can connect with. That doesn’t happen too often for this old man.”

  “Same here. It’s actually why I came to talk to you.” He wouldn’t break the rules. Not again, anyway. But he needed to tell Mick the basics. If they were sticking around Bandon? Rafe was pretty sure the soldier in front of him was more than a little responsible for his willingness to do so.

  “Sure we don’t need a beer for this conversation?”

  “Sorry. I’m not packing.” He’d remember to put a couple of cans in his pocket the next time he wandered out to talk to Mick at night. “Look—I can’t go into details. Not with you, not with anyone.”

  “Fine by me. Most people’s life stories are boring as shit.”

  No wonder he liked Mick so much. “My dad? Before he died? More or less set me up for a bad life. Then my old boss screwed me over but good. So I don’t want a father figure or a mentor—what I need is a friend.”