Never Been Good

by Christi Barth

  Classic Kellan. The kid could be serious as a heart attack—for about a minute. Then the jokes and charm rebounded, twice as strong. He would’ve kicked butt as a trial lawyer. Kept the other side on their toes and jumping to keep up.

  “Ugh.” Flynn let go and made a show of wiping his hands on his jeans. Jeans, so he’d be able to wear his steel-toed boots without looking like a guy who was both prepared and willing to kick someone’s teeth in. “Don’t talk about your attributes while I’m touching you. That’s just wrong.”

  “Sorry. For stopping like that, I mean.” He scrunched up his face and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “The thought hit and sort of sucked the air right out of me.”

  “If you wanted to know, why didn’t you ask before now?”

  “You guys hate to talk about it.”

  “About you going to law school? Rafe and I couldn’t be prouder that you made it into Northwestern.”

  “No. You don’t talk about anything to do with Chicago in general, let alone what you did for the mob. At first, we weren’t supposed to talk about it. Delaney’s whole you can’t focus on the future if you’re dwelling on the past rule.”

  The rule made sense. Flynn just hadn’t been able to follow it for shit.

  All he could think about was his old life. Every single step and decision and action that led to them abandoning everything. That always led to running through the laundry list of what each of them had given up. Big things, like Kellan’s JD, and little things like Rafe’s Valentine’s Day tradition. He’d put on a suit, walk to what used to be the address where the infamous St. Valentine’s Day massacre of Irish mobsters took place in 1929, and drink a shot of whiskey.

  Sure, that had been a tradition Danny McGinty dragged Rafe along on initially, but it came to mean something to him. This year on Valentine’s Day Rafe had quietly and methodically gotten drunk off his ass—but on tequila.

  “We told you to ask whatever questions you had.”

  “Yeah, but every time I do ask something, you and Rafe look at each other.” Kellan squinted. “Like you’re having a whole private conversation, figuring out the equation of how much you want to tell me vs. how much I really need to know divided by how upset the truth might make me.”

  Well, Flynn couldn’t deny a single word. Because he and Rafe had agreed, back on Halloween, that lying to Kellan was entirely different from omitting things from the truth that they shared with their little brother. They’d wanted to protect him from the ugliness of the full truth. Hell, it was their job in life.

  And a fucking hard habit to break. Hard to remember, no, acknowledge that Kellan was now twenty-five. That if they hadn’t screwed with his life, he’d already be trying cases that could decide the course of other people’s lives. They didn’t give him enough credit.

  Great. Another punch to the gut of how Flynn had fucked up.

  Again.

  Flynn looked up and down the street. Then he nudged Kellan into the nook created by the garage door and the brick wall. “Your education—every red cent—was paid for by me and Rafe.”

  “You didn’t let McGinty pay?”

  Kellan still looked skeptical. Probably because the amount of trust they’d rebuilt with him wasn’t strong enough to hold up belly button lint. “We never let McGinty near anything to do with you. That was always the deal. Rafe and I were in it to the end, but only as long as he kept the hell away from you.”

  “Guess you two were worth it to him.”

  “Maybe. Honestly? We were worried that once you got your law degree, he’d find a way to drag you in.” Lawyers on the mob payroll were handy. Rafe and Flynn spent way too many nights sitting on the roof deck of the North Avenue beach house arguing about it. About if they should tell Kellan, warn him that McGinty might try to use him. Or if he’d be so disgusted by the choices his brothers had made that he’d turn away from them forever.

  Guess they knew the answer to that, now.

  “How’d you afford it, even with the loans?”

  Still skeptical. Looked like he’d have to spill another secret that he and Rafe had sworn to keep. “Well, we used the life insurance money from Mom and Dad. We saved it all for you.”

  “Oh. Shit.” Kellan’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe you saved it all for me. That’s . . . that was solid of you guys. Thanks.” He clasped Flynn’s forearm.

  They hadn’t done it expecting thanks. In fact, they’d hidden it from Kellan so he wouldn’t feel guilty about taking all of what, legally, was split between them evenly. But he’d sure as hell make sure to tell Rafe how much Kellan appreciated the gesture.

  Gulping hard past the lump in his throat, Flynn said, “Hey, the bright side of disappearing? All our debts got wiped out. That includes what was still one hell of a hefty balance due on your schooling.”

  “Get what you pay for, huh? Seeing as how Northwestern doesn’t get their money and I didn’t get my degree. Some would call that a karmic balance.”

  That comment, right there? Made Flynn want to drive his fist so hard into McGinty’s face that the crushed nasal bones would trickle down his spine. For two seconds, he clenched his fist, tempted to bash it into the bricks. “Some would call that pure bullshit.”

  “Maybe I just need to get laid.” With a jerk of his shoulder, Kellan led the way over to the smaller door to the office of Wick’s Garage. “It’s sure worked wonders for you.” He barely got the door open before Flynn slammed it shut again, then kept his hand braced on the peeling red paint of the wood.

  Leaning in, he growled, “Don’t talk about Sierra like that.”

  “Like what?” Kellan shrugged, palms up at his waist. “Like I’m thrilled that she’s turned you from a snarling zombie back into a fair-to-middling copy of my brother?”

  Shit. He’d overreacted to what turned out to be a compliment. Kellan really was the best of them. Bighearted and cheerful and . . . well . . . nice. In a way he and Rafe often didn’t take the time to be.

  Still, Flynn had a point to make. “Like this thing with her is just about sex.”

  The knowing smirk formed on Kellan’s face at a glacial pace. “Oh, reaaaaally? What is it about, then?”

  “It’s about time we got on with the day. I’ve got a mobster to tail, remember?” Flynn opened the door with a flourish and a half bow that hopefully would smooth over the flare-up of bad temper.

  Rafe looked up from the pile of receipts in his hands. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” For now. Which was a fucking relief. Every moment that the status quo stayed normal was another weight on the side of their theory that O’Connor wasn’t here to carry out a hit on them. “I brought K up to speed. He’s cool.”

  Rafe’s gaze ping-ponged slowly between Flynn and Kellan. Then back again, skewering Kellan with a suspicious glare. “Then why aren’t you at your shift at the cranberry plant?”

  Kellan toed out the crooked wooden chair and lounged into it, hands crossed behind his neck. “Can’t brothers just hang out?” He appeared unfazed by the man whose menacing scowl had made grown men all over Chicago pee in their pants. He just angled sideways to prop his feet on the corner of the desk. Yeah, he was baiting Rafe for the shits and giggles of it, no doubt.

  Flynn leaned against the file cabinet. “It was my idea for him to call in sick. Told him I needed his help.” Which had been an idea that hit in the middle of his drive back from Sierra’s. This whole car sharing thing needed to end. And asking for his brother’s help with that was the perfect excuse to yank him out of work for the morning. “I didn’t want K to feel rushed as we talked through the O’Connor situation.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Rafe pushed Kellan’s feet to the floor as he sat back down. “So now that you know, you’re hanging out with Flynn because . . . you don’t feel comfortable by yourself? Scared of O’Connor?”

  “What?” Kellan surged to his feet. He paced the ten steps to the connecting door to the service bay. “Christ, Rafe, I’m not the little kid wh
o used to wake you up when I had nightmares. I may not be able to dropkick a superhero like Flynn here, but I can defend myself. And I’m not going looking for trouble, either. I came along with Flynn because he asked for my help and I thought it’d be fun.”

  “Tailing a dangerous criminal?”

  “Nah.” Flynn poured himself a cup of coffee. This day would require a nonstop stream of caffeine. “I did that before Kellan even woke up. Pat got off the boat just after sunrise. He was green and sweating and clutching a puke bag. Guess he never found his sea legs.” It didn’t suck one bit, thinking of the miserable night Pat must’ve spent heaving over the rail into the ocean. “He’s staying up at Lucien’s resort. I followed him there. Heard him ask the front desk clerk for Pepto, ginger ale, and a wake-up call to make his one o’clock tee time.”

  “So he’s contained for a few hours.”

  “Yep.”

  “If you follow him on the front nine, I’ll take the back. That should sync up pretty well with our work schedules.” Rafe opened the desk drawer, then thumped a big leather case onto the desk. “You’ll need these.”

  “What?”

  “Binoculars. I found ’em a few weeks ago. Guess Frieda’s husband is into bird-watching.”

  They sure didn’t look like the tiny, powerful scopes Rafe used to bring home “from work” whenever they went to a game. “Geez. Are they from the prospectors on the original Oregon Trail? I’ll have to hide behind two trees to keep something this big from being spotted. Can you text Mollie and ask her if I have to worry about ticks out here?”

  “No. Because then she’d ask why you’re spending the afternoon skulking in trees, and I won’t lie to her.”

  “You can leave out the skulking part,” Kellan pointed out.

  “And Flynn can do a damn Google search.” He handed over the case. “So why are you two here?”

  Suddenly Flynn felt awkward. Rafe’s nerves were obviously stretched as tight as his own with O’Connor in town. Maybe this was the wrong time to change up their situation.

  Or maybe it was the perfect time. He’d worried on the drive last night that one car wouldn’t be enough if, God forbid, O’Connor did mean danger had found them. The car could get the Maguire brothers out of Dodge. But not Mollie and Sierra, too.

  Kellan elbowed Flynn’s biceps. “Flynn wants to buy one of those junkers you’ve got in the lot out back. I’m gonna make sure you don’t scalp him raw in the negotiations.”

  Rafe stood. Slowly, this time, but it was still obvious that it wasn’t a casual stretch. “You want to buy a car?”

  “Yeah.”

  A couple of steps forward brought Rafe to the front door, which he locked. Great. Added privacy meant a guaranteed fight. “I thought we agreed to share a car—and a house—until after the trial.”

  Flynn shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Because, damn it, Rafe was right. “We didn’t swear in blood. We agreed because it made sense at the time. It no longer makes as much sense. Not with Mollie and Sierra in the picture.”

  “My take?” Kellan raised one hand in the air, wiggling his fingers. “I’d say that Flynn needs a place to screw his sweetheart, but he already threatened me once this morning about putting ‘Sierra’ and ‘sex’ in the same sentence. Even though it’s obvious they’re doing it. Having all the sex.”

  “Shut up,” Flynn ordered. He didn’t need Kellan’s back-assward help. He could fight his own battles.

  “We made the decision to share a car under Delaney’s guidance. This isn’t a smart move.”

  Was it the end of the fucking world that he wanted to be able to drive his girlfriend home every night so she wouldn’t have to ride her bike?

  Flynn tried to keep his voice level, not let his temper slip out. “Our rent is paid for by WITSEC. They give us a living allowance. I’m banking my whole payroll. I can afford to buy a used car. Or, here’s a thought. I can put it on a credit card. Buy a freaking Beemer and pay it off once we retrieve the millions we hid in Chicago after the trial.”

  Rafe’s eyes turned from dark blue to black with fury at Flynn’s suggestion. “That’s to pay for an emergency, and you damn well know it. It’s to keep us alive if we have to go on the run. Not to blow on a hot sports car because you miss spending money.”

  Really? Rafe thought this was about Flynn missing buying trendy gym clothes, or dropping a hundred on lunch without blinking? Did his brother really see him as that shallow?

  That accusation pushed Flynn over the edge. Pushed him to the point of blurting out what he’d been holding in for so many years.

  “I’d say I miss making my own decisions, but I never really got to do that, did I?”

  Kellan sucked in a short, sharp breath. Flynn swore he almost, almost heard the grind of his eyeballs shifting to glare at his big brother.

  After enough beats that Flynn could barely inhale through the thickening tension, Rafe tunneled a hand through his dark hair. “The money isn’t why we’re sharing a vehicle. It keeps us close. Safe. Able to keep tabs on each other.”

  “You can text, can’t you?” Rafe’s attempt to calmly de-escalate the situation pissed Flynn off even more. “Or is your thumb so far up your ass that you can’t manage it?”

  Rafe smashed his palm against the wall. “Why have you been so fucking angry at me since we left Chicago?”

  “I’m not,” Flynn shouted. “I’m mad at myself. And that’s a hundred times worse.”

  Fuck.

  That tense silence a minute ago? It was flannel-covered puppy nuzzles compared to the atmosphere filling up the room now. Dark. Choking.

  Not that Flynn wanted to let one more word force its way up and out of his throat.

  “Why?” Rafe finally shook his head. “I don’t like it, but at least I get why you’ve been mad at me all these months. I made the decision to put us into WITSEC. But you’re saying that’s not it?”

  Flynn fisted his hands around the collar of his green tee shirt. “Hell, no. You saved our family. You did what you’ve always done. When McGinty warned you he’d make me take the fall and go to jail for a crime I didn’t even know went down, you fixed it. You got us out of trouble and kept us together. Of course I’m not mad at you for that.”

  “I’m really trying here, Flynn, but you’re not making any sense.”

  What didn’t make sense was how Rafe had thought Flynn was worth the sacrifice for all of them. Worth throwing his whole life, and Kellan’s aside just to keep Flynn’s ass from sitting behind bars for a few years. Yeah, it would’ve sucked. But it only would’ve been his burden, not one thrust upon all three of them.

  The guilt for his brothers’ abandoned lives weighed on him every day. That guilt had grown into the wall between them over the past few months. It had dried out his heart. Guilt had kept Flynn from enjoying anything, from using his senses for anything beyond the basics to stay alive. Guilt filled him with misery every damn day. Its heavy blackness had muffled the rest of the world to him. It even hid itself—so he felt so numb he almost forgot about the cause.

  Until Sierra.

  Until her light got through to him.

  “This—” he broke off to turn in a circle with his arms outstretched, to indicate the entire town, their entire lives, “—this is all my fucking fault. I’m the reason we disappeared. I’m the reason why we only have a single picture of Mom and Dad left that I smuggled out in the sole of my boot. Why Kellan had to give up his career. Why we go to sleep every night wondering if there’s someone in the Marshals Service on McGinty’s payroll. Someone who’ll share our new identities and lead a hit man straight to us. I’m the reason we lost fucking everything.”

  Flynn let his arms drop to his sides. Okay, they just sort of flopped there. Because he was spent. Letting out his feelings was harder than a day spent hammering and lifting at a construction site.

  Kellan shoved a chair behind him. Flynn’s knees took the suggestion and gave up the ghost. Rafe took some slow, dragging steps to
get back around the desk. The chair squeaked as he sat down. Kellan stood next to him, wearing identical frowns of concern. Moments like these Flynn noticed how very similar the three of them looked, from the dark hair that Rafe wore the longest, to the blue eyes, each a shade lighter than the older one, to the stubborn jut of the jaw.

  Their mom would’ve been tickled to see them like this. Well, not like this. Not the two of them staring at Flynn like he should be carted off to a mental hospital. But the three of them, all grown-up and still together. Still leaning on each other. Still wanting to be involved in each other’s lives. Not out of habit or guilt or necessity, but because the Maguire brothers were a single unit, first and foremost.

  That was what they’d always sworn to each other.

  Flynn just hadn’t realized that by swearing that, he’d sentenced his brothers to a possible life on the run. That he’d maybe given them a reason to hate him forever.

  He absolutely couldn’t take that. So he’d shut himself off from them before they could do it.

  Would they now?

  Rafe folded his hands together, then rested his chin on them. “I could candy coat this. Ease into it. But that’s not how we roll. So . . .” He slammed his hands down onto the desk, making the stack of papers flutter a little in the air. “You’re a fucking idiot, Flynn.”

  “Thanks. I feel much better now.”

  “You want a hug and beer? You’ve got a girlfriend for that. You come to us when you want the truth laid out. And the stone-cold truth is that we didn’t lose everything. More to the point, we didn’t lose anything. Not anything that really mattered. So stop with this martyr shit.”

  No way. Rafe couldn’t let him off the hook that easily.

  Flynn white-knuckled the wooden arms of the chair. “This isn’t a coffee commercial on Christmas morning about life’s moments being special. This is for real. We could be found and killed. We could go testify and be killed. That’s my fault. You put us in this position to save me. Do you know how fucking hard that is to live with?”