“What do you mean, ‘taken care of’?”
“I mean he gave us money, doctored the paperwork, used his people on the inside, and Social Services never came around.”
A long double blink went by before she spoke again. “So you and your brothers lived by yourselves?”
“Yeah. They made Rafe quit high school and run with the crew full-time. I got a full ride to college. The only catch was that I had to take the courses, do the major that McGinty picked. This wasn’t out of compassion. And it sure as hell wasn’t out of guilt for killing our parents. He was grooming me to run one of his businesses.”
“Guilt for wait . . . what?”
Rage had him fisting his hands in his pockets. He’d only lived with this knowledge since Halloween, and it still burned like fresh acid in his throat. “Our mom was collateral damage in a mob shoot-out. That’s the phrase that got used by the Feds. But McGinty himself killed Dad. Rafe discovered the evidence when he cased McGinty’s office right before he went to the Marshals. It was a punch to the gut. This man who’d been a father figure to him, raised him to be his right hand in the organization, murdered our real father.”
“And you didn’t know? Didn’t have any clue?” The hand brandishing her cell phone as a potential weapon dropped down to her hip.
Flynn hoped that small gesture meant she was less scared. Because he hated the thought that he was causing her even a few bad moments as he spilled his guts.
“I wasn’t happy about being in the mob. I wasn’t thrilled with having my life planned out by him. But I was fucking grateful every day that Danny took such good care of us after our parents died. Grateful beyond words that working for him made us able to be around to get Kellan through high school and all the way to law school. But no, we didn’t have a clue.”
Sierra held up a hand, like he’d hit her stopping point for absorbing info. Too bad Flynn still had a lot to share. “Kellan’s a lawyer? Kellan, who works at the cranberry plant?”
“He’s almost a lawyer. Can’t bring anything from your original life into WITSEC, though, so he doesn’t get to finish. He’s trying to find a job that’ll let him use his giant brain. We just haven’t figured it out yet.”
Sierra paced a tight circle. When she finally faced Flynn again, all the warmth had left her expression. Clearly the facts of his past life were settling in—and she didn’t like them one damn bit. “So you were a mobster.”
“Yes . . . and no. I swore the oath.” Flynn patted his hip. “You’ve seen the tattoo. But I didn’t do, ah, mobster things. McGinty paid for my degree so I could run his legit business. A construction company with books that could be safely audited. The one that supplied his whole crew with paychecks on the up-and-up so that they all looked like law-abiding, tax-paying citizens. My job in the mob was to not break the law.”
“You ran a whole company? Aren’t you a little young for that?” More disbelief. But Flynn appreciated that she challenged him.
With a shrug, he answered, “Yes and no. I worked the construction business every summer, high school and college. I knew it inside and out. Add to that my business degree, and let’s just say I was a hell of a lot more qualified to run it than the last guy who did.”
“But you didn’t want to get a business degree?”
Ah, she was paying attention. Clueing in to the little things he said as well as the big ones. “I wanted to do something in science. Chemistry. I started mixing chemicals, making them explode or change colors with my mom back in elementary school. But McGinty said no.”
“Can you do it now?”
“Go back for another four-year degree, that’ll probably take six while I also hold down a full-time job? No way. And McGinty laid down the law—do it his way or no degree. Then, once I had it, I wanted to keep going and get my MBA. Make myself more marketable. The day I went to ask him if he’d pay for grad school is the day Danny laid out the plan for me to come work for him full-time. And no, there wasn’t a thanks, but no thanks box to check. Not if we wanted to keep Kellan completely clean.”
“This man turned you into an indentured servant.”
Flynn loved that she got it. Knew he wasn’t blameless, though, and would cop to that, too. “He’d sucked me in slowly, with tickets to Bears games and gifts. McGinty was like a favorite uncle. Always there to bail us out of trouble. Always giving presents. And a whole bunch of friends who always hung out with him. It seemed awesome.”
“Until?”
“Until I knew there was no way out. Until I learned what he did to come up with the cash he used to fund my education.”
Her whole face crinkled in confusion. “You were a mobster . . . in name only?”
“More or less. Did some stuff when I was a teenager that bordered on sketchy, just to help Danny out, I thought. But once I graduated, he needed me to keep my hands completely clean. To be the legit and honest face of the construction company.”
“If you didn’t, you know . . .” Sierra punched the air, her face screwed into a grimace.
“Kneecap people?”
“If you just kept your head down and your nose clean, how did you get here?”
Like Flynn hadn’t asked himself that every single day since Halloween. “McGinty had an operation that went badly. He decided he’d throw me to the wolves for cover. Let the cops pin the whole thing on me and he’d walk away with clean hands. The man had such a fucking God complex that he went to Rafe. Gave him the heads-up that he planned to make me take the fall. Thanked him in advance for ‘his family’s service to the organization.’”
“But you didn’t go to jail?”
“No. Rafe made a deal with the Feds. Got them to put all three of us in Witness Protection. Rafe was the fixer, McGinty’s right-hand man. He knew where the bodies were buried. Literally, in a couple of cases. Me, I knew about the second set of books. I had proof of the money laundering, the tax evasion—between the two of us, we knew enough to implode it.”
Sierra gaped at him. Again. Then fury burned a hot flash in her eyes. “Rafe made a deal? He didn’t come to you first and ask how you felt about it?”
The fact that she’d zeroed in on what had stung him the most when it happened just proved how perfect Sierra was for him. If only she’d stick around long enough for him to point it out.
“You caught that, huh? Yeah, it was a done deal before he dialed me in. I had a day’s notice to secure evidence and tie up loose ends. Then we went into government sequestration. From there, we moved on to our new lives.”
“So . . . who are you? Really? A mobster? Or a bartender?” This time the challenge in her voice was a little sharper.
Now probably wasn’t the best time to mention the four other starter-lives they’d attempted to live before landing in Bandon. The ones that had fit worse than shoes four sizes too small. Sierra’s question was a good one, though. It hit at the heart of what he was trying to get across to her.
Flynn shrugged. Looked down at the scuffed-up dirt. “I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough,” she shot back.
Okay, okay. If there was ever a time to dig deep and connect with his innermost feelings, today was probably it. He owed Sierra that much.
“Being in the mob is a part of who I am. The guys in McGinty’s crew—they’re not that different than me. Okay, some are way worse. Violent scum that should spend the rest of their lives behind bars. But some were just making a living the only way they knew how. Same as I did to put Kellan through school.”
Sierra jabbed a finger in the air between them, swirling with dust motes in the filtered sunlight. “But you didn’t engage in criminal acts.”
“Not really. And I was grateful for that.” The words, the bitterness he’d hidden for so long choked out of him. “I did hate the mob. I hated that I didn’t feel like I had any choice but to join. Hated that all my choices were taken away from me. Now the government’s made more choices for me. And I’m pissed about it. Pissed my brothers are suff
ering for my sake. Pissed that I got dropped here. God, Sierra, I was mad at the world.”
“Was?” she challenged.
“Until you. How you just enjoy what happens in a day. Then I started to realize that I liked my days, now, too. I liked that every shift is both the same and completely different. I liked the fun of figuring out new cocktails. I liked shooting the shit with Carlos. You woke me up. Made me see that it’s okay to live this new life.”
Color pinked up her cheeks. “Flynn, I can’t take credit for something that huge.”
“Tough.” He stroked a hand down her arm, needing to touch her, needing to physically connect in gratitude if only for a second. “Your caring got under my skin. In all the best ways. Look, I faked who I was for years. I showed up to a job I didn’t want. Made friends with guys who I knew I didn’t respect on a certain level. I did what I was told. But that’s over.”
“What do you mean?”
“The man you’ve fallen in love with? That’s the new Flynn Maguire.” He jabbed his fingers against his sternum. “New name, new life, new person inside. You’re seeing the real me—as soon as I figure out who the hell that is.”
Another long silence fell. Birds chirped overhead. Something small and brown raced under a fallen log. Sierra pressed her lips together. Anger, no, disappointment hardened every line of her face. And when she spoke, it was an indictment. “You’ve been lying to me.”
Was she closing the door between them? With swift desperation, Flynn said, “Sweetness, I’ve been lying to everyone. WITSEC has strict rules. We aren’t supposed to tell anyone who we really are. Ever.”
Those big blue eyes got impossibly wide and round. Sierra’s lips parted. “Are you going to be in trouble for telling me?”
Look at her caring shining through her obvious and justified temper. God, he didn’t deserve a heart as big as hers. “Hopefully you won’t email Danny McGinty telling him where he can come looking for his revenge. It’d be nice if you don’t tell the U.S. Marshals that you know the truth about the Maguire brothers, too.”
“Flynn. I would never put you or your brothers at risk.”
“I can promise you I don’t want trouble. I don’t want to go back to any part of that life, or bring it here to Bandon.”
“You’re done with being a bad guy?” Doubt coated her words thicker than the frothy head of a Guinness.
Flynn might not be sure of a lot about his future—including if he’d even have one once he went back to Chicago to testify—but he was sure about that. “Yes. I swear. Relieved as hell about it being over . . . on top of feeling guilty.”
“That’s a lot to carry,” she said, almost cautiously. Like she wasn’t entirely sure of how to react or what to say next.
“I’ve been sitting with it for a while. It’s time to get over it. Put all of it—including the feeling shitty parts—behind me. My brothers helped by not giving up on me. Time helped. This place, the people in it, helped. All of that opened a door. Falling for you pulled me through it.”
“To what? What’s your big plan?” Sierra’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Who is Flynn Maguire?”
He caught her hand and brought it over his heart. “The man who loves you. That’s the God’s honest truth.”
“Those are pretty words. Ones I’m not sure I should believe.”
Desperation jacked up his heart rate. She was pulling away, literally and emotionally. “I hated lying to you. A good relationship can’t be built on lies. But I would’ve kept lying to you forever, knowing that it would keep you safe.”
“Looks like you just blew that.” She yanked her hand back. Everything about her rigid stance told him not to try touching her again.
“No. Sierra, I told you all this so you’d trust me when I told you that I could fix your problem with Rick. My handler. Marshal Delaney Evans. I trust her with my life. Literally every day. She’s, ah, gone to bat for us more than once. Let’s just say that we weren’t the most by-the-book protectees she’d ever been assigned.”
A faint smile, the kind he wasn’t sure he’d ever see aimed at him again, ghosted across Sierra’s lips. “That’s not hard to believe at all.”
“If you tell Delaney what went down in Milwaukee, she’ll bring down Wayne’s counterfeit ring. And she’ll keep you safe, keep your identity and whereabouts protected.”
“I’m so mad at you.” Then a single tear tracked down the center of her cheek.
“Aww, don’t cry.” Flynn tried to put his arms around her. Sierra shook her head and shuffled back a few steps, hugging herself.
“No. Don’t . . . don’t touch me.”
“Sierra. I won’t hurt you. I swear. That’s not who I am.”
“You’ve already hurt me. After everything I went through with Rick and Wayne, I promised myself I’d never so much as jaywalk again. I don’t want to be with anyone on the wrong side of the law. I don’t want to be with someone who’d file their taxes a day late. I hate that you pulled me back into a criminal association, even secondhand.”
“I’m so sorry.” He thumped his fist against his sternum. “I swear I’m not that man anymore. I’m not a criminal.”
Her head jerked up as she flung the words at him. “Don’t you see, Flynn? I don’t know who you are. I only have your word to go on. And right now, your word’s not worth very much, is it?”
“I’ll spend months, years working to convince you how much I love you, if you’ll let me.”
“I’m not sure that’s an option anymore.” Hand across her mouth, Sierra’s chest rose and fell a few times, and he could tell she’d stopped reacting and begun processing the ramifications of everything he’d blurted out. “The mob, Flynn. The omigosh mob. Dangerous, unlawful people who profit off of others. Just like Wayne. How on earth am I supposed to be okay with reconciling that man with the one standing in front of me?”
Shit. Shitshitshitshit. Seeing the pain he’d caused her made him want to howl. He’d fucked up. Again. Just like with Rafe and Kellan. It was his fault she was miserable.
It was breaking his heart.
When would he stop hurting the people he cared about the most?
“I get it. I do.”
Another fast shake of her head. “But the fact that you’d put your own safety on the line to give me mine? That’s huge. To be fair, that has to carry some weight, too. I’m so confused about how to feel. It’s so much to take in. I can’t . . . I feel sick.”
“Trust, if nothing else, that I want you to be safe. To be happy. Do you believe that much?”
She backhanded a few more fat tears from beneath her eyes. “Yes.”
“Then talk to Delaney. Not for me. For yourself. So that you can sleep at night. So the bad guy gets punished. So nobody else gets scammed.”
Sierra licked her lips. “If I do, what about us?”
“That’s up to you.” If he had to give her up, give up her love to guarantee her safety, that’s the way it’d be.
“I’m so very, very mad at you.” She looked down. Then away. Flynn could almost hear a door slam between them.
“I know.”
“I’d like to go home now. I think I’d like you not to text me. Or call me. Or talk to me outside work.”
That was too fucking fast. Wouldn’t she at least take the time to absorb it, try to see it from all sides?
Heart lodged up in his throat, Flynn growled, “You’re breaking up with me?”
“No. You just did that.” Her words grew louder, hurling at him like bullets. “By telling me I’ve been dating another man without knowing it.” Sierra waved a hand up and down his body. “This nameless man with a shady past who lied to me. That’s who just broke up with me. Cause and effect, Flynn. What you did brought us to this point. I only wanted to care for you. But I don’t know that I can risk my heart now that I know you’re really a criminal.”
Flynn had thought nothing could hurt more than the time he powered through to finish a fight with a dislocated shoulder.
> He’d been wrong.
Chapter Twenty-two
Sierra tied the laces of her shoes with exact precision. She’d painted the white canvas sneakers with yellow polka dots because it looked perky. And because what was the good of having one and three-quarters art degrees if you couldn’t use them to jazz up your clothes? But now, she reconsidered the flirty fashion. Because it didn’t look . . . serious, no matter how tight and straight she yanked the bows.
In fact, her whole outfit looked . . . silly. If you could call tan capris and a yellow tank top an outfit. Which you probably couldn’t.
Sierra sighed. Her clothes all came from Goodwill. Scoring this outfit had cost her less than four dollars. That’s what made it work. But would the marshal take one look and dismiss her as frivolous? Naive? Untrustworthy?
What the heck was the dress code for confessing your stupidity to a government official?
The urge rose to text Flynn, to ask him what he’d worn that first day he sat in the marshal’s office. But she couldn’t. That would be selfish and unfair, seeing as how Sierra had been the one to ask him not to talk to her. In the moment, brimming over with betrayal and anger and . . . why sugarcoat it? Emotional devastation. That’s what she’d been riding on when she cut Flynn out of her life.
That was probably an even dumber move than this outfit.
How come self-preservation made her feel so lousy? How come it had been exactly twenty-four hours and Sierra ached as though she’d been separated from Flynn for weeks?
It’d be great to talk over this huge upset in her life with her new, awesome girlfriends. Except that she couldn’t share what she was going through with a single person. Which also meant Sierra couldn’t beg advice from a single person. With her thumb and first finger, she worried the hem of her top.
Was this a turning point in her life? If she pushed Flynn away for good, would it harden her heart against ever trusting a man again? Would it be cutting off her nose to spite her face?
Until yesterday, she’d thought Flynn to be . . . well, not perfect. But perfect for her. She’d told him those three little words that felt like the biggest thing ever. Had started brainstorming ideas for what she could paint as a birthday present for him.
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