Got it Bad

by Christi Barth

  “Why not? Policemen say what they do. As long as you don’t tell anyone that you met me doing your job as a marshal, why do we have to lie?”

  Because it was second nature? Because it cut down, even if by a minuscule percentage, on anyone wondering why a marshal would be in the area, and then maybe telling their cousin back in Chicago that there was a marshal roaming loose? Because dating Kellan constituted going off the rails enough when it came to following the rules?

  Short answers were always best. “For safety. Besides, this is an adorable meet-cute. Both of us killing an afternoon painting pottery. You rescued me from my own horrible lack of talent.”

  “Aren’t meet-cutes supposed to be in dating?”

  “I’m appropriating it. A good marshal makes use of whatever tool or situation is handy. Consider it a lesser version of my superpower.”

  Friends. Fun. More chances to see Kellan. Suddenly, this new assignment that had felt like a punishment seemed more like a gift.

  Grabbing her phone—because resisting the urge to talk to Kellan was about as difficult as resisting a bowl full of spaghetti and meatballs heaped with parmesan—she shot off a quick text.

  Having a good day. Plan on it being an even better night if you can meet me in Coos Bay. I’ll explain later. Just say yes.

  His answer took no time at all. My answer to you will always be yes. Especially if it involves getting naked.

  D: If you’re lucky . . .

  But she felt like the lucky one. This living in the moment thing, ignoring the impossibility of their future, it was working.

  For today, anyway.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kellan rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I miss Chicago.”

  “What set you off this time?” Delaney asked. She flicked her glance from the dark road to give him a very disdainful side-eye. “The predawn air doesn’t smell enough like the spilled beer puddles outside Wrigley? The sky’s too dark and not lit with enough ambient lighting from the Hancock Building?”

  Okay, he got it. There were times when he bitched about missing stupid little stuff about his hometown. And since Delaney was one of only three people in the world he could complain to, she probably heard too much of it. Especially in the week since their planning summit, which had brought up all sorts of Chicago memories now that Kellan knew he wouldn’t get to see it one more time after all.

  He’d do better. Dial it back. Because he intended to be the best damned boyfriend to her in the world. That was step one in his elaborate plan to convince Delaney there was a way for them to keep dating after the trial. Without any repercussions.

  Okay, it was his only step planned so far. But he was killing it at step one.

  Smugly, Kellan remembered the three orgasms he’d given her last night. Right after he’d magnanimously ordered in Chinese to make up for his attempt to cook her dinner. It’d been his first try at recreating Chicago’s famous Chicken Vesuvio. Chicken baked with potatoes and artichoke hearts and peas seemed impossible to ruin. Unless your pot holder hit the flame and started a small fire . . .

  Rafe and Flynn always gave him shit about his failed cooking attempts. Delaney, on the other hand, covered him in kisses and thanked him for making the effort. Man, she’d make a great mother someday.

  Kellan jerked in his seat at the thought. Technically, they had no way to be together by Thanksgiving. What was he doing thinking about kids with her?

  “Sorry, Laney. What set me off is, well, it’s how I miss the routine of my life there. I worked out in the afternoons. After class, to get the blood pumping before hitting the books for eight more hours.” He wrapped his knuckles against the car window. “This running on the beach at zero dark thirty isn’t my speed.”

  “You said you wanted to do more things with your brothers. This is the best time to work out as a unit. It’s good for you in a lot of ways.”

  “I feel bad that you got up so early to drive me to the beach.”

  She reached over to slide a hand languorously up and down his thigh. “It was worth it to spend the night together. And I’m doing some work around here today, anyway.”

  Kellan didn’t ask for details. He was just thrilled that her new assignment put her so much closer. “You’ll be careful?”

  “Kind of in my job description, babe. Hey, how about I try cooking for us tonight?” Delaney turned off her lights as she coasted into the parking lot. That way Rafe and Flynn wouldn’t know that he’d been dropped off.

  They wouldn’t care. But explaining to Delaney that his brothers knew about the two of them was a fight he wasn’t ready to have yet. “Can you cook better than me?”

  Laughing, she pointed out the window at a shore bird digging its beak in the sand. “That gull can cook better than you. It won’t be fancy, but it won’t catch on fire, either.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Kellan opened the door. “You need more adventure in your life.”

  “You’re all the adventure I can handle.” With that she kissed him and pushed him out of the car.

  If he had to run on the beach at the crack of ass, doing it with a kiss from Delaney was the way to go. Kellan trudged up the dune and over to a towering rock formation, at least twelve feet tall. Rafe and Flynn waited for him, stretching against the rocks.

  “I didn’t see a car,” Rafe said.

  “That’s the idea. Your not seeing it means—to Delaney—that you guys don’t know about us.”

  “When are you going to man up and tell her?”

  He bent over to stretch his hammies. “Don’t hassle me. You lied every day you were in the Chicago mob. Don’t act like truth is encoded in the Maguire genes.”

  “The longer you wait to tell the truth, the worse the fight. Trust me on that.” Flynn stripped off his wind shirt and left it piled at the bottom of the rocks. “I waited too long to tell Sierra. I almost lost her because of it.”

  “Since when do you give dating advice? What makes you think you know more about women than I do?”

  Flynn’s sharp laugh echoed off the rocks. “I’m older. More handsome. And my street smarts beat the living shit out of your book smarts when it comes to women.”

  “Still using your fists every chance you get, huh, Frank?” A bald, stocky man stood at the edge of the farthest rock.

  And he was holding a gun, trained right on Kellan.

  Wow. Just when he thought a dawn run couldn’t suck any more . . .

  Kellan’s mind instantly flew to Delaney, hoping that she’d left the parking lot without any interaction with this goon. Then he spared a thought for his gun, safely tucked away in his dresser drawer. He hoped his socks felt safe, because he sure as shit didn’t.

  That’s when time sped back up to normal and it fully registered that one twitch of a finger could mean his death. Because this wasn’t some random mugging. No, this guy had used his brother’s real name. Original name. That made him a mobster.

  Holy shit.

  “It’s Flynn, now, actually. Try to keep up.” Flynn sounded calm. Looked perfectly still. But Kellan had seen him like that at MMA fights, right before he executed a crazy windup kick that put his opponent six feet across the floor. Did the calm mean he was ready to strike? Or that Kellan didn’t need to be panicked about the gun pointed at his chest?

  “Davey O’Brien. This is a surprise,” Rafe said.

  “The fuck it is. You’ve known from day one that we’d be coming after you for that money.”

  Oh. This was about the money his brothers stole from the mob the night before going into WITSEC. That could be good. This O’Brien guy would need to keep them alive to find out where they’d hidden the cash.

  Or at least, keep one of them alive.

  Shit. Yeah, that didn’t reassure Kellan at all.

  “We didn’t steal any money,” Rafe said calmly.

  “Right. Just like you and I didn’t fuck up that asshole Dwyer with a baseball bat when he skimmed off the top of McGinty’s take af
ter the Super Bowl. Jesus, I’m not an idiot. You took the money. We can stand here lying to each other all day, but it won’t change that I’m the one with the gun aimed at your little brother. You really want me to start shooting parts of him to jiggle your memory?”

  “You might get off one shot.” Rafe lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Then we’d be all over you.”

  “One’s all it takes.”

  Kellan really didn’t like where this conversation was heading.

  His brothers might be calm, might think they could take this guy down. But in the meanwhile, even if it didn’t kill him, one bullet could do a hell of a lot of damage. “Do I get a vote?”

  Simultaneously, his brothers shouted, “No!”

  Flynn reached out an open hand, palm up. Which would look nonthreatening to anyone who hadn’t seen him use his thumb as the leading edge of an uppercut to the underside of a jaw. “Leave the kid out of this. He’s got nothing to do with McGinty or the money. You know damn well we kept him in the dark about all of it.”

  “Doesn’t look like he’s in the dark now.” O’Brien flicked his gun up and down at Kellan. “Not if he’s living with you on the government dime.”

  He couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Believe me, I don’t know anything. They won’t tell me much.”

  “I hear you’re the brains of the family. Why don’t you use those smarts to convince your brothers to play nice? I don’t want to shoot anyone. Hell, I don’t even want to disrupt your cushy deal with WITSEC. I just want the money. Then I’ll vanish.”

  “You’ll vanish?” Rafe straightened as though that news had stuck a coat hanger up his ass. “You’re not here on orders from McGinty?”

  O’Brien swatted at the air like that suggestion was as annoying as sand fleas. “Why should I share with a washed-up old guy on house arrest?”

  “He’s out of jail?” Now Flynn straightened up, too.

  “Yeah. After he got sick again this month, they put an ankle monitor on him and moved him home.”

  Interesting that Delaney hadn’t shared that fact with them. Not that Kellan blamed her. The news would’ve sent Rafe and Flynn into a lather.

  But as her boyfriend, yeah, it rankled a little that she’d held back, no matter how logical it was to keep McGinty’s change in status on a need-to-know basis.

  Rafe shook his head, squinting. “After ten months locked up? How’d he finally convince a judge to be lenient?”

  “There was a shake-up because of that scandal with the bailiffs, oh, and that other thing with the night court bribery ring. It left a few judges’ seats empty. They had to bring some out of retirement to keep the dockets clear. Judge Fitzpatrick, who was always in our pocket, came on board and had McGinty back in his recliner within a week.”

  This was a lot of gossipy catching up that in no way moved the barrel of the gun away from Kellan. Couldn’t they go grab a beer and talk mob stuff without him being in mortal peril?

  “Fitzpatrick’s a tool,” Rafe said companionably, as if they were sucking on cigars after a bone-in ribeye back at Sullivan’s Steakhouse.

  “Sure is.”

  Head cocked, Flynn asked, “How’d you find us?”

  Now they were getting somewhere. Because however Davey found them could lead other mobsters here, too. It could be make Delaney yank and relocate them immediately.

  Well, immediately after they got rid of this joker and his fucking gun that was still, unwaveringly, pointed at Kellan.

  “Pat O’Connor. He came out here about six weeks ago. He knows I’ve been working on my golf all summer, so being the prick that he is, he bragged about the courses at Sunset Shoals.”

  “They’re pretty great.” Kellan snapped his fingers. “Tell you what—I’ll get you a free round if you put the gun away.” Yeah, it was desperate and stupid. But a bribe seemed like something a mobster would appreciate.

  O’Brien smirked. “I can play a lot more than one round once I get my hands on that two million.”

  The what? Kellan knew they’d stolen money as a backup, in case WITSEC didn’t work out for them. But they’d never told him the actual amount. Funny to think that Rafe and Flynn were millionaires.

  For a second.

  The whole loaded gun thing seriously dampened his sense of humor.

  Rafe cleared his throat. “You’re not getting one red cent unless you explain how you found us.”

  “My wife hates Arizona. This sounded like a better place to bring her for winter golf. I looked on the web and found the site for the Cranberry Festival. How hokey is that? I was laughing my ass off about it when I saw your picture.”

  “On the website? Impossible,” Rafe said flatly. “There aren’t any photos of us.” They were all cautious about that—even in this era of smart phones capturing every damn second of life in a tourist town.

  “It was you, Rafe. Bending over a half-done stage with a hammer. I wasn’t sure, until I recognized your tattoo.”

  “Fourth of July. You helped set up for the concert.” Flynn tunneled his hand through his dark hair. “Fucking Floyd. He must’ve added photos to the website Kellan designed after the holiday.”

  If that was true, it’d be easy enough to take down. Or just creatively blur Rafe’s face and tat. Kellan could do it in less than five minutes.

  If he got off this beach.

  Alive.

  “Enough jawing. Where’s the cash?”

  Cash? They’d stolen two million in cash? That had to be . . . well, a lot of bundles of bills. You couldn’t just stick two million in your coat pocket and walk down the street unnoticed. Kellan was suddenly very curious exactly where they had stashed that much money.

  “It’s in Chicago.” Rafe crossed his arms. “You’re not getting it today, no matter what.”

  A bark of surprised laughter burst out of Davey. “You left it back home? What the hell good does it do you there?”

  Flynn mirrored Rafe’s pose. “Well, right now, it’s keeping you from shooting our brother, so I’d say it’s doing a fuck ton of good.”

  O’Brien’s head swiveled back and forth between them. Frowning, he growled, “You’re lying.”

  “Are you serious about vanishing after you take the money? Not telling anyone about us?” Rafe asked.

  “Of course.” Davey double-thumped his chest, looking pissed that he’d been challenged. “What the hell, Ryan? Fuck, I mean Rafe? You always trusted me to do a job right, not skim off the top, not be rough with women. We worked side by side for years. You know I’m a man of my word.”

  Ah. The famed honor among thieves.

  It was like watching every clichéd mobster flick being acted out right in front of him. Again, it’d be amusing as fuck in hindsight. Once this was all over. After Kellan did about seventeen shots of Johnnie Walker.

  “And you know the same goes for me. I’ve never lied to you, Davey. Never treated you badly.” After a quick glance at Flynn, and getting a nod, Rafe said, “We’ll give it to you. It’s worth your keeping our secret.”

  “Fair enough.

  “We don’t need it, anyway. It was just backup in case this WITSEC deal went south and we had to run.” Flynn rubbed at his temple. “It’s been weighing on my conscience. Giving it to you will clear the books. With the added win that prick McGinty won’t see a cent of it.”

  Kellan couldn’t believe that O’Brien was actually buying this load of crap.

  Sure, it was true they’d stolen it as security. But Flynn saying they didn’t need to be millionaires? This from a guy who used to drop five hundred on fancy sneakers without blinking, but hadn’t worn anything more than Nikes in ten months? And the guilty conscience thing almost made him laugh out loud.

  Rafe actually backed up a few steps, farther away from O’Brien, to lean against a rock. It gave the impression he was totally chill with the conversation going down. That he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the gun.

  Kellan hoped like hell that was only an impression, and not
reality.

  “I’m telling you, straight up, Davey—all the cash is in Chicago.” Rafe shrugged. “You can have it. But we’ll have to go and get it when we go back for the trial.”

  “October, right? I’ll meet you at O’Hare. We’ll go right to wherever you stashed it.”

  Flynn held up a hand. “No can do. We’ll need to shake our marshal. That’ll be tricky. Having you around would make it impossible. We’ll meet you at the Water Tower after we’ve retrieved it.”

  Smart. Smack dab in the middle of the Magnificent Mile, the Water Tower was a landmark. Always well lit, with both tourists and locals constantly streaming by. No chance for any funny business so out in the open.

  A low, threatening laugh gurgled out of Davey. “Oh, I’ll take care of your bodyguard. It’ll be fun. Consider it a welcome-home present.”

  Kellan’s blood ran cold at the breezy threat against Delaney’s life.

  Flynn, too, backed off to lean against another rock. Even gave a nod of his head in . . . gratitude? “That’s a generous offer, Davey. But the marshal’s off-limits. If you’re taking our security stash, we’ll need our monthly check from WITSEC. Gotta play it smart and safe.”

  “No wonder you boys left the mob.” O’Brien pulled his mouth downward into a smirk. “Pussies, all of you!”

  “Toeing the line doesn’t net us a lot of cash. That extra padding from WITSEC makes all the difference.”

  “You would say that, Flynn,” the mobster sneered. “I remember all your fancy ties and sneakers. No wonder you sat behind a desk and never got your hands dirty like your brother.”

  “Work’s work, Davey. Everyone contributed. Now, do we have a deal?”

  “Yeah. Get a burner phone before you text me about the handoff.”

  “We’re not amateurs. You’ll get the money before the trial starts. You’ll learn the date in the Chicago Star-Trib, I’m sure. Book your flight for the next day to whatever acre of the Mexican coast you plan to retire to.”

  “Deal.” He tucked the gun into his pants and stuck out his hand. At a measured pace, Rafe came forward, shook, and then they both spit sideways over their crossed hands. Then Davey jerked his chin toward Kellan. “Crazy how much the kid looks like you two.”