Got it Bad

by Christi Barth

  Smirking, Rafe said, “Who said I was trying to be subtle?”

  Flynn gave him an up and down and sighed. “Dude, it wouldn’t be any more obvious if you had a used condom caught in your zipper.”

  “I’m the head of this family. I’m just setting a good example for you two. Proving that you can have a fulfilling career and still squeeze in time on a random Tuesday for a nooner with your woman. Living the dream over here. Watch and learn.”

  Man, would Rafe ever drop the older and wiser routine? Because, if you objectively asked a hundred people, Kellan was sure the overwhelming vote would be that the wisest Maguire was the one who had never voluntarily joined a freaking crime syndicate.

  He jammed on his hat. “You know, Mollie needs the people of Bandon to respect her. Not think that you’re turning her into some perverted addict to hospital bed sex.”

  “Honestly?” Flynn chuckled and shook his head. “The people of Bandon are just off-kilter enough to probably respect her more for that.”

  Rafe jangled his keys. “You ready to hit the road, K?”

  “I need a minute to lock this up.” He lifted the service weapon and showed it off before securing it in the weapons safe at the back of the room.

  Flynn whistled. “You’re the real deal now, Deputy Maguire. Very impressive.”

  They were the right words, but Kellan needed to know if they were sincere. He didn’t want his brothers looking at him and seeing not him, but the crime fighters they’d worked to evade for so many years. “Is it, ah, uncomfortable for you guys to see me here?” He waved his hand to encompass the station as they walked out. “Chasing down criminals?”

  “Not at all.” The answer came without the slightest hesitation on Flynn’s part. “Maybe weirded out a little. At first. But we never wanted you to share the life we fell into. We wanted you to do whatever made you happy.”

  “And we’re so damn proud of you.” Rafe gave Kellan’s shoulder a hard squeeze. “This is a better fit than lawyering. Lawyers are sharks. Sheriffs are just good guys, through and through.”

  “Not all the way through. I’ve got a little of the Maguire bad boy streak in my veins. So I’ll keep up the poker scam and live on the edge a little. Helping the little guy while cheating the cheaters.”

  Flynn opened the passenger door of Rafe’s beloved Camaro. “You get shotgun. To celebrate getting your service weapon.”

  Just . . . wow. Flynn hadn’t ceded shotgun to him, well, ever. Talk about proof that they finally saw him as an equal instead of their kid brother. “Thanks.” As Kellan buckled up, he asked, “Why are we squishing Flynn into the back? Why not take his huge truck on this mystery road trip?”

  “Because I need to drive. I need to do it myself. I need to do all of this myself.” Rafe spoke through near-gritted teeth. A desperate determination roughened his voice, like he was talking about dismantling a bomb instead of pulling out onto Highway 101.

  “I’m with K. What are you trying to prove that’s got me losing feeling in my nuts back here?”

  Rafe’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “I’m proving that nobody coerced me. That this whole trip was my idea, my plan.”

  “Okay, now you sound like we’re off to rob a bank.” Kellan kept his tone light, but wasn’t at all joking. “Which, given your past histories, isn’t outside the realm of possibility.”

  “I already hit the bank. Emptied out half my pay from since we got here.” Rafe stomped on the gas two blocks later, when they passed the start of forest that marked the end of town.

  “The last time you acted this strange was when you showed up at my door to tell me you’d thrown us in WITSEC,” Flynn said slowly. “What the hell have you done?”

  “Something just as life-changing. Or it will be. I hope.” He nipped around a couple of cars and floored it as they came to Bullards Bridge. The blue water frothed beneath them. “We’re going to Coos Bay to buy Mollie an engagement ring. I’m proposing to her. And hoping to fucking God that she says yes.”

  The whole mood of the car changed. Flynn laughed, clapping Rafe on the shoulder. And Kellan let out a whoop that was as much happiness for Rafe’s decision as it was relief that they weren’t doing something crazy.

  “Way to go, bro,” Flynn said. “You don’t deserve the awesomeness of the Doc, but it’ll be great to have her as part of the family.”

  Kellan elbowed his big brother in the biceps. “I guess some of my smarts finally rubbed off on you. Because proposing to Mollie will be the smartest thing you’ve ever done.”

  “Don’t I know it. I shouldn’t have waited this long to buy the ring, but I was worried about not giving it away. I can’t lie to that woman. I’ll barely be able to survive the next four days.”

  Now Kellan was lost. “What happens in four days?”

  “Weren’t you listening? I’m proposing. At the Cranberry Festival, because it’ll be special for her.”

  Wow. That really was a gesture of love. Rafe had sworn up and down from day one in Bandon that he hated cranberries, and hated the crazy-ass festival. The timing, however, shocked Kellan to his core.

  “What happened to no major changes until after the trial? Not until we’re free and clear of the whole thing. Not until we know we’re safe and have the rest of our lives ahead of us.”

  “Yep. That was the plan. Plans change.”

  Plans changed. The reality of being in the same real estate as a bunch of pissed-off, vengeful mobsters did not.

  More quietly, Kellan asked, “Aren’t you scared?”

  “To go back to Chicago and testify? Hell, yes.” Oddly, talking about the trial seemed to take the edge off Rafe’s nerves. His grip loosened, and the cadence of his voice was far less forced. This was familiar territory. Love and marriage? Totally not. “I’m no idiot. I’ve read the stats on witnesses being taken out just between the car and the courtroom door. Or being trailed to the hotel and ambushed. I know it’s dangerous.”

  “For the record, I’m pretty fucking scared, too,” Flynn added from the back seat. “And I can’t tell Sierra that. I can’t give her any more reason to worry. But yeah, there will be flop sweat from the moment our plane lifts off at PDX and heads to O’Hare.”

  “Then I’m glad I won’t be sitting next to you and your stink.” Kellan had been looking for a time—and a way—to tell his brothers he wouldn’t be going along. They talked about the trial so rarely that this was suddenly the best option. “The marshals have benched me. I’ll be in a safe house the whole time you’re in Chicago.”

  “Good,” Flynn said, shocking the hell out of him. “I didn’t like the idea of your being in danger just because you want to support us. Anyone by our side is painted with an automatic target. This will give me one less thing to worry about.”

  Huh. Almost identical to the argument Delaney had laid out. “Rafe? Is this okay with you?”

  After a couple of beats, Rafe shot him a sidelong glance that saw way too much in that split second. “Did the marshals bench you? Or did our marshal, specifically, tell you to stay behind?”

  Man, nothing got past him. Which would make his testimony so damning to McGinty and his crew. “Delaney’s in charge of us, so, yeah, it was her decision. It’s important to her, so she can do her best to protect you two. I don’t want to put up a fight.” Not anymore, at least. And if it seemed that he was siding with her over his brothers? Well, this time he was. Zero regrets on that score, too.

  “Then that’s how it needs to be. You know we want you with us, but we’d rather be safe and smart than selfish.”

  Kellan seized on those words. If they were finally, actually talking about this, he needed to hammer home a point. Because he was fucking scared, too.

  Rafe and Flynn needed to bury the Chicago mob, but more importantly, they needed to come back home afterward.

  “You will be, right? Safe and smart? Not bullheaded and all I know this town, I know these people, I’m in charge?”

  Rafe punched on th
e radio. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “Don’t be arrogant,” he shot back. “And don’t assume it’ll be easy.”

  “I know,” Rafe muttered. “I know to keep my head down, to follow Delaney’s instructions to the letter.”

  Flynn stuck an arm between the seats and counted off on his fingers. “We won’t sneak out to catch a game at Wrigley. We won’t sneak out for Italian beef, or ask the marshals to do a drive-by of our old house. We won’t even visit Mom and Dad’s graves.”

  That all sounded good. But Kellan needed one more—specific—reassurance. “What about Lakeside Cemetery? Will you try and go retrieve the two mil you hid there?”

  “No.” Rafe’s response was swift and decisive.

  “What we’ve found here in Bandon is worth way more than some stacks of cash,” Flynn elaborated. “The future with Mollie and Sierra—and Jesus Christ, you, K—it isn’t worth risking.”

  Good answer. It just didn’t touch on all the aspects of his question. “What about Davey?”

  “We’ve gotta get through the festival this weekend. All of us are working overtime and being pulled in crazy fucking directions for it. After, it’ll be easier to figure out what to do about him. Worst case, we just tell Davey where it is when we get there.”

  That was . . . simple. Kellan drummed his fingers on the smooth black leather seat. “Why not tell him now, then?”

  “We won’t risk grabbing it this trip. But—” Rafe raised his index finger “—it is nice to know that it’s out there as insurance. If anything goes wrong in October, it’ll be yours to get and share with Mollie and Sierra.”

  Casually discussing their death as a real-to-fucking-God possibility, his brothers were still looking after him. Kellan loved them. And if anything did go wrong? He might roll up to Chicago with both of his guns and take out whoever hurt them.

  “What a fucking crap ball of a plan. How about you make sure nothing goes wrong?”

  Rafe circled his hand in the air. “Which is why I’m proposing to Mollie on Saturday. Once you help me pick out a rock.”

  “One big enough to guarantee she overlooks all your flaws and says yes?” Flynn snickered. “It’ll need to be at least three carats to pull off that miracle.”

  The forest blurred on both sides of the car with Rafe’s foot so heavy on the pedal, putting them in a dark green bubble. Maybe it put Kellan in a trance. Maybe he was dog tired from making this same commute to be with Delaney most nights. Or maybe just talking life and death put everything into perspective.

  Whatever the reason, he opened his mouth and said, “I’m buying one, too.”

  “One what?”

  “An engagement ring. For Delaney.” It felt . . . right to say that. Not scary. Not a knee-jerk reaction to the pregnancy. Just . . . right. It popped everything back into focus. The trees. The smell of day-old coffee from the travel mug in the cup holder. “But don’t worry—I won’t rain on your parade. I’ll do it in a couple of weeks.”

  Rafe’s foot stuttered on the gas. “Are you serious?”

  Flynn leaned his whole body between the seats to get right up in Kellan’s face. “You only patched things up three days ago. How about waiting to see if it sticks this time around?”

  Nope. “I know that you’re trying to look out for me. I appreciate it. But Delaney’s the right woman for me.” He also knew that if he disclosed Delaney’s pregnancy, they’d get on board immediately. But Kellan didn’t ever want them to think that was the reason for the proposal. So he shared the simple truth that had hit him on this drive. “When you know, you know. No point waiting.”

  “I know,” Flynn said quietly. “I know that Sierra’s the one for me. I still want to wait until after the trial. Go ahead and laugh at me, but I don’t want to jinx anything. Everything to do with McGinty’s got to be behind us before I officially start the rest of my life with her.”

  “And that makes sense—for you. But for me?” Kellan shook his head. “Waiting until after the trial would feel like a jinx to me. The mob was never my life, so I damn well won’t start letting it influence me now.”

  Rafe slapped his palm against the wheel. “Well said.”

  There was only one glitch in this spontaneous plan. “I don’t suppose you guys have any other hidden money you haven’t told me about? Or want to float me a loan to get her the ring she deserves?”

  “Shit.” Flynn banged his fist against the door. “You have money, K. All your savings from Chicago and what’s left of dad’s insurance.”

  “I thought that was untouchable?”

  “Ours is,” Rafe corrected. “Because of the whole us being material witnesses thing. But yours is accessible. We didn’t tell you at first because we were worried you were so pissed at us that you’d bolt.”

  Kellan struggled, balancing a knee-jerk anger at being treated like a child against the fact that, yet again, Rafe and Flynn had worked to keep the three of them together. To not let him go off in a huff and be unprotected. Good intentions, yes. Badly handled, hell yes. But they’d all come a long way since November.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “It might’ve been the right call back then. Doesn’t explain why you didn’t mention this since things smoothed out between all of us over the past few months.”

  Rafe tugged at the neckline of his tee. “We forgot.”

  “Come again?” Kellan gave himself a mental high five for not screaming what the actual FUCK?

  Rafe explained in a rush. “We’re living off the WITSEC monthly stipend, in WITSEC paid-for housing. Which is all we’ve been doing for ten months. Haven’t given money a thought. We’ve kept our heads down. No expensive concerts, ballgames, trips. Quiet life in a town the size of a freckle.”

  “If you’d told us that you needed money, we would’ve said something,” Flynn added. “Money hasn’t really mattered.”

  Well, damn. He’d just about scraped dry his savings from the cranberry plant, meeting Delaney in hotels up and down the Oregon coast. Guess he should be grateful that the situation wasn’t as dire as he’d thought.

  In fact, the whole thing was so ridiculous that Kellan started laughing. They forgot about his money?

  He twisted around in his seat. “Pull out your phone,” he ordered Flynn. “Delaney can’t know about this. Call the marshal’s office in Chicago and get me access to that account.”

  “They emptied the Chicago account. For safety. It’s at a bank here in Oregon.”

  Fucking ridiculous. And hilarious. “I want that money by the time Rafe’s done picking out his fifteen-carat rock. Get started.”

  As he wriggled his phone out of his pocket, Flynn said, “I’m sorry, K. We should’ve told you.”

  “Yeah? That’s been your motto for a while now. Both of you. How about this be the last time you ever say that to me? Or is there anything else? A sister I don’t know about? A secret house in the Caymans?”

  “There’s Rafe’s third nipple. He sliced it off when he tried to juggle knives for an eighth-grade talent show.”

  Laughing even harder, Kellan let go of the residual anger. They were doing this. Starting over. Clean slates, women they loved, a baby on the way. Everything was going to be great. Starting with the has to be seen to be believed epicness of the Cranberry Festival. Getting through the trial would just be a tiny blip after that.

  He had to believe it.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  This was actually one of those rare times when an event didn’t just live up to the hype, but surpassed it.

  Bandon’s Cranberry Festival had more people in its streets than Kellan had seen in total the whole four-plus months he’d been here. People dressed like pirates. One woman had an inflatable shark strapped to her waist and fake legs dangling from it. People in giant puffy cranberries that reminded Kellan of the sumo wrestling suits used in bars. The 5K fun run at dawn had a group of at least fifty in fluffy red tutus.

  Flynn tipped a cranberry slush drink into his mouth. He wore an official
Festival tee that all of his float-building kids had signed on the back. “It may not be the Chicago Blues Festival or the Windy City Ribfest, but this is damn awesome in its own right.”

  Rafe continued to tinker with the huge electric box that controlled the stage and the strings of lights spanning the street overhead. It was a little quieter here, but once the live music started in two hours, the bulk of the people would tilt to this end of town. “Are you seriously drinking a cranberry daiquiri? And still expect to call yourself a real bartender after you drain it?”

  “It’s a cranberry margarita,” Flynn corrected in a know-it-all tone. “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”

  Snickering, Kellan asked, “Isn’t that the same motto that turned you into a mobster?”

  “Shut up,” he said, with no heat behind it. “The Gorse is closed today. I’m here as a solid town citizen, sampling all aspects of the festival. Did you swing by the Food Fair yet? They’ve got some cranberry-sauced meatballs that will change your worldview. I think I saw Mick put away an even dozen.”

  Kellan patted the silver star on his uniform shirt. “Missed my lunch break. I spent it helping the paramedics and Mollie finish dealing with the injuries from the race. One guy dressed as a pirate got stabbed by his fake parrot’s beak when he tripped and fell. Thing went right through his cheek.”

  Ripping off a piece of black electrical tape with his teeth, Rafe said, “You know, as much as we bitch about Floyd, this really is a fucking big-ass deal. He did a great job juggling everything into place.”

  “You gonna tell him that?”

  “Nah. He’s enough of a pain in the ass without me making his head any bigger. But I’ll give him less grief next year. This thing is pretty damned fun.”