If You Fall (Brimstone #1)

by S. E. Lund

  My grandfather was an engineer back in Northern Ireland. My father carried on with the family’s interest in engineering, but wanted to become a rich entrepreneur, with his eye on starting a company that would be passed down from generation to generation. Like Brandon, he wanted to create a business empire. Growing up in the mean streets of Northern Ireland, even if your father was one of the more fortunate ones due to his career and IDF membership, was still one of deprivation and feeling like you were hamstrung from following your dreams.

  My father followed his dreams in the USA, but unfortunately, his dream of founding a business empire that he could pass on to his son didn’t pan out. I didn’t get his business when he died. His older brother Donny did. Donny, the thug. The lowlife in the local Irish Mafia. How I hated him…

  Colm was sympathetic, but shrugged his shoulders. There was nothing he, as the youngest brother, could do. Donny was the head of the family now. He was also involved with very scary men. I wasn’t afraid of them. I’d looked death in the eye many times when I’d been in the Marines and deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan. They were scum compared to the heroes I fought beside and the religious zealots who tried to blow us up.

  Colm was someone I could respect. He in turn respected my desire to join the Marines, and we spent some quality family time talking about Afghanistan whenever we got together. Fighting was something we had in common despite being separated for all those years after my mother and father divorced and I moved down to New Orleans and then California with her and her new husband.

  I drove my car over to the restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen. Despite the fact Colm wasn’t involved in the mafia, and tried to run a clean ship, he still had to face its reality so there was a security guy standing outside the back entrance, smoking a cigarette.

  The man saw me and nodded, familiar enough with my face that he let me in without stopping to check my ID.

  I went in through the kitchen, where the line cooks were busy with the night’s menu. My stomach rumbled as I smelled the food being cooked. The first seating for dinner was already under way, and the scents wafting from the kitchen as I passed by made my mouth water. I popped into the office and saw Colm’s daughter Dana sitting at the computer, staring at a spreadsheet.

  “Hey, cousin,” I said and pecked her on the cheek.

  She smiled when she saw me. “Daniel! It’s been so long. How are you? You missed the last family supper.”

  I stood in the doorway and glanced around, noting the Irish calendar on the wall, and a very ornate cross over the desk. Colm was a staunch Catholic. Jesus, Mary and Joseph was his favorite curse.

  “How am I?” I said and ran a hand through my hair. “Well, my business partner died a few weeks ago. I’ve been trying to deal with it. I’ll be at the next family supper.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” she said and nodded her head. “You need your family. My dad misses you. You’re like a son to him.”

  “He’s been a great uncle,” I said.

  She smiled and then I left, going to the bar, which was pretty empty, with only a few guests seated at small tables. I went up to the bar and said hello to Dana’s husband, who was bartending.

  “Hey, Mike,” I said and we shook. “How are things?”

  “Great to see you,” Mike said. “What can I get for you? Colm’s out picking up something. He’ll be back soon.”

  I sat at the bar and watched the news, sipping my glass of bourbon in wait for Colm to return. While I waited, I assessed my life.

  All in all, it was pretty good, despite my recent loss of Graham, and the financial insecurity that resulted. Sure, I’d had my own degree of tragedy – my parents’ divorce, the loss of my father, Sue’s death, my injury, Graham’s death… In fact, I’d had a lot of tragedy if you sat down and thought about it – which I tried hard not to do if possible.

  Then there was the fuckup that was my relationship with Miranda – the one woman I’d met since Sue’s death that I would even consider being with long term. So many times I could have just laid it all out and told her the truth, and so many times, I’d hesitated, found an excuse.

  Deep down, I knew I was afraid that she’d blame me. She’d hate me. If she did, I couldn’t blame her. If anyone should have died, it should have been me.

  Maybe I would go with Casey to a VA grief counseling session one of these days…

  Finally, Colm showed up and gave me a bear hug when he saw me at the bar.

  “Daniel,” he said, his face beaming. “You’ve finally come by to see your old uncle. It’s about bloody time.”

  “It’s been too long.”

  He sat beside me at the bar and nodded to Mike. “Pull us some Guinness,” he said despite my protest. I really didn’t like stout but it was an Irish thing.

  Mike poured us each a glass of stout and we toasted each other.

  “So Dana tells me that you lost your partner, Graham? Tell me.”

  I nodded and proceeded to tell him about Graham being killed while over in Malaysia, due to a suicide bombing in a crowded market square.

  “I’m selling the brownstone to help with finances until I can find another partner or investor.”

  “Go to Donny,” Colm said and frowned. “I know you don’t like the way he runs the business, but it’s your money, or it will be one day.”

  I shook my head. “Gonna keep my hands clean,” I said firmly. “I’ll make it work.”

  We chatted for a while and then went into the dining room for dinner. Much beer was consumed, and we were treated like kings by the staff.

  I left much, much later that night after a few more shots of Irish whiskey and a few more toasts to everything and everyone Colm could think of.

  I flopped into bed and tried to sleep, but thoughts of Miranda kept me awake. Instead, I took out my collection of photos and, like a pathetic stalker, I stared at them and remembered our time together.

  One of the happiest times in my recent life.

  I fell asleep with her picture in my hand, the flatscreen TV on the wall across from my bed droning the latest news.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Miranda

  Thinking about Beckett sent me into a funk.

  I had hoped that because I had so much to do before classes started on the 25th, I would have barely any time to think about him and the whole mess in Topsail Beach and at the memorial, but I was wrong. I went around with a sick feeling in my gut and a sense of loss I hadn’t felt since Dan died. All I could think of was Beckett and why he’d lied.

  The first few days back in Manhattan were exhausting as I got moved in, and my room set up. I was glad that I had a few days to get things all in order before classes started on Thursday. Leah was going to study at Columbia and she had a space in the student housing there, while I would be going to CUNY and had a room in The New Yorker, which was student housing specifically for John Jay students.

  I had a single enhanced room, with my own washroom and tiny bar fridge along with a single bed, desk and wardrobe as well as a window overlooking the street. The cost was high, but I had a combination of scholarship and savings that allowed me to live there for the year. I’d be so busy during that week, getting back into the whole student life, I wouldn’t have much time to think.

  Before he died, Dan had joked that we used to sleep on his tiny bed in his mom and dad’s house in Topsail Beach or in my tiny bed in residence. One day, when we had the money, we’d rent an actual apartment in Queens, closer to my granddad’s and I’d take the train in to school. But that was a year or more down the road, when I finished my degree and joined the FBI. Dan was supposed to be in for three more years, and then he’d get out and do his certification to become an EMT. My income with the Bureau and his as an EMT would be enough to get a big enough apartment that we could have a king sized bed instead of the twins we were used to.

  So, while the paperwork and moving and everything else kept me busy, not to mention the start of classes, my nights were still hell.
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  I laid awake for what seemed like hours each night, thinking of Beckett and why he didn’t tell me right away that he had my letters. What difference would it make that he had them? He could have given them to me and then still asked me out for a drink. Was it because he was involved in some undercover work with the DEA? Assuming that he was in fact working with the DEA… At that point, I had no idea what to believe.

  When Leah and I got together after classes for a slice of pizza, we sat in the park with our slices and drinks and of course, I went over it all again.

  “I suppose I’m driving you crazy with this,” I said, laughing ruefully.

  She smiled and then rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “What? You driving me crazy talking about Beckett again? Never…”

  We laughed, but there was an ache in the pit of my stomach that no amount of pizza or Rocky Road ice cream could assuage.

  “Are we going to try to find an MCMAP class somewhere to take?” she asked as we walked down Fifth Avenue.

  I shook my head. “It would just remind me of Beckett.”

  “And how he had his nice big strong hands all over your body…” Leah said and wagged her eyebrows.

  I nodded. “We had great sex,” I said softly. “Lots of great sex. I thought I could get used to it.”

  “Talk to him. He left his number on your phone…”

  I turned to her and made a face of disbelief. “You seriously think I should talk to him after what he did? Leah, he lied to me. He pretended not to know who I was when he knew all along.”

  She shrugged. “He must have had a reason. His note said he was nothing but bad news for you. What could that possibly mean?”

  I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

  We walked in silence back towards the subway. “Call him,” she said again. “Give him a chance to tell you the truth. He seemed like a really great guy. Brandon thinks the world of him.”

  I exhaled. There was a part of me that wanted to know what he meant by that remark about bad news. There was a part of me that wanted everything to be explained and for us to be together. I hated that part of me, because I deserved honestly and to be treated with respect.

  I didn’t think I could trust Beckett because he didn’t come clean right away.

  “I don’t know, Leah,” I said and stood beside the stairs to the subway. “Would you?”

  She nodded vigorously. “I’m seeing Brandon again.”

  “He didn’t lie to you.”

  “Look, Miranda, it’s up to you, but if you like him, if you really liked him, give him the chance to explain. It would be a gas if we were to all get together and do things. Have dinner. Go dancing. Beckett seemed to like to dance…”

  I sighed. As much as I had hoped we could get together once we returned to Manhattan, and for me to prepare dinner for him at his apartment like he suggested, I was afraid of what he’d tell me.

  He said he was bad news… Maybe I should believe him.

  I hugged Leah and we parted ways.

  I started bartending the following weekend at my grandfather’s pub in Queens. To mark my first day back, I invited Leah to come and sit at the bar while I bartended. She said of course, and so I looked forward to seeing her and chatting on my first shift. It was great to be back, and I was so glad I was going to see Gramps again, after a year away.

  When I arrived, the place was just as I remembered it from over a year earlier, when I was last there before going to Topsail Beach to marry Dan and live with Scott and Jeanne for a few weeks. The pub was comprised of one long narrow room with a huge wooden bar with polished brass fixtures. Behind the bar was a wall-length mirror and glass shelves on which were stacked glasses and bottles of liquor. A dozen stools sat under the lip of the bar. It was still pretty early, but the place was half-filled with patrons, most of the cops who came in from the local precincts.

  Gramps was standing behind the bar, leaning over and speaking with two patrons, a white bar cloth in his hand. He was mid-sixties and looked like an aging Robert Duvall, with a bald head and eagle eyes. He glanced my way when I entered, and his face lit up when he recognized me.

  “Mira!” he called out and put down the cloth, opening the bar hatch and coming out to give me a big hug. “I am so damn glad to see you, you can’t know. It’s been hell not having your smiling face here this past year.”

  I hugged him back and we kissed each other a couple of times, laughing and smiling. I was truly happy to see him again.

  “Gramps, I’m so sorry to have stayed away for so long, but I’m back now.”

  Gramps led me to a table in the corner, out of the way of the other patrons, and we sat down. The cocktail waitress came right over. She was new so she didn’t know me, but Gramps must have told her about me coming.

  “Is this your granddaughter?” she asked and gave me a smile. “Your grandfather has been talking about you non-stop since the summer when I started working.”

  I glanced at Gramps and smiled. “I missed him and I missed this place.” I turned to her. “Are you working tonight?”

  She nodded. She seemed pleasant enough and if Gramps liked her, she was all right in my books. He had a very good sense about people, having been a cop for his entire career.

  Before my shift, we had dinner, the two of us eating heaping platters of corned beef and fries at a local deli down the street like we used to before I left for Topsail Beach a year earlier.

  “So how are you, sweetheart? Ready to start your new life?”

  I nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes,” I said and lied.

  I was ready, but my heart still ached out of disappointment. I hoped I’d be seeing Beckett once I returned to Manhattan and that he’d be part of my new life. Now, that was likely not going to happen.

  We had a nice meal, catching each other up on our own news since the last time I visited at Easter. Then we walked back to the pub and I took my place behind the counter. A few hours later, Leah showed up and sat at the bar, and spent the next hour regaling me about her first week of classes and the hot business school grad she met in a seminar. I laughed, amazed that she was such a flirt and always meeting new men wherever she went.

  About 9:30, Steve from Topsail Beach walked into the bar and made a big to-do about seeing me and Leah.

  “Well, looky here,” he said and came up behind Leah, grabbing onto her shoulders and squeezing. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said and winked at me.

  “How did you find this place?” I said to Steve, frowning.

  “Oh, Mira,” Leah said and turned to me, a look of guilt on her face. “I forgot to tell you that I met up with Steve and told him about tonight. I thought it would be fun for the three of us to spend your first night back bartending together.”

  I forced a smile I didn’t feel and wiped down the bar. “Wasn’t that thoughtful?” I said, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

  It wasn’t that I disliked Steve. It was that he’d been a bit too protective of me. He took his big brother role a bit too seriously for my liking.

  We made small talk for a while about his decision to transfer to Columbia and Leah and Steve had a few drinks while I bartended.

  Then, out of the blue, Leah brought up Beckett.

  “I’m trying to convince Mira to hear Beckett out,” she said and pointed her glass to me.

  I made a face at Leah, wondering why she’d bring Beckett up. She must be feeling the couple of beers she already drank.

  Steve and I were work friends – nothing more. He wasn’t a confidant. I didn’t want to talk to him about Beckett. The very fact he knew about it made me really uncomfortable.

  “Why?” Steve said, shaking his head. “What’s so great about him? He seemed pretty rough to me. A biker. Had this swagger and cocky attitude. Not your type,” he said to me.

  “He’s not rough at all,” I said, suddenly feeling all protective about Beckett. “He’s a Marine. He’s a business man.”

  “He’s hotter than hell, Mira,” Le
ah said, raising her eyebrows. “You have to admit it. Plus, he was clearly hot for you.”

  I felt my face heat, and turned away, pretending to do something behind the bar.

  “Are you seeing him now?” Steve asked. I turned back and saw his jaw was clenched.

  “No,” I said. “We’re not seeing each other.” I turned to Leah and made a face intended to shut her up about Beckett. She seemed immune to my signals.

  “You could be if you just called him up,” Leah added. “You have his number.”

  I shook my head and turned away again. “Not going to happen.”

  “Why not?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing. “Did he hurt you?”

  “He broke her heart,” Leah said. “Seduced her and left behind a package of letters she wrote to Dan and—.”

  “Leah!” I frowned at her. “That’s personal.”

  Leah looked all surprised “We’re all friends,” she said, glancing between Steve and me.

  “This is private,” I said with as much emphasis as I could. “End of story.”

  Steve nodded. “I get it. He broke your heart and you don’t want to talk about him. I could have known he’d hurt you when I saw him the first time. He was just way too pushy.”

  I rubbed down the bar a bit too hard, trying to keep from responding too emotionally. He was wrong. While Beckett was pretty clear that he wanted to spend time with me, and then once we were together, he wanted to be with me and have me as much as possible, he wasn’t pushy. At least, not pushier than I wanted him to be.

  I wanted him, too.

  I wanted to spend time with him. I wanted to be in his bed. I did nothing with him that I didn’t want to do and very enthusiastically.