by K. Ryan
"If you had the chance to get your brother out of prison, you'd take it, right?"
The question hangs in the air as Father Lindsay's head snaps in my direction.
"Even if it could be dangerous and even if it could be a dead-end," I push through it. "You'd try, wouldn't you?"
He doesn't miss a beat. "Yah. If I had the chance, absolutely, Jack. Where is this comin' from?"
I suck in a harsh breath and ready myself to drop the bomb. Of all the things he's expecting me to say, the truth isn't even on the radar of possibility for him, so I swallow hard and let it fly:
"Do you know who Raena Moretti is?"
Father Lindsay's eyes are glued to the concrete, his forehead etched together with frown lines, and finally, he moves. It's only to dig his cigarette pack out of his back pocket and he takes his time to light one up, fumbling with his lighter a little before he finally takes a few long puffs. It's only after a long stream of smoke fumes from his nostrils that I hear his voice again and it's barely above a whisper.
"Yah," he nods to the cement. "I know who she is."
Now that it's out there, my mouth works overtime to fill in the blanks for him, starting with my little encounter with Rae right here in this spot and ending with our visit with Sean. Father Lindsay is silent through the entire story, nodding every once and awhile, and his frown deepens with every word.
"I'm an idiot for letting her just walk away like that, right?" I tilt my chin up to the night sky and sigh heavily. "If she's seriously gonna try to clear Sean's name, shouldn't I be there every step of the way—for his sake? Make sure she doesn't completely fu—sorry, screw it up?"
That breaks through the wall, at least for a little while. Father Lindsay's lips quirk up in amusement at my near-miss and he bats a hand in my direction. No harm, no foul, I guess. But the tension doesn't dissipate out of thin air either and those deep creases worry his forehead just as quickly again.
"Sean shouldn't be in prison," Father Lindsay's voice floats toward me softly, "and I think maybe yah should seek her out again, try to help her...keep her safe."
Part of me still wishes I hadn't used my own body as a shield that night, that I'd just shoved her to the side and hightailed it for the door as fast as I could. Something tells me Father Lindsay probably won't feel the same way.
"Her safety is the least of my problems," I huff and shake my head. "She's gonna get herself in trouble, though, that's for sure. She just has this crazy look in her eye that says she's not gonna back down, yah know?"
"Yah," Father Lindsay smiles sadly. "I know."
Maybe I admire her for that. Maybe I recognize something in her. I don't know. Either way, I know she isn't getting too much farther without me.
"She says she wants to do the right thing. I just..."
"You sound unsure about her, Jack."
"Unsure?" I cock an eyebrow at him. "Unsure doesn't even begin to cover it. She's reckless and that makes her dangerous. And she's lied about this for the last seven years, so how do I know she's not lying now? Besides, you've heard all the stories about her. I know you have. All those trips to rehab. All those messes Daddy had to clean up for her. Untrustworthy and her seem to go hand in hand."
"Maybe that was true of her when she was younger, but that was years ago. She says she wants to do the right thing, so maybe you should let her."
"Maybe," I shrug easily. "But this isn't about her. This is about Sean."
He nods tightly and takes one more pull from his cigarette before flicking it out onto the concrete. "You're right. This is about Sean as much as it is about her. But I think she might need someone to look out for her and maybe that someone should be you."
I flinch at that and squeeze my throbbing fists together at my hips. "Why?"
It's as good a question as any. Why me? Why do I have baby-sit the spoiled little princess while she stomps around the city, searching every nook and cranny for something she probably won't even find?
Because Sean's your brother and you owe it to him to try.
That's the answer. That's the only thing I need to remember. It doesn't explain the biggest question I'm still trying to wrap my head around: why am I still hanging on to her number?
But when Father Lindsay speaks again, his words are cryptic and barely above a whisper: "Therefore whatsoever ye have spoken in the darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops."
My eyes find him. Even shrouded in darkness, the hard lines in his face and the weathered weariness attached to his movements are unmistakable. He's not trying to hide it either. The way he wears it, though, isn't a badge of honor; it feels like a punishment. Like a penance. Then he flashes me a somber, drained attempt at a smile and heads right for the side door.
He leaves me standing here in the dark alley with that and I give myself a moment to pause. The calm before the storm. The dark before the dawn, I guess. This is the right thing to do—I know that. It doesn't matter where it leads or where it ends up. I have to do this. I have to help Sean however I can, even if it means I have to work side by side with the girl who started all this seven years ago when she sent him to prison.
Father Lindsay has never steered me wrong before and that's why the second I'm a safe distance away from the bar, I pull the old receipt out of my wallet with that number scribbled on the back.
I can't give myself even a moment to chicken out, so I throw caution to the wind and punch in her number.
THE NEXT MORNING, I arrive at the agreed upon meeting place five minutes early from the agreed upon time. It's still hard to believe she even agreed to this in the first place, let alone even answered her phone when I called her well after midnight. She wasn't particularly happy to hear the sound of my voice so late at night, but at this point, I figure I'm easily the last person she wants to see or talk to, period.
How did she put it? Oh right: "Like I'm meeting you anywhere at night. No chance in hell."
Well, at least she's smart enough to take the necessary precautions to protect herself.
At this hour, The Grind is pretty much hopping. Customers wait in line, impatient and grumpy, until they get their daily caffeine fix and that fresh aroma of deliciously bitter richness saturates the air. Surrounded by coffee—there's no better way to spend a morning. It just beats that my morning surrounded by coffee has to include driving across town to Back Bay.
Of course this is the neighborhood she lives in. Where else would she live but in the richest, swankiest part of the city?
To be fair, this coffeehouse is the balls and I'm happy to wait in line so I can order my coffee black with two creams. It's crazy what a little caffeine can do to the body, even after the beating mine just took the night before—a little adrenaline, a little pick-me-up and I'm prepping before the next fight before my body has a chance to call my bluff.
Still, the difference here in this part of town is clear: all these people are too attached to their devices and too-immersed in themselves to truly be aware of their surroundings. If Rae walked into one of the coffeehouses on the other side of the town, you can bet your ass she'd be noticed. She'd be stared at, too. Treated at arms-length and then sent on her way. In Southie, we walk with our heads up and both eyes clear.
Or maybe that's just my bitterness over not being recognized here seeping through.
Oh well.
When I move away from the counter, my eyes land on what they're searching for almost instantaneously. Rae sits stoically at a nearby table with, from what I can tell, the same book she used to deflect and ignore my presence a week ago when we visited Sean. I sort of recognize the guy sitting next to her—I'm pretty sure he was the one who nearly took a swing at me that night outside the bar and I guess I shouldn't be surprised she decided to bring a bodyguard along. Or wanted to meet in a crowded coffeehouse filled with witnesses.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little impressed. And annoyed as shit.
The guy wa
ves as I weave in and out through the throngs of people itching for their caffeine—is he Patrick's cousin?—but Rae doesn't even bother to look up from her book. All that ink is her armor, but she has to set it aside sometime if we're going to have a real, honest conversation about what we're doing here.
I drop down into the chair across from them stiffly and catch myself from wincing at the effort. Finally, Rae's eyes flick up to me. In the daylight, they're more kelly-green than forest-green and they pin me to my chair while the guy leans forward with his hand outstretched.
"Hey, Flynn," he grins good-naturedly. "Nice to see you again. I'm Bennett, but you can call me Benn."
"Hey, Benn."
He holds up two fingers. "With two n's."
My eyebrows lift into my forehead—this is getting interesting already. "Alright."
"Yeah, uh," Benn rubs the back of his neck and winces a little. "Sorry about...you know, that night. I didn't know what I was seeing and I guess my first instinct is just to always throw myself in front of a bus for this one."
He jerks his thumb toward Rae, who shoots him an exasperated glance.
I wave him off. "I forgot all about it."
Rae flips her book down and leans an elbow on the table so she can make a show of ignoring me a little longer. When Benn nudges her with his elbow, she sucks in a deep breath before finally turning those green eyes on me.
The sharp clarity I find in them is enough to set me on edge, but it's the conviction in them that keeps me rooted to my chair. She's determined enough for all three of us combined.
"Morning, Rae," I grin and take a long swig of my coffee.
She eyes me carefully and tucks some of that auburn hair behind her ear just as carefully. Bennett, of course, watches this interaction with escalating amusement and if he leans his elbows into the table any harder, he might knock the whole thing sideways.
"Morning, Jack," she frowns and mimics my movements. Her coffee has just taken her book's place now, but it's not a very effective deflection. "You look...sore."
She gestures to my banged-up face and I figure that's the best I'm going to get for awhile. Fine. I don't need her pity. I don't even really need her attention for that long.
"I like this place," I try instead and my gaze darts around the coffeehouse just for good measure. If she's defensive on her own turf, then I'm well within my rights to take stock of my surroundings.
Once again, I get nothing from the ice queen. At this point, I might as well just cut to the chase.
"Thanks for agreeing to meet," I tell her softly and flash a quick grin at Bennett. "I get why you probably have, uh...reservations about talking to me."
All I get is an eyebrow lift.
"Anyway," I lean both elbows on the table so I can get a little closer and take my voice a little lower. "I want to help. You know that. So let me."
"Wow," she retorts, her voice sharp as a razor. "That's one way to open up a discussion."
My hands lift up in surrender. I don't know what she wants from me and I'm not so sure I care. I just know I need her to understand how important and necessary it is that I'm a part of this every step of the way. She's got my brother's life in her hands yet again and I'll be damned if I let her throw it away twice.
"This isn't a discussion," I stress, but lean back in my chair now to try to at least look casual. "Me calling you last night and you agreeing to meet says as much. We've both agreed to this already whether we like it or not. All we have left to do is work out the terms."
"Terms?" Bennett tilts his head to the side in thought and then his eyes flash evilly. "Ooo, should we take notes? Rae's got the best list-making app on her iPad, you know."
Rae's head snaps to face Bennett like something out of The Exorcist and her hand shoots underneath the table. A second later, Bennett winces dramatically and practically jumps out of his seat.
"Ow! Jesus, don't pinch!"
"Say another word, Benn," she whispers, but that menace in her voice even has me widening my eyes in fear. "And I will kill you. I know where you sleep."
"Okay, okay," he crinkles his nose at her and rubs his side. "Geez. Melodramatic much, Clamato?"
I shake my head at the display just as a barista swings by to take Bennett's crumb-filled plate and refill Rae's coffee mug. Jesus, how early did they get here?
None of us miss the way Bennett and the barista's eyes seem to linger on each other for a beat longer than necessary and...did Bennett just wink at him? Yeah, he definitely did.
"So..." I toss out there to get us all back on track and Bennett finally tears his eyes away from the barista long enough to realize he's been caught staring.
"What?" he shrugs. "Can't help myself."
"He's pretty," Rae murmurs to him. "Maybe you should—"
Bennett just bats a hand at her. "Already on it. So, Jack, we were about to discuss terms."
Suddenly, this takes a very business-like turn.
"Right. Terms," I nod tightly and Rae shifts uncomfortably in her chair. I shoot Bennett a pointed glance. "I figure you're gonna be taggin' along for all this, right?"
At least Bennett's self-aware enough to look sheepish as he gestures with his head to Rae. "We're kind of a package deal."
"Fair enough." I'm fine with the buffer as long as he doesn't get in the way, so I push on. "Nobody does any digging alone. One of us always needs to be along. If and when we find something, we all decide what the next move is—maybe a vote or something like that."
Both Rae and Bennett nod easily. These are pretty logical terms, given the circumstances we find ourselves in, but I have a feeling the next part of our agreement is going to be a little more difficult for Rae to accept.
"When we're in Southie, you let me do the talking."
Rae opens her mouth to protest, but Bennett quickly intervenes with his hand on her arm to restrain her as much to appease her. Judging by the resentment creeping across her face, I might as well throw her a bone.
"If we're on your part of town, you can do the talking."
That's clearly not enough to placate her because the bitterness still hasn't retreated from her eyes.
"Look," Bennett chimes in. "I think it goes without saying that what we're doing here is pretty stupid. That being said, we need to be careful. Rae can't just go walking around Southie with us. People are gonna notice and they're gonna ask questions we don't want to answer."
"You're right," I allow tightly. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Besides, the last thing we need is to tip anyone off about what we're doin'."
They both seem to accept that for what it is.
And the last thing I need is to tip anyone off I've spent any time with Rae Moretti that didn't involve screaming at her or spitting at her. When this is all over, I have every intention of never seeing either of these two again. I'm not stupid enough to say that out loud though.
"Movin' on," I sigh and grip my coffee mug a little tighter. "I think we can all agree that taking anything we find to the cops is a dead-end? At least not until we have something concrete they can't ignore?"
Both Rae and Bennett nod as if this was already a foregone conclusion. At least I don't have to explain it to them. One of life's little victories, I guess.
"Anything else?" Rae cocks an eyebrow at me, but it's more a challenge than a question.
"Nope," I shake my head with a sly grin. "That's all I can think of right now. I guess we'll just have to play the rest of it by ear."
"I guess."
Awkward silence settles over the table and I have to shift in my chair while Rae stares blankly out the window. Finally, Bennett clears his throat dramatically and nudges Rae in the side.
"What?" she whispers hotly.
"Don't what me," he tosses back. "You know what."
They seem to be speaking their own language and I don't have the time or the patience to decode what they're saying. It's bad enough I have to be sitting here with them in the first place and this is just making th
e whole experience even more miserable.
"So, I think the only logical place to start is by lookin' at your dad. That's where it probably begins and ends anyway."
Bennett nudges her yet again.
"Ow!" She rears back to put some space between them. "That freaking hurt, Benn."
"I don't care," he snaps and then gestures to me. "Why did you even agree to meet with him if you weren't going to show him?"
Now he's got my attention and I lean my elbows on the table so I can hear them better. "Show me what?"
Rae casts him a vicious look that, even I have to admit, scares me a little. Bennett, to his credit, doesn't bat an eye. He's obviously well-versed in her moods and after some nonverbal communication, Rae blows out a harsh breath and dips down to dig into her purse. She unearths her phone and flips through a few screens before passing it to me.
All I see is a bunch of numbers and the word for April in Irish, but that quickly fades when I realize whose name is attached to it. Uneasiness swirls around in the pit of my stomach and she gestures toward her phone with her head, giving me permission to swipe through more of the pictures. Each one is more of the same: postcards of Boston with these vague and obscure messages on them. But I just can't move past the fact that these are addressed to Father Lindsay. Or the fact that he was the one who convinced me to find Rae again in the first place.
"Where did you find these?"
"We already started looking at my dad," Rae just shrugs. "I broke into his home office."
My eyes snap up from her phone. "What?"
She shrugs again and casts Bennett a sly glance, who just grins back at me. "It wasn't that hard. My dad is always out of the house during the day, but my step-mom is there on and off through the week. I just called her and asked if we could meet for lunch."
I'm not sure how that amounts to her breaking into her dad's home office, but she fills in the blanks for me anyway.
"I knew she'd make every excuse in the book to get out of it this week and I cross-checked her excuses with her assistant until I found an opening that would be long enough for us to get in there and snoop around a little."