by Mara Leigh
“Let’s sit,” Keagan said, which we all knew meant the four of us sat, while he stood by the tiled fireplace, the unofficial CEO.
“You take care of security, Dill?” Keagan asked.
“Piece of cake.” My twin stretched his legs onto the coffee table. “Took about five minutes to hack into their system. I can shut it all down in seconds. The cameras, the alarms, all of it.” He took a bite of his sandwich.
“And how about what’s in the container?” I asked, then immediately wanted to bite off my tongue. Why did I care? I didn’t want anything to do with this job and was only at the meeting because of the snacks.
Chewing on his roast beef sandwich, Dillon pulled out his phone and stared at the screen, nodding. He licked mustard off the side of his mouth.
“Dill?” Keagan prompted. “The container?”
“Yeah. Got into the dockyard manifest system. Looks like the container’s loaded with high-end electronics. Just like Shane said.”
“Any clue on the shipper?” Keagan asked.
“A long trail of numbered companies that go in a circle,” Dillon answered. “Never seen anything like it.”
“You guys are nuts,” Nick said loudly. “This job is ten times riskier than anything we’ve ever done.”
“With a hundred times the reward! Do the math!” Shane leapt out of his chair and strode toward Nick. “You’ve got to do this, Nick. You’re key to the plan.”
Nick just grunted.
“Nick’s right,” I took a sip of beer. “We never do deals if we don’t know who we’re stealing from.”
Keagan ran his hand through his wavy hair. “Yeah… I hear you, but the web of numbered companies proves the shipper’s shady. It’s not like we’ll be hurting anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“That’s not my point.” And even if it was, our Robin Hood rationalization for stealing was getting old.
Sure, we only took from the uber rich and the crooked, but the poor we gave to—that would be us. Our actions were hardly altruistic, and it had never bothered me more than it had since I met Faith. Someone who did actual good.
“Who knows who we’re dealing with here, or what they might do if they come after us.”
“Mac! You haven’t been paying attention!” Shane’s voice rose, and his eyes opened wide.
“There’s no risk. They won’t come after us if we’re working on the inside. The job is set up to look like we were ripped off.” He strode toward me, like he planned to attack. “And the guys taking the container, they think only me and Nick are involved.”
“I’m not involved,” Nick said. “How many times do I have to fucking say it?”
“You owe me!” Shane charged our youngest brother. He clearly had a death wish.
I jumped up, putting myself between them. Based on his eyes, Shane was high. Again. “Hey… Come on, Shane. Calm down. We’re just talking. We all need the details.”
“Why don’t you get a beer,” Keagan told Shane. “Looks like you need to even out a bit.”
Shane glared but did as Keagan suggested, grabbing a beer from the fridge, then leaning back against the counter as he chugged it down.
Keagan pulled me to the side of the room. “What’s going on? This won’t work if both you and Nick bail.”
“I don’t know.” I shifted, feeling exposed and uncomfortable. “The job seems risky.” Why couldn’t I just tell Keagan I was out? Loyalty ran deep, part of my bones.
“The risk is manageable.” He slapped his hand on my back. “Plus, Shane needs this.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “He’ll just put the proceeds up his nose.”
“I don’t think so.” Keagan lowered his voice. “He’s promised me. He’s agreed to rehab. And after this job, we’ll be able to afford a good place for him, a place that actually might work.”
I raised my eyebrows, but a little hope edged into my skepticism. If I backed out, would I be keeping Shane from getting sober?
“Even if I do this”—I drew a long breath—“I’m out after. This is my last job.”
Keagan nodded, less pissed off then I’d expected. “Let’s talk, after. But Shane’s gonna go through with this scam, even if we don’t help, and if we don’t help, he’ll either get killed or end up back inside.” Keagan shook his head. “And doing more time will be a death sentence for Shane. You know that, right?”
I did know. I stared at the terracotta tiles beneath our feet. Shane would never survive more time. If he didn’t OD, he’d get shanked.
Being inside had changed Shane, or maybe just revealed his true self. One way or the other, he was not built to survive in a cage.
Faith
“Oh my goodness!” Sister Henry walked into the large hall where I was nearly finished mopping the floor. “Are you here by yourself?”
I dunked the mop in the soapy water. “Saturday night,” I said. “None of our volunteers could stay.”
Avoiding the wet section of floor, she crossed the room to join me. “You let them leave, you mean.”
“They all had plans. I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.” Sister Henry squeezed my shoulder.
“Sorry? Why?” I leaned on the mop, happy to take a short break.
“That it’s over with the Downey boy.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “It’s for the best.”
“Over? Why would you think that?” My chest warmed at the thought of Mac, our blossoming love. We’d been together as often as possible in the two weeks since Las Vegas, renting motel rooms for some privacy from his brothers.
“It’s Saturday night.” Sister Henry shrugged. “Date night.”
“I think you have some very old-fashioned ideas about dating, Sister Henry.”
“Maybe I do.” She tipped her head toward the kitchen. “Join me for a cup of tea?”
“Sure.” I pushed the mop and bucket to the side of the room, then followed my friend into the kitchen. The kettle started to squeal as if noticing our entrance.
“Earl Grey?” she asked as she took it off the burner. “Or something without caffeine?”
“Whatever you’re having.” I took two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the tan tiles, which were spotless from my earlier cleaning.
“So I take it you’re planning to see him again.”
I nodded. I’d been waiting for the right time to tell Sister Henry that I’d lost my calling. This was as good a time as any. “I’ve decided not to become a nun.”
She took an oversized white teapot from the cupboard, peeked inside, then smiled over her shoulder. “I suspected as much.”
“Can I…” This was the really scary part for me. “Will I have to leave the mission right away?”
Sister Henry put a teabag into the pot, poured boiling water inside, then closed the lid and set the pot on the counter next to the mugs. “To be honest, I’m not sure what Mother Superior will say. Maybe it’s best not to tell her until you’re absolutely sure.”
“But I am sure.”
“There’s no harm in waiting, though. Giving it more thought. A couple of weeks ago, you were equally sure you wanted to become a nun.”
I nodded. She did have a point. Although nothing in my life had ever felt as certain as Mac.
She poured out two mugs of tea, and we both pulled high stools to the large center island and sat.
“You know I fully support you,” she said, “no matter what your decision. But are you sure you’ve thought this through? I’d hate to see you give up on your calling because of a man.”
“It’s not because of him.” Well, not entirely. “But Mac did help me see that I never had a calling in the first place. Not really.”
She nodded, knowingly. “He talked you out of it.”
“No. It wasn’t like that. If anything, Mac tried to talk me into becoming a nun.”
“Honey.” She took my hand. “Men can be very persuasive. They can make you think what they want is your idea.”
“That’s not wha
t happened.”
“I didn’t want to tell you this.” She blew on her tea, then took a tentative sip. “I’ve asked around. Cormac Downey is a confidence man.”
“A what?”
“A con artist. His very role in life is to trick people, to make them think they want things that they don’t.”
I cupped my hands around the warm mug, letting the heat penetrate my tired hands. “Sister Henry, I do appreciate your concern, but I know my own mind. I don’t have a calling. I don’t think I ever did. If there’s any undue influence or coercion in this situation, it was from my mother—her pressure, her insistence that I had a calling.”
“Okay…” She tipped her head to the side, studying me. “So why aren’t you with your young man tonight?”
“He had plans with his brothers.”
“I see.” She took my hand and smiled in a way that looked more like pity than happiness.
“You don’t have to worry.” I sipped my tea, then straightened my posture to show her how certain I was. “He’ll call me tomorrow.” He wanted to get me a mobile phone so he could call me more often, but I wouldn’t let him. He’d already spent too much of his money on me.
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Sister Henry shifted on the creaking stool. “I feel sick thinking how I actually encouraged you to go on that date. If I’d known it was one of the Downey brothers…”
With pursed lips, she shook her head. “And I never should have let you go out of town with him. To Las Vegas, of all places.” She said the city’s name like it was Hell itself.
“What do you mean, ‘Let me?’” I tipped my head to the side, then took a sip of the comforting tea.
She shook her head sharply. “I meant that I should have warned you about him. The Downey boys are nothing but trouble.”
“They’re not exactly boys.” My cheeks heated, and I tried to disguise the reaction by taking another sip of tea.
“Downey men, then.” She pushed off her stool and placed her hand on my back. “Faith, I hate to be the one to break your heart, but I need to tell you something.” She leaned forward and whispered, “The Downeys, they’re criminals. Known thieves.”
“I know.”
Sister Henry’s head snapped back, her eyebrows rising. “What in the world are you doing with him, then? I assumed you didn’t know.”
I squeezed her hand. “Thanks for looking out for me, but Mac and I have thoroughly discussed his criminal past.”
She frowned. “How do you know it’s his past?”
“Because he told me so. And because I know him. He’s a good man. Caring. Kind. Generous. Honest.”
Sister Henry’s lips tightened. “He might have told you it was in his past, just to persuade you, to get you…”
“To get me into his bed?” I finished what Sister Henry clearly didn’t want to say. I hadn’t even told Henry that Mac and I had made love in Vegas, but I supposed she assumed.
“Yes.” Henry pulled her hand from my back and wrapped both around her mug of tea. “I hate to be so blunt, Faith, but men will say whatever it takes to persuade women to go to bed with them, and Cormac Downey…”
She shook her head. “Like I said, Cormac is known for being a talker. When he was ten, Father Graham caught his brother, the oldest one, stealing the Sunday offerings while another brother distracted the collection counters by pretending he was having a seizure.”
After Mac’s confessions, I wasn’t surprised by this story and liked hearing about Mac as a child. “What did the Father do?”
“Nothing. Cormac convinced the father that his brother was only counting the money. Sorting it and guarding it to show his appreciation for the adults who were tending to his sick little brother.”
“Maybe he was counting it.”
“Come on, Faith.” Henry shook her head. “You’re not that naive.”
I took a few sips of my tea. She was right. And Mac had said he couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t involved in some kind of nefarious scheme.
“He was ten, he didn’t have a mother, and his father encouraged such behavior. Like I said, that’s all in his past. He’s done with crime.”
“So he says.”
I set down my mug. As much as I hated to admit it, Sister Henry’s words spiked fear into my faith in Mac. My entire life, Mother had warned me that men lied to take advantage of women, that men only wanted one thing, that they couldn’t be trusted.
But so many things Mother had said had been exaggerated or wrong. And I trusted Mac.
What if I was wrong? What if sex had been all Mac wanted—wanted from me?
“I’m sure it’s true.” I straightened my spine. “I’m sure because I love him.”
“Oh, Faith.” The doubt in her eyes was strong as she slowly shook her head. “You are not in love with Cormac Downey.”
“Yes, I am.” Sister Henry had made her statement without a hint of question in her voice. “I know my own mind, my own feelings. I don’t need you to tell me—”
“Honey.” She took my hands. “I’m frightened for you.”
“I told you, it’s in his past.”
“Okay.” She got back on the stool and took a deep breath before continuing. “Let’s ignore the question of his being a criminal.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what he does, or did, for a living. Even if he were a saint, I’d be worried.”
“That’s kind of you, but there’s no need.”
“Faith.” She cupped my cheek. “He’s your first love, and I’m sorry to say it, but the odds are high that he’ll be your first heartbreak. I’m just suggesting that you be careful. Guard your heart a little.”
“I appreciate your concern.” I forced a smile. “But with all due respect, you don’t know that it will end in heartbreak.”
And even if Sister Henry was right, it was too late. I could no longer imagine my life without Mac. My heart was already unguarded, fully exposed, open and raw and defenseless, ready to be torn out if he left me. But even if the worst came true, I’d be forever changed, happier because of Mac, even if had to live with a broken heart.
Mac
Shane burst through the door to my apartment and then kicked it shut behind him so hard the wall shook. “What the fuck are we going to do?” Shane stood over me as I sat on the sofa, holding my coffee, my feet up on the table.
“First order of business—caffeine.” I took a sip of my favorite roast, feeling it wake my insides and my brain at once.
I’d barely slept since Keagan had been arrested, night before last. So far, he’d been denied bail, and while I was stressed about that, I was more worried about how I was going to tell Faith. She’d see straight through me.
“Help yourself to coffee.” I nodded toward the kitchen. “Unless Dill took it all.”
“How can you be so calm?” Shane nudged my legs with his foot.
I lifted my arms to keep the coffee from spilling. “Hey. Asshole. Careful.”
“Oh!” A look of alarm came over his face. “I get it.” He started to search the room, checking the walls with his hands, looking under the generic, hotel-lobby-style paintings that had been hanging here since Dill and I moved in. Hell, they’d probably been hanging here since the 1960s.
Dillon wandered over, holding his favorite black coffee mug and wearing only boxers. At least he’d pulled those on. Sometimes Dill wandered around our place naked until he noticed or I pointed it out. Easily the smartest Downey—book smart, anyway—when Dill was in the middle of some idea or problem, he didn’t waste any brain cells on everyday matters like remembering to get dressed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dill asked Shane, who was looking under a lampshade.
At Dill’s question, Shane’s eyes opened even wider. He pulled out his phone and texted us both, “Looking for bugs.”
I showed Dillon the text.
“Shane, don’t be an idiot.” Dillon plopped down on his leather chair and put his feet up on the table.
“If they are”—Dillon took a sip of his coffee, —“then they sure as fuck intercepted that text you just sent.”
Shane froze, stared at his phone, turned it off, then started pacing again. “What are we going to do?”
I shook my head at Dillon. What he’d said had been less than helpful. He’d only fueled Shane’s paranoia.
“They’d need a warrant to tap our phones. Isn’t that right, Dill?” I needed to calm Shane down.
“Sure,” my twin said. “But maybe they got one.”
“Dillon.” I kicked his outstretched legs.
“But I doubt it,” he added. “This score was big for us, but it’s small potatoes for the SFPD. They don’t give a shit about us.”
The door opened and Nick entered. Shane raced over to the kitchen and cowered in the corner. If he’d looked paranoid before, it was worse now Nick had arrived.
“How’s it going?” I asked Nick.
“Good.” He dropped onto the sofa beside me. “Jade’s out looking at apartments.” Nick and his girlfriend had burned some bridges with the owner of Shady Oaks, meaning they’d both lost their apartments upstairs.
“Why don’t you guys crash as Keagan’s for a while,” I suggested. “Not like he’s using it.”
“That’s fucking cold, man.” Nick shook his head. “But a good idea. I’ll run it by Jade.” He stretched out his long legs. “What’s the word? Whole family going prison?”
“It’s not my fault.” Shane shot toward us. “Keagan was in charge of planning.”
“It was your fucking contact.” Nick folded his arms over his chest. “Job was too risky from the start.” Nick hadn’t shown up Saturday night, but he knew enough to be implicated if the rest of us got nailed.
“It’s your fault.” Shane’s hand shook as he pointed a finger at Nick. “If you’d come. it wouldn’t have happened. Keagan’s going to spend his life inside because of you.”