Bad for Her

by Christi Barth

  A siren went off. “Check that out. Your edict gets its own soundtrack,” Kellan joked.

  Rafe looked around. It sounded like a burglar alarm. Definitely not a cop siren. Or a car alarm. He could identify any variation of those in his sleep. But everything in sight seemed . . . fucking postcard-perfect as usual.

  Turning his head back and forth, Flynn then stopped, on alert like a hunting dog. “It’s coming from inland.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Kellan gestured to the expanse of nothing but water to their right. “You think boats have burglar alarms?”

  “I don’t know and I’m not fucking arguing it with you right now.”

  Really? They were going to fight over boat alarms? Rafe jogged forward, both to get away from his brothers and to see if there was any unusual . . . anything in the row of storefronts with weathered shingles and brightly painted awnings lining both sides of the street.

  Yeah. Two guys crawling out of what used to be a glassed-in window qualified as unusual. Also unusual? The dozen people scattered along the sidewalks watching and not doing a damned thing to stop them.

  Well, they were idiots. Bad citizens. Pussies. All of the above.

  He put his fingers between his teeth and whistled. Flynn was at his side in a second, with Kellan just a few steps behind. For half a second, Rafe appreciated how they were a unit again. “K, you call the cops. Flynn?”

  “Yeah.” Resignation mixed with excitement in his voice as Flynn took off his watch and shoved it in the pocket of his jeans. “I’ll take the long-haired one.”

  They both broke into a run to catch the fleeing thieves. Skinny, in head-to-toe black but with brown knit caps, they lugged backpacks that dragged on the ground behind them. Slowed them down in a way that marked them as rank amateurs. It also made it almost too easy to catch them.

  Almost.

  Rafe grabbed the unzipped pack. Yanked hard. It slid almost to the wrist of the shorter, stockier guy. It also pulled him back and Rafe stepped out of the way so momentum would carry the idiot burglar off-balance. The stumble happened—predictably—but he came out of it swinging.

  It was cute. Like a Chihuahua barking at a Newfoundland. Rafe had at least half a foot on him, if not more. Not to mention that Rafe also knew not to tuck his thumb inside his fist. This was becoming less of a fight and more of an insult to Rafe’s years of experience. No point letting it drag on.

  His arm shot out, straight from the shoulder. His knuckles connected with a satisfying crunch to the thief’s nose. One and done, if you did it right. That’d been how he was taught, back in the day, by his dad. Good old life lessons that stuck with Rafe no matter what life he assumed.

  The man’s feet came out from under him. He landed on his ass, with both hands immediately going to the river of blood flowing down his face and black tee.

  Checking on Flynn, Rafe was just in time to catch his brother deliver a fully extended roundhouse kick to the chest of thief number two. It was perfect. A thing of beauty. And it was a damn shame Flynn didn’t have anywhere to show off his MMA skills anymore.

  “You good?” he asked, more out of habit than actual necessity. Flynn wasn’t even breathing hard. The thirty-something thief, on the other hand, had the wind knocked out of him and was flat on the ground, gasping, his hat knocked clean off.

  “Please. I’ve kicked the asses of nightmares harder than this little twat.” He high-fived Rafe. Which was the best connection he’d had with Flynn in six months.

  Who knew that doing their civic duty would bring them back together?

  Kellan hovered on the balls of his feet less than a foot away, clearly itching to jump in and help. The shit-eating grin on his face betrayed his pride in how easily the Maguire brothers took down the pair. All Rafe had wanted was a family evening where they acted and felt like the tight unit they used to be.

  Well, mission mostly accomplished.

  Guess he just needed to be more specific in the how of his wish next time.

  He and Flynn returned to their respective thieves and kicked away the backpacks, which left a trail of glass jars on the asphalt.

  Weird thing to steal. Rafe looked up at the gilded cursive across the few shards left in the top of the window. Coffeehouse he got. He mentally filled in some missing letters to come up with bakery. But the last word looked a lot like dispensary. Since this wasn’t a Gold Rush settlement in the 1800s, he had no idea what that meant.

  He pulled off his denim overshirt, wadded it up, and handed it over. “Hold that against your nose,” he ordered.

  “You broke it.” Shock—and the need to breathe—had the man’s mouth gaping open like a fish and drew Rafe’s attention to his eyes. The pupils were totally blown. The guy was high as a kite on something, which explained why he’d been dumb enough to attempt a burglary in broad daylight.

  “Yeah, well, you broke the window first,” he said, pointing with his elbow as he dragged the whimpering, quivering pansy-ass to his feet. He pushed him forward to line him up against the curved iron streetlight. A little pressure between his shoulder blades would easily keep him in place until the cops arrived.

  Now that the excitement was over, people were rushing at them. Clapping. Whooping.

  Weird.

  People he didn’t know. People banging out from nearby stores to stand around in a loose circle, jabbering away. Some filming him with their phones. A couple of people he recognized from the chamber meeting called him by name and even clapped him on the shoulder.

  Rafe looked over at Flynn, who’d shoved his guy up against the light, too. “This feel surreal to you?”

  “It couldn’t feel any more surreal if I was stuffed into a shark costume and smoking a pipe.”

  “What is wrong with you two? You just apprehended criminals. You’re heroes,” Kellan shouted.

  No.

  Fuck, no.

  That kept repeating in his head on a loop as the cops pulled up, handcuffed the men, and started in on more than a dozen witness statements. Rafe and Flynn were instructed to go nowhere—after being thanked profusely by a deputy and a full-blown sheriff.

  Less than ten minutes later, Mollie ran down the street, full tilt right at him. Talk about a come from nowhere surprise. Good thing he’d been cooling his heels against the black-and-white, or she’d have tipped him over.

  Not that he minded. An armful of the doc, even in her scratchy scrubs, was a damn fine way to pass the time.

  “Oh my gosh, Rafe, thank you so much.” The words peppered out of her as fast as pellets from a BB gun. Mollie rained kisses up his throat and across his cheeks.

  Again, no complaints. But he wanted to know the cause so he could do it again. “For what?”

  She pointed at the scene of the crime, now draped with yellow tape. “That’s Gran’s store.”

  “Store? I thought you said she ran a coffee shop.”

  “Yes . . . and no. I mean, that’s what it started out as. But she, um, expanded as soon as it became legal.”

  “What did?”

  She put the toe of her sneaker onto one of the glass jars still on the street. Rolled it back and forth underfoot. “Marijuana.”

  “You’re fucking joking.” Flynn dropped into a crouch. He almost picked up the jar, but froze with his fingers curved right above it. Guess he’d realized putting his fingerprints on the evidence was the mother of all dumb ideas. Then he grinned up at Rafe. “You’re dating the family of a drug dealer. Now who’s in trouble?”

  Kellan snorted. Turned to the side and covered his mouth with his hand as it morphed into a gut-puncher of a laugh.

  Why had he given up everything to keep these two safe?

  “It’s not like that.” Mollie dropped to her knees next to Flynn. “Remember, it’s legal here. Gran used it a lot for the phantom limb pain of her amputation and wanted to make sure others could get the same relief. Oh, and I have to thank you, too.” She threw her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. “You’re Flynn, right?”r />
  “Yeah.” He swiveled to get a better grip on her waist. “You’re really welcome.”

  Enough was certainly enough of his younger brother copping a feel. Rafe took Mollie’s elbow and lifted her out of their way-too-long embrace. “How did you know what we did?”

  “The security company called as soon as the alarm went off. Well, once they couldn’t get a hold of Gran. She’s at the mall trying to buy Jesse some clothes he won’t grow out of in a week. I got one of the nurses to drive me over. My phone was blowing up the whole way. All about the hero Maguire brothers who stopped the robbers.”

  “Hey, I called the cops.” Kellan sauntered forward. Did he actually think Rafe would let him have a turn hugging Mollie, too? Not in this lifetime. “That’s called engaging in due process. Equally important to the bigger picture.”

  “All three of you have my unending gratitude. And Gran’s.” The corners of her mouth flattened. “She’ll probably bake you something, ah, extra special in thanks. Be sure not to eat it in one sitting.”

  “No worries. We don’t touch the stuff.” No drugs wasn’t just a WITSEC guideline. It’d been a lifelong rule in their house. Trouble could be around any corner. You didn’t need to be strung out when it came at you.

  Hands jammed into his jeans pockets, Kellan flashed a smile. And that damned dimple that he swore got him crowned homecoming king in high school. The same one he used on the marshal. Come to think of it, Delaney was the only woman whose bra didn’t unsnap by itself at the sight of it. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  “This is my baby brother, Kellan.” He dropped extra emphasis on the word baby. Might as well draw the line in the sand as thick as a NASCAR skid mark. “Doctor Mollie Vickers.”

  Kellan didn’t take the hint. He did take Mollie’s hand and sandwich it between his. “Are you sure a board-certified medical professional wouldn’t rather dump my monosyllabic, uptight brother and hang out with me?”

  Putting a hard edge into his voice, Rafe said, “We’ll never know. Because if you tried anything, I’d have to kill you.”

  The smile dropped off Kellan’s face.

  Jesus Christ. They used to be able to joke around.

  Rafe knew, in his gut, that his brother didn’t believe for a second that he’d do him real harm. It made him wonder, though, if Kellan truly believed that Rafe had never killed anyone for his job.

  His reaction made it unlikely. Or did he just not like the reminder that Rafe had worked for an organization where killing people was a reality? Either way, it sucked that after less than half an hour of feeling normal, a huge wall was back up between them.

  Mollie went up on tiptoe to kiss Rafe on the forehead, the nose, and then a far too short stop on his lips. “You’ll get a more thorough thanking later. When there’s no crowd watching us.”

  “Or family,” he grumbled. The cock-blocking going on was unmistakable.

  “Given your living situation and mine, that might take a little longer to arrange. But there’s no expiration date on my gratitude.” She put both hands on his face. Rounded those forest green eyes and looked—he’d swear—right into his heart. “You really impressed me, Rafe. Other people would’ve done nothing. You put yourself at risk to help.”

  Wow.

  This felt great. Being a good guy had some kick-ass perks. The sincerity coating Mollie’s words, shining on her face, made Rafe feel easily twelve feet tall. Invincible. And yes, for the first time in his life, a little heroic. It made him want to commit to being the version of himself that she saw.

  Maybe it didn’t suck so much not being a bad guy anymore.

  “No big deal. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “This was no big deal. It seemed like the right thing to do,” Rafe yelled. Then he thumped his hand on the rickety metal table in what passed as an interrogation room in the Bandon police station—although he’d bet they called it a conference room any other day of the week.

  Marshal Evans clicked her shiny stilettos over until she was so close that his breath fanned the almost invisible blond hairs along her forehead. “I gave you strict instructions. No, back up. I gave you strict written instructions when you first joined the program.”

  “Yeah, but I seem to recall them self-combusting after one minute.” Kellan patted his stomach and trotted out that damned dimple again. “Or we ate them. Either way, those eighteen pages of rules are a little hazy.”

  She rounded on Kellan. “Do not start with me. I know everything about you. I know your grades for every semester in law school. I know you were on track to graduate among the top five in your class. You’ve never forgotten a single word you read. And your two and a half years of legal education most certainly covered ignorance of the law not being an acceptable defense.”

  “It rings a bell.” Kellan jerked one shoulder, then slapped an ass cheek onto the table.

  He was backing down? The one time Rafe needed him to go toe-to-toe with the marshal—or even do that annoying flirting thing she pretended to ignore—and he fucking backed down? Unbelievable.

  She barreled right the hell along. “I gave you explicit instructions to lay low. To stay under the wire. Do you realize that I have a team now scouring the internet to make sure that none of those videos get posted?”

  “We’re not idiots. We turned away.” Rafe had claimed Flynn was embarrassed by the attention, then he’d asked Mick to go around to the few people filming and get them to stop. There was no doubt in his mind that Mick had not only made the request, but scared everyone into complying. Rafe was pretty proud of how he’d worked the small-town system to his advantage with that one.

  The bell of her hair swung around Delaney’s face. It was the first time they’d seen it down. In fact, she looked entirely different today. Softer. High heels, a black leather skirt so short that Kellan was probably at half-wood right now, and a fuzzy pink sweater. Had they pulled her off a date?

  Finger in his face, Delaney said, “You know what happens if we find a single frame of you online.”

  A whole storm of shit that’d ultimately raise the odds that what was left of McGinty’s crew would find them.

  “We didn’t audition for a reality television show. The videos were an accident. And they’ve been contained.”

  “Let me make this clear: laying low does not mean attracting a crowd and being hauled in to make an official statement to the police.”

  Rafe had done a lot of questionable things in his life. More than a few that were flat-out wrong. So he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this wasn’t one of those times.

  His own index finger came out to jab at Delaney. “You didn’t just tell us to lay low. You also told us to blend in. Which is fucking hard to do both at the same time in a small town, by the way. You ordered us to make this place our home. To care about it.”

  She scrunched her eyes shut. “Yes.”

  Flynn gave him a thumbs-up from his seat at the opposite end.

  “This is our home now. So we’re treating it with respect. That means not standing around with my thumb up my ass when I see a fellow citizen being screwed.”

  Kellan cleared his throat. Guess he wanted to formally announce that he was jumping back into the argument. “Those scum suckers damaged property. They were fleeing with hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars worth of . . . well, retail goods. My brothers apprehended them so that they can make full restitution to the store owner.”

  Delaney whipped her head so fast toward Kellan, her neck actually cracked. The sound ricocheted off the stucco walls. “Don’t try to sugarcoat it. I’m well aware of what got stolen. I’m up to speed on the narcotics aspect of this crime.”

  “How?” For that matter, how had she even known to come down and read them the riot act? They hadn’t been arrested. Hell, at this point, Rafe got the distinct impression that he and Flynn might get a medal.

  She tapped her toe. Then she crossed her arms. Classic defensive posture. Whatever she was about to
say? They were going to hate it. “The Marshals Service has a contact here. He fed me the information.”

  “Nobody is supposed to know that we’re not who we say we are.” Kellan paced around the conference table in a few fast, long steps. “Not a single fucking soul in this town. That is laid out in those eighteen pages of rules, by the way. Which I do remember word for word. Especially the words that protect us, protect our secret. Why don’t you tell us what the fuck’s going on?”

  Kellan aiming his anger at somebody besides Rafe for a change . . . well, that was just the cherry on top of the night.

  Delaney’s downcast eyes and hunched shoulders added some extra righteous whipped cream. Kellan had nailed her to the wall with her own damn rules. Rafe hooked an ankle around the chair and yanked it out to sit and watch. This was just fun.

  “There are exceptions to every rule. Circumstances where what’s always worked before simply does not apply. You three are the epitome of a special case. This is your fifth protection placement. In six months. More than a few people argued for at least Kellan to be kicked out of the program. The only way I kept you all in was by coming up with a solution that kept eyes on you.”

  Back braced against the closed door as if keeping out the world, Kellan demanded, “How is our safety guaranteed if our true identities are known?”

  “The sheriff knows me. Worked a case with me before coming to Bandon and trusts me. He agreed to let me place my protectees here. And give me a cover as his date to get me in and out without being tied to you.”

  That explained the sex-kitten clothes. Rafe winked widely, jaw cocked. “You two kids be sure to use protection. The last thing the world needs is another law enforcement type.”

  His lawyer-ish brother did not look appeased. Or like he saw any of the humor in the situation. Maybe it was just the pain of hiding what had to be a raging hard-on at Delaney dressed sexy for once. “What does he know about us?”

  “Nothing substantial. More to the point, nothing real. I told him you were completely innocent witnesses in a trial. Period. Nobody here knows your original identities, the true details of your case. You have my word. McGinty won’t find you through Mateo.”