Bad for Her

by Christi Barth

  “Why not?”

  He flopped back into the chair. Braced his hands on the armrests—and then realized it was the same position he always used to command the table at war councils in Chicago. Shit. Old habits. When would he be able to shake a lifetime of them?

  “Number one, like I said before, they could just kill us.”

  Flynn’s eyebrow shot to the ceiling. “That’s it?”

  “If they figured out we took the money—and that’s a big if—they would’ve asked for all of it. But the biggest red flag is that they didn’t use our real names.” As he dropped that logic bomb, Flynn and Kellan both sucked in short, identical gasps. “There’d be no reason for anyone to do with McGinty not to use our real names. In fact, they’d be sure to do it, to scare us more.”

  Kellan sat on the edge of the coffee table, knees spread and wrists dangling over them. “You think it’s an inside job. A local one, since our last move. The Marshals Service?”

  “Maybe. Or the FBI. That explains the low—for blackmail—cash amount requested. It explains how they found us after all our hopping around the country, with a different name in each place. Whoever this is? They don’t know who we used to be. Where we’re from. They only know our current case file. Who we are now, and that we’re bad guys on the run.”

  Quiet fell over the room as his brothers let it sink in. Rafe heard the brush of pine leaves against the side of the house. Kind of an eerie sound to someone who’d lived with sirens and horns as the only background noise for most of his life. But he was getting used to it.

  He was getting used to a lot of things here in Bandon.

  A job he liked. One that rewarded a lifelong hobby with a paycheck.

  The kid he could actually make a difference mentoring.

  People he surprisingly liked. This town was full of people with not quite straight edges. Just like him. He’d spent most of his life outside the boundaries of normal society.

  Scenery that made him look up and take it all in every time he walked down the street.

  Mollie.

  So much about Mollie that he liked. That he’d gotten used to so quickly.

  That he didn’t want to leave.

  Rafe hadn’t felt this way about any of their other WITSEC pit stops. Not even the ones where they’d stuck it out longer. And it wasn’t just because this was their last chance. Sure, the cranberry festival was way too much hoopla over a freaking piece of fruit. But it made him laugh. He liked how excited it made Mollie. If it made her happy, it made him happy.

  Oh, shit.

  Rafe was even farther gone over her than he’d realized.

  More than he’d told her. More than he’d risk admitting to his brothers in the middle of this blackmail crisis, for sure.

  “Okay.” Flynn nodded. He sat down on the couch so they were a tight unit. “Say that’s true. That it came from a rogue law enforcement asswipe.”

  Kellan butted in with a lopsided grin. “Which means no death threat’s attached to the letter, so we’re already in better shape than we were ten minutes ago.”

  Flynn looked to Rafe. “Do we cut and run?”

  “Hell, no.”

  If they were going to run, they would’ve done it day one instead of joining WITSEC. The marshals were supposed to protect them. Not to mention that the Maguire brothers could do a damn fine job of protecting themselves.

  “Do we pay?” Kellan still seemed stuck on the money. They obviously wouldn’t be able to stay away from finishing that conversation anytime soon.

  “No,” Flynn said. He thwacked his palm onto the coffee table. “You don’t pay blackmailers. Because they never stop. Also, they’re fucking cowards who don’t deserve it. Thirdly, because we don’t have the money.”

  “Okay, okay. Geez, give me a minute to catch up. I’ve used the word blackmail more times in the last five minutes than I have my whole life. It’s like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe.”

  Rafe reached over to drop a heavy hand onto his shoulder. He hated that he’d opened a door to that alternate universe for his little brother. It was everything he’d devoted his entire life to preventing. “I’m sorry, Kellan. We tried our hardest to shield you from all of this.”

  “I know. I’ve been too pissed off to show my appreciation. But I know that both of you gave up a lot so that I could live my dreams. It means everything that you tried.”

  Another weighty silence. Then Flynn asked, “How do we trap this pansy-ass douchebag?”

  There was only one answer. One that Rafe knew wouldn’t go over without a fight. “We have to call Delaney.”

  Kellan sprang to his feet. He sort of jittered over to the potbellied stove in the corner that none of them had any idea how to use. “Hang on. You know I enjoy any excuse for a visit from the delectable Delaney. But this is a bad idea. She said that if we get in even a little bit of trouble, we’re out of Bandon and out of the program. No more subsidized rent. No more perfect fake IDs and transcripts and job references. No more future.”

  With a sigh, Flynn stretched his arms out along the back of the sofa. “Dial back the dramatic speech. You’re not in front of a jury.”

  “But our lives do hang in the balance.”

  Right. ’Cause that was dialing down the drama. But Rafe did have to give Kellan credit for not panicking. For everything that had been thrown at him tonight, a little overreacting wasn’t so bad. Knowing they’d distracted the shit out of him, however, Rafe did get up and make a quick check to be sure he hadn’t left the oven or stove on.

  He went to the side window. Suddenly, the soothing, cool rustle of wind through the pine trees sounded like just what Rafe needed to keep his temper under control. Because it was right there, under the surface, like a million fire ants trying to tunnel their way out of his skin.

  Someone, some dickwad, had scared Kellan. Was making them wonder if they’d have to leave their home. So what if it had only been their home for thirteen days? Sometimes you just knew. About Bandon. About Mollie. Getting this letter? It had flipped the switch on his knowing. On his accepting this as their home, for good. And now someone was threatening his whateverthefuck it was with Mollie.

  And for all of that, Rafe wanted to pound some faces.

  Break some bones.

  Use every low-down, dirty fighting trick he’d picked up working his way up through the biggest mob organization in the Midwest and fucking whale on whoever was responsible.

  But that wasn’t how the Maguire brothers rolled anymore. Now they played it by the book. Which would hopefully keep them alive. But it’d also be as unsatisfying as jerking one off in a bathroom.

  Rafe braced a hand against the window frame. He was in charge of this family. Of keeping them all safe, despite his brothers’ annoying and identical stubbornness. “Turning everything over for the Marshals Service to handle is the best solution. Better yet, it’s the only one that keeps us under their protection. We all agree Delaney’s clean, right?”

  “Absolutely.” Of course Kellan answered first. He was so into their official protection officer he’d probably turn over the two million just to get a smile from her. Yet another reason to hold off telling him all about the hidden money.

  Flynn gave a slower, more measured nod. Like he’d actually put thought into it, instead of thinking with his dick like Kellan. “She’s kept us alive this long.”

  Good. They were on the same page. Rafe pushed through the rest of his points. “She’s smart. And as ferocious as a pit bull. If we tell her this, we’ll get a gold star for honesty. It’ll prove to her that we really are the good guys. She’ll frisk every agent within a hundred miles, search their desks and computers until she finds who did this.”

  “Agreed. Except . . .” Flynn trailed off.

  “What?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. Looked to Rafe, then Kellan, then back again. “Except what if you’re wrong? What if we’re overthinking this and McGinty is the one behind it?”

  No ch
ance. It was good for Flynn to work through all the possibilities, but not to fixate on the worst one out of fear. “I’m not wrong. I know Danny. I know how he thinks. How he plans a takedown. I’d put my life on it not being him.” Actually, he was putting all their lives on the line. But Rafe knew this was truly the best solution.

  Following his gut had gotten Rafe out of much more dangerous situations. No way would it let him down now. This might not be the most dangerous spot he’d ever been in—but it was the most important.

  “Okay.” Flynn stood. Held his hand out. “We stay hands-off. We put it on the Marshals Service. Or at least, on the one marshal we trust with our lives.”

  Kellan put his hand on top of Flynn’s. “Agreed.”

  Putting his arm in as the third spoke, Rafe said, “Done. I’ll make the call.”

  “Hang on.” Flynn put another hand on top of the pile to keep them in place. “There’s something else to discuss. While everything’s still on the table and we don’t have to watch what we say. This decision leads to another one, that you and I never settled. Now it’s crystal clear. We can’t leave the two million dollars we stole from McGinty hidden in Chicago. We have to get it when we go back to testify.”

  A noise, like a sharp thud on the porch, made all three of them tense. Their eyes met, and locked in place. Rafe’s mind raced. Was it a coincidence? Or was it the only warning they’d get before bullets shattered the door and their bodies?

  Nah. That was Kellan infecting him with his own fear, so easy to read in his stark white face. But he didn’t run. Didn’t make a sound. No, he kept his head, and Rafe had never been prouder.

  Still, whoever—or whatever, because there were a whole bunch of animals that ran free through this town like it was a zoo with no fences—was on the porch probably heard what Flynn said. About stolen money.

  Or maybe they’d heard more. Who knew how long they’d been out there? And if their cover was now compromised, well, a blackmailer would be the least of their problems.

  Rafe ran to the door. On the opposite side of the screen he saw Mollie. Face even paler than Kellan’s, eyes even wider.

  Just as scared looking, too.

  Chapter 19

  Omigod. Omigod. Omigod. Mollie wasn’t sure if she said the words out loud or just thought them. It felt, in her brain, like they were ten feet tall, bathed in scarlet floodlights and cranked loud enough for people up in Coos Bay to hear.

  And what she’d just overheard the Maguire brothers say? A hundred times bigger and louder. Which was why she’d dropped the stupid cookies. Mollie looked down at the container, and then her head snapped back up at the heavy footfalls.

  There was Rafe.

  Rafe, the man who made her heart flip-flop. The tender, loyal, generous, sexy, caring man she’d been ready to break all her rules for and take a chance on. The man who made Mollie believe that she was actually enough to give him reason to stay with her.

  The man who she didn’t really know at all.

  The criminal who apparently stole a lot of money and had to testify about . . . something.

  The man who’d made a fool out of her.

  “Mollie. What are you doing here?” Rafe sounded normal. He sounded exactly how she imagined he would when she appeared with his cookies. A little surprised, but not offended by the unscheduled drop by. Just mildly curious.

  Was he playing it cool? Or did he not realize that she’d overheard the obviously-meant-to-be-secret conversation with his brothers?

  While she figured out what to do about that, Mollie answered normally, as well. The way she’d planned on the way over, churning with frustration and more than a little bit mad. “I came to check on you because I care about you. I came by because you left without your cookies, which Jesse and I worked very hard to bake. But mostly I came by because I hated the way we left things at the hospital. Unfinished. Unanswered. Confused.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  Aha. Rafe was worried that she’d overheard. Mollie had zero intention of allaying those fears right away. Her heart was racing as if she’d just gotten eighty cc of adrenaline in a needle straight to the left ventricle. He deserved to feel just as breathless and anxious and, well, bad.

  “Odd question. Is that how you usually greet visitors?”

  “Why won’t you answer it?”

  Aha again. His usual suave smoothness was gone. Rafe wasn’t bothering to go through the back and forth of eluding her question. Or sidestepping the list of reasons that she’d stopped by. He’d done the mental math on the number of open windows and doors. Added in her presence as a variable. Then made a subset out of the knowledge of just how steady her hands were, since she’d literally sewn his skin together, and that she hadn’t dropped anything at all in the times they’d been together. Divided it by the fact that she hadn’t knocked or made her presence known.

  That equation added up to 1) overhearing way too much, and 2) being so shocked by what she heard that the cookies had fallen from her numb fingers.

  A little stubbornness and a lot of sheer bravado had her jutting out her chin. “I’ll answer it after you answer my question from before. After you tell me how you got that bullet wound.”

  “Mollie—”

  The fact that he didn’t so much as blink at her demand drop-kicked the shock from her system and catapulted her right back into righteous anger. “No, I’ve reconsidered. I’ll answer your question after you also tell me why you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. Why you don’t respect me enough to be honest with me. How you can claim to be so fond of me and yet hide from me who or what you really are.”

  It was like talking to a statue. On the other side of the screen, he didn’t move. She didn’t even see his chest rise and fall beneath a dark green pajama top. “You heard us talking. How much did you hear?”

  Okay. Now they were at least confronting the elephant on the porch. “Enough.”

  “Enough . . . to what?”

  “Enough to scare me. To put me off. Enough to know that I’ve got the moral high ground. Enough to know that I get to stand here and demand that you explain exactly what the hell is going on with you and Flynn and Kellan.”

  That made him move. He looked over his shoulder. Was he checking to see if they gave him the go-ahead to spill . . . whatever? Getting them to weigh in on a conversation that Mollie very much intended to be only between the two of them?

  Not. Okay.

  If Rafe had to wait to get buy-in to talk to her? Well . . . Mollie wasn’t going to wait around for that to happen. She stomped down the steps. It was loud, but it wasn’t loud and forceful enough. This weird, partial bombshell and non-conversation deserved one heck of a dramatic exit. So she ran.

  When she heard the metal clap of the screen door, Mollie changed course. Rafe would catch her before she got into her car, so she veered back behind his house, into the forest.

  A real forest. An untended forest. No neatly trimmed and flattened trail. Just bushes with luckily soft leaves that she used to be able to name. Along with the odd giant fern in the more heavily shadowed sections. The mat of pine needles on the ground made running soft, but there were still pinecones, chunks of rock to dodge, or else she’d have a turned ankle. Birds squawked and evacuated the treetops above her with a fluttery whoosh.

  Mollie had spent her whole life fearing that people would get tired of her and run away. Just like her mom did.

  And damn it, she wasn’t waiting for Rafe to pull that shit on her. She was the one running away from him. Running away from the hurt and the distrust and God knew how many lies.

  “Mollie, stop!” Rafe’s voice bounced off all the tree trunks like thunder. More birds raced through the sky away from all the noise they were making.

  “No!” It felt good. It felt good to be the one making the choice. Aside from the panting and the stitch in her side that reminded her walking to work didn’t come anywhere close to qualifying as aerobic exercise.

  His fi
ngertips grazed the back of her arm. Mollie tried to go faster, but her rubbery legs just wouldn’t obey. This time, when he reached for her, he got a firm grip that bounced her back a step and off-balance. Only his quick grab of her other arm kept her upright.

  “Why did you run from me?” It was shadowy and gray amidst the tight network of towering pine trees. Still, Rafe’s eyes blazed at her brighter than the blue flame of a Bunsen burner.

  Fine. If he’d bothered to follow her, maybe, maybe he was ready to talk. So Mollie hurled her answer at him. “Because you won’t tell me the truth.”

  “Are you scared of me?”

  Interesting. A different spin on the same old “what exactly did you overhear” interrogation. Still out of breath, she just shook her head and gave a simple, “No.”

  “Are you sure?” His fingers tightened, digging in to the soft flesh right below the short sleeve of her scrub top.

  “What the hell, Rafe? Do you want me to be?”

  His face twisted into disbelief and shock. Probably a mirror of what she’d looked like standing on his porch. “Of course not,” he shouted. Squeezing his eyes shut, Rafe continued in a quieter tone. “That’s why I chased after you. Because I want to be sure that you aren’t scared of me.”

  “Well, I’m not.” Even with the new and disturbing puzzle pieces she’d learned about him in the last five hours, it didn’t matter. Okay, it did matter. That was why they were having this confrontation. A few bad puzzle pieces, though, didn’t change the whole picture. They didn’t negate all the good qualities she’d witnessed in him.

  Mollie waited for his eyes to reopen. Then she laid the rest of the truth out for him. “Actually I am scared. I’m scared of what I feel, how much I feel, for a man who I apparently barely know.”

  “Does it matter?” God, the intensity of his eyes seared her. The harsh gravel of his voice scraped against her heart. This man clearly still wanted her to care.

  How much she cared for Rafe was exactly the problem. Exactly the reason why she needed the truth. Not to decide whether or not to run from him or leap into his arms. Just to know.