Whenever she came to Bandon to check on the Maguires, she used the cover of pretending to date Mateo, the sheriff. He was more than willing to assist the Marshals Service. Luckily, they enjoyed talking shop together.
Unluckily, it meant parading in front of Kellan dressed like she was trying to flirt her way into bed.
Delaney headed straight back to the multipurpose conference/interrogation/lunch room. She paused outside the open door to remind herself that Kellan was off-limits. Not tempting. Besides, she wasn’t here to see him. She was here to read his brothers the riot act for risking their safety and continued participation in the program.
Again.
“Can we get back to my question?” Kellan elbowed Flynn as he sat down next to him. Throwing an elbow popped his biceps out from the edge of his burgundy Bandon Cranberry Cooperative tee. The man even looked hot in a factory uniform. How was she supposed to resist all that muscled goodness? “About sex?”
Delaney entered with a scathing frown. Going on the attack, sniping at him like she always did, seemed the best plan. It’d annoy him, keep his brothers from guessing about the kiss that rocked her world, and keep her on edge enough to distract from Kellan’s charm.
She’d just need to amp it up about two hundred percent.
Snidely, she asked, “Don’t you ever think of anything else, Mr. Maguire?”
Automatically, he stood. The man had impeccable, chivalrous manners. Which didn’t count as Delaney noticing him. It was simply a fact. “I think about you all the time, Marshal. But that’s all wrapped up in thoughts of sex, so I guess the answer is no.”
She banged the door closed behind her. The gust of air blew the front strands of hair into her face. Delaney was well aware that if she tried, she couldn’t have given herself more of a tousled, even sexier look.
What she wouldn’t give to have a giant inflamed pimple growing on her chin right now.
Lacking that, Delaney narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Maybe if you stimulated that big brain of yours, instead of just what’s in your pants, you’d find a job that suits you better than the cranberry plant.”
Kellan froze, halfway between standing and sitting. Clearly he’d been caught off guard by her crossing the line from their usual flirtatious bickering.
Considering what had gone down between them last week, i.e., the epic kiss that could not, would not be ignored, Kellan probably didn’t understand her reaction at all. They’d more than come to a truce. Things had changed between them.
And then she’d remembered the potential danger to that change. The way her feelings for a single man could derail everything. Watching the surprise flicker across his handsome face, Delaney didn’t feel satisfaction at pushing him away.
No, she felt confusion.
This smart, nice man had done nothing but compliment her and appreciate her. For his attention, she was slapping him back with a verbal two-by-four. Why did her sound plan suddenly feel so wrong?
Slowly, Kellan shifted into the hard wooden chair. “They say the brain is the biggest sexual organ. Thanks for noticing that mine is . . . oversized.”
She curled her toes in her pointy stilettos to keep from smiling. Kellan didn’t back down. Ever. Delaney liked that about him. A lot. Not to mention that even when she worked her hardest at not responding, the man could put a smile in her heart.
Irresistible.
Flynn entered the fray, his voice a little too loud with a purposeful shift. “Marshal Evans. It’s always a rip-roaring good time hanging with you. But if we keep being seen coming into the police station, it’ll be suspicious. People will start to talk.”
“Then make friends with the sheriff,” she snarled. Then Delaney sagged, leaning her butt against the door and pressing her palms to it while sucking in a long breath. Because this was nuts.
Turning into a raging bitch wouldn’t solve anything. Her protectees didn’t deserve that attitude. If they complained about her, that would derail her career even more than her NSFW fantasies about Kellan.
So Delaney pasted on a smile. Regrouped. “Apparently, Mateo paddle surfs. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Flynn rolled his eyes. “I literally have no fucking idea.”
“Fine, then.” She threw up her hands. Because the man had a point. They needed a cover as strong as her pretend dates. “Golf. Didn’t I see in your files that you and Rafe golf?”
“We all do.” Flynn waved a hand in a circle to include his brothers. “We also like deep dish pizza, the playoffs of any and every sport, and hate nineties grunge music. Why do our files have random information that belongs on a dating profile?”
Delaney was glad he’d asked. It steered the conversation back around to what brought them all together in this room. The Chicago mob. The case multiple agencies had worked together to build against its leader for years. The case on the brink of bringing McGinty to justice, thanks to the Maguire brothers.
The case that had changed their lives irrevocably. The one that could do the same to hers. Because it would either go well and earn her a promotion. Or end in, well, probably a shoot-out, with her protectees dead and her career tanked.
Everything was riding on them staying alive and giving testimony. Everything in their lives and in her own.
“Because your ex-boss, Danny McGinty—and many of his high-level crew—participated in that charity golf tournament last summer.”
Rafe made a two-handed snap/fist thump combo. “Whistling Straits Pro-Am. Can’t believe we had to drag our asses past all those cows to Sheboygan for it. How’d that get on your radar?”
She sat down, across the table from them. “It’s in Wisconsin. Someplace that McGinty did not control. Which meant we were able to bug the clubhouse and the golf carts.”
Kellan’s head snapped up. “That’s underhanded. Strategic. Impressive.”
“Thank you, Counselor.” The compliment warmed Delaney’s heart, since that particular plan had been her idea. But she couldn’t show any signs of softening. Flynn and Rafe would be suspicious. “So glad you approve of an investigation that took us five years, seven different agencies, and which cost three undercover agents their lives.”
“It was a compliment, Marshal. And an olive branch. The rules of polite society require that you accept it as both.”
Was she overdoing her attempt at their standard level of bickering? Delaney lifted her hair off the back of her neck. Then she shook her head side to side. “I’m sorry. I’m in a bad mood. Traffic down here from the Eugene field office was hideous. My air-conditioning’s on the fritz. And this dress means I have to wear a thigh holster, which just isn’t comfortable.”
She watched Kellan while she continued to chat with his brothers. Watched him watching her. And hoped he knew that their kiss wasn’t the cause of her behavior.
Then grumpy, ever-sullen Flynn cracked a joke. He’d adjusted the least to any version of their new lives. Delaney wasn’t a psychiatrist, but she guessed he carried about three hundred and sixty pounds of guilt for being the reason his brothers had gotten their lives ripped away. It was a complete change of pace to see him smiling and teasing.
She knew how much it would mean to Kellan to have their old dynamic restored. He idolized his brothers. Sure, they’d tarnished a bit in his eyes after the reveal that they were criminals. It didn’t appear to change his love for them at all, though. She snuck a glance to, yes, see him smiling at Flynn proudly, like the guy had finished a marathon instead of merely cracking wise.
Delaney shifted in her seat to face Rafe. “What’s up with your brother? He’s not being a stick-in-the-mud. He’s downright . . . friendly. Has he been sampling the medicinal wares at that coffee and marijuana shop? I warned you guys to steer clear of it.”
Rafe held up his hands. “We only go for the coffee. Norah’s given me her word that she won’t ever ‘spice up’—her language, not mine—anything the Maguires order. We’re clean, Marshal.”
“Flynn’s high on life.” Kellan
made a heart with his hands and held it up to one eye to look at Delaney through. Which was adorable. Not that she noticed. Again, simply a fact that deserved to be catalogued by a trained observer. “Or love, to be more specific. He’s got a girl.”
Both of her eyebrows shot upward. Delaney couldn’t resist teasing Flynn a bit. Maybe her comments would end up teasing another easy grin out of Kellan, too. “Is she aware of this development? And willing? You know, there are rules in this state about locking women in the basement.”
“Very funny,” Flynn ground out between clenched teeth.
Delaney propped her elbows on the table and cradled her chin in her hands. “Ooh, I’m intrigued. Tell me all about her.”
“Her name’s Sierra. She’s pretty great. And that’s all you get.”
Her arms fell to the scarred wood. Why did everything have to be so complicated with the Maguires? “Sierra Williams?”
“Yeah.” Kellan drilled her with a suspicious stare. “How’d you know that?”
“Because she’s in the police report as a witness to the event that brings me down here tonight.”
His already-light eyes iced over. Glacially so. “You came to talk to us about what happened at the Gorse on Saturday.”
“No. Not ‘what happened.’” Delaney made air quotes with her fingers. Because Flynn had apparently used his MMA skills on a drunk who’d attacked his own girlfriend in the Gorse, where Flynn tended bar. He might as well have brought a semiautomatic to a rock/paper/scissors game. “More ‘what you did.’ A hailstorm happens to you. When you repeatedly punch and then kick a man out a door, that’s a conscious choice.”
Kellan stood and lifted one upraised finger to hammer home his point. “Rosalie O’Hearn is the one who made a choice. She chose to put her faith in the wrong man. Flynn didn’t have a choice to make. He had a responsibility—as a man, as a concerned citizen, and as the bar’s official bouncer—to help her out of a tight spot. To prevent her from getting a worse injury than just her broken arm.”
Oh.
Oh, my.
Oh, he was good. Was there anything sexier than standing up for what he believed? And for defending his brother, on top of it? If she’d been standing, Delaney’s panties might very well have just dropped to the floor from the power of that speech.
Delaney allowed herself to give Kellan a brief nod. But then she was right back into it. Because she had a job to do. Rafe and Flynn had a history of fighting in their previous towns. Not to mention Flynn’s very long string—undefeated—of underground fights in Chicago. She had to do her due diligence and be sure this wasn’t the first sign they might need to be relocated.
For the sixth time.
“While I appreciate your vociferous defense of your brother, I need to hear from Flynn himself.” Palms up, she placed one hand on top of the other and laid an icy cool stare straight across the table. “What was your intent that night? Did you have any prior interactions with Mr. Neal before bloodying his face?”
While Flynn said all the right things about helping a defenseless woman, about not wanting to fight but needing to stop her attacker, Delaney watched Kellan some more. Just out of the corner of her eye, because she still had to carry through with yelling at Flynn for fighting. But the side-eye glimpse was enough to catch Kellan staring at her face. Drinking her in. With a few very complimentary dips downward to her cleavage.
It felt so good to be looked at like that. Like he was appreciating everything about her.
It felt . . . decadent.
Delaney didn’t want it to stop. Didn’t want him to stop.
What on earth was she supposed to do about that?
It threw her off track, off the foundation of pushing away most chances at relationships. She’d back-burnered her love life since college. Dating other marshals was out of the question. And Delaney didn’t want to date civilians and have to withhold so much of her secretive job from them.
But mostly? She was terrified of the right man weakening her. Of love weakening her, like it had her mother.
How could she now be tempted by what scared her the most? Even worse, by the one man that she absolutely could not have without giving up everything else?
Utterly uncomfortable, she pushed up from the table. Delaney needed to get out of there. To get away from the velvety lure of Kellan’s gaze. It was time to take off the gloves and deliver the hard-assed message she’d driven down here to make sure they received.
“If McGinty goes free? He’ll rebuild in a matter of months. And if we don’t get a conviction on any of the charges? It’ll be almost impossible to justify keeping your whole family in the program.”
That should scare them into behaving. For at least, oh, a week.
In a low growl, Flynn asked, “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“It’s motivation. You’ve had a break, boys. Gotten comfortable. Seen how good life can be here. Now you’ve got to do the work to earn this new life.” Delaney walked out without another word.
Delaney’s thumbs raced across her phone screen as she rounded the corner.
I just made a total fool of myself, Em.
The best thing about her college roommate’s job as social media manager for a huge soda company? She was always on her phone, and always responded at a moment’s notice.
D, what’s wrong? Did you drop your gun down the toilet?
Her heels tapped loudly against the concrete floor, heading for anywhere with privacy. Another corner took her to the hall that led to the three empty cells. Perfect. Why is that your first question every single time? No. And there will never be a scenario where my gun goes in the toilet, FYI.
Then what?
I yelled at . . . a guy I protect. The worst thing about her job as a marshal? Having to completely censor conversations with Emily from pretty much everything work related.
Did he scratch your car? Use full-fat milk in your latte?
Delaney leaned her forehead against the cool steel of the bars. He kissed me. Really, really well. But he’s off-limits, Em. So I yelled at him.
That’s dumb. Everyone know that kisses you shouldn’t have are the hottest ones. So stop yelling and use your tongue for something else.
It’s against all the rules.
Will it hurt anyone? If not—break ’em. Oh wait—you already did. ROFLMAO
Kellan’s voice echoed a little as it traveled down the hallway. “What the hell was that?”
Delaney could’ve played it coy. Pretended not to know what he meant. But that wasn’t her style. She was a straight shooter—both in handguns and life. Not that you could tell that from the ridiculous way she’d behaved the last fifteen minutes. “I believe the technical, psychological term is ‘overcompensating.’”
Kellan stalked closer, work boots slamming loudly with every step, barreling ahead as if he hadn’t heard her, his voice quieter but more cold and focused. “You bit my head off multiple times for no reason whatsoever. If nothing else, I deserve more basic respect than that.”
“You’re right. I owe you an apology.” Reluctantly, she flipped around to lean back against the cell door. “I didn’t want your brothers to figure out that we kissed. So I made sure that we squabbled, like usual. I just, ah, kicked it up a few dozen notches. To not leave anything to chance.”
Her stilettos added a good four inches to her 5’7” frame. Yet Kellan was still able to glower down at her as he stopped, eye to eye, toe-to-toe. “Did you think I’d stick my tongue down your throat in front of them? That I wouldn’t be able to control myself?”
“No. Not exactly. I mean, you are an outrageous flirt, so . . . maybe?” When his glacially blue eyes narrowed to slits, she rushed out the rest of the truth. God, this was humiliating. “It was me, okay? I was worried about acting different. About . . . indicating, somehow, that I like you.”
“Well, I happen to be a likeable guy. Charming. Easygoing. I don’t think anyone would be shocked at that revelation.”
He was bait
ing her. It was laughably obvious. Trying to get her to admit things that Delaney hadn’t been brave enough to fully admit to herself yet.
It worked.
“If you must know, I wanted to call you. Multiple times since Thursday. It’s been difficult to resist the urge.”
“Is that so?” He eased back to lean against the opposite wall. Legs crossed at the ankle, jeans hugging his muscular thighs, Kellan looked like a worker ready to kick back and have a beer. Good thing she was all too aware—and on guard against—that whip-smart, enormous brain of his. The one that intrigued her so darned much. “Well, it just so happens that I was about to call you when you summoned us in here.”
“Why?” He’d only texted that one time. A phone call . . . that was more serious. It had to be about more than their kiss. Didn’t it?
“Remember that cheap shot you took about me finding a better job than the plant? I did. Find one that I want. But I’ll need your help to get it.”
The call wouldn’t have been about their kiss . . . or whether or not there’d be a next kiss? So she’d been twisting herself up in knots about what may or may not be evolving between them, and Kellan just wanted a favor?
Oh, that wasn’t humiliating at all. Even with all her years of training, she’d read him completely wrong?
Delaney lashed out, all wounded pride under a sharp veneer of by-the-book government official. “First a gun, and now a job. Is there anything else you need me to hand you on a silver platter, Mr. Maguire?”
Delaney regretted the super-snarky words the minute she said them. Feeling rejected wasn’t a reason to be rude. She regretted them even more when Kellan didn’t snap back. No, he just stood there, one dark eyebrow arched, waiting.
Waiting for her to stop being a bitch.
“God, I’m sorry.”
“We need to compartmentalize this conversation, before I piss you off for the wrong reasons again. Set aside everything personal. This is a legitimate favor, protectee to government handler, that I’m requesting. One well within the scope of the rule book.”
Got it Bad Page 5