THE LONG GAME

American Gypsy 1

by

J. L. Fynn

To Max. You make everything possible.

CHAPTER ONE

JIMMY BOY LEANED on the counter and flashed a sweet smile at the cute blonde working the register.

“I’m sure glad y’all were open this early ‘cause our pa wanted to have the new deck done this weekend.”

I kept my head bowed, eyes trained on the scuffed tennis shoes I’d pulled on in a rush to make it to the truck before we hightailed it to Slidell.

My brother and I hadn’t made the ten-minute drive to the hardware store to get parts for a new deck, and we certainly weren’t building one with our da. But, for some reason, that’s what Jimmy Boy’d come up with—as if visiting a hardware store for a box of screws was so unusual it required some kind of grand explanation.

Lying for lying’s sake never made me uncomfortable. If there was one thing I knew about being a Traveler, it’s that Travelers didn’t truck with being honest with country people, even when being dishonest wasn’t strictly necessary. Besides, it was difficult switching between talking from both sides of your mouth out on the road to being straight with people once you got home. There was just no point in trying to keep track of who you’d lied to and who you hadn’t.

The girl grinned, taken by my brother’s charm. “Well, I’m sure glad y’all came in.” She batted lashes almost too pale to see.

I fought the smile pulling at the corner of my mouth. Most Traveler men had their fathers or uncles to show them the ropes. I really only had my older brother, but he’d been enough. Jimmy Boy could piss on your leg, tell you it was raining, and then sell you a broken umbrella. And he’d taught me everything I knew.

“I’m glad you’re glad,” Jimmy Boy said. He leaned in further, his elbow inching across the counter so his face moved closer to hers.

She blushed and dropped her eyes, and I saw my opening.

“All right, lover boy, move it so I can pay, and we can stop wasting this girl’s time.” I nudged him aside with my hip and shoulder as I pulled a ten from my wallet and handed it to her. Her eyes only flickered to me for a second as the money moved from my hand to hers. So far, so good.

The blonde watched Jimmy Boy through lowered lashes as she counted out my change. A five and three ones. It couldn’t have worked out better if she’d been in on the scam.

I opened my wallet, making a show of getting ready to put the bills away, then snapped my fingers as if an idea had just dawned on me.

“You know, I’ve got a ton of ones in here. I wonder if you might be able to change them for a ten?”

I didn’t wait for her response but slid several ones from my billfold and added them to the change she’d just given me. I left the five on the counter where she’d laid it but handed her the ones.

“Sure thing. I could always use smaller bills for the register.” Her eyes never left Jimmy Boy’s face as she took the bills from me and handed me a ten, which I put into my wallet right away.

Jimmy Boy leaned in just a hair closer. “You are sweeter than a speckled pup and twice as cute. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Splotches of crimson appeared on the girl’s cheeks as she shook her head.

“You better count that. Can’t never be too careful, darlin’,” he said, and her eyes moved to the money in her hand as if she’d only now realized there was a transaction being made.

I knew exactly how many bills there were and so did he, but this was the best part of the game.

“Oops, there’s only nine here.” She counted through the stack of ones a second time to be sure. The poor girl actually looked apologetic, as if it had been her mistake.

But I didn’t miss a beat. “You’re kidding. Sorry about that, hon. Here you go.”

I pulled out another one and laid it on the counter. She reached for it, but Jimmy Boy laid his hand over hers. “You know, on second thought, I’m sorry to be a hassle, darlin’, but this one owes me twenty bucks.” He jerked his head at me. “And serves him right for betting against the Saints. I’d rather not have all those bills in my wallet since it’s already so full I can hardly sit down.” Jimmy Boy paused to let that sink in, and I didn’t miss the spark of comprehension in her blue eyes. Her smile broadened a little.

“Fine then,” I said, coming in right on cue. “How about you give me a twenty instead since Mr. Moneybags is too good for small bills?” I added five more ones and nudged the five dollar bill still on the counter closer to the pile.

She giggled and let her hand linger under Jimmy Boy’s for a second before scooping up the bills I’d added to the pile.

“Sorry for eating up half your day with this nonsense,” I said.

“I can’t say as I’m sorry,” Jimmy Boy said. “It’s been awfully nice taking up your time.”

The girl was positively scarlet now, and her grin seemed to stretch across her entire face. “It’s been no trouble at all.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” she said and handed a twenty to Jimmy Boy. “I haven’t much minded you taking up my time neither. Maybe while you’re working on that deck, you’ll find you need a few more supplies and come on back to take up a little more of it.”

Jimmy Boy pocketed the twenty and slid the small plastic box off the counter. The screws inside rattled as he shoved it into his pocket as well. “Oh, I’m willing to bet there might be one or two more things I’ll have to run on back for.” Jimmy Boy winked at her before pushing himself away from the counter. “You have yourself a lovely day, miss.”

“That’s Tracy to you,” she said. “And I’m here ‘til we close up, so you make sure to ask for me if you need help finding anything.”

Jimmy Boy nodded and crossed in front of me as he strode to the door. With one last smile to the blonde, he pushed it open, jostling the silver bell that punctuated his exit with a metallic jingling.

“I hope y’all enjoy that new deck,” the girl said before I had a chance to follow after him. “Maybe I’ll even get to come by and see your handy work.” She gave a shy smile. “You should tell him that I’d love to see it when it’s all done.”

“I surely will, Tracy.” I tipped my head to her and followed my brother through the door.

Jimmy Boy was halfway to the battered old pickup truck when I stepped from the air-conditioned store into the heat of the late August morning. It was not yet nine, but the temperature neared ninety degrees. I jogged across the parking lot to catch up, and within seconds, the fabric of my white T-shirt clung to the damp skin of my back.

“Get in the damn truck so we can get out of here,” Jimmy Boy said as I circled around to the passenger side.

The good ol’ boy accent that had tinged every word he’d said to the store clerk was gone, replaced with the typical Traveler cadence: a clipped Southern brogue. Travelers liked to retain a connection to their Irish roots even in their speech. Still, after living in the South for so long, we couldn’t help but let a bit of a drawl seep in, even when we spoke amongst ourselves.

Jimmy Boy could move from a Cajun inflection to a country twang to a smooth Midwestern accent and back in the same sentence. I didn’t have quite the same talent for it, but then, I hadn’t had as many years of practice either, being cooped up in school until just two years ago.

We both climbed into the truck, and Jimmy Boy jammed the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine made a hacking noise. He tried the key again, and the truck sputtered and kicked but still refused to turn over. The statue of Jesus glued to the dashboard trembled with the violent motion. Jimmy Boy wasn’t a devout Catholic like most Travelers (the colorful language that spewed from his mouth every time the old truck refused to start was proof of that), but he’d kept the figurine because it was our da who’d put it there to begin with.

“This piece-of-shit truck,” I said as Jimmy Boy twisted the key again. “Eddie Sherlock rolled back into the Village with a brand new F-150, and we’re still driving this thing around. Do you know how embarrassing that is? We’re grown men taking a full cut, and Maggie still won’t let us buy a new one.”

Jimmy Boy laughed. “Aren’t you cute, thinking Maggie would let us buy a brand-new truck. Our mam is a lot of things, but careless ain’t one of ‘em. Sometimes I think you don’t have the sense God gave a goose.”

“You’re one to talk. You couldn’t pour beer out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel.” Satisfied I’d gotten the better of the exchange, I settled back against my seat only to be jabbed in the ribs by a spring that had worked its way through the upholstery. I swiveled around to glare at the offending piece of metal. “I know you love this piece of crap, but you have to admit she’s ready to be put out to pasture.”

Jimmy Boy petted the steering wheel. “He don’t mean it, love. He’s just jealous he doesn’t have a girl pretty as you.”

“There you go. Sweet talk her like you did Tracy, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

Jimmy Boy went back to fiddling with the ignition. “Why’d you do that anyway?”

“Do what?” I watched him wriggle the key back and forth.

“You quick-changed that girl.”

“We quick-changed that girl and did a damn fine job of it. Half of that is mine, by the way, so don’t get any ideas.”

Jimmy Boy looked up. “Someone had to save your ass, but if Pop Sheedy finds out you pulled something like that so close to the Village, he’ll have your hide and no mistake. Seems like a big risk for a lousy ten bucks.”

My stomach twisted at the mention of our clan leader’s name, but I recovered quickly. “Which is why he ain’t gonna find out, is he? I’m just trying to keep my skills fresh. Where’s the harm in that?”

Jimmy Boy hooted with laughter a second time. “Your skills? A clever six-year-old could pull off a quick-change and do it with more finesse. Like I said, you ain’t got no sense.”

I aimed a quick jab at his bicep but couldn’t help chuckling. “Shut it. You’re just sore she didn’t write her number on that twenty before handing it over.”

“You might be on to something there,” Jimmy Boy said. “That girl was sex on two legs.”

“That girl was a buffer. Country people don’t bring anything but trouble. Besides, you’re the one who always says to never let a pretty face get in the way of a good con.”

He winked. “That don’t sound like me at all.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just get this thing started before your girlfriend thinks you’re hanging around to take up some more of her time.”

Jimmy Boy leaned into the steering wheel as he turned the key again. The engine rumbled to life.

“There she goes,” he said. “See? You take the time to find her sweet spot, and she’ll purr like a kitten.” His mouth spread into a wicked grin. He wasn’t talking about the truck.

CHAPTER TWO

JIMMY BOY JERKED the pickup sharply off State Highway 90 onto a side road. Other than a white sign with black letters that warned this was private property, there wasn’t any indication where the road might lead. The truck sped along smooth macadam that was maintained better than any laid by St. Tammany Parish. The narrow lane disappeared into dense woods, but the hot sun beat down on the truck again as soon as we crossed through the line of trees into a section of cleared land.

From the front, the Village looked like any other trailer park around this part of Louisiana. A little nicer, maybe, since the doublewides were all in pristine condition, but there wasn’t much to make it stand out from the crowd unless you were really looking. Statues of the Madonna, Jesus, or one of the saints guarded each front yard without exception. The statues varied in size and number, but each one was painted in colors bright enough to make a Mardi Gras float look tasteful.

Every driveway was home to at least one car, usually more, and they were all as bright and new as the statues. A few looked more expensive than the trailers themselves. The wheezing engine under Jimmy Boy’s hood seemed even older and louder in such company, and I mentally rehearsed the speech I’d make to Maggie about why she had to let us buy a new truck this fall.

I squinted against the dusty air that blew through the open window. The Village was alive with activity—not typical on such a hot day when most would rather stay inside and enjoy the bought air. Today, though, the women were going through their return-from-the-road routine, which went far beyond unpacking a few suitcases. They congregated in small groups, updating one another on their family’s latest purchases or comparing the gifts their husbands had bought them while they were away. They chitted like birds over gold and diamond jewelry in voices so loud I could hear them over the noise of the truck. I could almost see them making mental calculations to determine whose husband spent more.

Their younger daughters, dressed like miniature versions of themselves in sequins and beads, hovered outside these little klatches, mothering similarly dressed dolls. The older girls, those closer to their teens, attempted to join the conversations now and then but more often quietly observed in an effort to learn the role they’d be expected to play in a year or two. A few boys who were still young enough to hang around with the ladies chased each other with thumbs and forefingers stretched out, shouting “bang!” at one another and irritating the girls who were unlucky enough to be in the way of their game.

This time of year, the Village would normally only be home to the elderly and a handful of women whose husbands had died or been incarcerated, but the wedding of Pop Sheedy’s daughter had brought nearly everyone back from their summer travels to the north and west. Once word had spread about the newly arranged marriage, the men had left their work on the road and brought their wives and children home a full two months before the end of the season. Most hadn’t arrived until late the night before, but Jimmy Boy and I had been back for a few weeks since neither of us were comfortable leaving Maggie on her own for long stretches.

“Think those boys need any help?” I asked as Jimmy Boy snaked the truck around the large pavilion that marked the center of the Village. A group of men dressed in dirt-smudged jeans and plaid button-up shirts rolled large aluminum kegs into the pavilion. Another set of men lifted the kegs into tubs of ice.

Jimmy Boy slowed but didn’t stop. “Nah. Looks like Scrud Daly’s got it under control. Knowing him, he’s probably gone ahead and made those kegs a little lighter anyhow.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. Besides, Bridget’s on a rampage. You better step on it before she sees us.”

I pointed toward the women who were decorating the support posts and roof beams of the pavilion with white Christmas lights and overworked garlands of colored ribbon. In the center of the concrete floor, a flower arrangement stood so tall its highest point scraped the ceiling. Thousands of blossoms spray-painted in awful shades of pink and red were intertwined to form a massive heart. An older woman, her gray-streaked hair tightly wound around plastic curlers, stabbed a bony finger at it, issuing commands. Bridget Sheedy, mother of the bride, had no doubt paid a local florist a small fortune for the flowers, but there was always room for improvement as far as she was concerned.

Weddings took the typical Traveler garishness to extremes, and this one promised to be even crazier than most. The goal of each family was to outdo every other wedding that had come before it, and since the Sheedys were the wealthiest family in the Village, this would be the most elaborate we’d seen. Pulling together such a big event was no small feat when you thought about the fact that Traveler engagements lasted for no more than a week or two.

As we continued toward the back of the Village, mobile homes were replaced by new-ish houses set back at the furthest end of the clearing. Travelers jumped on any opportunity to display their success to one another but didn’t look kindly on drawing the attention of outsiders. If country people saw all these fancy houses, it wouldn’t be long before questions would be asked about where we got all that money, and questions like that were usually followed by visits from the cops.

Around three-dozen houses had been built over the past 30 years, and like our weddings, they were each larger and more elaborate than the last. One house, the largest mansion in the Village and home to the Sheedys, had a façade of bright red brick interspersed with chunks of black coal that glared in the sunlight.

There were still trailers in this part, but these were usually reserved for in-laws or elderly parents, purchased as a sign of devotion by successful children. They sat scattered around the mansions like foothills at the base of mountains, attached to the larger buildings by the power lines that stretched between them.

I looked away from the window when the truck slowed a second time. A small trailer sat off to the side of the clearing, like it was ashamed to be seen in broad daylight. And it was right to try to hide itself away. Even the most modest mobile home was a palace compared to this tiny travel trailer with its hitch propped up on a pile of cinderblocks. Several yards away was a seafoam green house, larger than some but humble compared to the ones built in the last ten years. The same umbilical lines of power connected this house to the tiny trailer. Even though Jimmy Boy and I tried to keep the exterior of the old place in good condition, its bare lawn and empty flowerbeds were as good as a neon vacancy sign flashing outside a motel.

We pulled to a stop next to an old picnic table. When I was a kid it had been bright red, but the sun had bleached it to a faded brick color and no one had taken the time to do anything about it. I swung the door open and climbed down from the cab. Jimmy Boy made a beeline for the trailer, the door banging shut behind him. That morning, the leg of our foldout table had thrown in the towel and collapsed under our breakfast dishes. I’d hoped the mess would finally convince Maggie it was time to move back into the house and have some real furniture, but she’d just set herself to cleaning up and shooed us off to the hardware store.

Instead of going inside to help, I settled myself on the faded red bench and rested my back against the picnic table’s edge. I stretched my legs out across the patch of grass in front of me and tried to imagine what tonight’s party would look like. In years past, the bride’s family would rent a fire hall or hotel ballroom for the reception, but that was before the clan’s reputation as “a bunch of rowdy gypsies” got us banned from every rental space in St. Tammany Parish.

“Back so soon?”

I turned, startled by the voice behind me. It was all brogue without a hint of slow, Southern drawl. Maggie emerged from around the side of the trailer. Our massive wolfhounds, Yeats and Beckett, flanked her, obediently keeping pace as she strode across the lawn. Their wiry coats were a gleaming variety of blacks and grays, but each had a twin patch of white at his chest as if they’d lain down in a puddle of bleach. The mud on Maggie’s long skirt and the basket of lavender she carried on her wrist told me she’d been digging in her garden out behind the trailer.

My mam was different from the other women in the Village—really from any woman I’d ever seen. To be honest, I’d never been certain of her age, but the skin of her face was still as smooth as it had been when I was small enough to sit in her lap and tangle my fingers in the charcoal curls that hung loose around her shoulders. She seemed older and wiser than any woman in the Village, but still as young and spirited as any girl. She paused and turned her face up to the sun. When she looked at me again, something flashed in her green eyes, and I was immediately suspicious. It was a look I’d become familiar with; it meant she had a secret she was anxious to reveal that I might not be thrilled to hear.

In spite of my sudden discomfort, I smiled at her. “Hey, Maggie.” I almost never called her mam anymore. She was simply Maggie to everyone who knew her. “Just got back. Jimmy Boy is already inside working on the table.”

“And you’re out here lazing around instead of helping.”

I shrugged. “There’s hardly enough room for both of us to sit at the table, let alone work under it.”

“If this is going to be another conversation about living in that house, Shay, you might as well save your breath.”

She walked to the table and set her basket down. Shadowing her every movement, the dogs sat. Even in that position, they were impressive animals. Their long, narrow heads reached the height of Maggie’s ribcage.

“It’s hot today.” I scratched Beckett behind the ear, and he inched forward, nuzzling his head into my hand. Drops of saliva from his panting tongue dripped onto the knee of my jeans.

“Aye,” she said, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead. “It certainly is. It’ll be hard for those lasses to stay looking their loveliest when they’re melting in their fancy gowns.”

I chuckled at her. Though other Traveler women reveled in the opportunity to put on expensive dresses and decorate their hair with jeweled ornaments, Maggie had far simpler tastes. She preferred light cotton dresses, and she only ever wore one piece of jewelry: a silver pendant with three interlocking spirals hanging from a leather cord.

If she were any other member of the clan, her tendency toward simplicity would’ve been looked down on—might’ve even gotten her dragged—but Maggie was special. She was a Traveler in the truest sense—born in Ireland and still clinging to the oldest traditions of our kind.

I appreciated that she wanted to honor the old ways, but I never understood why that meant we had to live in a tiny trailer while my father’s house sat empty next to it. Still, when my father’s people had fled Ireland during the Great Famine, Maggie’s had stayed behind and struggled through it. The same strength that allowed her people to survive such a nightmare had been passed down to her.

“Speaking of the wedding,” Maggie said, drawing my attention back to the conversation. She took a seat next to me and inclined her head slightly. Both dogs stood and ambled to the shade of an oak, then collapsed with a thud at its roots. Yeats, the larger of the two, stretched his jaw in a whining yawn and settled his head on Beckett’s back.

“Yeah?” I asked cautiously.

“Little Rosie Sheedy stopped by here this morning, just after you left.”

I turned to look at her. “Yeah?” I said again, though now curiosity replaced concern. “Looking for me?”

“I believe she was, though she knew better than to say so.” Maggie wrinkled her nose. “She asked me for a love charm. Said now that her sister’s getting married, she’d like to attract her own husband.”

Maggie’s connection to the old ways meant her handcrafted charms for luck, love, fortune, or health and her herbal teas to calm nerves or promote fertility were highly coveted in the Village. It wasn’t unusual that a young woman would stop by seeking such a thing, but apparently Rosie wasn’t such a welcome visitor.

“You’d better watch your drink tonight, boyo,” Jimmy Boy said from the steps of the trailer. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to mix up a love potion of her own after Maggie turned her away. You could end up with lavender and Clorox in your Guinness.”

Both dogs raised their heads. Their bodies remained motionless, though the fur at their necks bristled and their ears perked. Maggie lifted her hand without looking at them, and both dogs lowered their heads but continued to keenly observe the scene.

Maggie cocked an eyebrow at Jimmy Boy as he crossed the lawn to join us. “And who says I turned her away?”

“You did, didn’t you? You know what kind of trouble Shay could get into messin’ around with the clan leader’s daughter.”

Maggie stared at him for a moment, a curious expression crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Sit down, lad,” she said.

After a moment, Jimmy Boy plopped heavily onto the bench next to me and crossed his arms over his chest. We both looked up at her, waiting to hear what she’d say next, and it occurred to me that my brother and I both yielded to Maggie almost as obediently as the wolfhounds. She stood back to take in both of us for a long moment.

Due to decades of intermarriage, everyone in the Village vaguely looked alike, but somehow this hadn’t extended to us Reilly boys. Jimmy Boy and I hardly appeared related at all, let alone brothers. He had a stocky build with hair the color of a rusty tractor wheel, which I assumed he’d inherited from our Da, though I’d never seen more than a grainy picture of him in the twenty years I’d been alive. Jimmy Boy’s eyes were a dull gray-blue that looked downright colorless compared to the emerald green eyes I’d inherited from Maggie, along with her tar-black hair. I was lean and at least an inch taller, despite him having three years on me.

“I told Rosie I didn’t have the time to help her, but there won’t be any stopping that girl now she’s got the idea in her head.”

“I don’t know why it’s such a bad idea,” I said, flashing a wolfish grin I hoped would provoke my brother. The swift smack he delivered to the back of my head was totally worth it.

“You don’t think you’ve made yourself enough of an outsider by going all the way through high school? Maybe you’d like to be physically tossed out of the Village by the Sheedy boys, too?”

I ducked my head, rubbing at the back of my skull. “Hey, finishing school wasn’t my idea. You know I’d rather have been out on the road with you.” I hadn’t hated high school if I was being honest, but I had hated the feeling of being different. Going to school past the seventh grade wasn’t done. I’d once heard of a few Traveler boys from another clan who had gone on to play for the LSU football team, but they were definitely the exception and not the rule.

“If it had been up to me, you both would’ve been in school,” Maggie said.

Jimmy Boy snorted out a laugh. “Then I’m glad it wasn’t. What good it do him?” He jabbed an elbow into my ribs. “All that schooling, and he’s still empty-headed enough to go weak in the knees whenever Rosie Sheedy bats her eyes at him.”

“At least I don’t flirt with country girls,” I said and aimed my own elbow-jab in return.

“Stop trying to change the subject. I thought you didn’t even like Rosie.”

“I like her well enough, and she can get me to where I wanna go. Feelings, love, and all that—they just get in the way.”

Jimmy Boy shook his head. “How in the hell’d you get to be so jaded? You tell those mutts over there you love ‘em every chance you get, but when it comes to people, you’re as closed up as Pop Sheedy’s safe.”

“Aww, that’s not true.” I wrapped my arm around Jimmy Boy’s neck and pulled his head down to pin it against my side. “I love you, big brother.”

Jimmy Boy shoved me hard to free himself, then punched my arm for good measure. I lifted my hand to retaliate, but Maggie’s voice stopped me mid-swing.

“That’ll be enough from you two. You’ve got a table to mend, and I need to fix myself up before the women head over to the church.” She took a few steps toward the trailer before turning back to look at me through narrowed eyes. “Your brother’s right, though, Shay. If you don’t watch it, your ambition’s going to get you in trouble.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but her expression warned me that it best remain shut. Maggie gave a curt nod, and a smile brightened her face again. Without a word, she retrieved her basket and marched toward the trailer. The wolfhounds hopped to their feet and followed after her. Maggie stood on the steps of the trailer, patiently holding the door open, then pulled it shut behind them.

Left alone with my brother, I stood so I could face him full-on. Maggie might not understand, but I had to convince someone I wasn’t being a fool.

“If we started working with the Sheedys, think how much more money we’d be bringing in. Our family’d be back on top like before Da went away.”

“Da didn’t ‘go away,’ Shay. He got himself killed because he wanted to be the best, bring in the biggest scores. And you’re picking up just where he left off. You need to learn your place in this clan, and that ain’t beside Pop Sheedy’s daughter. Got it?”

His words stung, and I clenched my fists at my sides. It wouldn’t have been the first time my brother and I came to blows over something, but before my temper reached its boiling point, he stood and gently gripped the back of my neck in both hands. “I know it’s tough. I want a new truck and a bigger place and a pretty girl on my arm just like the next fellow, but it’s just not in the cards. You and I are on our own, and that’s fine. We bring in enough to put food on the table and take care of Maggie, and you getting in over your head with Rosie Sheedy could ruin us. Promise me you’ll stay far away from her tonight.”

“But, Jimmy, I—”

“Promise.”

“Fine.” I jerked free of his grasp and took a step back. “I’ll be sure to keep to myself.”

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU KNOW, THOSE are meant for drinking, not staring at,” Jimmy Boy said, settling himself in the lawn chair next to me with a sweating glass of Guinness in each hand.

“Sláinte.” I grinned and raised my own glass, then followed the toast with a gulp of the thick stout.

“That’s how it’s done,” he said, tipping back one of his.

“But I’ve got an empty hand,” I said, gesturing to Jimmy Boy’s dual drinks. “I’m already falling behind.”

He chuckled. “I’ve gotta take up the slack for old Seldom Fed over there.” He pointed to a portly, middle-aged man sitting alone at the end of a long bench that ran along one side of the pavilion. “He’s taken the pledge again, mostly to get that goat he calls a wife off his back for a few more months. He looks miserable, poor old fool. I think he was better off listening to the banshee wail about his drinking.”

Seldom Fed O’Hara had earned his nickname by eating like a starving man who’d finally been blessed with food. Apparently, giving up the drink only increased his appetite because he already had a heaping plateful on his lap and was attacking it with a fork. I wondered what Jenny O’Hara would have to say about it when she returned from the church with the other wedding guests. Although many of the men didn’t bother attending the service—we preferred to stay behind to start the drinking portion of the festivities early—most of us weren’t bold enough to dig into the food before the rest of the clan had returned.

Jimmy Boy emptied the glass in his left hand and started in on the one in his right. He downed a quarter of it in one swig, then belched loudly. “I’ll tell you, Shay. Living is sucking the life outta me.”

I grunted in amusement. “Yeah? How’s that?”

“All…this.” He waved his arm in front of him as if he were trying to shoo away imaginary flies. “I know you’ve only been going out on the road for two years or so, but I been conning since I was twelve.”

“Right, but you’re only twenty-three. You sound like you’re coming up on retirement.”

“Sometimes I wish I was. Honestly, the only reason I give your big schemes any attention at all is because I figure a big score would make it possible to take it easy for a while. Maybe get married, give Maggie a couple grandkids.”

I took another sip of beer to buy time before I responded. The alcohol was already beginning to make things seem a little dream-like. Other Traveler men could drink several pints before feeling anything, but I tended to approach drinking the way the women did—as something only done on special occasions.

“If you hate conning so much, you could always give up the game,” I finally managed after giving the alcohol a little time to loosen my tongue.

Jimmy Boy sputtered on Guinness. He swallowed hard, laughing as if I’d made the funniest joke he’d ever heard. When he caught my awkward smile, the laughter died. His brow knitted in confusion.

“For all my bitching, I honestly can’t imagine not going out on the road once in a while. Settling down and giving up the game sounds great, and it’s worked for men in other clans, but you know what would happen if one of us just up and quit. While everyone else would be out on the road, I’d be here alone. I couldn’t stand all these people going on like I never existed.”

I blew out a long breath and relaxed back in my chair. “It’s just that sometimes you make me nervous. You start going on about packing it all in for a simpler life, and I start to worry about what that would mean for me and Maggie.”

“I’m talking outta my ass is all. Hey,” he said, clapping me on the back. “We should talk to Uncle Pete and Hollywood about—”

Jimmy Boy didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Car horns blared from the front, and everyone in the pavilion turned their attention toward the sound. The honking continued, and vehicles appeared on the lane, traveling in a slow procession. The parade of Cadillacs, Lincolns, and late-model pickups crawled past us. Metal clanked as each car circled around, shifting the coins the owners had dropped into their gas tanks to bring good luck.

In the back of every truck, two or three girls perched on lawn chairs, poised like beauty queens and twice as painted up. In stark contrast to the men, who’d been drinking at the pavilion in rumpled slacks and collared shirts, the women wore huge gowns filling the space of each truck bed with a wash of pink, purple, and green. The jewels they wore in their hair and the sequins coating their dresses glittered in the dying sunlight. Young men gathered around the edges to get a better view, some standing, some pulling up chairs and settling in for the show.

I stayed in my seat but craned my neck, trying to see beyond the fence of onlookers. The young women on display were almost unrecognizable and not only because unmarried men and women rarely spent time together outside of formal occasions. Each one was so heavily made-up that she resembled a porcelain doll more than an actual human girl. They all beamed, clearly enjoying the attention.

Once the pavilion was surrounded, wedding guests began unloading from their vehicles. The groom and a younger man, who I guessed was his brother given the similarities between them, climbed out of a silver Lexus, grinning in matching designer tuxedos. They made their way across the cement floor of the pavilion to a row of chairs decorated with flowers and ribbons for the wedding party. Next, a stout man with a shock of white hair stepped from a black Cadillac. Pop Sheedy stooped for a moment to help his wife out of the car and then rested both hands on his burgeoning belly, offering his elbow to Bridget. The groom’s father was next. Rail-thin and well over six feet tall, he ducked his head to clear the doorframe of his own black Cadillac. Apparently, he had no wife to help from the car and so crossed quickly to his sons.

Next, the community procession began. Women with new babies to show off came first. Next, some of the older married women, who took this opportunity to show off new jewelry purchases instead of children. Finally, the unmarried girls began climbing down from truck beds, aided by the young men who’d had the privilege of driving them. They walked slowly through the pavilion, circling around the huge floral arrangement in the center of the floor in a loop of brightly colored satin, tulle, and organza.

The last car door opened. Rosie Sheedy, a baby-faced seventeen-year-old girl with black curls teased to a height that defied gravity, took the hand of the young man who’d chauffeured her to the party. A pang of jealousy tightened my stomach as her gloved fingers closed around his, and I was secretly glad that he struggled to get her out of the Lincoln Town Car with any grace. Her hoop skirt crumpled as she squeezed herself through the door, but immediately sprang back to life, forming a three-foot barrier around her legs on all sides. The dress was an irritating shade of teal blue, but I could easily look past her bad taste in clothing given who her family was.

Rosie turned her back to the pavilion and reached inside the car to help her sister make a grand entrance. A head appeared, crowned with a sparkling tiara. Ringlets of dark hair bobbed as both Rosie and the driver pulled the bride’s arms, struggling to free her from the car. For nearly ten minutes, the trio fought with the bride’s enormous dress, shoving sections of it in every direction to manipulate it through the car door. Finally, Mary Sheedy burst from the car like a cork from a champagne bottle. Her sister caught her and set her on her feet again, both girls giggling.

Mary and Rosie Sheedy were Irish twins, only eleven months apart in age, and they were so similar it was sometimes hard to tell them apart from a distance. There was no mistaking which was the bride this day, though. Mary strode to the center of the floor, making a concerted effort not to wobble under the weight of her dress.

I leaned closer to my brother. “If the competition over having the biggest dress doesn’t end soon, these girls are going to have to be wheeled around on carts.”

Jimmy Boy offered a smirk in response.

Mary’s dress was certainly a sight to behold. The skirt was made up of at least a dozen layers of fabric held aloft by a wire hoop skirt, and Mary had to spread her arms to their fullest width to gather the sides in her hands as she walked. Huge stars made of gold and silver sequins trailed their way down the front of her skirt in two lines. The bodice of the dress had genuine pink diamonds sewn along the collar and extending to her waist in a V-shape down the front and back. All the glittering gems, along with a little help from a glass-and-a-half of Guinness, were making my head cloudy. I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping the feeling would pass.

Once Mary had completed her laborious journey across the pavilion, Rosie helped her arrange the dress so she could take a seat on the throne next to her new husband. The dress spilled out over the chair’s sides, and Mary seemed to hover above it rather than sit in it, boosted by the fabric of her gown. Pop Sheedy stood and raised a glass to toast his daughter and new son-in-law. The entire reception rang out in a chorus of well wishes and congratulations. He beamed with pride as he looked down at his bedazzled offspring.

In spite of their garishness, what these celebrations really represented was the deep love Travelers had for their children. Yes, they were a way to display wealth and compete with other families, but the expensive floral arrangements and ridiculous gowns were also honest expressions of affection.

“So now we’ve got a Georgian in our clan,” Jimmy Boy said, though I could barely hear him over the loud music that had just started up. No one was dancing yet, and the scene reminded me of the one middle school dance I’d managed to sneak off to, with young men on one side of the pavilion and girls giggling in small groups on the other.

“Guess so. Pop and Bridget went over for Dandelion McNamara’s funeral last week and arranged the whole thing there. Apparently, this kid has shown a lot of promise or something, so they made him a match for Mary even though he’s only nineteen,” I said. “At least that’s what Bridget told Maggie.”

“I heard they paid his family five hundred large to seal the deal, but you know how numbers have a way of growing when Traveler women get to talking.”

I shrugged, lifting an eyebrow. It was entirely possible that the Sheedys had paid such a substantial sum to make a good match for their daughter, but half a million dollars was a large dowry even by Southern Traveler standards. Still, speculation over the bride-price was as much a tradition at Traveler weddings as the fancy gowns and festive music.

I glanced over at the couple again. A line had formed in front of their table; one person from each family was tasked with presenting a gift to the couple. This was yet another opportunity to show off, but it appeared most people had decided to wait until later in the evening when food and drink might make Pop more open to being impressed by their gifts. I reached under my seat and pulled out a thin package wrapped in simple brown paper. Maggie’s wedding gifts were never as expensive as those presented by other members of the clan, but they were always highly prized. This particular gift even came with instructions. Instructions I wasn’t excited about delivering. I thrust the package at my brother.

“You’re the oldest—you give it to ‘em.”

Jimmy Boy shook his head, pushing it back toward me. “No, thank you. Maggie gave it to you. You can go up there and tell them about the magic feathers.” He stood and excused himself by lifting his empty glasses in explanation.

“Thanks for your help,” I called after him, but if he heard me, he didn’t bother to look back. I growled in annoyance and pushed myself to my feet to join the line.

Although there were only a few people ahead of me, each one took his fair share of time fawning on Pop Sheedy and his family. I bounced on the balls of my feet as I drew closer to Mary and her new husband and wished again that Jimmy Boy had accepted my offer to do the job instead. Although I’d been staring at my feet for most of the wait, when I was next in line to present my gift, my gaze flicked over the wedding party, and I was surprised to find Rosie Sheedy looking at me. Our eyes met, and she immediately dropped her gaze, smiling at her hands.

“Congratulations on your marriage.” I handed the package to Mary but couldn’t keep my eyes from moving back to her sister.

Mary tore the brown paper and peeled it back, revealing two snow-white feathers. She squealed in delight, showing them first to her sister, then to the groom. The groom looked up at me in confusion.

I exhaled through my nose. Here we go. “They’re from a pair of swans,” I said, reciting the speech Maggie had made me memorize. “They mate for life—swans, I mean—so their feathers are supposed to guarantee a long life of love and happiness.” I paused, mentally preparing myself for the next part, which I directed toward Mary. “Maggie says to sew one into your pillow and the other one into your husband’s pillow to…um…” I cleared my throat. “…ensure fidelity.”

I felt my cheeks grow hot but forced myself to keep my expression neutral. The groom smirked and muttered his thanks, but it was Rosie who once again caught my eye. She hid a smile behind her hands and leaned over to whisper something into Mary’s ear. Both girls giggled again, and Rosie winked at me.

I remembered my promise to Jimmy Boy and took a step back, though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Anyway, congratulations again,” I said and crossed the floor as fast as I could without actually breaking into a run.

When I reached my seat, Jimmy Boy had a fresh beer waiting for me. I took it, gulping the bitter liquid greedily.

“Easy, tiger,” Jimmy Boy said. “Pace yourself, or you might end up like that one over there.” He pointed to someone behind me.

I turned around just in time to see Judd Sheedy stumble over to a keg. Pop’s youngest son had a habit of strutting around the Village like a self-important peacock, which had earned him the nickname “Prince,” but he also had a habit of drinking himself into a stupor any chance he got. He pulled a plastic cup from a stack on a nearby table but fumbled it clumsily. It hit the floor and slid several feet away from him, and rather than going after it, he angrily pulled another cup from the stack, which tipped over and scattered across the tabletop. Judd ignored the mess and helped himself to the keg, then emptied the entire cup at once, crushing it and tossing it aside. He swayed, clearly unsteady on his feet. I wondered if one of his older brothers would appear to help him find a seat before he ended up on the floor, but no one seemed forthcoming. Eventually, he found a support beam to lean against.

“That boy’s a menace.” I shook my head. “Where’s he been all night anyway?”

“The last I saw him was this morning when we passed by the pavilion, but who knows where he got off to after that? You’re lucky he didn’t notice all that stuff between you and Rosie over there.”

“All what stuff?” I said.

“I saw the looks she was giving you while you were standing up there,” Jimmy Boy said. “And you saw it, too.”

I fought a smile. “I didn’t see nothing, and neither did you. Drop it, Jimmy.”

“Well, I would, except the girl is still gawking at you, which makes it a little hard to let go.”

I looked up and met Rosie’s eyes. She’d joined three other girls standing a few feet from the line of guests still waiting to present their gifts. When we made eye contact, Rosie turned her back to me, and the group of girls erupted into chittering laughter.

“I’m going to ask her to dance,” I said. “There are plenty of people around. What’s the harm?”

“What’s the harm?” Jimmy Boy caught my arm and yanked me to a stop. He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “Those Sheedy boys have whooped better men than you for looking at her funny. You think they’re going to sit by while you dance with her?”

I knew he was right, but the alcohol and my wounded pride urged me on. I pulled my arm away from Jimmy Boy and handed him my empty glass. I scratched at the tip of his nose as I moved across the floor, vaguely recalling something Maggie had once told me about an itchy nose heralding an argument. It was enough to slow my feet for half a second, but the sight of Rosie ahead of me pushed it from my mind just as quickly. As I approached her from behind, I cleared my throat to get her attention. Her friends wore matching grins, but they faded into the background as Rosie turned around.

I didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Dance with me.”

She looked surprised by my abrupt demand, but her smile broadened when she nodded. Her eyes seemed even bluer than usual as I took her hand and led her to the floor.

Rosie laid her hands on my shoulders, and I wrapped mine around the sides of her waist. I had to bend forward a little so my legs were far enough back to avoid treading on her huge gown.

“In a million years, I never thought Buffer Reilly would ask me for a dance,” Rosie said, giggling again. “If someone had told me that an hour ago, I’d have called him a liar.”

I lifted the corner of my mouth, pretending not to care about her use of the nickname. I knew she didn’t mean any offense by it, but it never stung any less when I heard it. “The Buffer” had been the insult of choice for the boys in the clan who were less forgiving of Maggie’s decision to keep me in school. A “buffer” was a country person, a non-Traveler, someone who didn’t belong. In their minds, it was the worst thing a person could be called, and I agreed.

“You know,” Rosie continued, obviously unaware she’d said anything wrong, “my sister knew she’d get a husband from Georgia. She told me she’d caught a ladybug when my parents were leaving for the funeral, and when she let it go again, it flew straight northeast, toward Georgia.”

“Is that right?” I smiled and pulled her a hair closer.

The superstition was popular among the girls in the clan, but I’d never put much store in a ladybug’s ability to foretell the future. Our swaying continued, and I started scanning the crowd of people over her head. Jimmy Boy had struck up a conversation with our da’s brother, John, and I was glad he’d found something to distract him from his unease over my dance with Rosie.

“Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

My attention snapped back to her. “What’s that?”

Her smile was coy, but there was nothing shy in her gaze. “I thought we could go for a walk or something.”

I glanced around. “I don’t—”

“No one will even notice we’re gone.” She took her hand from my shoulder and tangled her fingers in mine. “Trust me.”

CHAPTER FOUR

I ALLOWED ROSIE to lead me from the dance floor and out of the pavilion. I glanced behind me as we walked, wondering how accurate Rosie’s prediction had been. No one had followed after us or even seemed to be looking in our direction, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease a little.

“We should have a little privacy back here,” she said.

We’d stopped behind a white trailer painted with the logo of a local sound equipment rental company. I could still hear the music and murmur of conversation from the pavilion, but it was faint at this distance.

“So…” I cast around for something to say. I’d spent my share of nights thinking about what I’d do if I was ever alone with Rosie Sheedy, but conversation hadn’t been a big part of it.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, you know that?” Rosie pressed herself against me—or at least tried to with the barrier of her skirt getting in the way.

“That so?”

“It is. Pop has been talking about marrying me off for at least a year now, and I’ve made sure your name is on his radar.”

I laughed. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t, no matter how many hints you’ve dropped.”

“You’re wrong,” she said. “He thinks a lot of you.”

I leaned back so I could look her in the eye. “You’re joking, right? I’d be willing to bet Pop doesn’t think about me one bit.”

“Of course he does,” she said. “But I don’t want to talk about him right now.”

It vaguely registered that her fingers were tugging at my belt, but all my focus was on what she’d said. He thinks a lot of you.

Rosie abandoned my belt and wrapped her gloved fingers around my neck to pull my face toward hers. Her tongue was clumsy against mine, and it occurred to me that this might have been her first kiss. It wasn’t unlikely. Despite her boldness—and mine—unmarried men and women enjoying each other in dark corners wasn’t exactly aboveboard as far as our clan was concerned.

A scraping sound forced me to break the kiss and look around. “Did you hear something?”

Rosie shook her head and redirected her efforts at loosening my belt.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said uneasily.

“No one’s going to come out here. Quit worrying.”

I heard the metallic flick that signaled she’d been successful in her mission, and the cloth of her gloved fingers grazed my abdomen as she went after the button of pants. My body responded, and all of a sudden I was too impatient to let her finish without my help. She giggled at my eagerness. The sound reminded me of the tinkling bell on the door of the hardware store.

She pressed another wet kiss to my mouth. “Tell me you love me,” she said.

I knew I could lie and she’d never know, but my mouth refused to form the words.

“No more talking,” I said instead and bent to kiss her again.

My brain registered the scraping sound again an instant before something slammed into my side with enough force to knock us both to the ground. Rosie yelped and tried to scramble out of the way, but she couldn’t get far with her legs tangled in the unwieldy dress. Pain exploded in my shoulder as it slammed into the sun-hardened dirt. I lifted my head in time to see Judd Sheedy pull back his arm. Instinct took over. His fist hurled toward my face, but I rolled out of the way and it slammed into the ground instead. Dark splotches of blood from his broken knuckles stained the soil, but the injury didn’t seem to slow him down. He lunged at me again. I fell backward, and all the air in my lungs erupted in one breath as my back hit the ground and his full weight crashed into my chest.

“You little shit. I’ll kill you.” Judd thrust his bloody fist into my ribs.

I pressed my forearm into his throat, trying to force him off. The smell of alcohol oozed from every part of him, and his eyes refused to focus. Rosie shrieked again, though I had no idea if she was worried for her brother or for me. I braced myself for another wild punch, but before he made contact, his head snapped back and his weight was lifted off of me.

“Easy now, Prince,” Jimmy Boy said. He set Judd on his feet and used his bulk to keep the thrashing drunk trapped against the trailer.

“Get the fuck off me, Reilly. I’m going to kill him, and you’ll be next if you don’t let me go.”

Jimmy Boy laughed, although there was no way he found any of this funny. “All right. You’ve made your point, and Shay’s learned his lesson.” He glared at me over his shoulder. “Haven’t you?”

“Sure,” I said. I got up and held out a hand to Rosie. She stared at it for a second, but then let me pull her back to her feet. “Are you okay?”

Rosie bobbed her head but pulled her hands away and wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

“I’m going to let you go now,” Jimmy Boy said. “But no more scrapping, you hear? I can’t imagine Pop’ll look kindly on you fighting at your sister’s wedding.”

“Fuck you,” Judd said and spat in my brother’s face.

Jimmy Boy’s mouth clenched into a hard line. He moved with more speed than I would’ve thought him capable. Grabbing Judd by the throat, he lifted him an inch off the ground and held him against the trailer. Judd sputtered and clawed in vain at Jimmy Boy’s hand.

“I’m trying to be polite, Prince, but you’re pushing me to my limits. Now take your sister back to the party and go find a place to sleep it off. Yeah?”

“Let’s go, Judd,” Rosie said. She put her hand on Jimmy Boy’s shoulder, and he opened his fist. Judd crumpled to his knees, gagging as air rushed back into his lungs.

Jimmy Boy stepped back to give Rosie room to drag her brother back to his feet. When they’d disappeared around the side of the trailer, Jimmy Boy turned to me, and for a second, I thought I might have to fight him next. Instead, he shook his head as if I were a disappointing child.

“Listen, I know I promised—”

“Whatever you have to say, save it for Pop. There’s no way he’s not going to hear about this. And when he does, you’re gonna wish I’d let Judd kill you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“WAIT RIGHT HERE,” Judd said. He glared at me, though the greenish tint to his skin and his puffy eyes made him considerably less threatening than he meant to be. A purple bruise roped around his throat, and his hand was bandaged.

“Right here, Prince?” I asked, pointing to my feet. “So here isn’t okay?” I slid several inches across the thick Oriental rug that carpeted the Sheedy’s foyer.

Judd pursed his lips, and his nostrils flared. “Real funny, smartass. Stay here in the hall.”

“What’s a matter, Prince? Not feeling so good this morning?” I knew goading him would only get me in more trouble, but since I’d been summoned by Pop this morning, I figured this might be the last chance I’d ever get to mess with him.

“My hangover will be gone in a few hours, and with any luck, you’ll be gone a few minutes after my dad gets his hands on you. So, all in all, I’d say I’m feeling pretty good.” He turned to walk away but then apparently decided taunting me was too fun to abandon. “And don’t touch anything, Buffer. I know you’re not used to having all this expensive stuff around. We don’t need your filthy handprints all over everything.” A malicious grin spread across his face. He turned his back again and disappeared down the long corridor.

“What an ass,” I said under my breath, then pressed my palm against a framed mirror that hung on the wall beside me. When I pulled it back, a smudged handprint appeared on its otherwise impeccably clean surface. I knew it was juvenile, that I might as well have stuck my tongue out at Judd’s retreating form, but the act of disobedience felt good anyway.

I scanned my surroundings. I’d never been invited to the Sheedy home before, and this wasn’t how I’d imagined it happening. Best case scenario, I was in for one hell of a lecture, but Pop had always been a man of few words. More likely, his three other sons would get a chance to finish the fight their youngest brother had started last night. I cursed my own stupidity for the hundredth time and vowed again to both drink less at parties and start listening to my brother’s advice where women were concerned.

Despite Judd’s admonishment to stay put, I wandered down the hall a ways, cautiously looking around at the ostentatious décor of the Sheedy mansion. Religious icons abounded, displayed in the form of paintings; wall-mounted crucifixes; and a side table where the Holy Mother stood on a white lace doily, flanked by St. Bridget and St. Jude, each on their own clouds of lace.

On one side of the hall was a set of double doors, which were closed, muffling the voices of the people behind them. I paused in my exploration, convinced I’d heard my name spoken from inside the room. The voices fell silent, and I moved away from the door quickly, afraid I’d be caught eavesdropping.

The double doors swung open, and Rosie stepped out. When she saw me waiting in the hall, she stopped abruptly. We stared at each other for a moment.

She smiled, and after a second, I grinned back. “Hey. Are you okay?”

She glanced into the room she’d just stepped from, then without a word, sprinted up the stairs. I stared after her, debating whether her smile had been a positive sign or if she’d just heaped all the blame for last night on me and was happy she’d gotten away without punishment.

“Come in here and have a seat, Shay.”

My heart thudded in my ears at the sound of Pop’s voice coming from inside the room. I could only guess what he’d been told already. If I was here for a scolding, I’d apologize and ask what I could do to make it up to the clan. If I was here for a beating, I’d take it like a man and maybe get in a few good licks myself. I squared my shoulders and attempted to look a lot calmer than I felt, then walked into the office with as much confidence as I could muster.

“Close the doors behind you,” Pop said.

He sat behind a huge mahogany desk that filled the center of the room, and I got the feeling this was what appearing before a judge would feel like. I pulled the doors shut and slid into the seat across from him. I glanced around, still trying to decide how to begin. My eyes landed on a framed picture mounted on the wall. It wasn’t the clumsily painted watercolor seascape that had caught my attention, but the fact that one side of the gilt frame had separated from the wall several inches. Pop followed my gaze to the wall behind him, then reached out and pushed the painting back into place. He cleared his throat and turned back to me.

Showtime. “I know my brother and I behaved badly last night,” I said, but Pop put up a hand to stop me.

“Shay, I didn’t send for you to get an apology. No one was hurt, and nothing was damaged. I know you boys were letting off a little steam.” He flashed a patriarchal smile. “Gotlath noks yahr. And with four sons, I know that better than anyone.”

I was familiar with the saying, but I rarely spoke the secret cant of the Travelers and had to search my memory for its meaning. It came to me after a second.

“Youth likes to wander,” I said back in English. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean, sir.” This seemed too easy. He wasn’t angry enough, and I wondered if Rosie had lied for me or for herself.

“I suppose that’d be my way of saying young people will sometimes stray from their path, but it’s not the end of the world.” He chuckled. “Youth likes to wander, Shay. Sometimes it can lead to drinking a little too much at a party and picking a fight. Sometimes it can lead to a small indiscretion behind a trailer.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. My mind raced with all the explanations I’d made up during the restless period between last night and this morning, but none of them seemed right now.

The old man barked with laughter. “You look like a fresh-caught fish,” he said.

“Sir, I’m not sure what—” I stopped. What did he know? What had Rosie and Judd told him?

“If you have something to say, sublia—” Pop used the cant word for boy. “—now’s the time to say it.”

I felt like my stomach was full of stones. If I were caught in a lie, it would only make things worse. “I know I shouldn’t have left the pavilion with Rosie last night, sir,” I said to my knees. “I guess I just got caught up in the celebration and all. Prince had every right to try and whoop me for it, but I swear it’ll never happen again.”

To my surprise, Pop Sheedy laughed again, so hard tears welled in the corner of his eyes.

“Shay, are you so naïve as to believe I didn’t notice the two of you sneaking off? We protect our children in this clan, even when all they need protection from is their own hormones.” He erupted into another round of rasping laughter, slapping his palm onto his desk with a loud thwack. “Believe me when I say, I wouldn’t have let either of you get into too much trouble.”

I shifted uncomfortably in the rigid chair, wondering how closely he’d been watching. “So I’m not in trouble?” I asked when Pop Sheedy had finally stopped guffawing at his own cleverness.

“You’re not in trouble, and that son of mine was awfully sorry to hear it. But there’s one reason you haven’t been dragged for this and one reason only.”

I stiffened. Dragging was what I’d been most afraid of—more than getting my ass kicked by all four Sheedy boys. Dragging meant rumors, open hostility, and shunning. It would ruin any chance I had of improving my position in the clan. It would ruin my entire family. “What reason?”

“The reason is this: I think you could be a great asset. I’ve watched you since you were a tiny thing, and it’s clear to me you’ve got…” He paused as if searching for the right word, “…potential. Tomorrow, you’re getting an opportunity to prove I’m right in keeping your little slip-up quiet. An arrangement was made to sell a trailer to a fella down in Terrebonne Parish.”

I frowned. “Don’t trailer sales usually take a while to set up?”

“Wedding plans weren’t the only thing happening this week. We put an ad in the papers a few days ago hoping a gull would bite while everyone was back home for the celebration, and it looks like we had a bit of luck. You’ll be headed down there first thing tomorrow morning with Jimmy Boy.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. This was exactly the opportunity I’d been waiting for. Jimmy Boy and I had run our fair share of driveway paving scams and pigeon drops, but we’d never had the means to get into trailer sales. My excitement threatened to overwhelm me, but I tried to keep my body still and voice steady. “Pop, I want you to know how grateful I am for this chance. I don’t think I can tell you how much it means to me.”

Pop Sheedy nodded. “Well, if this works out the way I think it will, you’ll be bringing in your fair share in no time. Jimmy Boy may not be the best con there is, but I’m confident you’ve learned what you need to from him.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Pop.” I sprang to my feet. “I promise. Gestena. Thank you so much.”

Pop Sheedy waved a hand, shooing me away. “G’on, get out of here.”

I bolted for the door before the old man could change his mind. I practically sprinted through the foyer and out the front door, slowing only once I’d made it down the porch steps and back to the macadam.

This was it—and only the beginning. First one trailer sale for Pop, then who knows what next? As I walked back to the trailer, I imagined taking Maggie to dinner every night and the new truck I’d buy for Jimmy Boy. He’d warned me about my ambition, but even he couldn’t be sour about this opportunity.

I still wasn’t quite sure why Pop was being so kind to me or what “potential” he saw, but questioning it wouldn’t do me much good. One thing was certain, though. I was being given the opportunity I’d been waiting for, and there was no way in hell I was going to screw it up.

CHAPTER SIX

JIMMY BOY JOGGED down the gull’s driveway back toward where I sat on the edge of the truck’s bench seat. The door was open just enough for my leg to poke through, and I kept it from swinging wider by bracing it with one hand as if it were a shield between me and potential disaster. I tried to relax. Being tense or seeming nervous would be a sure sign something about this deal was off, and it could tank the whole thing. All I needed to do was relax, talk fast, and keep him from looking too closely at the trailer.

“Okay,” Jimmy Boy said, gripping the door through the open window. “He’s coming down to have a look. All you need to do is give him a good story about why we’re selling this thing in such a hurry and at such a good price. Got it?”

I nodded. “So what’s the story?”

“I don’t know, but you better think of one quick,” Jimmy Boy said, wrenching the door open and pulling me along with it. “Because he’s coming.”

Panic began to well up in my throat, and I fought to keep my breath even. Don’t fuck this up, I reminded myself. This is your shot.

“You’ll be fine. Tell him you knocked up your girlfriend and need the money to help her with the baby.” Jimmy Boy chuckled when I scowled at him. “Whatever you tell him is fine as long as you make it sound good and convincing.”

I moved away from the truck and shut the door, then turned to see a heavy-set man plodding down the driveway. He had thin black hair that hung over his forehead in greasy strings. He reached us and ran a hand through it, extending the same hand to me. I hesitated a moment, then took it and gave it a quick shake, afterward surreptitiously wiping my palm on the leg of my jeans.

“So you’re the one selling the trailer, that right?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, though the words came out louder than I’d intended. I glanced at my brother who relaxed against the front of the truck with his arms crossed. He urged me on with a jerk of his head. “It’s a real wrench to give her up, especially for so much less than she’s worth, but it’s the only thing I have that I can get any money for. You know how the economy is. No one’s buying trailers these days.”

The man leaned back to have a better look at the travel trailer still hitched to the old truck. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his head from side to side. “Looks brand-new. Why you in such a hurry to sell it?”

I thought quickly. “My wife and I,” I said, slipping my empty left hand into the pocket of my jeans. “We’re expecting our first baby this winter, and you know how it goes. Kid’s costing me a fortune, and it ain’t even been born yet.”

The lie rolled off my tongue as easily as the thick twang I used to speak it. I glanced at Jimmy Boy, who flashed an amused grin before putting up a hand to hide it, pretending to scratch at the scruff on his jawline.

Feeling bolder, I pressed on. “You wouldn’t believe what doctors charge just to keep us waiting for an hour, and that’s a bargain compared to the price of this fancy baby carriage my wife wants. I’ll be broke in a month if I don’t pull in some more money soon.”

“That’s just awful,” the man said, though nothing in his tone indicated he actually felt sorry for me. He continued his appraisal of the trailer as he spoke. “So if you ain’t got money for the baby, where’d you get a trailer so state-of-the-art?”

From a scrapyard, I thought, though obviously I wouldn’t tell him that. In truth, the trailer was only worth the five to six hundred that had been put into making it appear as though it were worth thousands. This was why it was so important I made the sale quickly before the buyer decided to take a closer look.

“Wedding gift,” I said. “From my in-laws. They’ve got money and offered to help with the baby, but I don’t take charity.”

The man finally looked at me. I knew I had him on the hook, and now all I had to do was reel him in. “So, you get a good deal, and I get to buy my wife all the baby stuff she wants. It’s win-win.”

“Women, eh?” he said, and I grinned. Something had told me this particular buffer didn’t think much of the fairer sex, and I was glad to see I’d been right. “Well, son,” he went on, “it looks like she’ll be getting her over-priced buggy. Though if you were smart, you’d tell her I jewed you down some and pocket the difference.”

I forced a laugh as I took his greasy hand in mine again. We shook on the deal, and as soon as he handed me the money, I jumped in the truck and slammed the door, happy to be out of his company.

* * *

“Brother, you are slicker than owl shit.” Jimmy Boy shot me a look filled with both pride and wonder before returning his eyes to the road. “I thought you’d lost him at first, but he sure came around fast.”

“Yeah, well, imagine what I could do if you actually gave me a heads up before I made the sale.”

“It’s good practice for thinking on your feet. Quick thinking is a Traveler’s best asset.”

The first few notes of “Brown-Eyed Girl” came through the truck’s speakers. My hand shot out and turned it off almost as a reflex.

“What was that?” Jimmy Boy asked. “I thought you love Van Morrison.”

“I do.”

“Then why’d you turn it off?”

“The man had almost forty albums, but somehow ‘Brown-Eyed Girl’ is the only song anyone knows. It makes me sad.”

“Aww, how sensitive. You gonna cry about it?”

“Shut up.” I smacked the thick envelope in my palm, wanting to change the subject. “This is the biggest score we’ve brought in so far. How much you think Pop will let us keep? A thousand—maybe two?”

“I wouldn’t go making any big plans just yet. We weren’t much more than errand boys. We’ll be lucky if we get back the gas money we used getting down here and back.”

I made a faint noise of disgust at the back of my throat. “Seems like a waste if that’s the truth. I know it wasn’t our trailer, but we should get paid for our time at least.”

“You should be happy Pop trusted you to do this at all. You’re never satisfied, Shay, and that’s going to get you in trouble.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I STOOD ON the postage-stamp-sized front deck of the trailer and stretched muscles that were stiff from another night spent in the foldout bed I’d outgrown years ago. The events in Terrebonne Parish had boosted my confidence. My indiscretion with Rosie hadn’t come back to bite me in the ass, and my reputation as a buffer was fading, too. My cousin, Pete, had already stopped by to congratulate me on a job well done, and he’d heard about my success straight from Pop Sheedy himself.

A ladybug landed on the front of my shirt. When I brushed it away, it took flight, heading northeast. I couldn’t help but think of Mary Sheedy’s confidence that her husband would be from Georgia, thanks to a ladybug that probably hadn’t made it past the woods before getting eaten by a bird. I chuckled to myself as I stepped off the porch and crossed to the picnic table.

The day promised to be a scorcher, and I made a mental note to sleep outside that night rather than in the stuffy confines of the tin can Maggie called a home. I straddled one of the benches and blew a sharp whistle through my teeth. Yeats padded over and slipped his head into my lap, patiently waiting for a scratch.

“Morning, boy.” I dug my fingers into the folds behind his ears. “Where’s Beckett?”

I’d named the dogs after discovering the Irish writers in a freshman English class. With their grizzled and scraggly appearance, the names seemed fitting. Yeats lifted his head and huffed, clearly annoyed he was once again tasked with finding his errant companion. I chuckled as he lumbered away and disappeared around the side of the trailer.

The sound of an approaching vehicle made me turn in my seat. A black car pulled up to the trailer, slowing to a stop in front of our blue pickup, which looked even older and shabbier next to the glittering Mercedes. All the doors opened, and Pop Sheedy hoisted himself out of the car with aid of the doorframe. He was soon followed by all four of his sons. Judd was the last to appear from the car, glowering as he emerged from the driver’s side. The age range of the Sheedy boys spanned almost two decades. Mike, named after his father and so referred to simply as “Sonny,” was the oldest at 38, but his plump face made him look only a few years older than his youngest brother. His young appearance was even more stark when he was next to his craggy wife, who thankfully wasn’t with him today. All four of them seemed to be cut from the same cloth, each hovering right around six feet tall, with broad shoulders; coal black hair; and the same wide-set, milky blue eyes.

Apprehension prickled at the back of my neck. Something had to be wrong. Maybe Pete had been exaggerating when he’d told me how happy Pop had been with my efforts the day before, or—worse yet—maybe a police officer had come around asking questions about my quick-change. Whatever it was, this unannounced visit could only be bad news because Pop Sheedy never came to you.

I stood in a show of respect to the clan leader who sauntered toward me at a painfully slow pace. The boys hung back a little, though they trailed after their father in an effort to get within earshot of the conversation. Probably looking forward to the reaming I was about to get, the bastards. They’d all decided to tag along to get a good laugh at the buffer.

I didn’t take my seat again until Pop had settled himself on the opposite side of the table.

“Morning.” I sat stiffly across from the old man. “I’m honored you decided to pay a visit. Can I get you anything? Maggie made a new batch of tea.”

I half-stood again as if I were about to go inside and put a kettle on. I was stalling, of course, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Sit down, Shay,” Pop said.

I slowly lowered myself back to the bench. “Pop, I think I know why you’re here, and I can explain.” It was a lie. I had no explanation because I had no idea what I’d done wrong. Still, it seemed like an apology was the best way to start.

“You don’t know why I’m here and have nothing to explain, so shut your trap and let me say what I’ve come here to say.” Pop’s eyes were full of cold appraisal.

“Yes, sir.” I dropped my eyes to the table and kept my mouth shut as instructed.

“This trailer of yours is a bit of an eye-sore,” Pop said after a moment. “It should’ve been demolished years ago. Why you continue to live in that when you’ve got a perfectly good house sitting right there I’ll never understand.”

I felt my cheeks burn. “You’d have to ask Maggie about that, sir. She’s pretty fixed on the old notion that sleeping under a real roof takes away your soul.”

Judd scoffed loudly. “It’s sad how some people are so stuck in the old ways,” he said to his brother Pat, in a voice intentionally loud enough to be overheard. Pat was four years Judd’s senior but could have easily passed for his twin if it weren’t for his left eye, which turned inward slightly so that it looked like he was constantly trying to examine his own nose.

Pat guffawed but was quickly silenced by his father’s sharp tone. “There’s nothing sad about it,” he said over his shoulder. “There’s a lot to be said about keeping to the old traditions. Now shut your gobs or wait in the car.”

My mouth twitched as I tried to repress a smile. I caught Judd’s angry glare and allowed the corner of my lips to turn up into a faint smirk, then dropped them just as quickly when Pop Sheedy turned back to me.

“So I suppose you’d like to know why I’ve stopped by,” Pop said.

“I’d be happy to know if there’s anything I can do for you, sir.” I laid it on thick as molasses.

The door of the trailer opened, and Jimmy Boy stepped out, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He stopped when he saw the gathering in his front yard, and for a second, it looked as if he might turn around and flee back into the safety of the trailer. Instead, he forced his feet down into the grass, taking a few hesitant steps toward the picnic table. He didn’t speak but crossed his arms over his chest, hovering behind me like hired muscle.

Pop Sheedy continued on without acknowledging my brother. “Then you’re in luck, Shay, because that’s exactly why I’m here. Sending you out with that trailer was a little test. An experiment, you might call it.”

I nodded to indicate I understood. I glanced at Pop’s sons, standing in a line behind their father just as Jimmy Boy stood behind me. It struck me that this meeting would present a pretty strange picture to anyone watching.

“And it proved exactly what I guessed it would, which is that you are an asset to this clan. I have a very special job, and you’re the only one who can pull it off.”

I’d been leaning forward, listening, but hearing this sent me reeling back several inches. “I’m honored, Pop. What did you have in mind?”

“I’m sending you up north to Pennsylvania. A place near Philadelphia called Balanova.”

“Balanova?” I’d never heard of the place. And I couldn’t think of a single person I knew who lived in Pennsylvania. “What’s in Balanova?”

“Revenge,” Pop said.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE WORD “REVENGE” hung in the air as Pop continued his explanation.

“There’s an old wrong that needs setting right, and you’re the perfect person for the job,” he said.

“Sorry. I don’t quite follow.”

“Did you ever wonder why, out of everyone in this clan, you were allowed to finish school?” Pop punctuated his question with a quirked brow.

I frowned. “Because Maggie wanted me to.”

“She did, but I didn’t ask why you finished. I asked why you were allowed to finish.”

Electricity prickled down my spine, and I squirmed, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation.

“Something wrong, son?” Pop asked.

I shook my head. “No, sir. I guess I just never really thought about it.”

“Well, let me fill you in. Maggie wanted you to finish school instead of going out on the road with your brother, and I gave her permission to bend the rules because it served my purposes. See, I’ve had this plan in the works for a long time—since before you were born—and keeping you tucked away in school meant there wouldn’t be much chance of you getting a record.”

Almost every man and several of the women in the Village had at least a few misdemeanors on their rap sheets, and more than a handful had done time. Even Jimmy Boy had been pinched as a minor for shoplifting. “So my clean record is an asset?”

“Your anonymity is an asset. And, on top of that, it looks like your education might actually come in handy as well. Though I’ll be honest, that hadn’t occurred to me at the time.” He snorted in amusement.

“Okay. So what’s the job?” I was intrigued now. All my experiences as a Traveler were small-time. Quick and dirty jobs like the trailer sale. I’d heard of cons who played the long game, drawing out scams for a few months or even a year for a big enough payout, but a plan that had been put into motion two decades ago was something unheard of. And something I was anxious to hear more about.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard the legend of Saint Thomas,” Pop said.

“The apostle? The one who didn’t believe Jesus had risen from the dead?”

“The Traveler.” Pop’s voice was sharp with hostility. “The one who betrayed your father, stole from us, and disappeared without a trace.”

I blinked at him. A thousand questions banged into each other in my mind, warring for the chance to be asked first. I turned to look at Jimmy Boy, and he shrugged, apparently as unfamiliar with this story as I was.

“What did he do to my father?”

“Shay, I don’t—” Jimmy Boy said, but Pop silenced him with a flick of his hand.

“Twenty years ago, Tommy Costello disappeared with $500,000 of the clan’s money after a con went wrong with your da. We’ve been looking for him ever since, but every time we got a lead on where he might be, he disappeared again. Costello used that half a million as seed money, and he’s made himself a very rich man in the two decades since he left. A few years ago, we learned he has a daughter, just a little younger than you actually, and as it turns out, that’s the best break we could’ve asked for. The girl got it in her head that she wants to go to college.” He said the word in a tone that suggested higher education was about as valuable as dog shit on his shoe, probably even less when it was for a girl. “Tommy’s bought himself a house and settled down near Balanova University to be close to her.”

“So you want me to get the money back? The five hundred grand and maybe some interest?” I cracked my knuckles, making a show of my willingness to get my hands dirty if necessary.

“The money isn’t what we’re after.” Pop leaned in, his voice a low rumble now. “There’s a book. A sort of ledger, full of important information. He took it from my safe along with the money, and I want it back.”

“What information?” I asked.

“That ain’t important now. All you need to worry about is getting it back. It’s about this big.” He held up his hand about eight inches apart, first horizontally, then vertically. “And it’s thick, with a leather cord tied around it to keep it shut.”

I nodded, committing this description to memory.

“And it better stay shut,” he added, stabbing a thick finger at me to drive his point home.

I leaned back to put some distance between us. “Of course. Get the book, bring it home. Got it.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.” Pop sounded amused, but there was no humor in his narrowed eyes.

“I guess I am,” I said. In truth, I was almost disappointed. A long game that had been in the works for over twenty years, and all I’d have to do was break into the guy’s house to steal a book?

“I’d suggest you use the girl,” Pop said, interrupting my thoughts.

“Sorry?” I asked, my eyebrows inching toward my hairline.

“His daughter. Sweet talk her a little, get her to invite you over for dinner. Get access to the house.”

“All due respect, sir, but wouldn’t it be easier to just break in and steal it? I could be there and back in a few days.”

“‘All due respect’ means you do what your clan leader says without question, and unless that school of yours taught you how to disarm security systems, I’m pretty sure getting an invitation for dinner is easier than breaking in. Not to mention, I want to keep this quiet. Don’t do anything to rouse the attention of the police.”

Damn. I hadn’t thought about security, but of course someone paranoid enough to spend twenty years looking in the rearview would have a state-of-the-art system. And now, I looked like an ass for not realizing it right away.

“What’s all this then?” Maggie was suddenly beside me as if she’d just appeared from thin air.

Pop Sheedy fixed her with a warm smile. “Maggie, my dear, you get more radiant every day.”

“Hmph,” Maggie said, unimpressed. “And you get more rotund.”

I winced, embarrassed by her brashness, but Pop chuckled. “You’re not wrong,” he said and slapped his round belly. Only Maggie could speak to the clan leader that way and get away with it.

“So, what is it you want with my boys, Michael?” Maggie asked, her knuckles thrust deep into her hips. That was something else Maggie could do. Not even Bridget called Pop by his given name anymore.

“I have a job for your son, Maggie, and he seems happy to oblige, so I think we’re done here.”

“That so?”

I felt her eyes on the back of my neck, and my shoulders instinctively moved toward my ears. Suddenly, eagerness to accept Pop’s offer didn’t seem like such a great idea.

Pop seemed to sense my wavering. “And if he pulls it off…” He paused to smile broadly before delivering his final enticement. “…he’ll have a bride waiting for him when he gets back.”

My back straightened like someone had pulled an invisible cord attached to my spine. I gaped at him. “You mean…?”

He nodded. “If you get my ledger back, I’ll have no doubts that you’ll make a fine match for my Rosie. And I hardly think she’ll have any objections,” he added with a wry smile.

My eyes moved from Pop to his sons. The oldest three were stone-faced, but Judd’s barely contained rage had turned his face the purple-red of a ripe raspberry. There was no stopping the grin that spread across my face.

Except the look on my brother’s. When I turned back to Maggie and Jimmy Boy, they both stared at me with twin expressions of disappointment.

Maggie dragged her eyes from my face back to Pop, who was extracting himself from the picnic table. “Would you like to come in for some tea, Michael?”

“Thank you kindly, Maggie, but I won’t keep you folks any longer than I already have.”

“I think you should come in,” she said, though it no longer sounded like a polite invitation.

Pop hesitated for a moment, then turned to his sons. “You boys head back to the house and tell your mother I’ll be along shortly.”

“Sure, Pop,” Sonny said, although none of them moved to leave.

I got to my feet as Pop circled around the picnic table to join Maggie. “Thank you for this opportunity,” I said and offered my hand. “I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t.” He gave my hand a quick shake, then offered his arm to Maggie, and the two of them headed toward the trailer.

Jimmy Boy waited until Maggie and Pop were gone, then uncrossed his arms and let them fall to his side. “Shay, think about what you’re doing,” he said. “This is just the kind of thing you don’t want to get mixed up in.”

“Listen to your brother, Buffer,” Judd said. “This is no job for a sublia like you.” He tossed an amused grin to his brothers. “Fifty bucks says he comes home crying for his mama before the week’s out. Whaddya say, lads? Any takers?”

Jimmy Boy moved so quickly that I couldn’t restrain him before he’d bloodied Judd’s lip with a savage right hook. Immediately, Sonny and Pat rushed to their brother’s aid. Jimmy Boy swung again, but they each grabbed one of his arms and pinned them behind his back. Judd spat a mouthful of blood and rubbed his jaw. He fixed Jimmy Boy with a cruel smile that smeared blood across his teeth. It made him look insane. Jimmy Boy struggled against the men holding him.

I scrambled over the picnic table and lunged for Pat, but he threw his elbow up as I charged him. It made contact with my chin and sent a burst of painful light through my skull, disorienting me long enough for Eddie, the fourth Sheedy brother, to tackle me to the ground. Eddie outweighed me by at least thirty pounds, and all of it lay on top of me, pinning my arms and legs. I lifted my head in time to see Judd’s fist plow into Jimmy Boy’s stomach. My brother lurched forward as far as he could with his elbows still locked behind him by Sonny and Pat.

Judd grabbed his shirt collar in both hands and thrust a knee into his ribcage. Jimmy Boy grunted, sucking air into apparently uncooperative lungs. Sonny yanked him upright again, using the hair at the back of his head like a pull string. Judd drew his arm back and released it, smashing his fist into Jimmy Boy’s cheek.

“Stop!” I struggled in vain against Eddie’s bulk. “You’re gonna kill him.”

Sonny and Pat allowed Judd one final swing. The blow made a nauseating thwack, like the sound of raw steak being tenderized. The men let go of Jimmy Boy’s arms. He fell to his knees, swayed for a moment, then dropped to his hands. He braced himself against the ground with one arm, holding his middle with the other as he spilled everything in his stomach onto the grass.

“You’re both trash,” Judd said. “Your whole family is trash. Always were and always will be. God only knows why my dad is wasting his time with you.”

“Fuck you,” Jimmy Boy said between gagging coughs. “You’re just pissed Pop chose Shay over you. But he ain’t stupid, Prince. He knows you’d fuck it all up.”

Judd’s foot hit Jimmy Boy’s face so hard my brother flipped off his hands and knees. He crashed to the ground again, flat on his back. Judd swiped at his mouth, then wiped the blood from his hand onto the leg of his jeans. He spit a gob of rusty saliva that missed Jimmy Boy’s face by half an inch and splattered into the dirt by his ear.

The door of the trailer opened again, and Maggie’s head appeared. “What the hell is going on out here?” she asked. Her eyes fell on Jimmy Boy, and she flew down the steps and across the yard to where he lay motionless on his back. “Who do you think you are, coming to my home and carrying on like a bunch of maggots?” She knelt beside her son, but her sharp gaze remained fixed on Judd, who seemed to shrink under it. “Go on! Get out of here before I whoop the lot of yeh.”

Maggie was a small, fleshy woman and not the least bit imposing physically, but her tone was enough to scare four grown men to their senses. Eddie pushed me harder into the ground as he stood and clambered over to join his brothers, who’d already bolted for the Mercedes.

Pop appeared at Maggie’s side, and the two of them helped Jimmy Boy to his feet. She tucked herself under his arm and supported his weight with one hand to his chest and one to his back. I could see her scanning his face, already inspecting the broken and bleeding skin of his cheeks and lips.

“Come inside, love. I’ll fix you up.”

Jimmy Boy’s head lulled in what may have been an attempt at a nod but was more likely his neck’s inability to hold up his head. They moved in limping steps toward the trailer.

“I’m sorry for the trouble, Maggie,” Pop said.

I imagined, with great satisfaction, the earful Judd and his brothers would get for disrespecting Maggie’s home.

She glanced at him over Jimmy’s shoulder. “Cuts and bruises I can handle, Michael, but what you’re planning could do a far sight more damage.”

“You let me worry about that,” he said. His tone finally betrayed a hint of annoyance at her boldness.

I pulled myself onto the bench of the picnic table and rolled my head from one shoulder to the other to relieve the kink in my neck. A nice reward for my efforts to get Eddie off my back. I heard the trailer door slam behind my mother and brother, but I still wasn’t alone in the yard. I raised my head to find Pop staring at me.

“There’s some sense in what your mother says, Shay. If you don’t want to take this job, I won’t force you.”

An image of Judd’s boot connecting with my brother’s face flashed in my mind, and anger burned like acid in my mouth. “When do I leave?”

CHAPTER NINE

IT TOOK ME a day to get settled in after I arrived in Pennsylvania and another to find Tommy Costello’s daughter. Spencer was a nineteen-year-old sophomore at Balanova University, a member of the OIA sorority, and an avid reader. At least, according to her Facebook page. The last fact was quickly proven true when I found her in the courtyard outside the Carroll Center in the middle of campus.

From where I stood on the opposite side of the fountain, I had a clear view of her, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest and her back resting against the broad trunk of a white ash. She was reading, her head tipped to one side, which made a thick section of her dark auburn hair fall forward to shade one side of her face. The quad was empty aside from the two of us and a kid who bobbed his head to the beat of whatever song played through his retro headphones.

Finding out she lived in a sorority house had been my first disappointment. Pop Sheedy had assumed she’d be living with her father, so I’d have to work a little harder to score an invitation to Daddy’s. I was still pretty sure I was up to the challenge, though. And the sooner I worked my way into her life, the sooner I could finish the job and get back home. Time to get this show on the road.

I circled around the fountain, gearing up for my role as “lost transfer student,” but a pixie-haired blonde in a pink-and-white sundress beat me to her. I stopped thirty feet from my goal and pulled a campus map from my back pocket. I watched the girls from the corner of my eye as I pretended to study the map.

“Hey, Spence!” the blonde said, handing over a cup emblazoned with the green Starbucks logo. “I got the herbal tea you wanted, even though it goes against every fiber of my being to order something that doesn’t have any caffeine in it.”

Spencer grinned at her and took the cup. “Aww, thanks, Kay. It’s so sweet of you to compromise your principles for me.”

“Whatevs. No biggie. Plus, sexy coffee-cart guy is working today, so it was totes worth it.”

Was this girl even speaking English? I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, then looked around the quad as if trying to orient myself. I spun the map in my hands so that I was looking at it upside-down. If I looked hopeless enough, maybe the girls would offer to help.

“Have you found a dress for the party tomorrow night?” the over-caffeinated blonde asked.

“Yep. I ended up going with the one we saw on South Street. Remember?”

“Ooh, the green one? I bet you look super hot in that.”

“It looks all right,” Spencer said. She shoved the book she’d been reading into a worn leather backpack. She slid a cell phone into the front pocket of the bag, snapped it shut, and slung it over one shoulder. “I’m supposed to meet Moira in ten minutes. She’s helping me study for my French quiz on Friday. Walk with me to the library?”

Both girls got to their feet. According to the map, Fowley Library was on the east side of campus, which meant I stood between them and their destination. I saw my opening.

My eyes still on the map, I took a few steps to my right just as she passed by.

“Oof!” she grunted. Her backpack swung forward, and I reached out to steady both her and it. Her body pressed against mine as she stumbled into me, and I had to admit it wasn’t an entirely unwelcome feeling.

“Shit. Sorry,” I said. “Are you okay?” I gently pushed her back and dropped my hand from her shoulder. The other fell from her backpack a second later, and I folded the map I was still holding, then slipped it into my back pocket.

She hoisted the bag back onto her shoulder and looked up at me. Her eyes were a warm, earthy brown like the clay soil that lined the banks of the creek back home and rimmed with thick lashes a lighter shade of auburn than her hair. They flashed with an undeniable spark of intelligence, and I worried for a second she might see through me.

“I’m fine,” she said, blinking at me.

“Sorry,” I said again.

“It’s cool,” the blonde said. She flashed a bleached white grin. “She doesn’t mind, do you, Spence?”

Spencer still blinked up at me, her lips parted slightly. “It’s fine,” she managed.

“Hopefully, next time we run into each other, we won’t actually run into each other.” I didn’t miss the color that bloomed in her cheeks when I smiled at her.

“Yep.” She nodded and linked her arm through her friend’s. “Come on, Kay, we’re going to be late.”

Spencer tugged on the girl’s arm, but the blonde locked her knees like a stubborn mare. “I’m Kay, and this is Spencer. Who are you?”

Straight to the point. I liked that in a woman. “Shane Casey.” I gave the name from the fake ID Pop had supplied me with before I’d left the Village.

“Nice to meet you, Shane,” Kay said. Her eyes glinted, and she elbowed Spencer in the ribs.

“Nice to meet you,” Spencer mumbled.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

“That’s some accent you’ve got,” Kay said. “It’s like Brooklyn-by-way-of-Georgia. Are you new here?”

I laughed. “I transferred from Loyola.”

“In Chicago?” Kay asked.

“No, Loyola New Orleans.” I’d worked on different accents on the bus ride up and finally settled on a Lakeside drawl. Most of my high school classmates had been from the affluent area across Lake Pontchartrain, so it was one I could pull off without much trouble.

“Yeah.” Kay wagged a finger at me. “You sound like that singer guy. Harry What’s-His-Name.”

“Harry Connick, Jr.” Spencer rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Kay. I need to go. Moira isn’t going to wait forever.”

“I’ve been dying to go to Mardi Gras. Is it awesome? I bet it’s awesome,” Kay said, clearly unconcerned with wasting Moira’s time.

“It’s a blast,” I said. “You should definitely go if you get the chance.”

“Okay, well, this is super-interesting, but unfortunately, we have somewhere to be.” Spencer tugged her friend’s arm again.

“Yeah, of course,” I said, not wanting to burn the one bridge I needed to cross. “I won’t keep you any longer. It was nice to meet you, though.” I tipped my head to Kay. “Both of you,” I added, smiling at Spencer in a way I hoped made clear that she’d been my favorite part of the introduction.

She swallowed hard and tugged on Kay’s arm one last time. Finally, the girl obliged, and I stepped aside to let them pass. Kay leaned in to whisper something, and Spencer shook her head.

I waited, counting under my breath. One…two…three… Spencer turned her head and looked back at me over her shoulder. When I waved, she quickly turned back and picked up her pace, dragging Kay along with her.

I walked in the opposite direction. When I was sure there was enough distance between the girls and me, I reached into my pocket again to pull out the map. I carefully unfolded it and couldn’t help but grin at the red plastic rectangle in my hand. I turned it over and pressed the button on its top edge. Spencer and a small group of her sorority sisters smiled back at me from the cell phone’s screen.

CHAPTER TEN

CHEERFUL CELTIC MUSIC greeted me at the open door of the OIA house. I’d assumed OIA stood for Omicron Iota Alpha, but after a little digging, I’d learned this sorority wasn’t Greek or even affiliated with a national charter. The Order of Irish Augustinians was unique to Balanova and explained why all the sisters had last names like Murray, Ryan, and Donnelly. I made a mental note to tell Maggie about the group and their apparent devotion to all things Gaelic.

Colorful bundles of maize decorated tabletops and hung from light fixtures. The room was a sea of orange-, brown-, and green-clad sorority sisters and their guests. I’d settled on a blue button-down and tan cargo shorts, but then, I hadn’t realized what this party was supposed to be celebrating before I’d decided to crash it. I scanned the room for a familiar face and found Kay by the picture window that occupied a large portion of the front wall of the living room. Orange wildflowers were woven into her hair, and she stood next to a guy with hawkish features and carefully arranged bedhead. When she saw me, she flashed her Colgate smile and waved me over.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said.

“Yeah.” I ducked my head in feigned sheepishness. “I’m sorry to show up without an invitation.”

“No worries.” She turned to Bedhead. “This is Shane. He’s from New Orleans. Cool, right?”

Bedhead jutted his chin in the barest of acknowledgments, moving in closer to Kay in an obvious attempt to stake his claim.

“Hey.” I gave him my own bare acknowledgement. “So listen,” I said to Kay. “I think your friend…” I paused, as if searching my memory. “Spencer? I think this belongs to her.” I held up the phone in its red case.

“Oh my god! She’s been looking for that everywhere.” Kay grabbed my arm. “Let’s go give it back to her.”

We left a dejected Bedhead standing by the window, and I allowed Kay to lead me through the crowd of partygoers.

“There she is,” Kay said, moving toward a small group gathered in one corner. I’d already seen Spencer before Kay pointed her out. She was pretty hard to miss in the strapless green dress that Kay had so accurately predicted she’d look hot in. As we got closer, though, my opinion changed. Hot wasn’t really the word. It was more like stunning. An uncomfortable warmth spread through my veins, and I was suddenly second-guessing my plan.

“Nah, you’re totally off, man,” said a lanky kid with long, straight hair tucked behind his protruding ears. He waved his hands wildly as he spoke. “Brian Jones created the Stones. They wouldn’t have been anything if it hadn’t been for him. Jaggar and Richards are so overrated. They were total fools to replace him with Ronnie Wood.”

Another kid, this one in an ugly orange hoodie, hissed in disgust. “Seriously? Please tell me you’re kidding. Jones could barely play the harmonica, let alone the guitar. By ‘66, he wasn’t even recording with them anymore. He was banned from touring because of his multiple drug convictions. They had to replace him. They had no choice.”

The lanky one sneered and opened his mouth, but Spencer beat him to it. “Actually, you’re both wrong,” she said. Everyone turned to look at her, and the girl who’d partially obscured her until now shifted so that Spencer was in full view of the group.

“How’s that?” Lanky asked.

“Well, first—” Spencer directed this at the kid in the orange hoodie. “—Jones made several pretty big contributions to the group, even after Richards and Jaggar took over as songwriters.” He crossed his arms and pursed his lips doubtfully, but gestured with a bob of his head that she should continue. “The sitar line in ‘Paint It, Black’ is probably the most well-known, but he also played both dulcimer and harpsichord on ‘Lady Jane.’ Oh, and oboe and sax on ‘Dandelion.’ And he was only banned from touring in the U.S., which didn’t happen until after ‘69.”

“See, man, I told you!” Lanky gave his opponent’s shoulder a backhanded smack and grinned at his new ally.

She gave him an apologetic smile in return. “But he’s right that it was a good decision to get rid of him. Jones’ drug issues were dragging them down, and really, he didn’t want to be part of the group any more than they wanted him. Also, Mick Taylor replaced Jones. Ronnie Wood replaced Taylor.” Both men glowered at her, and she shrugged. “I’m kind of a fan.”

The two music fans slunk away to continue their argument in peace, and the small crowd dispersed.

Kay, still attached to my arm, pushed her way through. “Hey, Spence. Look who I found.”

Spencer tried—and failed—to hide her surprise. “Oh, hey. Shane, right?”

I nodded, still getting used to the extra consonant at the end of my name.

“What are you doing here?”

“Jeez, way to be rude,” Kay chastised, bumping her shoulder into Spencer’s. “He found your phone and wanted to return it.”

I took my cue and produced the cell phone once again. I held it out to her, and she scooped it out of my hand, her fingers brushing against my palm as she did. “I think it fell out of your bag when we bumped into each other,” I lied. “I looked for you in the library, but that place is huge and I had an appointment with my advisor, so I figured I’d just bring it here.”

Spencer tilted her head, considering what I’d told her. “How’d you know I live here?”

I’d anticipated the question and had my answer ready. “The picture on the lock screen.” I pointed to the phone. “You’re wearing an OIA sweatshirt.”

“Gorgeous and clever. You’re like the total package, Shane,” Kay said. She wriggled her eyebrows at Spencer.

“Thanks for returning it,” Spencer said, purposefully ignoring Kay.

“No problem.”

“All right!” Kay clapped her hands together, either oblivious to or undeterred by Spencer’s resistance to her matchmaking efforts. “I guess I should go find Gary before he gets too drunk to remember what I look like. I’ll see you guys later.” She turned on her heels and disappeared before anyone had the chance to protest.

Left alone with Spencer, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts and looked around. “So, you guys know Lúnasa is supposed to be celebrated at the beginning of August, not the end, right?”

Spencer eyed me with curiosity. “You know about Lúnasa?”

“Sure,” I said, but then feeling like I needed some sort of explanation, I added, “My family’s Irish.”

“You might be the only person here who’s ever heard of it, and that’s including most of the OIAs. These parties always have a theme based on Irish festivals, but mostly it’s just an excuse to get drunk and dance. We don’t make too much of an effort to be culturally accurate. Sorry.”

“No, I get it,” I said. “Lúnasa celebrates the transition from summer to fall. Makes sense for the beginning of a new school year.”

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go with that.”

I grinned. “So have you been a member of the sorority since you started here?”

“Since my first semester, yeah,” she said, though she was looking at something over my shoulder when she spoke.

“You look really great tonight,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I’d complimented her to win the battle for her attention or because I just couldn’t keep myself from saying it.

Either way, the result was the same. Spencer’s full attention returned to me. “Thanks,” she said, her cheeks pink.

“That’s a great dress.”

She glanced down at herself. “It’s okay. I always wait until the last minute to pick something. Fashion isn’t really my thing.”

“You’d never know it to look at you.” I swept an admiring glance from her face to her feet.

Spencer fidgeted with her neckline. “So listen, thanks for bringing my phone back, but I really should mingle a little.”

She moved to walk around me, but I caught her arm before she could go far. Spencer tensed so quickly I worried one of her tendons might snap. I pulled my hand back. “Think you might want to dance later?”

She didn’t look at me, but the corner of her mouth twitched when she gave a faint nod.

I grinned. “Good. Looking forward to it.”

On my own, I scanned the crowd for a second time, looking for another group to make myself a part of. There was only one person here I wanted to spend any time with, but my hope was that if Spencer saw me talking to someone else, it might make her more interested in spending time with me.

A thin, pale girl with shoulder-length hair dyed an unnatural shade of red perched on the arm of a sofa about twenty feet from me. She stared at me openly, and I assumed her boldness had more than a little to do with whatever was in the plastic cup in her hand. She’d serve my purposes just fine.

“Hey,” I said as I approached her. “I’m Shane.”

“Anna,” she said with a flirty smile.

I leaned my hip into the back of the sofa. “Are you an OIA sister?”

“Not so much.” She snorted. “They throw decent parties and all, but I’m not really into the whole ‘sisterhood’ thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not much of a joiner either,” I said, telling her what I figured she’d want to hear.

Apparently, I’d guessed right. Anna slid an inch or so closer. “So are you a loner, Shane?” she asked, laying a hand on my arm.

“Not always,” I said with a wink.

She eyed me wantonly, pressing a hand to my chest as she laughed. “Good to know.”

If I took this much further, I’d spend the night fending her off instead of getting closer to Spencer. I lifted my head to glance around the room and met Spencer’s eyes. She was at the bottom of the staircase, standing with a guy who leaned against the banister, probably to keep himself on his feet as much as to look cool.

I leaned in closer to the faux-redhead on the sofa, but my eyes never left the genuine redhead who stood across the room. Her eyes flashed, and she turned back to the guy next to her. He gulped down what remained in his cup and set it aside on a marble tabletop that was already overflowing with abandoned paper plates and beer cans. He held his now empty hand out to her. She slipped her hand into his and, with one last glance at me, let him lead her through a doorway on the other side of the staircase.

“You wanna get out of here?” Anna asked.

I’d almost forgotten she was there. “Yeah, I do actually. It was great to meet you.”

“But I thought—”

I didn’t wait to hear what she thought. I just left her on the couch wearing a stunned expression.

It was dark in the alcove on the other side of the stairs, but I could still make out the guy’s considerable bulk. His back was to me, and he leaned against the wall on one arm. Spencer was just visible, her back pressed into the wall like she was trying to put as much distance between them as possible. When she tried to move away, he planted his other arm against the wall to bar her exit. He pressed his face into hers in a poor imitation of a kiss. Spencer thumped her fists into his shoulders, but he pinned both her wrists with one hand, the effort barely slowing his attack on her lips.

I cleared the distance so quickly it even surprised me and clamped a hand down on his meaty shoulder.

“What the hell, man?” He spun around to glare at me, his face flushed red with anger and alcohol. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy?”

“She doesn’t look like she’s that into it.” I tipped my head at Spencer. “Maybe you should let her go back to the party.”

“Maybe you should mind your own damn business.” He shoved his thick fingertips into my chest, knocking me backward a step or two.

“I don’t think you want to do that.” I brushed a hand over the shoulder seam in my shirt. “Come on. Have a little respect for the girls who were nice enough to invite you to their party.”

“Listen, dipshit,” the guy said. He took a step toward me, but I didn’t flinch. “You have about twenty seconds to get the hell out of my face before you get your ass beat.”

I chuckled. “How about you go ahead and try now and save us both the twenty seconds?”

His red face purpled, and he swung. I leaned away from his clumsy right hook easily, then dodged his left. Frustrated, he barreled toward me, hunched forward like a wrestler. I sidestepped his charge and pushed my hands into his back as he passed, using his own momentum to send him sprawling to the floor behind me. He slid into the wall with a grunt. I didn’t know whether he’d stay down or not, but I wasn’t waiting around to find out. I grabbed Spencer’s hand and pulled her from the alcove.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I FOLLOWED THE music back into the main room of the sorority house. The crowd had thinned, but there was still less chance of the drunk coming back for more out among other people. I pushed past a few dancing couples, pulling Spencer along behind me until we were in the middle of the room. I stopped and turned so fast that she crashed into my chest. She tipped her head back to look up at me. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed, but she didn’t try to pull away when my arms wrapped around her. She gripped my shoulders with trembling hands.

“I’m sorry—” I said.

“Thank you for—” she said at the same time, then smiled. “Go ahead.”

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry about that.” I gestured toward the hall with my chin. “I know it was none of my business, but…” I shrugged.

“Shane, don’t apologize. That was… I don’t know what that was, but thank you. I knew that guy from my chemistry class, and he said he needed to talk to me about something. I can’t believe…” She pressed closer to me, and I could feel her heartbeat slowing to a more normal pace.

I shrugged a second time. “To be honest, it’s not the first fight I’ve been in and definitely wasn’t the worst.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Is that supposed to be charming?”

The song ended, and a new, slower one started. For half a second, I thought she might pull away, but when she didn’t move, I tightened my arms around her waist and looked down into her face. “That depends. Do you find it more charming when guys tell you what you want to hear or tell you the truth?”

“It has to be one or the other?”

“It doesn’t have to be, but it usually is.”

I’d finally succeeded in coaxing out a smile. “I guess, if I have to choose, I’d go with the truth, even if it’s not always what I want to hear.”

I smiled. “Good choice.”

Spencer dropped her face and relaxed into my arms, resting her cheek against my chest as we swayed together to the haunting melody of a tin whistle. The warmth of her face soaked through my shirt to the skin beneath. Her hair smelled faintly of honey and vanilla. I couldn’t help pressing my face to the top of her head and inhaling deeply. Breathing her in.

Another song ended, and I felt her pull away just a little. I scrambled to find a reason why I wouldn’t let her go. “It’s getting a little close in here.” I pulled on the top button of my shirt to make my point. “Do you want to go outside? Get some fresh air?”

Spencer gave me a long look. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth—no doubt a nervous habit, but an adorable one. Still, it meant she was wary about being alone with me, which didn’t do much for my cause. I adopted a mask of casual indifference. After another few seconds of silence from Spencer, I shrugged and moved my foot as if I were about to walk away.

“Anyway, thank you for the dance,” I said. I flashed a grin and stepped around her.

“Hold on.” She caught my hand. “I’ll come with you.”

This time I let her lead the way. We weaved through the party and toward the back of the house, passing through a formal dining room. Spencer took in the mounting piles of trash that littered the table with a frown as we reached a pair of French doors, and she pulled on one of the brass handles to open it.

We emerged onto a stone patio where a handful of guests had come to enjoy the warm night air. Despite the heat, a fire crackled inside a clay chiminea on the patio. Another nod to the Celtic holiday, I guessed, though I wasn’t sure why they’d even bothered trying to mimic the bonfires usually associate with Lúnasa in this heat.

A welcome breeze blew through the trees surrounding the backyard of the OIA house. It lifted the wide strand of ribbon that cinched the waist of Spencer’s dress, and I caught it in one hand, ran my thumb across its silky surface, and then let it unfurl from my fingers. The breeze set it to its rippling dance again, and I took her hand. We descended the stone steps that led down from the patio and followed a path through the backyard to a mercifully deserted courtyard hidden behind a circle of hedges. Spencer pulled her hand from mine and walked to a wooden swing set off to one side. I pushed both hands deep into the pockets of my shorts and followed after her. I held the swing still and waited for her to get situated before I sat beside her. She rested her hand beside her leg and gripped the swing’s edge. I did the same, careful to leave a small distance between our fingers.

“So,” she said after a long moment. “Is your family still in New Orleans?”

I nodded, grateful for the question. She seemed so nervous that I’d started to worry my usual talents wouldn’t be much use in winning her over. “My mam and my older brother are both there,” I answered, neglecting to mention the entire village of Travelers who were mostly distant relatives in one way or another.

She arched a questioning eyebrow. “Your ‘mam’?”

Dammit. I cast about for an explanation, then simply decided on the truth. “She’s Irish—my mother. I mean—actually-from-Ireland Irish. It’s just what we call her.”

“That’s cool. Have you ever been?”

“To Ireland?”

“Yeah.”

“No, but she keeps threatening to take us.” I laughed. “She says every Irishman needs to see the ‘land of saints and scholars’ at least once before he dies. I’m sure she’d say the same thing for Irishwomen, too, of course.” I bumped my shoulder into hers the way Kay had done.

Spencer smiled. “I’d like to go someday for sure. OIA has a program that allows you to study at Trinity College for a semester. I’ve thought about applying, but the idea of being on my own in Dublin for a semester is a little scary.”

“Yeah, being away from home can be rough.” I’d only been gone for a few days, and already I missed Maggie, Jimmy Boy, and the dogs.

“I’m surprised you knew I was Irish. With a last name like Costello, most people assume I’m Italian.”

“Well, you’re in OIA, so I just guessed.” I left out the fact that Costello was a pretty common Traveler name. There were at least two dozen of them back home—probably even related to her, though they’d never claimed Tommy as far as I’d ever heard. Of course, they wouldn’t, given what he’d done.

She grinned, and it quickly brought my attention back to the present moment. “So what does yer mam do?” she asked, affecting a convincing Irish brogue.

“Oh, a bit o’ this, a bit o’ that.” I mimicked Maggie’s airy, lilting speech. “She’s a diviner. She reads tarot cards and tea leaves for the tourists and for the locals who believe in that sort of thing.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Many women in the Village came to Maggie to learn how a particular season of traveling might work out or to get assurance that a marriage arrangement would lead to a happy life for a child, but for now, it served my purpose for Spencer to imagine her as one of the fortunetellers in New Orleans’ Jackson Square.

Spencer fixed me with a curious smile. I guessed it sounded a little strange given how normal her upbringing must’ve been. But if she thought badly of my family or me, she didn’t say so. “Sometimes I wouldn’t mind knowing what my future holds,” she admitted.

I took the opening. I turned her hand so her palm faced upward and scrutinized it for several silent moments. With the index finger of my free hand, I traced a line that traversed the pale surface of her palm. Her slight shiver at my touch was encouraging, to say the least.

“Well, now…” I continued my Maggie impersonation. “What do we have here, lass? It seems you have a bright future indeed.” I glanced up at her through my lashes. She stared at her hand enveloped in mine. “I see you in an abandoned courtyard, and…what’s this?” I looked at her again, pleased to see she’d leaned in a hair closer in anticipation of what I’d say next. “You appear to be getting very close to a handsome young stranger.”

She laughed but pulled away. I registered a fleeting sense of disappointment at the sudden emptiness of my hand but smiled at her anyway.

“I certainly hope your mom is better than you because, as far as fortune telling goes, that was pretty weak.”

“What can I say? I guess the only thing she passed on to me was her eyes.”

“Then I think you got the better end of the deal,” Spencer said.

I wanted to kiss her then, but after her experience with the drunk in the alcove, I wasn’t sure how she’d react. Instead I dropped my eyes, pretending to be embarrassed by the compliment.

“So what about your mom?” I asked. I was honestly curious. Pop hadn’t known who Tommy had taken up with after he’d left the Village, but Spencer was born soon after, so there had to have been someone.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” She shrugged. “I know she was a waitress, but she took off right after I was born, so it’s just been my dad and me.”

“Same here,” I said. “With my dad, I mean. He died before I was born.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her expression pained. She squeezed my hand, and I was surprised by the genuine rush of affection. If anyone else had told me Tommy Costello had been left alone with a baby girl to raise on his own, I would’ve been glad to hear it. Sitting in the dark holding Spencer’s hand, I just felt bad for her.

“Do you see that constellation right there?” she asked, pointing at something over our heads. I appreciated the chance to shake off the disconcerting feelings of sympathy and looked up to follow the line of her outstretched arm. “It’s Òighean,” she continued. “When I was little, my dad told me no matter how alone I felt, the Lady of the Stars would always be where I could find her.”

I leaned closer to her and bent my neck back so I was nearer her eye level, then squinted to search for the woman. After a moment, I shook my head, chuckling. “I’m not sure which stars you’re pointing at.”

Spencer rolled her eyes at me and pressed her fingertips under my chin, tilting my face in the direction of the constellation. She pointed again with her free hand. I nodded, but my mind was preoccupied with the feeling of her fingers against my skin. I looked down at her. Spencer’s face was still upturned, and her skin glowed a pale silver in the moonlight as she smiled. Without giving any thought to how she would react or whether it would set back any progress I’d made so far, I kissed her.

Spencer’s response wasn’t immediate, but after a moment, she kissed me back, pressing her hands into my chest. I laid one hand against the side of her neck and tangled the fingers of my other through the silky hair at the back of her head. Her mouth was hot on mine, and she tasted sweet as our tongues met.

Long before I was ready for it to end, she broke off the kiss. She looked up at me breathlessly, her lips parted. Our faces were so close I could feel her warm breath against my cheek.

“I guess your prediction wasn’t so far off after all,” she said with a playful grin.

I smiled and pulled her back to me for another kiss.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“YOU HAVE NICE hands,” Spencer said, running her fingers down my palm.

We’d spent every evening together in the week since the party, and tonight was no exception. She stretched out across the sofa in the sorority’s living room, her head resting in my lap. It was rare for us to have the common area to ourselves, so even though the television was on, neither of us paid it much attention.

“You have nice everything,” I said, catching her fingers between mine.

“Be more specific,” she said with a grin that made my blood stir.

I shifted my hips slightly. “I like your nose.” I leaned forward to kiss the tip of it. “Your chin.” I pressed my lips to the southern point of her heart-shaped face. “And I especially like your mouth.”

She lifted her head to meet my kiss. It started as a peck, but when her lips parted, I tucked my hand under her head to pull her face even closer. She slid a hand around the back of my neck, and her cool fingers against the sensitive skin at my hairline immediately made my kissing more insistent.

“Jeez, get a room.” Moira, the OIA sister responsible for Spencer’s passing French grade, leaned against the doorframe that opened into the living room.

“You’re one to talk,” Spencer said, though she pushed herself up so she was sitting next to me instead of lying across my lap. “You know how many episodes of The Daily Show I’ve missed because you and your latest boy toy are hogging the living room?”

Spencer’d explained on my first evening in the house that the OIAs had a strict rule about when boys became boyfriends and were thus welcome in the upper level of the house. Frankly, it was a rule I was beginning to resent. The closer I got to Spencer, the sooner I’d have access to Tommy and the book he’d stolen from Pop. Still, I had to admit there was something admirable about a group of girls looking out for each other, even when it would be easy to look the other way. It reminded me of what Pop had said about giving the young members in the clan a little breathing room without letting them get into too much trouble.

Moira giggled. “Fair enough. But it’s Project Runway day, so the TV’s mine in 20 minutes.”

When she’d gone, Spencer pulled her feet up and turned so she was facing me. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” she said, resting her head against the back of the sofa.

“Time flies.” I grinned at her. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I’d planned to press her a little more on the subject of family tonight, maybe even work into the conversation that I wouldn’t mind meeting her dad. But somehow the entire evening had passed without me getting any closer to an invitation to Tommy’s than I’d been since I’d run into her accidentally-on-purpose outside the Carroll Center. Still, I didn’t want to press my luck either, and the idea of spending a little more time with Spencer certainly wasn’t the worst thing I could imagine.

“You have an early class tomorrow, yeah? I should probably let you get to bed.” I slid to the edge of the sofa.

“Don’t you dare,” she said and threw her legs into my lap, pinning me to the cushion.

I laughed, surprised but perfectly happy to stay put. I leaned back into the sofa and looked at her. “Okay, then. So what should we do for our last twenty minutes of alone time?” I wrapped my hands around one of the slender feet in my lap and kneaded the arch with my thumbs.

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes. “This is good.”

I continued working the sole of her foot, moving from arch to heel. A contented smile lit her face as she relaxed deeper into the couch. Relaxed and happy. Perfect.

“So tell me more about your family. I know you’re an only child, but what about cousins, aunt and uncles, grandparents?” It was easy to keep my tone casual when I already knew the answers to my questions. Any family she did have, Tommy wouldn’t have told her about.

“Nope. I mean, I guess I could have relatives on my mom’s side, but you know. My dad was an only child, and his parents died when he was a teenager.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was just you and your dad. Must’ve been tough.” My fingers moved to her ankle. “I’m not sure what I would have done without my brother.”

“It was lonely sometimes, but honestly, we moved around so often I probably wouldn’t have been able to see extended family very much anyway. Sometimes, the fact that it was just him and I made things easier.”

“I can see that.” My hands had worked their way to her calf muscle, and my fingers moved under the hem of her cropped jeans. “Jimmy and I have gone on our share of road trips. It’s not the same as moving around a lot, but it’s nice when you spend so much time with someone on your own. You get to the point where you can just sort of read each other without doing much talking. It’s nice.” And it makes running cons much easier when you were leaving town the next day.

“Exactly,” she said. She might have said more, but my fingers brushed the back of her knee and the resulting shudder apparently drove away any other thought she’d had.

“They’re thinking of coming up for Christmas,” I said, switching to her other foot. “Maggie hasn’t seen snow since she left Ireland.”

Spencer finally opened her eyes again and smiled. “It’s so weird that you call your mom Maggie.”

“If you met her, you’d understand. It’s hard to think of her as anything else.”

“I’d love to meet her. And Jimmy, too. You know, if you’d be okay with it.”

I hoped the grin spreading across my face told her I was excited by her desire to meet my family and not that she’d just given me the opening I’d been waiting for. “I’d be more than okay with it,” I said. “They’ll love you.”

Color appeared in her cheeks, and she smiled shyly. “You think? I’d probably be really nervous and say something stupid.”

“I doubt it, but even if you did, that’d probably just make them like you even more.” I let go of her foot and took both her hands in mine to pull her closer. “I certainly like you better when you get a little flustered. At least then you’re not intimidating the shit out of me.”

She gasped in mock-horror and poked me in the ribs. Laughing, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her onto my lap. She squirmed against me, though there was nothing in her expression that suggested she wanted to be anywhere else. She’d given me the perfect opportunity to ask about meeting her dad, but instead we were kissing again, following what had become a familiar pattern of slow, deliberate movements that quickly progressed to a more intent—even frantic—need to be close to her. To taste her.

She fidgeted in my lap again and maneuvered one leg over mine so that she straddled me, her hands on my chest. I trailed my fingers down her spine and gathered a handful of her shirt, balling it in my fist so I could feel the exposed skin of her back against my other palm.

“You know, you could skip class tomorrow. You aced your French quiz, so you deserve some time off, don’t you think? Maybe stay in bed all day,” I said.

“As lovely as that sounds, I can’t. I’ve never ditched class in my entire life.” She kissed me, stopping to nibble on my bottom lip for just a second. “But my class isn’t that early. I can definitely stay up for a little while longer.”

She slipped her hand under my shirt, her fingers splayed against my stomach. My ab muscles tightened reflexively, and my pulse thumping in my ears almost drowned out the sound of the phone buzzing on the table beside us.

Spencer pulled her face back, leaning over the arm of the couch to look at the phone’s display. I immediately moved my lips to her throat, trailing kisses down to the hollow of her collarbone.

“Shit,” she said under her breath. “Sorry. Can you hold that thought for just one second?” She flattened her lips between her teeth, her brow pinched apologetically.

“One second,” I said and nipped at the skin of her neck to make myself clear.

“Promise.” She grinned and reached to answer the phone.

I moved my hands to her hips, ensuring she’d stay put during the conversation.

“Hey,” she said to the person on the other end of the line. “What’s up?” She paused, listening. “Yeah, you already told me about that, remember? Like, last week sometime.” Another pause.

She shifted slightly, and I sucked in a breath as her body moved against mine.

“Not much, just hanging out with Moira.”

Her eyes flickered to my face, but I pretended not to notice. Curiosity was getting the better of me, though. Who was she talking to, and why did she lie about who she was with? The thought that there might be another guy on the other side of the conversation sent a possessive twitch through my fingers, and they instinctively tightened on her hips. I wanted to believe that competing with another guy would slow down my plan, but the jealousy gnawing at my stomach told a different story. I tamped it down and forced my face into a neutral expression.

“Yeah. We’re about to watch Project Runway, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Not if I could help it, pal. Even if it meant stealing her phone again.

“Okay.” Pause. “Love you, too, Dad.”

It took my mind a second to get past the word “love” to the word “dad” and still another to realize it had been Tommy she’d lied to about who she was with. Apparently, she was far more excited by the idea of meeting my family than introducing me to hers.

Spencer was silent as she laid the phone aside, and it took her several seconds to look at me again.

“My dad,” she said.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Sorry,” she said, dropping her eyes. “I don’t—”

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

Her head snapped up, and there was real remorse in her soft brown eyes. “No, I want to. It’s just…my dad…he’s super protective. I haven’t really dated much, and whenever I have, I’ve never told him about it.”

“I get it,” I said with a shrug.

“I know it sounds pathetic, but I just feel like I need to protect him, you know?”

Her expression was so pained that whatever irritation I’d felt quickly melted away. “It’s okay, Spence.” She moved to look away again, but I caught her chin and forced her to face me. “Seriously. I’m more than happy to stick around and show you why I should be the first guy you introduce to your dad.”

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she laid her head against my shoulder. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Of course.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face in her hair. “I’m not in a hurry.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE HOT OIL gave a satisfying hiss as I spooned the last of the potato mixture into the pan.

“Wait, so what’s this again?” Spencer stood on tiptoes to peer over my shoulder. She slipped her hands around my waist, and I suddenly had the urge to abandon the cooking altogether and show her the attention she deserved. But I’d promised her dinner, and Maggie’s claim that a man could make any woman fall in love with him if he knew how to cook kept me focused on the task at hand.

“You’ve never heard of boxty? I think you better get started on that letter of resignation from your Irish sorority now.”

She dug her fingers into my waist. “We don’t all have Irish mams, you know.”

I laughed, squirming away from her tickling. “Boiling hot oil here.”

“Oh, fine. Be safe and boring.” She kissed the back of my neck and wandered down the line of cabinets that made up the galley kitchen.

I’d been pretty lucky in terms of finding accommodations. The apartment was in the converted loft of a detached garage about a mile from the Balanova campus. The space was small but cozy, and the owners allowed me to rent by the week, which suited me fine.

“So what is boxty?” she asked as she hoisted herself onto the countertop by the sink.

“It’s a kind of potato pancake. There’s lamb stew in that pot.” I gestured to the back burner. “Together, they taste pretty amazing.”

“Lamb? Really?” Spencer pulled a face. “Like, fuzzy, adorable, baaaah kind of lamb?”

I laughed. “Is there another kind?”

“No way am I eating that,” she said and crossed her arms to punctuate her declaration.

“What are you, six? At least try it. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

She frowned, still skeptical, but I could tell I’d won the exchange when she sniffed at the air again. “Fine. I’ll try it.”

“And like it.” I winked.

“No promises,” she said, though she beamed at me. “Did Maggie teach you to cook?”

“She taught me everything I know.” I deftly flipped the potato pancake. “There’s this old rhyme that goes something like, ‘Boxty on the griddle, boxty in the pan. If you can’t cook boxty, sure you’ll never get a man.’ But Maggie always changed it to, ‘if you can’t cook boxty, sure you’ll never be a man.’“

Spencer giggled. “The more I hear about Maggie, the more I like her.”

We grinned at each other. I knew Spencer liked me, and it was only a matter of time before she’d warm up enough to tell Tommy she was dating someone, but I also felt a small pang of regret that I’d never get to introduce her to Maggie.

“So what’s with the unmade bed?” Spencer asked. “Everything else around here is spotless.”

I slid the boxty from my spatula onto a plate and glanced over my shoulder to the corner where the bed was tucked under the slopping roof. The thick blue-and-green plaid comforter was jumbled to one side of the bed, revealing the twisted sheets beneath, and the pillows were thrown into a haphazard mound.

“It’s my way of avoiding a restless night.” An image of Spencer and I spending a restless night together on the bed’s plush surface filled my mind, and I smiled to myself before turning to look at her.

She quirked an incredulous eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“When I was growing up, Maggie had all kinds of superstitions for everyday tasks. She told me once that if I got distracted while making my bed, I’d spend a restless night in it. I decided the best way to avoid that would be to stop making it.”

Spencer laughed. “And she was okay with that?”

“Not really, but I think she appreciated my ingenuity.” I flashed her a grin and turned the knob that extinguished the gas flame under my pan. “So are you ready to broaden your culinary horizons?”

She laughed and slid from the counter. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not even a little.” I spooned a generous amount of the thick stew onto the boxty already waiting in its dish and handed it to her. She used her foot to pull a chair out from under the small kitchen table that served as a divider between the kitchen and the rest of the apartment and sat down. I sat my own stew down on the placemat across from her.

“I’m going to make some tea. Want some? I also have milk, a few cans of beer, and some flat soda if that sounds more appealing.”

She smiled, shaking her head at me. “Tea sounds great.”

I filled the kettle and set it on the already hot burner, then opened a cupboard door and pulled down two of the plain white ceramic mugs that came with my rental. I packed a tea steeper with a flaky mixture from the battered tin Maggie had pushed into my hands before I left.

“Is this Maggie’s famous tea?” Spencer asked.

I turned to answer, and my elbow caught one of the mugs, sending it crashing to the floor. It broke into several large pieces and scattered across the linoleum.

“Dammit.” I bent to clean the mess. Spencer knelt down to help, but I held up a hand to stop her.

“Careful. I don’t want you to cut yourself.” I reached for the largest chunk of ceramic, then sucked in a sharp breath and withdrew my hand. I inspected the gash on my palm. It welled with blood, and I closed my fingers again to keep it from dripping onto the floor. “Kind of like that.”

Spencer grabbed a towel from the counter and took my hand. She wrapped it tightly with the towel and tucked in the end. “Keep it up like this.” She pushed my arm toward me so it bent at the elbow.

She stood to search for a first aid kit, found one in the back of a drawer next to the sink, and carried it to the table. Then she pointed to one of the chairs. I cradled my injured hand against my chest, obeying her silent orders. Spencer pulled the second chair closer and sat across from me. She took my hand and rested it on her knees, then unwrapped the towel to inspect the cut again. It was deep but wouldn’t need stitches as far as I could tell. I watched her as she tore open a small packet with her teeth and pulled out an alcohol swab. She swiped it across my palm, and I hissed through my teeth.

Spencer grinned. “Now who’s six?”

She lifted my hand and blew on it to take away the sting. I would’ve been happy to recover with her cool breath on my open palm, but she produced gauze and tape from the kit to finish the job. When she finished wrapping and taping it, she turned my hand from side to side to look over the dressing. Satisfied, she bent her head and kissed my palm. “There. All better.”

“Nicely done.” I wiggled my fingers as if she’d reattached a limb rather than bandaged a cut. “I’m lucky you were here, or I may have bled to death.”

Spencer chuckled. “Yeah, well, I think you would have pulled through, but you can thank my dad for the first-aid skills. I was constantly hurting myself as a kid, so he had lots of opportunities to demonstrate his technique.”

“Same here, although I’m not qualified for much more than a Band-Aid. I was usually too busy fussing over my injury to notice what Maggie was doing.”

“Worst childhood injury?” Spencer asked.

“Broken nose when I was twelve, courtesy of my brother. But I totally deserved it.”

“Yeah?”

“I was annoyed he wouldn’t let me skip school to go with him on a trip, so I told Maggie about the Playboys he had hidden in his dresser.”

Spencer laughed. “You ratted out your own brother?”

“I know, I know.” I hung my head. “I’m the worst.”

The teakettle whistled, and I hopped out of my chair to answer it. I poured the boiling water into one mug, got another from the cupboard, and filled that too. “Here you go.” I brought them to the table. “Just let it sit for a few minutes before you try it.”

“Honey?”

I scowled at her with feigned horror. “Honey? Normal tea needs honey. Maggie’s tea doesn’t need anything but a mug. Trust me.”

Spencer put up her hands in surrender. “So sorry. I didn’t realize I was dealing with a tea sommelier.”

I grinned at her as I retook my seat. Her chair was still pulled close, and our knees brushed together as I settled into mine. “What about you. What was your worst injury as a kid?”

“Couple broken bones, lots of cuts and scrapes.” She thought for a second. “Oh, maybe it’s not the worst, but this one is the grossest.” She held out her left hand to me, palm flat. She pointed to the silvery outline of a jagged circle.

“What’s it from?”

“I was eight, just learning to ride a bike on my own, and I was lucky enough to fall straight onto a bottle cap. It went so far in it had to be removed in the ER.”

I winced, imagining the metal cap where the scar now marked her palm. “Nasty.”

She smiled, probably glad her story had had the desired effect. “Yeah, but the worst part was the tetanus shot. Right in the ass, and those things hurt.”

“Aww, want me to kiss it?”

She smacked her scarred palm against my chest. “Shane!”

I laughed. “Oh, come on, you walked into that.” I caught her hand and kissed her palm as she’d done for me.

She didn’t pull her hand from mine. “Okay. Favorite book?”

“To Kill a Mockingbird.”

“I love that one. But my favorite is The Secret Garden.”

I laughed. “Really?”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I love it, and true love lasts a lifetime.” She lifted her mug from the table and took a sip. Her eyes widened, and she flashed a delighted smile. “This is really amazing.”

“I told you.” I took a sip of my own tea. The sweet tang of citrus and mild spiciness warmed my throat. It made me miss home. “Any pets?”

“No, although I always wanted a dog. My dad said it was too much hassle since we moved so much.”

“I love my dogs.”

“What kind?”

“Irish Wolfhounds,” I said. “Yeats and Beckett.”

She smiled. “Figures.”

“I know. I’m such a stereotype.”

“So, we’ve established that you love your dogs and your mother’s tea. Oh, and you’re obnoxiously proud of your Irish heritage. How many girls have you been in love with?”

“None,” I answered right away.

“Is that ‘none’ as in, you’ve never really been in love, or ‘none’ as in you’ve never even felt like you were in love.”

“I’ve liked plenty of girls, but I’ve never been in love. Jimmy likes to joke that my dogs are the only living things I’ll ever say the word to. It’s a bit of an exaggeration, but not too far off, I guess. What about you?”

“Pass,” Spencer said with a shake of her head.

“No way. I told you about my deep and enduring love for the wolfhounds.”

“Right, and I told you about my love affair with The Secret Garden, so we’re even.”

“For now,” I said.

“Moving on then. Beatles or Stones?”

“Van Morrison,” I said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“What? That wasn’t even a choice.”

“It should’ve been considering that Astral Weeks is the greatest album of all time.”

“That’s high praise for an album I’ve never even heard of.”

“Agh.” I grimaced. “You’re killing me. You know who Van Morrison is, right?”

“Of course,” she said. “‘Brown-Eyed Girl.’ It’s cute if you like that sort of thing.”

The dishes rattled as my head thunked against the tabletop. “Why is that the only song anyone knows? Are you seriously telling me you haven’t heard ‘Domino’? ‘Into the Mystic’? ‘Sweet Thing’?”

“I may have,” she said, lifting one shoulder.

I gave her a mock-stern look.

“To be honest, they don’t sound all that familiar.”

“All right,” I said, getting to my feet. I pulled her along with me. “We’re fixing this.”

She laughed, letting me drag her into the living room. “You can play them, but you’re not going to change my mind about the Stones. Exile on Main Street is clearly the best album ever.”

“Just wait,” I said. I flipped the cover of my laptop open and pushed some keys to wake it up. My music library was already open on the screen. I tapped the trackpad, and Van immediately started strumming the opening chords of “Sweet Thing.”

“It’s nice,” Spencer said, but I held up a finger to stop her.

“Shhh.” I sat on the sofa and pulled her down onto the cushion next to me. “Just close your eyes and listen.”

Spencer gave me a dubious look but leaned back into the sofa and closed her eyes. Van continued to play, and chirping flutes joined in as he sang about a girl so sweet she made him feel like he’d never grow old. I watched a smile spread across Spencer’s face, hesitant at first, and then full of the same contented delight I always felt when I heard the song.

When he sang the last lyric, Spencer turned hers to me. “Okay, I admit that’s pretty damn good.”

“Right?”

“Right.”

“Although, now I have to admit,” I said, brushing my fingers against her cheek. “I’m starting to see the appeal of a song about falling in love with a brown-eyed girl.”

Spencer dropped her eyes, and the shy smile I was starting to grow fond of made a brief appearance. My hand still on her cheek, I leaned forward and kissed her. My skin jumped with electricity when she responded, deepening the kiss and pressing herself into my arms. My heart sped to a gallop as the blood left my head and filled the lower regions of my body. I told myself it was a simple physiological response, that it didn’t mean anything, but soon I wasn’t telling myself anything at all. My mind was filled with the sensation of her mouth against mine and the sweet honey-and-vanilla smell of her hair and skin. My tongue flicked against hers, and my jeans felt immediately and uncomfortably tight. I was also acutely aware of the feel of her breasts pressed against my chest.

I wanted her. And part of me had to admit that my longing had nothing at all to do with getting the book back from Tommy. I pushed any thought of the con from my mind, hoping the sourness that had crept into my stomach would go along with it. My hand slid to the button of her jeans, and I fumbled with it for a moment before she put her hand over mine. For a half a second, I thought she meant to help me and my excitement grew, but the blood rushed back to my head in a hurry when she gently pushed my hand away and took her lips away, too.

“Shane,” she breathed, leaning her forehead into mine. “I think maybe we should eat. You worked really hard to make a nice dinner and everything.”

“It wasn’t that hard, I swear,” I said, moving to kiss her again.

She dodged me with a giggle. “I just think maybe we should move a little slower. You’re not mad, are you?”

Sighing quietly, I stood and offered a smile and my hand. “Of course not. But I am starving.”

Spencer’s grin was full of gratitude and relief. “Me, too. Even if you’re making me eat an adorable little lamb.”

She popped off the couch to stand in front of me, and I kissed her nose. “I promise you’ll love it.”

“We’ll see.” She smiled and stepped around me to head back to the kitchen.

I stood, staring down at the spot on the couch we’d been occupying a moment before. I wasn’t lying when I’d told her I wasn’t mad, but the thought of eating was the furthest thing from my mind despite my rumbling stomach. Something else gnawed at me, but it wasn’t until I turned and caught her shy smile that I could name the feeling. It wasn’t frustration or even disappointment. It was relief.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“WHAT DO YOU mean you didn’t make a reservation?” Spencer pulled me to a stop in the middle of a tree-lined path in Philadelphia’s Rittenhouse Square. “You can’t just walk into Jardin and ask for a table.”

“Spence, it’ll be fine.” I started down the path again, but she yanked her hand from mine.

“Shane, this is ridiculous. We’re not getting in, and even if we could, it’s a terrible idea. That place is crazy expensive. There are tons of other great restaurants within walking distance. We can go to one of those.”

“I thought you said you’ve been wanting to try it.”

“I have, but—”

“And that you like French food.”

“Yeah, but, Shane—”

“Then we’re going. Come on.” I held my hand out to her. “It’ll be fun.”

She scrunched her mouth to one side, fighting a smile. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“I do,” I said with a proud grin. “Now let’s go.”

She smiled and took my hand. “Why, because we’re going to be late for our nonexistent reservation?”

We crossed 18th Street and walked to a brown brick building with red awnings. Yellow Art Deco lettering on gray slate spelled out the restaurant’s name.

I pulled open one of the doors and held it for Spencer. She hesitated but finally relented with a shake of her head and stepped inside.

The interior of the restaurant was decorated like a 19th century Paris bistro, complete with Lautrec lithographs and colorful Tiffany light fixtures. A bar dominated one side of the lower level, and a long, mahogany leather banquette lined with tables occupied the other. Nearly every seat in the house was filled, but a quick look around revealed a handful of two-tops still sitting empty. A podium at the front of the room served as the hostess station, and a girl with a bored expression and jet black hair cut in a sharp angle from her ears to her chin stood behind it.

I glanced down at Spencer who stood beside me, clinging to my arm. “Okay. So, whatever I say, just go along with it.”

Spencer’s amber eyes went wide, but she didn’t have a chance to argue before I strode toward the podium, her arm still wrapped in mine.

“Can I help you?” the hostess asked.

“Yeah, I have an eight o’clock reservation for two. I know we’re a little early, but that table over there in the corner would be just fine if it’s open.”

The girl turned to look where I’d pointed, and I leaned over her podium to quickly scan the book open on its surface. Her attention returned to me, and I tipped back from her stand again.

“Name?”

“Utley,” I said, hoping I’d deciphered her loopy scrawl correctly.

Spencer’s nails dug into my arm, but I ignored it and met the hostess’s skeptical expression with a calm smile.

“Utley?” she repeated.

“Yep.” I nodded. “Table for two, eight o’clock.”

One of her penciled-in eyebrows arched dramatically. “Chase Utley?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Chase Utley. The second baseman for the Phillies?”

Fuck. “Well.” I laughed, buying for time. “I mean, of course I’m not Chase Utley.” I put my arm around Spencer’s shoulder. “He couldn’t make it, so he offered us his table.”

Her expression changed from skeptical to one of outright disbelief. “Because you’re such good friends?”

I opened my mouth, but Spencer piped up before I had a chance to speak. “We live in the same building over in Washington Square,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. She nestled closer under my arm.

“We’re new in the building,” I added, squaring my shoulders in an effort to look like someone who owned a million-dollar apartment in the city instead of someone who rented an efficiency for $150 a week. “They’re probably our friendliest neighbors, which is surprising given how famous he is.”

Although, apparently not so famous I wasn’t smart enough not to use his name. Still, Spencer had done a good job of making my mistake work to our advantage. Playing off her reminded me a lot of running cons with my brother. We didn’t even need to talk to each other to make it work.

“You expect me to give you their table just because you say so? Why didn’t they call to change the reservation?”

I started to speak, but Spencer cut me off. I felt her body tense and had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing when I realized it wasn’t nerves but actual annoyance that had her so on edge. “Probably because they didn’t think you’d make a federal case out of it. This is a restaurant, not the U.S. Mint.”

“I know.” The hostess narrowed her dark eyes at Spencer. “It would be easier for you to get a table there.”

Spencer made a disgusted sound at the back of her throat. “Forget it.” She looked up at me. “Come on. Let’s just go to that Turkish place we actually wanted to try tonight.” She put her arm across my back and steered me away from the podium, then said in a volume meant to be overheard, “I guess this answers Jenn’s question about whether this place is worth checking out.”

I didn’t have a clue who “Jenn” was, but apparently the hostess did.

“Wait,” she called, and we both turned to look at her. Her disbelief had melted into nervous uncertainty. Earning a bad reputation with one of the highest profile residents of Philadelphia certainly wouldn’t be good for business. “You swear they gave you their table?”

Spencer rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Who would go to all this trouble just for dinner?”

Who indeed? The girl fidgeted, considering this.

“Didn’t Chase say they were thinking about booking this place for their fundraiser dinner? For their charity…what’s it called?” I asked Spencer. It seemed like a safe bet. All those guys raised money for one charity or another.

“Yeah, Utley’s All-Star Animals. Jenn was just tweeting about it.”

“Jardin would be a perfect place for a fundraiser,” the hostess said and slid two tall leather folios from inside the podium. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll tell them that, won’t you?” She flashed a beatific smile as she stepped from behind her station.

“We will if the food’s any good,” Spencer said.

I mashed my lips into a tight line. If I laughed, I might blow the whole thing, but Spencer’s indignation was almost too much to take given that the whole thing was a complete fabrication. She was a natural clip artist, a trait she must’ve inherited from her father without even knowing it.

The hostess faltered for a second but regained her composure quickly. “If you’ll both follow me.” She led us to the table set for two in the back corner and stood aside while I pulled the chair out for Spencer. Then I took my own seat. She opened the menus and placed them in front of us. “Bon appétit,” she said with a smile so bright it almost looked painful. “Please let me or your server know if there’s anything you need. Anything at all.”

“Thank you.” Spencer gave her a saccharine smile. “We will.”

When the hostess had made her way back across the restaurant, Spencer looked at me, her wide-eyed expression having returned. “I can’t believe you did that!”

“We did that, sweetheart.” I grinned at her. “And you were damn good at it, too. I’m pretty sure you could’ve gotten a table on your own.”

She giggled. “Well, I definitely would’ve chosen a name from that list a little more carefully.”

“All right.” I nodded. “That was probably not the best name. But I didn’t have a ton of time to consider my choices.”

“So is this what you do with all the girls? Steal reservations from major sports figures?”

“Nah,” I said. “Usually I go with political figures. Mayors, state reps—that sort of thing.”

“Well, it’s certainly the most unconventional date I’ve ever been on. But I have to admit that was kind of fun once I got past the terrified part.”

I reached for her hand across the table and laced my fingers through hers. “I’m glad.”

She smiled at our linked hands for a long moment. “So how did you know they wouldn’t be here?”

“Who?” I frowned.

“Chase and Jennifer Utley. How could you tell they weren’t coming?”

One corner of my mouth lifted in amusement. “I had no idea. I just picked the name.”

“Okay,” Spencer said, her eyebrows creeping together. “So what happens when they show up for their reservation?”

“We invite them over? I mean, we’re neighbors and all.”

Spencer blinked at me, completely nonplussed, and the laughter I’d managed to hold back during her earlier performance finally broke free.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A FEW DAYS later, Spencer and I once again found ourselves in the courtyard outside the Carroll Center. Afternoon classes were in session, and the quad was entirely deserted. I sat with my back against the oak where I’d first seen her, and she sat next to me, her head on my chest.

“So what should we do with our afternoon of freedom?” I asked, nuzzling my face in her hair.

“How should I know? I’ve never skipped class before, remember?”

“We could go see a movie,” I suggested. “Or just sit here all day. I’d be good with that, too.” It wasn’t a lie. The day was warm but not uncomfortably so, and I was starting to get used to the way she felt in my arms.

“We have to do something exciting,” she said against my chest. “You can’t play hooky and then not have an adventure.”

I laughed. “I think you’ve seen too many movies.”

Spencer lifted her head to grin at me.

“Actually, I can think of something else we could do to pass the time.” I bent my neck to kiss her. She inched up so our faces were closer, returning the kiss with an enthusiasm that made me smile against her mouth. I tangled my fingers in her copper hair.

“Oh!” She pulled back so quickly I almost fell forward. “I have an idea.”

“I thought we’d settled on my idea,” I said, grinning wickedly. I wrapped my hands around her waist.

Spencer smiled and gently peeled my fingers away so she could stand up. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do since the first time I toured campus,” she said. “Wait here, and I’ll be right back.”

Confused and resigned to the fact we weren’t going to be pursuing my suggestion after all, I shrugged and leaned back against the tree trunk. “I’ll be here.”

Spencer took off toward the Carroll Center and disappeared inside. The sound of splashing water from the fountain mingled with the voice in my mind that told me I was a little too disappointed she was gone. I knew how close I was to getting into Tommy’s house, and I was glad I’d played the game so well to this point. But as anxious as I was to see my family again—and to see the look on Judd Sheedy’s face when he found out I’d pulled this off—that nagging voice kept whispering about how much I’d miss Spencer’s face when it was all over. The thought had even occurred to me that I might be able to see her again, but of course that was impossible. She was a means to an end, and I had to keep it that way if this was going to work.

Sunlight flashed in the corner of my eye, and I looked over to see Spencer emerging from a glass door with a plastic bag from the student store in one hand and a mischievous grin on her face. I got to my feet and crossed the cobblestone to meet her.

“What are you up to?” I asked.

By way of answer, Spencer reached into the plastic bag and produced a bottle of bright green dish soap. She giggled at my confused expression. “What do you get when you put dish soap in a sink with running water?” Her eyes drifted from my face to the splashing fountain beside us.

I followed her gaze. I was supposed to be the troublemaker, and here she was proposing vandalism. I’d created a monster—or, at the very least, I’d pulled back a few layers of her good-girl exterior with that little stunt at the restaurant the other night. “You’re joking.”

She popped open the soap bottle with her thumb. “Not even a little.”

We were both full of nervous laughter as we stepped to the edge of the fountain. I glanced around and nodded, and Spencer turned the bottle over and squeezed out a stream of the green liquid. It hit the water and started to break into smaller globs, but no bubbles appeared.

“Hold on.” I reached out to tip the bottle back up, then stepped out of my flip-flops. I climbed over the side and into the calf-height water. I turned back to Spencer and held my hand out to her. “We have to dump it in there.” I pointed to the base of the center finial where the water churned most as it spilled from the basins stacked above and was pulled back into the pump from below.

Spencer kicked off her own sandals and climbed in with me. We sloshed to the center of the fountain. She unscrewed the bottle cap and dumped what was left of the dish soap into the water at our feet. It began to froth right away, and before long, the bubbles had reached the hem of my cargo shorts. I looked up, squinting at the water that rained down from the top of the fountain, and grinned at the bubbles starting to bloom from there as well.

“This is going to get very messy very quick,” I said, taking the empty bottle from Spencer.

“Or very clean, as it were.” She laughed.

“Either way, we should probably get out of here.”

“What? We have to at least enjoy this a little.” White clouds of bubbles drifted down from the topmost basin.

“Spence, classes will be out soon, and someone is going to see this—” I swiped at one of the bubble clouds. “—and call campus security. Do you want a repeat of the other night?”

“I don’t know. Running through the kitchen to escape that she-devil hostess was pretty exciting.”

It was pretty fun. When the second baseman and his wife had shown up looking for their table, dodging dumbfounded cooks and bus boys on our way to the back service entrance had been our only option. But it had also been an adrenaline rush. We hadn’t stopped running until we’d torn down the hall and through the lobby of the adjacent Radisson out onto the street where we were lucky enough to find a cab waiting at the curb. Even then, I’m not sure my heart slowed to a manageable pace until the bemused cabbie dropped us at the Suburban Station to catch our train back to Balanova.

“What’s the matter, Mr. I-Get-Into-Fights-and-Steal-Dinner-Reservations-All-the-Time?” she jibbed. “Scared of getting caught?”

“It’s not fear. It’s self-preservation. What happened to the girl who never skips class or puts a toe out of line?”

“She fell in love with you.” Spencer picked up a handful of bubbles and smeared them in my hair. A line of soapy water dripped down my nose, but I barely noticed. I knew I had to respond. Telling her I felt the same way would almost guarantee she’d be ready to introduce me to dear old dad.

But I couldn’t say it. Not now.

I caught her around her waist and swung her off her feet. She squealed and pulled her legs up, and we both fell sideways into the bubbles. I shifted to provide a cushion between her and the floor of the fountain, and luckily for my tailbone, the thick layer of bubbles and water did the same for me. I sat up, bringing Spencer with me so she was in my lap, facing me. I wiped the bubbles from my eyes. Water streamed from her hair and her gray shirt clung to her torso, but her face was barely visible through the mask of white bubbles covering it. She swiped them away and flicked them at me. I rolled, dunking her in the fountain again. We both got to our knees, sputtering with laughter and mouths full of bubbles. I wiped my own face again, then brushed my thumbs over her eyes. I cleared the bubbles from her face. She kissed me, and suddenly I didn’t care about the bitter taste of dish soap in my mouth.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

We both looked and found a middle-aged man in khakis and a starched white shirt walking toward us. A plastic name badge hung from his neck on a red cord, and though he didn’t appear to be campus security, he certainly was someone with authority.

“Fun’s over,” I said, dragging Spencer to her feet. We stumbled through the bubbles that had already overflowed and were creeping across the courtyard and clambered over the side of the fountain.

“My shoes,” Spencer said, half-turning back.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” I said, pulling her along with me.

“Stop!” Name Badge yelled, but his order only made us run faster.

“Wait.” Spencer tugged on my hand. “Let’s go this way. The OIA house is just across campus.”

“We need to take a different route.” I was pretty sure he wasn’t chasing us, but I wasn’t going to give Name Badge a way to connect Spencer to the bubbles currently filling the quad. Rather than running straight south, I headed west toward Carr Hall. If he were still watching, he’d likely think we were aiming for the train station. When the courtyard was out of view, we cut through the Grotto and hit Lancaster Avenue, circling around the campus chapel. I slowed enough to make sure there was no oncoming traffic, then sprinted across the four-lane road without bothering to find a crosswalk. Once we were safely on the other side, Spencer took the lead.

“This way,” she said and cut down a gravel drive. We ran past a row of garages and took a sharp left down a grassy path that lead past the backyards of several large sorority houses. Spencer screeched to a halt at the door of a wooden gate and threw it open, then dragged me inside. We cut through the backyard of the OIA house, past the spot where we’d had our first kiss and straight up the back steps to the glass French doors. Once we were inside, I thought she’d finally stop, but she held tight to my hand as we passed through the dining room, the living room, and eventually into the entry hall. When she rounded the banister and headed up the steps, I froze.

“Come on,” she said, looking down at me with a smile that made my already labored breath catch in my throat.

It took less than a second for my feet to start moving again, and I followed her, taking the stairs two at a time. We turned left at the top of the staircase and walked to the far end of the hall. The girls had hung a mirror at the end of the corridor, and I caught our reflection in it before reaching Spencer’s door. We were both still soaked, and her fiery hair glinted in the track lighting above us, still slick with soap bubbles. Spencer pushed her door open and pulled me inside, then closed it behind us. I thought I heard the click of the button lock on the doorknob but assumed I’d imagined it until Spencer was standing in front of me.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” She tugged the bottom of my shirt up with both hands, and I lifted my arms so she could pull it over my head.

“We’ll probably both be expelled?” I asked, lifting one side of my mouth to grin at her. I guessed even vandalism couldn’t get you expelled from a school you weren’t really enrolled in, but I had to keep up the act despite how distracted I was by the feel of her fingers trailing down the ridges of my abdomen.

“No,” she said, with a playful smile. “I mean what it means for you to be here. In my room.”

“Remind me,” I said, peeling her wet shirt from her body and up over her head as she’d done mine. I tossed it to the side and immediately brought my hands to her now-bare shoulder blades. The pale pink satin of her bra was practically invisible against her creamy skin, and my fingers twitched with anticipation when they found the clasp at the middle of her back. I wondered if she’d stop me when I moved to undo it, but she just moved closer, pressing her belly to mine.

“It means we’re official,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It means we can be together.”

I slid one strap from her shoulder where a light dusting of freckles peppered her skin, and I bent my head, intent on kissing each one. She tilted her head away from mine, and I trailed my lips up her neck to the sensitive patch of skin under her earlobe. I heard her breathe out a quiet gasp, and the sound of her pleasure made my whole body ache to have her. I slid my hand up her thigh and underneath her wet skirt, then tugged at the waist of the panties underneath. She helped by slipping the other side from her hip, and they fell to the floor. She stepped out of them and nudged them aside with her foot, then pulled her arms out of her bra and discarded that as well. I took a long moment to admire her, naked to the waist, and was impressed by how unselfconscious she seemed under my hungry gaze. Looking didn’t satisfy me for long, though, and soon my mouth was on hers. I moved one hand to her breast, gently pinching the rosy tip between my thumb and finger. My other hand moved up her thigh again, and this time there was no cloth to separate my fingers from the slick warmth between her legs. She rocked against my hand, and I dropped my head to her breast and took it into my mouth.

“Shane.” Her breath shuddered when she said it, and for the first time, I wished I had told her my real name.

She forced me back so she could undo the button of my shorts, then pushed them from my hips. Once they’d slid from my waist, I sprang to attention, and Spencer smiled now that it was her turn to do the admiring. I fidgeted, far more uncomfortable than she’d seemed to be. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against me, using her body to block her view. She gave a quiet laugh as she slipped her skirt off. I kissed her again and walked forward, pushing her along with me until we’d found the bed. There would be no interruptions this time. No OIA sisters with shows to watch, no phone calls, no voice in the back of my head or hers telling us to slow down. I honestly didn’t give one thought to the con. All I knew was that I wanted her. Completely. And when I laid her back against the pillows and positioned myself over her, Spencer looked up at me with an expression that told me I could have everything I wanted.

* * *

Exhausted, but with a mind too restless for sleep, I watched the fading sunlight through Spencer’s bedroom window. Her deep, even breathing was the only sound in the room, and I lay on my side next to her, running a hand up and down the naked skin of her back. She’d fallen asleep over an hour ago, each of us finally sated, but I still hadn’t been able to stop touching her. Some irrational part of me was afraid that, if I did, she might fade away like the setting sun. I wanted to hold on to this moment, just for a little while longer. She lay on her stomach, her face turned toward me, and I moved her hair to the side so I could see every inch of it. I’d wanted her so badly that I hadn’t allowed myself to think about how hurt she’d be when she realized I’d used her. If I’d thought of it, I don’t think I would’ve been able to go through with it. She’d realize the betrayal eventually, no matter how careful I was in getting back the ledger. I wanted to commit this moment to memory, memorize every inch of her, and I’d spend all night doing it because I didn’t know what the morning would bring.

“Spencer,” I whispered.

She inhaled deeply through her nose but made no other sound to indicate she’d heard me.

I kissed her cheek, but she still didn’t move or speak. She was in a more peaceful sleep than I’d probably ever get again.

My lips moved before I could stop them, and I spoke the words that I’d felt but hadn’t been able to fully admit for a while now. “I think I love you.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I SHUT THE bedroom door as quietly as I could with my hands full of coffee and muffins. I’d gone back to the Carroll Center just after dawn, mostly to get breakfast but also to see what kind of damage we’d done the day before. I’d had no choice but to wear Spencer’s slippers, but luckily for me no one noticed. The fountain had been turned off and most of the bubbles had been cleared away, but the water’s surface had a frothy sheen.

Spencer was still asleep. I knew she had an early class, and as badly as I wanted to crawl back into bed with her, I wasn’t going to let her get into the habit of skiving off. I set the coffee and muffins down on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed. I watched her sleep for a few seconds more before I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Her eyes fluttered, then opened, and she gave me a sleepy smile.

“Morning, beautiful,” I said.

“Morning.” She yawned and stretched the sleep from her shoulders and back.

“I brought you some breakfast.” I reached for one of the paper cups and handed it to her. “You may want to avoid the Carroll Center for a few days until they get things cleaned up and that guy has a chance to forget what we look like.”

She snickered into the lid of her cup as she took a sip.

“So,” I said, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden. “I guess I should let you get ready for class.” I stood up but leaned back down to give her a quick kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Any plans for dinner?” she asked

“Not that I can think of. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking, since we kind of…made things official last night, maybe it’s time I introduce you to my dad. I’m supposed to have dinner with him this evening. I thought you could come.”

It took me a few seconds to process what she’d just offered. An invitation to Tommy’s house. Tonight. Something that would have thrilled me just a few days earlier had my stomach in knots today. “Sure.” I grinned at her, hoping it hid the conflicting emotions I felt. “As long as we don’t have to tell him how we ‘made it official.’”

“Heh. Yeah, no.” She grimaced. “It’s going to be hard enough for him to deal with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing without putting that image into his head.”

“Good deal. You want to go over together?”

“I’m going early to help cook, but I’ll text you the address. It’s right on the Main Line, really close to the train stop.”

“Time?” It occurred to me that I was way more interested in how soon I’d be seeing her again than how soon I’d be getting into Tommy’s house.

“Sevenish?”

“I’ll see you then. Have fun in class.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, yeah. Microeconomics is a party.”

I chuckled and bent down once more to kiss her on the forehead. “See you at seven.”

* * *

I climbed the wooden stairs to my efficiency, thinking about dinner that evening. I knew I should be happy that I’d finally gotten what I’d come for—or at least was closer to it—but I couldn’t shake the feeling of Spencer in my arms last night or the image of her asleep in bed next to me. I couldn’t stand the idea that I’d lose the chance to ever see her again. If I found the ledger tonight, I’d be on my way back to the Village by this time tomorrow.

But then, what were the chances Tommy would keep something like that just laying around? Odds were good I might not even find it tonight. Or ever, really. The thought of failure suddenly didn’t seem so bad, and I quickened my pace up the rickety steps.

The smell of cigarette smoke caught my attention before I heard the reedy voice. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.”

I stopped short, astonished by the sight of Judd Sheedy leaning back against my door, dangling a burning cigarette between his knees.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I’d assumed the Mercedes I’d passed on my way up the driveway belonged to a guest of my landlord’s, but I shouldn’t have missed the Louisiana plates. My time with Spencer was making me soft.

“Pop was starting to worry that you might be fucking around up here on his dime.” He flicked the cigarette at my feet. “I came to make sure the job gets done.”

I swept the smoldering butt off the stairs with the side of my bare foot. “Thanks, but I’m doing fine on my own. You can tell Pop that when you get home.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “I’m staying until you get the book or I get it myself.”

The idea of Judd Sheedy getting anywhere near Spencer had me to the landing and yanking him to his feet by his shirt collar before I had time to think about it. I slammed him back against the door.

“I don’t need your help,” I said through gritted teeth. “Just stay out of my way.”

Judd flashed his rat-like sneer. “Easy, Buffer. This ain’t much of a welcome. You haven’t even invited me in for tea. What would Maggie say?”

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to calm down. He hadn’t even mentioned Spencer, so there was no use getting into a fight in full view of my landlord’s house and getting us both kicked off the property. I let him go and nudged in between him and the door so I could unlock it.

“Come on.” I yanked the door and stepped aside. “Get in here before someone sees you and thinks I’ve started taking in vagrants.”

“Nice,” Judd said. “Mr. Big Shot pretends to be in college and suddenly thinks he’s better than me. Just remember, you haven’t found that book yet and odds are you never will. You think you were dog shit in the clan before? Just wait until you have to go back empty-handed.”

I slammed the door behind me and flicked a light switch to illuminate the dim apartment. “Fuck off.”

Judd crossed to the refrigerator. “So, Buffer…” He helped himself to a long swig of milk straight from the carton and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “What’s your plan? Assuming you even have one.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m having dinner at Tommy’s tonight.” I knew I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin—the less Judd knew the better—but I couldn’t help taking the bait when he started in on me that way.

“And it only took you, what, a month?” He tossed the open carton back inside the refrigerator, and I saw a stream of milk spill out before he slammed the door shut.

I grabbed a rag from the counter. “You’re a damn slob, you know it?” I shoved him aside and opened the door again. The carton had nearly emptied itself, and milk pooled on the bottom shelf. I sopped it up and threw the wet rag into the sink.

“What do I care about cleaning up? That’s what women are for. And pussies like you, I guess.” He laughed at his own joke and made himself comfortable at the kitchen table, sitting in one chair and putting his feet up on the other. “So tell me about this dinner.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m going to Tommy’s around seven, and I’ll look for the ledger while I’m there.”

“That’s your big plan?”

“Do you have a better one?”

“What if I do? This ain’t my show. You’re the one who wants to be the big hero.”

“I thought you came to make sure the job was done right, Prince.”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t fuck it up, Buffer. I know how you are when you get a good whiff of some pretty slash. You start thinking with your johnson, and there ain’t much there to think with.”

I kicked the chair out from under his feet, and they crashed to the floor, pulling him to the edge of his seat. He sprang out of the chair and slammed his hands into my chest, shoving me backward.

I hit the refrigerator and sent magnets scattering. I was back in his face in a heartbeat, though, my hands clenched into fists. “You just remember who Pop sent here in the first place, asshole. If he thought you were even close to smart enough, don’t you think he would have sent you instead?”

“He knows I’m good for more than finding some little book. I was out on the road while you wasted all your time in school. Playing fetch is all you’re good for.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Prince. Maybe one of these days you’ll actually believe it.”

“If you didn’t have to look presentable for your little dinner tonight, I’d wail the tar out of you, you little shit. Jimmy Boy isn’t around to protect you this time, so don’t push your damn luck.”

We were in each other’s faces now, so close I could feel flecks of his spit on my cheek when he threatened me. My muscles jumped with the desire to pummel him. “I’m pretty sure I can kick your ass without you landing a punch if you’re that worried about keeping my face pretty.”

“In your dreams, Buffer. Maybe I should fuck you up so I can take your place at dinner. I saw a picture of Costello’s daughter, and I gotta say, I can see why you’ve been taking your time with that hot little piece of ass.”

I shoved him so hard it knocked him from his feet, and he flew backward, landing on the table, which immediately collapsed under him. He scrambled back to his feet, sending pieces of broken wood sliding across the kitchen floor. He slammed his body into me and drove me back into the fridge, which groaned as it inched backward, gouging out strips of linoleum. I lowered my head into his shoulder and aimed my fists into his sides, one after the other. I shoved him again, all my weight behind the effort, and he stumbled back. His foot caught a broken table leg, and he crashed to the ground a second time. I threw myself on top of him, intent on unleashing every bit of frustration, anger, and uncertainty I’d been keeping at bay since I’d realized how I really felt about Spencer. I let my arms fly, not all that concerned with where they landed. Judd defended himself with one hand and strained to reach something underneath him with the other. I assumed he was groping for a broken table leg, and I wasn’t really concerned about his ability to land a blow with it. But when something cold and hard pressed into the skin under my chin, I froze.

“That’s what I thought.” Judd panted. He kept the barrel of the gun tight under my jaw and forced me back so he could push himself up to sitting. “Now you want to rethink that whole kicking-my-ass thing?”

“Christ, Judd.” I held my hands up in surrender. “What the hell? You crazy fuck.”

“That’s right, keep insulting the guy with the gun. Real smart, Buffer.”

“You gonna shoot me for calling you crazy? That would kind of prove my point, wouldn’t it?” Part of me worried he might honestly be that crazy, but I tried not to let the panic I was feeling show in my face. There was nothing I could do about the thrumming heartbeat in my ears though.

“Try me and see.” Judd’s eyes glinted wildly. “I could have the book and a quick taste of that little slice of cherry pie and be on the road again before anyone found you.”

I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would shatter, but the gun at my neck kept me from doing anything more. “Okay, you’re right,” I forced myself to say. “I think we both just need to cool off. I admit I got a little distracted, but the game is back on track now. I’ll have what I came for by tonight. Just put that thing away.”

“You better.” Judd dropped the pistol from my chin but made sure it stayed where I could see it. “Or I’ll be more than happy to do it for you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I GLANCED AT the text from Spencer on my phone’s display, then frowned up at the imposing Main Line house. Set back from the road behind a long row of tall, thin hedges, the house was a huge gray stone construction spread out over what could’ve easily been an entire city block.

I double-checked the address on the unadorned black mailbox at the end of the driveway. I’d congratulated myself on finding the house so quickly after leaving the SEPTA station, but now that I saw the meandering driveway, I was pretty sure I’d made a mistake. When Spencer told me her father lived in the affluent neighborhood a couple miles from Balanova’s campus, I’d imagined a less gaudy version of Pop Sheedy’s house back home, but the word “large” hardly seemed to capture this monster. The area was home to some of Philadelphia’s wealthiest families, but this place put most of its neighbors to shame. I confirmed the address a final time, then started up the drive.

Once the house was in full view, I couldn’t stop from blowing out a low whistle. Tommy Costello had money—and way more than the five hundred large he’d stolen from my clan. The reality of just how successful he’d been since he’d taken off was just now starting to settle in. Spencer had told me Tommy was a venture capitalist, whatever that was, and it’s why he was so keen on her studying business instead of literature like she wanted. I had to admit, if this is what a business degree could get you, I’d be willing to take a few classes myself. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, and I glanced around for a place to sit.

As the driveway approached the house, it circled around a low, stone wall that enclosed a perfectly landscaped section of the lawn. I walked over to it and sat behind a wide shrub that had been planted among the flowers and saplings. I leaned forward on my knees and breathed in through templed fingers.

There was no reason for nervousness, I told myself. Maggie was fond of telling me I was favored by the fairies, and maybe she was right. I didn’t believe her folktales any more now than I had when I was little, but I had to admit everything about this con had come pretty easily.

Well, almost everything.

I thought of Judd, sitting on the couch where I’d left him back at my apartment, and the gun he’d so casually laid on the coffee table. If I came back empty-handed tonight, there’d be no telling what he would do. Or who he would hurt to get what he wanted.

I shifted on the cold stone, my thoughts turning to Spencer. I’d made an enormous mistake in falling for her, but if I didn’t get what I’d come for, she’d be in danger of things a lot worse than a broken heart. Still, she was the first girl I’d ever let myself have feelings for, the only girl I could ever imagine feeling this way about, and now I was supposed to walk into her father’s house and steal from him.

I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts tumbling around inside it. It wasn’t my heart or Spencer’s I needed to be concerned with. The closer I’d gotten to Spencer, the less I’d thought about Rosie Sheedy. Marrying her had zero appeal, even up against the idea of one night with Spencer. But I needed to think about Maggie and Jimmy Boy. The way Judd talked about my family, it was pretty clear that if I didn’t get the book soon, I wasn’t the only one who would suffer for it.

It was what it was. I came to Balanova for one reason, and I couldn’t change things now. I balled my hands into fists and rubbed my knuckles hard against the top of my thighs. Falling for a mark was a stupid mistake—an unforgivable one—but only if I let it get in the way of the job.

Besides, it wasn’t Spencer I was there to con. Not really. It was Tommy, and he deserved it. It was his selfishness that had robbed Spencer of the chance to grow up around family and friends in the Village. And, of course, it was Tommy who’d betrayed my clan and my father. I needed to remember that.

I stood up and followed the stone wall around to its other side. The dark mahogany door greeted me, and I glanced down at myself before going up the steps to knock. I’d chosen a pair of gray slacks and a simple black button-down. Originally I’d worn a tie, too, but Judd’s mocking laughter had quickly convinced me to abandon it before leaving the carriage house. I brushed some lint from my shirt, then ran a palm down the front of my slacks to smooth out any wrinkles.

Satisfied with my appearance, I bounded up the stone stairway that led to the front door. I reached the porch and blew out a long breath before lifting the thick, iron doorknocker.

I held my breath as I waited for the door to open. Would Tommy answer? Would he somehow recognize me as a Traveler—or, worse yet, as Wiley Jim’s son—and slam the door in my face? Suddenly this dinner seemed like a terrible idea. I needed more time or at least a better plan. I needed a way into the house that wouldn’t involve meeting Tommy at all. I needed—

“Spencer.” I took a step back as the door swung open and grabbed the iron railing to steady myself.

“You found it.” She beamed at me and stepped down onto the porch to take my free hand in both of hers. “I was a little worried you might get lost.” She pulled me through the door and into the cool air inside the house.

The joy in her face made all my earlier nervousness vanish in an instant. Somehow, just being near her made me certain everything would work out the way it needed to. “It’s a little…bigger than I was expecting, but yeah, I found it okay.” I smiled down at her as I shut the door behind me.

She grinned sheepishly at the floor. “I may have understated the size a little bit. I didn’t want to sound like I was bragging or anything.”

I chuckled and slid my fingers along her jawline, tilting her face so she looked up at me. “Spence, you’re the most unassuming person I’ve ever met. You could tell me your father was the Pope, and it wouldn’t sound like you were bragging.” I leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose.

Spencer’s smile grew, and she stood on tiptoes to throw her arms around my neck. I winced as she pressed into my bruised ribs but wrapped my own arms around her waist and found her lips with mine. I would’ve been content standing there kissing her in the hall all evening, but a voice at the back of my head—one that sounded a lot like Judd Sheedy—reminded me of why I’d accepted the invitation to dinner in the first place.

“Something smells amazing,” I said, using it as a convenient excuse to put a little distance between her mouth and mine.

“Dinner should be ready soon. I hope you like lasagna.”

She looked toward the kitchen. I took the opportunity to glance down at her while her attention was elsewhere. She wore a cream-colored skirt made of a gauzy material, and the neckline of her black sweater framed her delicate collarbone in a way that made me want to run my tongue over it and down to the hollow at the base of her throat.

“You look beautiful,” I managed.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks.” She held her hand out to me, and I laced my fingers in hers.

We walked toward the back of the house, passing a wide staircase that sat to the right of the hall and disappeared into darkness several feet over our heads. On the left, the French doors that served as the entrance to a sunken, formal living room stood open, giving the wall a sort of slack-jawed appearance. The room was dimly lit, and I only caught a glimpse of its contents before passing. The shadowy figures of several large pieces of furniture crouched around the room, but it didn’t look like the kind of place Tommy would hide a stolen ledger.

“This place is a little like a museum.” I barely spoke above a whisper. The house was beautiful and tastefully decorated as far as I could tell, but the air seemed too close—almost oppressive—and I wished for the cool evening breeze that had kicked up outside.

“I know,” she said. “We don’t use the front of the house very often. To be honest, we don’t use much of the house at all. No one ever goes upstairs. It’s not even furnished. It’s kind of a shame. I’m not really sure why my dad bought such a big place when he’d be fine in a condo, but I guess it looks good when he has clients over.”

“Does he have people over often?”

“Once in a while.” She shrugged. “He’s having some cocktail party in a few days, actually. I’m supposed to be here to play hostess.” She turned to flash a weary expression over her shoulder.

“Sounds awesome.”

“Yeah, almost as much fun as microeconomics.” She laughed but stopped abruptly to turn back to me. “It would be way more fun if you’d be there.”

Her expression was so hopeful I couldn’t say no, even though there was every chance I’d be on a bus to Louisiana by then. “I’d love to,” I said. “Assuming your dad is cool with it.”

Her mouth split into a wide grin, and she threw her arms around my neck a second time. “You’re the best,” she said. “And don’t worry about my dad. He’ll probably be too distracted to even notice, but I’ll ask him just to be sure. Come on.”

She started toward the brightly lit kitchen at the end of the hall, and although I could only see a section of cabinets through the doorway, I heard running water somewhere inside the room. I slowed a little, tugging her arm. She paused for half a second, then gave my hand an encouraging squeeze and kept moving.

We crossed through the doorway and emerged in the biggest kitchen I’d ever seen. The wall in front of me was lined with white cabinets. Granite countertops stretched around the room, broken into sections by the sink on the back wall and a huge stove on another. An island dominated the middle of the room and sported the same granite as the surface of the counter. A rack of gleaming copper cookware hung above it, mirroring the copper hood suspended over the stove. A small table was tucked into the breakfast nook on the far left of the room. Its worn and battered appearance made it look out of place in a kitchen that otherwise seemed to have fallen from the pages of a magazine, but something told me it was a favorite piece of furniture for Spencer and her father, probably something they’d taken with them from place to place while they moved around the country the last two decades.

A man stood at the kitchen sink washing a soapy bowl, his back turned to us. The water was running, but rather than rinsing the dish, he stared out of the window in front of him. Spencer cleared her throat, and I watched the man’s shoulders go rigid and then quickly relax again. He rinsed the bowl, set it in the wire dish rack, then turned off the water and grabbed a dishtowel. He dried his hands as he turned to face us. From across the kitchen, Tommy Costello appeared several inches taller than me and seemed to grow even larger as he approached. He had red hair like Spencer, though his was a lighter shade of copper than hers. Tommy grinned at us and slung the dishtowel over one shoulder. Deep grooves forged from years of good-natured smiles framed his mouth, and my apprehension eased just a little.

“Well, I guess he found the place after all, Spence,” he said, then turned his gaze to me. “She’s been pacing around in the hall for the last half-hour, worried you’d gotten lost.”

I laughed. “She mentioned that.”

“Dad,” Spencer said, clearly anxious to change the subject before her father said anything else to embarrass her, “this is Shane Casey. Shane, my dad, Tommy Costello.”

I told myself I was being paranoid, but the flash of recognition I caught in his eyes made my hand shake a little when I extended it to Tommy. He remained motionless for a second and then took my hand, squeezing it a bit harder than necessary.

“Pleasure to meet you, Shane,” he said. “Spencer’s told me almost nothing about you.” He released my hand and crossed his arms over his chest, causing the blue fabric of his sweater to strain over the muscles of his arms.

“There’s not much to tell, I guess.” I smiled at Spencer, then returned my attention to Tommy. The older man studied me through narrowed eyes. I hoped the expression was nothing more than the appraising look of a father meeting his daughter’s boyfriend for the first time, but something warned me to be cautious. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and shoved my hands into the pockets of my slacks.

“Hmm,” Tommy grunted. “I guess we’ll see.”

Spencer looked nervously from her father to me and back again. Tommy’s icy demeanor was obviously what she’d been worried about, and she seemed unsure how to proceed. “Well, I guess we should probably eat,” she said finally.

Tommy looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was in the room. “Sure. Of course, hon. Why don’t you grab the salad and show Shane into the dining room?”

Spencer nodded and grabbed a large glass bowl from the island. She crossed the kitchen to a doorway on the right side of the room, and I trailed after her. A long, highly polished table with thick legs gleamed in the light of a low-hanging chandelier. Though it offered seating for at least a dozen people, only three places had been set at its far end. Spencer carried the salad around to the opposite side and walked down the length of the table. She set the bowl near the plates.

“You can sit there.” She pointed to the place across from her.

I made my way to it but didn’t take my seat. Instead, I gripped the back of the chair and drummed my fingers against it. “I’m not so sure your dad likes me.” I glanced at the doorway to ensure Tommy wasn’t on his way through it.

“It’s not that,” she said. “He’s still dealing with this whole ‘boyfriend’ thing. Like I said, I’ve never told him about the guys I’ve dated before, and I’ve definitely never invited anyone for dinner.” She pulled out her chair and slid into it, then smoothed the wispy fabric of her skirt over her legs. “You’re the first guy I ever wanted to invite.”

A wave of guilt nudged at me when she aimed a shy smile in my direction, but I pushed it away and smiled back. “Well, I’m honored to have that distinction.”

Tommy emerged from the kitchen wearing bright green oven mitts and carrying a casserole dish. He eased the dish onto a trivet that had been set out on the sideboard behind Spencer and pulled the mitts off.

“Looks delicious as usual, Spence.” He reached over her shoulder to retrieve her plate. He scooped a section of the lasagna onto it, then handed it back. He extended his hand to me, and I obediently offered my plate. Tommy filled it with a generous portion and passed it back. “This is Spencer’s specialty. It’s her own recipe—one she won’t even share with me, which is fine because that means she has to visit once in a while to make it for me.” Tommy nudged Spencer with his elbow as he piled lasagna onto his own plate.

“Okay, Dad,” she said. “I can make lasagna. We get it.”

Tommy chuckled and took his seat at the head of the table. “All right, I’m done complimenting you.” Spencer pursed her lips and raised a skeptical eyebrow, which only made her father laugh harder. “For now, at least,” he said.

Spencer rolled her eyes, and her gaze met mine across the table. We smiled at each other before Tommy cleared his throat and we both snapped our attention back to him. He gave me a tight-lipped smile before bowing his head, plainly expecting me to follow suit. I did, but looked at Spencer through lowered lashes and gave her a conspiratorial wink when she did the same.

“Shane,” Tommy said. I lowered my eyes again, feeling like a child who’d been caught sneaking a cookie before dinner. “Would you care to say the blessing?”

I swallowed. “Of course, sir,” I said after a moment, then recited the well-engrained Catholic prayer. “Bless us, oh Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

All three of us raised our heads and crossed ourselves perfunctorily. Tommy helped himself to salad, then retrieved his fork and held it suspended over his plate. “So, Shane, Spencer tells me you’re a transfer to Balanova.”

I nodded and hurried to finish the large bite of lasagna I’d taken. “Yes, sir. This is my first semester.”

“And where were you before this?” Tommy took a bite of his own dinner but kept his eyes locked on me.

“Shane went to Loyola,” Spencer said, clearly trying to save me from Tommy’s grilling.

“I see,” Tommy said. His expression was unreadable.

I dropped my eyes to my plate and took another large bite in the hope it would delay any more questions for at least the time it took to chew. I chewed very slowly.

“He’s from New Orleans,” she added.

The bit of lasagna I’d just swallowed caught in my throat, and I coughed. I lifted my head and rapidly shifted my gaze from Spencer to her father. Tommy’s expression darkened and I saw the muscle of his jaw twitch, but his face was impassive again within a second. I looked back at Spencer and was relieved to see she hadn’t seemed to notice her father’s reaction because she hadn’t taken her eyes off me. She frowned, her expression a mixture of concern and amusement.

“You okay?”

I nodded and took a few gulps of water. “Fine, yeah.” I grinned at her. “Sorry. I guess I should take smaller bites.”

She giggled. “Respiratory distress tends to take the fun out of the meal. Chewing is recommended.”

I snickered, relieved the moment had passed without incident. “Thanks for the advice.” I winked at her.

She beamed and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. I returned my attention to the plate in front of me but glanced at Tommy from the corner of my eye. He continued to eat in silence but occasionally looked at his daughter with a sort of worried expression. Spencer smiled at her plate and pushed her food around its surface with her fork. I wondered if she wished as badly as I did that we were back in her sorority room instead of sitting at her father’s dinner table in uncomfortable silence.

After several minutes, Tommy laid his fork across his empty plate and leaned back in his chair. “That was wonderful, hon.”

Spencer set down her fork and smiled wearily at him. “Thanks, Dad.”

“It was amazing, Spence,” I said, propping my elbows on either side of my empty plate.

“Thanks.” She smiled at me, too, though she seemed much happier for the compliment now. “Oh, so, Dad…” She turned back to Tommy. “You know the thing on Friday?”

“The very important dinner I’m having for clients that you promised to help with?” Tommy raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m aware of it.”

“Yeah, that.” Spencer rolled her eyes. “I’m definitely going to be there, but I was wondering if you’d mind if Shane tagged along? We could always use the extra hands, and if he’s there, I wouldn’t have to spend the whole night talking to a room full of boring old guys in suits.”

“Those ‘boring old guys in suits’ pay your tuition, you know.” Tommy tried to look stern, but it was obvious he very rarely said no to his daughter.

“Please?” She folded her hands like a little girl begging for a pony.

“Sure,” he relented. “Fine.”

Happy to get her way, she stood and began collecting the dirty dishes and utensils. As I watched her, I was aware of Tommy watching me.

Neither of us moved to help clear the table until Spencer spoke. “You know, I did most of the cooking. It would be great if I didn’t also have to do all of the cleaning up.”

I pushed my chair back, jumped to my feet, and reached for the plate she held. Had we been in the Village, it wouldn’t have been out of the ordinary for an entire table of men to sit while she cleared every dish, but we weren’t in the Village, a fact I needed to keep in mind while I was here. Besides, I had a feeling that Spencer might not have stood for it even if she’d grown up as a Traveler.

Spencer retrieved a glass and started toward the kitchen. I followed her with my armload of dishes, and Tommy brought up the rear with the now-cool pan of lasagna.

“You can put those in the sink.” She pulled the salad bowl from the top of my stack. I crossed to it and set the plates, flatware, and glasses down on the stainless steel.

Tommy worked on putting away leftovers, and Spencer started a pot of coffee. I saw my opening. “Mind if I use the bathroom?” I asked.

“Sure.” She smiled at me over her shoulder. “It’s just down the front hall, around the staircase, first door on the right.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

I moved quickly down the hall, aware I had very little time before either Spencer or Tommy might come looking for me. Since Spencer had said they didn’t use the upper levels of the house, I assumed Tommy’s bedroom, and maybe an office, would be on this floor. I rounded the staircase and found a second hall with doors along the right side. I ignored the first one, where Spencer had said the bathroom would be and reached for the handle of the second.

Jackpot. The room was dark, but the shape of a desk and chair was visible in the light from the hallway. I debated whether to flip on the wall switch but decided against it as I moved into the room and gave my eyes a second to adjust to the dim light. I went to the desk first.

A laptop sat in the middle of the blotter on its surface, and a neat stack of folders was on the left. Tommy’s apparent preference for order made scanning the contents of the desk easy, and there was nothing resembling the ledger Pop had described. I pulled open the middle drawer and found neat rows of pens and pencils and a pile of paperclips stored in one of the drawer’s compartments. I slid open the drawers that ran down each side and found a postal scale, a jumble of cords, printer paper, notebooks, and one drawer of hanging folders, but no ledger.

There was a bookshelf built into the wall behind his desk, but most of the shelves were taken up by a collection of leather-bound law books with spines that looked like they’d never been cracked and a handful of framed pictures of Spencer at various ages. I wouldn’t have minded getting a closer look at those, but my pulse quickened with each second that ticked by. I moved closer to the bookcase to get a better look at the law books in case the ledger had been hidden among them, but no dice.

I was about to give up and go back to the kitchen when something caught my eye. A stream of light from the doorway fell on a watercolor seascape that seemed out of place in an otherwise tastefully decorated office. It reminded me of the painting in Pop’s office—the one that hid his wall safe. It would be an intriguing sentiment for Tommy to choose a similar painting to cover his own safe, but it was worth a try.

The painting swung away from the wall on hidden hinges, and a black safe with a silver keypad stared back at me from behind it. If the ledger was in this office, this is where I’d find it. I glanced back over my shoulder to make sure no shadows moved down the hall and then punched in the first combination I could think of: 0418. Spencer’s birthday. The green digital display flashed, but the safe door refused to budge.

“Shane?” Spencer’s voice echoed down the hall.

I swung the painting back over the safe and moved quickly back across the room. I pulled the door closed and made it to the hallway just as Spencer rounded the staircase.

“Find it okay?” she asked, a slight frown pinching her brow.

“Yep,” I lied. “But thanks for coming to get me. It gives me a chance to do this.” I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. It was definitely not the sort of kiss a girl expected to get with her father a few rooms away, but she soon relaxed against me. I pushed her back against the wall, and when she brought her arms up around my neck, I knew any suspicion she’d had about what I’d been doing was gone.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“SO, WHAT YOU’RE telling me is you fucked up?” Judd angrily paced the floor between the kitchen and sofa. “You were in his house, and you didn’t get the book.”

“I didn’t have much time, but there will be way more people at the party on Friday, so it’ll be easier to get into his office without someone noticing. There’s a safe. I just need to figure out what he’d use as the combination.”

“Ask your girlfriend.”

“Right.” I flopped down onto the sofa and kicked my dress shoes off over the arm. “And she won’t wonder at all why I’m asking.”

“Who the hell cares what she wonders? You’ve already wasted way too much time trying to do things your way. I say we go over there right now, put this in his face—” He produced the gun from his waistband and waved it in the air. “—and get the damn book back.”

“Pop wanted to keep this quiet. He doesn’t want the police involved.” Even though there was truth in these words, my main motivation for talking him down was for Spencer’s sake. She’d be staying at Tommy’s for the next few days to help organize the caterers and decorators, and there was no way I was going to let her get caught in Judd’s crossfire.

“My old man’s always been a little too subtle for my taste,” Judd said, still brandishing the black pistol. “What’s the point in playing the long game when this’ll get the job done a hundred times faster?”

“Yeah, and get you killed if you’re not careful. Put that thing away before you shoot your own dick off.”

Judd huffed in disgust but put the gun on a side table and collapsed into the armchair next to it. “You’d be awfully sad about that, wouldn’t you, nancy boy?”

I laughed. “Trust me, Prince, if I swung that way, I’d have better taste.”

“You should be so lucky,” Judd sneered.

“Look,” I said, steering the conversation back to Tommy and the ledger. “I can get the book back without anyone getting hurt or going to jail. If I play it right on Friday, he won’t even notice it’s missing until we’re long gone.”

“That’s a big if, as far as I can tell, and I’m tired of waiting.”

“You know,” I said carefully, “there’s a chance the book isn’t even there. Tommy isn’t an idiot. He probably has it in a safe deposit box on the other side of the country.”

“Not a chance,” Judd said, effectively killing any hope I had of talking myself out of this mess. “He was stupid enough to steal from us, and he’s stupid enough to keep the book nearby. There’s no way he’d keep it somewhere he couldn’t check on it once in a while.”

“I guess.” I rested my head on the arm of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t matter what I said or did; there was no getting around hurting Spencer. “Then it has to be in the wall safe. He might even have the combination written down somewhere in his office, and if it’s there, I’ll find it.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Buffer.”

“And when I do,” I said, pushing myself up to glare at him, “you better think of a new fucking nickname because I’m tired of this ‘buffer’ shit.”

“Oh-ho, big talk from the guy who’s made such a damn mess of things so far.”

“I may not be working on your schedule, Prince, but I’ll get what I came for.” I gave him a hateful smile. “And soon after that, you’ll have to start calling me brother.”

The muscle in his jaw flinched, but apparently he wasn’t in the mood to reassemble any more tables today. “Since I know you won’t be able to get your head outta your ass long enough to do anything useful, I ain’t too worried about it.”

I’d been ready for another fight, but my sore ribs were grateful I hadn’t been successful in provoking him this time. I was too tired to keep arguing, and we were both quiet for a long time.

“I would’ve thought you of all people would be okay with Tommy Costello getting hurt,” Judd said.

I looked up to see him sliding the gun back and forth across the tabletop. “Why’s that? He didn’t steal from me.”

“He did though.”

“What are you talking about? I thought he took the money and ledger from Pop’s safe.”

“I’m not talking about money, dipshit. I’m talking about Wiley Jim—your dad.”

I sat up again, this time pushing myself all the way so I could look him square in the face. “They worked together, I know that, and Pop said something about Tommy betraying my da, but he betrayed the whole clan when he stole the money, didn’t he?”

“He stole from the clan and took off, yeah,” Judd said. “But what he took from your father was far more valuable.”

“And what was that?”

“His life.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MY FACE WAS starting to hurt from the smile I’d plastered on when I’d reached the mahogany door of Tommy’s house. The party was already in full swing when I’d arrived, and it had taken me several minutes of fighting through the sea of designer labels and overflowing martini glasses to find Spencer. She was in the kitchen, directing a staff of uniformed waiters loaded with trays of hors d’oeuvres. Her efficiency would have impressed Bridget Sheedy, although she spoke in a voice much too kind for that old bat’s taste.

“There you are,” she said, skirting around the edge of the island to avoid knocking into one of the waiters. “I was wondering if you’d come to your senses and decided to skip this horrible event all together.” She crossed to the kitchen door and lifted herself on her toes to kiss me hello.

I kissed her back, though it was hard to revel in it the way I would have done before Judd’s revelation. She’d been so busy the last few days helping her dad that we hadn’t had much time to talk, giving me plenty of time to stew over what Judd had told me. Tommy murdered my da, and although his sins certainly weren’t Spencer’s, it was getting harder to separate the two. There was no denying I’d missed her the past few days, but finding out the truth had lit a fire under my ass. There was no way I’d be leaving this house tonight without the ledger. I might’ve thought I loved this girl—and maybe I really did—but I was certain I loved my mother and my brother, and what Tommy had done had nearly destroyed my entire family.

“Are you finished giving orders?” I asked, my arms still wrapped around her waist.

“I think so.” She glanced around the kitchen. “These guys cater every one of my dad’s parties, so they know what they’re doing.”

“Good,” I said, holding her at arm’s length to get a better look at the cranberry dress that hugged the curves of her body and ended around mid-thigh. “This dress is too good to waste on standing around in the kitchen.”

“You keep talking like that, and no one will be seeing this dress for the rest of the night.” She kissed me again, and this time whatever her father had done to mine twenty years ago didn’t stop me from returning it with all the heat and electricity I felt running through every nerve in my body. If there would’ve been any real chance that she and I could sneak up to one of the neglected guestrooms upstairs, I might’ve even put my mission to find the book on hold for a while.

But it didn’t look like that was going to happen, at least for now. She turned the open-mouthed kiss into a quick peck and leaned back. “I guess we should go see if my dad needs me to do anything else.”

We found Tommy in the living room, entertaining a group of suits. “So an American on vacation in Ireland decides to play a round with a few local gentleman,” Tommy said, waving the Scotch glass in his hand as he spoke. “He takes a few practice swings, sets up his tee, and proceeds to hook the hell out of the ball, which goes way out of bounds.”

“Is this a story about you, Richards?” a middle-aged guy with an orange spray-tan asked, eliciting a round of chuckles from the assembled crowd. Richards lifted his glass, offering a good-natured smile and a mea culpa nod.

“So the guy re-tees,” Tommy continued once the chuckles had died away. “He says to the gentlemen, ‘I’m taking a mulligan,’ then pounds one down the fairway about 280 yards. Proud of himself, he beams at his playing partners and says, ‘In the U.S., we call that a mulligan. What do you call it here?’ The locals stare at him for a long time and finally one guys says, ‘hitting three.’”

The room erupted into laughter. I glanced down at Spencer who shrugged at me, apparently less familiar with golf than she was with Phillies baseball.

“There she is,” Tommy said, noticing Spencer for the first time since we’d joined the group. He waved her over. She left my side, flashing an apologetic grin, and joined her father at the center of the room. “Dave, you remember my daughter, Spencer, don’t you?” This he said to the orange guy who’d taken the piss out of Richards a minute before.

“Sure!” Dave said, giving Spencer a lecherous smile that Tommy didn’t seem to catch. Or, at least, I assumed he didn’t since he didn’t deck the guy on the spot. “You still in the business program at Balanova?”

Spencer nodded, leaning away from him a little.

“She’s in her second year,” Tommy said with a proud smile. “And at the top of her class. Well on her way to the MBA program at the Wharton School.”

Spencer looked at me for help, and I gave her an encouraging smile. When she turned back to the conversation, I decided that this was my chance to get back into Tommy’s office. I skirted the crowd that had gathered to regale Spencer with tales of their days at the University of Pennsylvania and found my way back into the entry hall of the house.

I was relieved to find the hall on the other side of the stairs deserted, although the light from under the bathroom door told me it might not stay that way for long. I found the second door to the right and slipped inside, pulling it closed beside me. I didn’t have time to fumble around in the dark, so I took the risk of flipping the light switch. The fixture overhead filled the room with soft light, and I crossed to the desk and opened the drawer I knew contained a stack of notepads. I flipped open the cover of the pad on top and found some hastily scrawled notes and a list of names and phone numbers. Nothing that looked like a combination. I turned a few pages to find much of the same and moved on to the next book. This one had a list of what I guessed were company names, some marked with a star, others with a question mark, some crossed out with a stroke of Tommy’s pen. Potential investments, maybe, but nothing that could help me get into the safe behind the ugly seascape. The rest of the notebooks were empty, and I slammed the drawer in frustration.

The sound of feet moving down the hall drew my attention, and I crouched behind Tommy’s desk. I waited for the doorknob to turn, debating whether I should hide myself better or just make up a reason for being in the office, but the feet passed by without stopping. I blew out the breath I’d been holding and straightened up to my full height again. I tried the drawer with hanging files next. The tabs at the top told me these were mostly client files, but several folders were unmarked. I opened one, pulled out a handful of receipts, and paged through them. Tommy had shelled out several thousand dollars for this cocktail party, it seemed. The catering company alone had cost him almost five grand for food and the wait staff. Another five for the alcohol and bar service. Though, in this crowd, I was surprised it hadn’t been more. You could take the Traveler out of the Village, but give him a no-limit platinum card and he’d still throw a damn good party.

I stuffed the receipts back into their file and flipped to the last folder at the back of the drawer. There was one sheet of paper inside, and my sore cheeks had to endure another broad smile when I read what was written across the top in block print: PASSWORDS. A string of numbers and letters followed. Some were labeled, “electric, water, gas, bank, bank2, bank3,” and it occurred to me this sheet of paper might come in very handy if Pop decided he wanted his five hundred Gs back after all. Near the bottom, a handful of four- and six-digit codes were written, and I moved to the safe, intent on trying each one.

I punched in the first code, and the display flashed. Same for the next two. Damn.

I moved on to the six-digit codes, and the safe gave an angry chirp when I hit the fifth number. Apparently, these last few codes were too long to be the right ones, which left me with one last option. I took a deep breath and punched it in. Flash.

“Fuck!” I smashed my hand against the keypad, eliciting another angry chirp.

“Those things can be a real pain in the ass to break into, huh?”

The scrap of paper fell from my hand as I swiveled around to see Tommy. I hadn’t heard him come in and honestly had no idea how long he’d been there watching me struggle with his safe. Oddly, he looked more amused than angry, which was far more unnerving.

“Yeah, I’d say you’re getting your money’s worth.” I tried sounding casual, like there was nothing at all weird about your girlfriend’s father catching you trying to get into his wall safe.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try Spencer’s birthday,” he said, still firmly rooted on his side of the room.

“I did. That was the first thing I tried when I was in here the other night.” Why bother lying now? I’d been caught. It was time to change tact. A Traveler’s greatest asset was an ability to think on his feet, right?

“Trust me. You could’ve had free reign of this office for a week, and you probably still wouldn’t have guessed the combination. Which is funny since it’s a number you’re pretty familiar with.”

I quirked an eyebrow, but Tommy didn’t seem to be in the mood to share more.

“So Michael finally sent someone to get his book back?”

It was strange hearing anyone other than Maggie calling Pop by his given name. “You did a pretty good job of hiding for the last twenty years, but it’s a little harder to stay under the radar when you buy a multimillion dollar house and stay there.”

“It still took him over a year,” Tommy said and crossed his thick arms over his chest in his default intimidating-businessman posture. It reminded me a little of my brother when he was working the strong, silent angle.

“I guess he had other priorities. It’s just a book after all.”

Tommy gave a loud, barking laugh. “I think we both know that’s bullshit, Shay.”

I was so distracted by thoughts of what the hell could be written in the damn book that Pop would go to all this trouble that it took me a second to realize he hadn’t used my fake name.

“You know who I am.” It wasn’t a question.

“A transfer student from Loyola?”

I’d worried Spencer’s disclosure during dinner had cast some suspicion my way, but there had to be something else, too. Not even “Saint Thomas” was that sharp. “Is that so out of the ordinary?”

“You have Maggie’s eyes,” he said.

I stiffened. “I imagine those eyes have been haunting you the last twenty years, considering you killed her husband and left her with two kids to raise all on her own.”

“Does telling yourself that help you sleep at night after what you’ve done to Spencer?”

My chest burned like I’d swallowed an ice cube. My mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Leave Spencer out of this,” I said, allowing far too much emotion to seep into my voice. I needed to focus on what was important, but that was difficult when Spencer became involved.

“What’s this? You almost sound like you care about her. Not that I don’t understand why. She’s really special, isn’t she? You do realize she’ll never forgive you when she finds out you used her to get to me. That everything you ever told her was a lie.”

Not everything. “Do you think she’ll forgive you?” I spat out once I found my voice again. “For your lies?” The idea of Spencer’s reaction when she found out I’d betrayed her had kept me awake at night, but there was nothing I could do. I had a duty to my clan, to my family, to my da. “What do you think will happen when she finds out about your old life? The fact that you murdered a man so you could steal his share of the score and take off?” I asked, recounting the details Judd filled me in on a few nights ago.

“That’s not how it happened, but even if it was, she’ll never find out about it—any of it. You can’t say the same thing, can you? Once you got what you came for, you were going to crawl back to that cesspool you call home, and she’d be left here wondering how she could’ve been stupid enough to trust you.”

“She’ll find out about you if I tell her,” I said, my panic making me desperate.

Tommy laughed again. “And why would she ever believe anything you say? You go ahead and tell her. It’ll just prove you’re every bit the con artist that you are.”

The stiffness in my shoulders disappeared, and they slumped like deflating balloons. “You’re going to tell her.”

“Of course I am. The first chance I get. Now get the hell out of my house.” Tommy finally budged from his spot by the door. He stood to the side and opened it so I could do as instructed.

“At least let me say goodbye, give her some excuse about why I have to leave.”

“Not a chance. She’ll know exactly why you left when I tell her why you came.” He tipped his head toward the door. “Are you leaving, or am I throwing you out? I don’t want to make a scene in front of all these people, but I will if I have to.”

* * *

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” I pounded out the number of the carriage house’s landline and paced back and forth on the train platform, waiting for him to answer. “Shit.”

He picked up after two rings. “Yeah?”

“Judd? It’s Shay.”

“You get the book?” he asked without any further niceties.

I paused, apparently long enough to give away the answer without saying a word. “Goddamn it!” he roared, and I was pretty sure I heard something shatter in the background. “I knew you’d fuck this up. I knew it.”

There was nothing I could say to defend myself. I had fucked it up. I’d fucked up the job, and more than that, I’d fucked up things with Spencer. Once Tommy told her who I was, I’d never get a chance to make it right. Thanks to my stupidity, I had no book and no girl. I wasn’t even sure I’d have a home anymore, which meant I’d probably screwed Maggie and Jimmy Boy, too. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the family of someone who’d been dragged to take just as much grief in the end.

But even if there was nothing I could do for myself, there was still something I could do for Spencer. I felt so defeated when I left Tommy’s house, I hadn’t given a thought to Judd’s reaction. But now that I had him on the phone, I knew what his next moves would be. No matter what Tommy had done to my father, it wasn’t worth risking Spencer’s life.

“Listen, Judd. Tommy’s on to me—on to us. We need to get gone and do it fast. He knows where I’m staying, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the police are already on their way.” It was a gross exaggeration. I didn’t really believe Tommy would call the police and he didn’t have any idea where I was staying, but I’d say whatever it took to keep Judd from going after Tommy or Spencer himself.

“You really are nothing more than a useless buffer,” Judd hissed into my ear. “I knew as soon as Pop opened his mouth to tell you about this job that it would all go to shit in the end. I knew it.”

“Well, it looks like you were right,” I said, my jaw tight. “If you clear out now, you can beat me back to the Village and have everyone set to run me out on a rail as soon as I get back.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Buffer,” Judd said. “Everyone’s been set to do that for years. This’ll just give ‘em the excuse.”

The line went dead, and the words “Call Ended” flashed on my phone’s screen. I shoved it back in my pocket and stared down the tracks, glad to see the lights of an approaching train. If I were lucky, Judd would be gone by the time the train pulled up to the station in Balanova.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE SHRIEK OF the teakettle startled me as it filled the tiny carriage house. I turned the burner off and poured the steaming water into the mug I’d already prepared. I’d been lost in thought, staring through the window above the sink that looked out over a line of trees separating my landlord’s property from its neighbors. I’d never quite understood why country people always insisted on cutting themselves off from one another when being part of a community offered so many comforts.

Comforts like Maggie’s tea. I smiled to myself as I took a sip, but even the connection to her wasn’t enough to lift my spirits for long. I sighed and carried the mug to the table. A matchbook from some two-bit motel was still on the tabletop, apparently abandoned by Judd in his rush to clear out last night. I swiped it aside and set my mug down, then flopped onto the chair to continue my wallowing in relative comfort.

I’d fallen in love with Spencer, lost her, and still managed to screw up a con twenty years in the making. Things couldn’t possibly have gone worse. My chest felt heavy as I allowed a moment for that bitter reality to sink in.

This con would’ve meant finally gaining the status I’d always wanted. It would’ve meant a whole new life for me and for my family. But now we’d be worse off than we’d been before. I’d be lucky if I could even go back after Judd got done running his mouth. But it was the thought of Spencer that really killed me. By now, Tommy would’ve told her everything, and she’d never forgive me.

I’d been up most of the night, and it was Spencer my thoughts kept returning to over and over. I was afraid of what Pop might do when I got home, of how I’d be treated by the rest of the clan, but none of it seemed to matter when the image of Spencer’s face appeared. I sighed heavily and pushed back from the table again. I took the mug to the sink and poured out most of the tea.

I glanced at the clock. Ten in the morning. My bus home didn’t leave until tonight, but I was already packed, thanks to a sleepless night, and the bustle of 30th Street Station might be enough to take my mind off the mess I’d gotten myself into. At least for a while.

I pulled a hooded sweatshirt over my head and sat down to put my sneakers on. As I laced them, my phone started to dance across the coffee table. I jogged across the room to answer it before the buzzing stopped. It was probably Judd calling to yell at me again now that he was halfway home and clear of any potential run-in with the law. The phone’s display glowed, and the buzzing persisted as I fumbled to answer it before he hung up. Travelers, as a rule, didn’t use cell phones because they were too easy to trace, but I had to admit they did come in handy for this job, particularly when you were trying to blend in with a bunch of college students.

I didn’t recognize the number on the phone’s display. Only a handful of people had my number, and this call wasn’t coming from any of them. Jimmy Boy and I had both gotten burner phones before I left. He was even more opposed to the idea than I’d been, but he’d promised to keep his phone with him day or night in case I needed to get a hold of him fast. But this wasn’t his number.

I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

Tommy’s stony voice came through the speaker. “I need to speak with you.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Not on the phone,” Tommy answered. “Can you meet me in the city?”

I thought for a long time before answering. What could Tommy possibly want to meet me for after last night? He must’ve gotten my number from Spencer, which meant this was about her. If it was, did I want to hear what he had to say? In the end, curiosity and the fleeting hope I might be able to salvage the situation—whether with Spencer or Tommy—got the better of me. “Name the place.”

* * *

Tír na nÓg had heavy oak doors that creaked as I pushed through them. I glanced around and squinted in the dim light. It was fairly crowded considering it was a bit early for the lunch rush, but there were still plenty of empty seats. The bar—a mammoth construction of deeply stained wood and gleaming brass fixtures—dominated the room. I scanned the patrons scattered around its edge. Two young women talked animatedly to one another over their salads. They ignored a second pair of well-dressed businessmen across the bar who appeared to be long past their first drinks of the day. The men waved and winked at the girls, who, in turn, erupted into stifled giggles but otherwise pretended not to have noticed. An old man, who looked as if he’d been in the same spot for so long he’d begun to grow roots, nursed a pint of thick, brown liquid and grumbled occasionally at one of the televisions mounted above the bar.

“Welcome! Can I help yah?” I turned my attention to the source of the familiar accent and met the eyes of a pretty brunette. She beamed at me, her hands splayed over the swollen belly that strained the fabric of her cableknit sweater. I’d known Tír na nÓg was an Irish pub but hadn’t expected to be greeted by an actual Irish lass. I returned her broad smile with one of my own.

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” I told her. “So I think I’ll sit at the bar if that’s all right?” I pointed in the direction of the seat I intended to occupy.

She nodded. “Right, of course. Help yerself to it.” She handed me a thick menu. “You can have a look at this while you’re waiting.”

I thanked her and made my way to the far side of the bar where fewer people sat and where I would have a clear view of the door. I set the menu aside and ordered a soda, though what I really wanted was a pint to steady my nerves. I planted my elbows on the bar and pressed my mouth and nose into my clasped hands, watching the door over the top of my knuckles. Ignoring the soda that had been placed in front of me, my feet toyed with the bottom rung of the barstool, my eyes trained on the doors. My nerves jumped each time they swung open, only settling again when it wasn’t Tommy who walked through them.

As I began to wonder if the man had changed his mind, the doors swung again, and Tommy Costello appeared. His black overcoat hung open, revealing an expensive charcoal suit and a lavender silk tie that reminded me of Maggie’s herb garden. I watched as Tommy chatted with the pretty brunette, who laughed when he patted her belly. Still smiling, Tommy glanced up, but as he met my gaze, his expression changed. He set his mouth in a hard line, and his eyes narrowed. Tommy turned his attention back to the hostess and smiled again, but it was strained this time. He said something, she nodded, and then he made his way down the broad side of the bar. I lifted my drink to take a sip as he slid into the seat next to me and laid his soft leather briefcase on top of the stool on his other side.

“Tommy!” The bartender, a hulking man with a thick brogue, flung a dirty towel over his shoulder and lumbered toward us. He slapped his hand on the bar, his broad palm thumping on the careworn wood. The sound made me jump—my nerves were still a little raw, apparently—and I sputtered as the carbonated liquid burned my windpipe.

The bartender chuckled. “Sorry, lad.” He reached his long arm around my shoulder to clap me on the back. “Didn’t mean to startle yeh. I haven’t seen this fella in a donkey’s year.”

I nodded and cleared my throat a few times. I held up a hand to indicate I was all right, and the man could quit patting me now before he left a bruise.

“Been pretty busy, Ian,” Tommy offered by way of explanation. He smiled, but it was the same tense and humorless smile he’d given the hostess.

“Sure, sure.” Ian nodded, accepting the weak excuse. “What’ll it be then?” he asked but immediately supplied the answer himself. “A pint of plain. Done.” He tapped the bar to punctuate the decision and left us to fetch the drink.

“It’s a nice place, isn’t it?” Tommy said without turning to look at me. I was surprised by the small talk but nodded in agreement. “You know,” Tommy continued, “I first came in here because of Maggie.”

Confused, I turned my head to look at him. “Maggie?”

Tommy nodded. “She told me this old story about Tír na nÓg a long time ago. She called it an island off the edge of the map where the fairies live and said you can only get there if you’re—”

“Invited by them,” I finished for him. “Yeah, that was my favorite bedtime story when I was little. Oisín was invited there by ‘Niamh of the Golden Hair,’” I said in my mam’s breathy lilt.

Tommy smiled to himself. “That’s the one,” he said. “She talked about the place as if she’d grown up there. Your mother was quite the storyteller.”

“Still is.”

Tommy chuckled, but then his expression turned dark. “I have to say, I’m pretty surprised Maggie let you come up here and do this.”

“She couldn’t have stopped me if she wanted to,” I said.

Tommy nodded but said nothing. Ian returned, carrying a pint of the same thick, dark liquid the old man had been drinking and set it down in front of Tommy. “Can I get you lads anything else?” We shook our heads, and he shrugged. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Tommy thanked him and took a large swig of the stout. Ian hesitated a moment. He looked first at Tommy, then at me before shrugging again and moving back to the other side of the bar where a new group had just sat down.

I waited for a moment before I spoke again. “Can I ask you something?” There was no response from Tommy, so I continued. “What did Spencer say when you told her about me?”

Tommy’s brow knitted, and his jaw tightened. “I didn’t.”

It wasn’t what I’d expected, and I gaped at him in open-mouthed shock.

“I didn’t tell her for her sake, not yours, so don’t get any ideas,” Tommy hastened to add. “If you try to contact her again, it’ll be the first thing I do.”

“For her sake or yours?” I asked. “Telling her who I am would raise a few questions about who you are.”

“She knows who I am,” he said and took another swig of his drink.

“She doesn’t know where you came from.”

“Would you have preferred I told her?” Tommy turned to look at me for the first time since he’d sat down.

“Maybe. She deserves to know the truth, but I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Enough.” Tommy dropped the pint back onto the bar. The dark liquid sloshed but didn’t spill. “I’m not here for your advice on how to deal with my daughter. I managed to protect her for nineteen years before you showed up, and I’ll do it long after you’re out of her life.”

“Fine,” I said. “Then why did you want to meet me?”

“Because I want you—all of you—out of her life now. For good,” Tommy said. “And I think there’s only one way I’ll get what I want.” He shifted on his stool and reached into the briefcase. When his hand reappeared, he was holding a battered old book with a leather cord wrapped around its thick middle. “Here.” He dropped the book on the bar between us, and it landed with a dull thud. “Take it and get the fuck out of my city.”

Tommy’s abrupt demand stung more than I would’ve expected. Despite the situation and despite what Tommy had done to my da, I realized I actually respected the man. The idea unsettled me a bit, but I tried not to show it as I put a hand on the book to slide it my way. Tommy watched me, stone-faced.

“What’s the big deal about this thing anyway?” I lifted it and turned it over in my hands. There were no markings on the faded green cover, nothing impressive about the binding or the outside edge of the yellowing pages.

“You mean you don’t even know what you came all this way for?” Tommy scoffed. “So you’re just Michael’s errand boy.”

I scowled at him. Truth was, though, he wasn’t too far off. Pop had sent me to get his book back, but I wasn’t even allowed to open the damn thing. I wasn’t good for more than playing fetch, just like Judd had said. “He trusted me to get something he’s been waiting on for twenty years. I think that makes me a little more than an errand boy.”

Tommy considered this for a moment. “Open it.”

My fingers hesitated over the leather cord. I had my instructions, but then, I’m pretty sure Pop hadn’t intended me to fall in love with Tommy’s daughter and get caught trying to break into a safe either, so what was one more screw up? I hooked a finger through the cord and undid the loose knot. I unwound the cord and let it drop into my lap. The book fell open to a page marked with a green ribbon. A list of company names ran down one column of the ledger’s page, and dollar amounts—big ones—were written in another. I scanned the page, frowning at the familiar names. I’d seen them before, but where?

“They’re shell companies. Michael used them to launder the money he and his sons bring in, along with the percentage he takes from other clan members. A lot of them don’t exist anymore, but there are a handful he still uses and a few more that may still be operating under a different name. It only takes a little paperwork to have a brand-new company.”

The list in Tommy’s notebook. Names with asterisks, questions marks, lines slashed through them. He’d been trying to follow the money. Trying to figure out how Pop’s operation really worked. I flipped through a few more pages, found more names—both for companies and individuals. This ledger was a record of every shady transaction Pop had made for years before Tommy stole it, and there was enough there to earn him and several others a lot of prison time. No wonder he’d pursued Tommy for twenty years. I snapped the book shut and wrapped the leather cord around it again, then laid it on the bar.

I jutted out my chin and pushed it toward him, not wanting to touch it again. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Like I said before, every decision I make is to protect Spencer. If I thought there was another way to keep her safe, I’d do it, but Pop isn’t going to stop coming after me until he gets this book back, and I’m done running.” It was obvious it annoyed Tommy to give in to blackmail. “But let me be very clear. If you so much as think about my daughter again and I catch wind of it, I will devote the rest of my life to ruining the rest of yours. Understood?”

I nodded, believing him to be a man of his word. I looked down at the ledger on the bar, thinking about what all this meant. I had what I’d come for, but taking it back to Pop meant betraying Spencer all over again. Tommy had taken this ledger as protection for himself and his daughter. It was his only bargaining chip to halt the wrath of Pop Sheedy.

“They’re going to come after you,” I said. I hadn’t realized what the ledger really meant until that moment, but now I was sure what I said was true.

“Probably,” Tommy said. He stared down into the wide mouth of his glass.

“There’s nothing to stop Pop from killing you for what you did to him.”

“Not a damn thing,” Tommy said.

I pushed the ledger to him with my fingertips. “I can’t take it.”

Now it was Tommy’s turn to gape at me. “What do you mean you ‘can’t take it’? You came all this way, tricked my daughter into thinking she was in love with you, then tried to break into my safe in the middle of a dinner party to get it. Now I’m handing it to you, practically giftwrapped, and you ‘can’t take it’?”

The bartender glanced our way, and I gave him an easy smile. Nothing to see here, Ian. He watched us for a second longer, then went back to wiping glasses with his grungy towel.

“I can’t take it,” I repeated, leaning a little closer so I could speak in a quieter voice. “I may have tricked her into thinking she’s in love with me, but I know I’m in love with her. I can’t take this book because it’s the only thing protecting you from Pop. Something tells me he wants more than just that book. If you give it back to him, it won’t be the end. Only the beginning.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you care what happens to me?”

“Whatever Pop does to you, it’ll hurt her. You forget, I know what it’s like not to have a father around. I’m not going to let that happen to her.”

Tommy stared at me as if he couldn’t decide whether to kick my ass or write me into his will. After a few seconds, he slid the ledger back into the briefcase. “This doesn’t mean I’m going to let you see Spencer,” he said, securing the brass latch on the front flap of the case.

“I know. I can’t keep lying to her, and if I tell her the truth, she wouldn’t want to see me anyway. That’s not why I’m doing this.”

“Why are you doing this?”

I slid from the barstool. “I told you. Whatever happens to you hurts Spencer. I’m not going to be a part of that. No matter what you did to my da.”

He frowned skeptically. “And that’s it. That’s all you’re after?”

“Well, there is something I was wondering about.”

“What’s that?”

“You said I’d never be able to guess the combination to your safe, but it’s a number I should know. I just wondered what it was.”

“You want me to tell you my safe combination?” Tommy laughed.

“Hey, you just handed me the book, and I gave it back. I’d say the chances of me trying to get into your safe again are pretty low.”

“Fair enough,” Tommy said. “It’s 1031.” Tommy stood and grabbed his suitcase. He fished a ten-dollar bill from his coat pocket and tossed it onto the bar. “Have a good trip home, Shay. I look forward to never seeing you again.”

Without a backward glance to me, Tommy waved his goodbye to Ian and the pregnant hostess, then pushed through the heavy doors and disappeared. I stood next to my own stool, rolling the numbers around in my head. 1031. Ten thirty-one. The numbers were definitely familiar, as Tommy’d predicted, but damned if I could figure out why.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE THUNDERING KNOCK jarred me from the sleep I hadn’t meant to fall into. I sat bolt upright on the sofa where I’d dozed and blinked, trying to figure out what had woken me. The pounding came again, rattling the door in its frame. I rubbed my eyes and squinted in the dim light.

Apparently, it had gotten dark sometime between leaving Tommy at the bar and now. Shit. I was going to have to hurry if I was going to make my bus.

Another knock.

“I’m coming! Christ.”

I reached for the knob and had barely turned it when the door burst open and Tommy barreled through, knocking me into the wall as he went past.

“Where is she, you lying sack of shit? I can’t believe I bought all that crap about how much you cared about her.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I tried to play catch up. Nothing about this made sense.

“Why didn’t you take the book when I offered it to you? Isn’t that what you came for?”

“It was, but—”

“What do you think you’re going to get out of me by taking her?”

I shook my head. I had to be dreaming. “Tommy, what are you—”

“What kind of coward kidnaps a nineteen-year-old girl? Goddamn it, Shay, tell me where she is. Now.” Tommy turned on me suddenly and grabbed my shirt in both hands. He slammed my back against the wall, and only the tips of my toes scraped the floor. “Tell me.”

I couldn’t do more than blink at him. She? Kidnap? “Tommy, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did something happen to Spencer?”

“Like you don’t know.”

My mind switched from blank to panicked in under a second. I shoved him back and heard my shirt tear as patches of the fabric went with him. “I don’t. I left you at the bar and came straight back here. My bus leaves for New Orleans—” I checked the wall clock. “—in one hour.” I pointed to the ticket still on the table where I’d dropped it.

Tommy glanced down at the ticket, then back up at me. “Is that supposed to prove something?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to prove. Tear the place apart if you want, but she’s not here. What’s this shit about kidnapping?”

“What do you think? I got the voicemail message your friend left,” Tommy said. He shoved a hand into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled a thin, black phone from inside. He slid his thumb across the screen, flicked at a small green icon, and held the phone up for me to hear. Judd’s voice was gleeful as it played through the speaker: “Well, hey there, Saint Thomas. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but to be honest, it makes me sick even to be talking to the recording of a dirty snake like you. But I guess sometimes we all gotta get down on our bellies, don’t we? See, the thing is, you have something I want, and now I have something you want. I would suggest you call me back at your earliest convenience. Assuming you ever want to see this tasty little daughter of yours again.” Judd paused. There was the unmistakable sound of a woman—of Spencer—sobbing. Then it was muffled again by a closing door. I was sure then that I would kill him. I didn’t care if it took me the rest of my life; I would snap his neck with my bare hands before I took my last breath. The message continued. “But Tommy, no rush. I’m sure Cherry and I can do something to pass the time.” I could practically feel his windpipe collapse under my fingers.

“You’re telling me you had nothing to do with this?” Tommy asked, though he’d clearly made up his mind already.

“Tommy, I swear I didn’t.”

“But you know who did.”

I hesitated. I might not have directly helped Judd, but I was the reason he was here. “Judd Sheedy,” I said. “He came up a few weeks after me to make sure I got the job done.”

“Michael’s youngest boy?” Tommy sounded incredulous. “You’re telling me he pulled this off on his own? That little asshat couldn’t keep the drool in his mouth the last time I saw him.”

“Still can’t. But he’s crazy as hell, and there’s no telling what he’ll do to Spencer if we don’t find him fast.”

“Do you have any idea where he might have taken her?” Tommy looked sick at the idea of asking me for help, but he was out of options.

“I don’t—” I stopped. My eyes flickered to the matchbook still on the table where Judd had left it.

Telling Tommy where Judd had taken Spencer was as good as drawing a line in the sand and then doing the long jump right over it, but I was out of options too. Spencer’s safety was the only thing that mattered. I walked to the table and slid the matchbook off of it, then turned it over in my palm. I tossed it to Tommy, and he caught it in one hand and looked down at it.

“How fast can you get us there?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

TOMMY DRUMMED NERVOUS fingers on the leather-wrapped steering wheel of his Lexus. “Are you sure they’re in there?”

“That’s his car.” I pointed to the black sedan in the spot next to us. “And the clerk says a guy matching Judd’s description checked in earlier today and hasn’t left his room since.” I stared at the green door through the windshield. Room 19. “They’re in there.”

Tommy lifted the ledger from the center console where it had ridden between us on the twenty-minute drive to the motel. It had been the longest twenty minutes of my life, spent imagining Judd’s hands on Spencer’s skin, the terror in her eyes. I forced the images away for the hundredth time and refocused on the motel door in front of us.

“So what’s your plan?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t have one,” I said as I popped open the door and stepped out of the car.

“Fantastic,” Tommy said and did the same.

I circled around the back of the car, doing my best to avoid the room’s front window. The thick curtains were pulled shut, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t watching. The more surprised Judd was to see us, the better chance we’d have at getting out of this alive.

“He has a gun,” I said over my shoulder, my back pressed against the brick wall outside Judd’s door.

“You didn’t think to mention that before now?” Tommy said in a harsh whisper.

“Would you be doing anything different?” I shot back.

“Knock,” Tommy said.

I wrapped my knuckles against the door, then covered the peephole with my thumb.

After a moment, a voice came from inside. “Who’s there?”

Tommy and I both flattened ourselves against the building in case he looked through the window when he couldn’t get a view through the peephole. “Management,” I said, disguising my voice. “Problem with your card.”

The chain on the door rattled, and the knob turned. “I didn’t use no—”

I threw my weight into the door, and it banged open, sending Judd stumbling back. Tommy followed me inside and closed the door quickly. I scanned the room. A terrified Spencer was huddled at the top of the far bed, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms clinging to the headboard. She wasn’t tied up, as far as I could tell, and her jeans and t-shirt were still intact. Thank God for small favors.

Judd regained his balance quickly and aimed his gun at my chest. “Nice of you to finally show up,” he said, in a tone too friendly for our current circumstances.

“You know, Prince, I’m getting awfully tired of you pointing that gun in my face.”

“It’s true?”

Every head swiveled to look at Spencer. She still crouched against the headboard, but now the fear in her face was replaced by angry disbelief.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Tommy asked.

“It’s true?” she asked again, ignoring her dad to keep her eyes locked on me. “You know this guy?”

I exhaled a deep sigh. Tommy might have decided not to tell her the truth about me, but Judd had apparently not been so considerate. “I know him,” I said.

Spencer flew from the bed and charged toward me. She thrashed at my face and chest with her fists, and a small part of me wished Judd had tied her up. I took several steps back, trapped between her and the wall, and lifted an arm to shield my face. But I wasn’t going to stop her. I deserved everything she did to me and more.

“You bastard. You lying bastard!”

“All right, darlin’.” Judd laughed. “As much as I’d love to see you beat the shit out of him, the men have business to discuss.” He grabbed her by the arm mid-swing and tossed her like a rag doll onto the closest bed. Tommy took a step toward him, his face creased with rage, but Judd turned the pistol in his direction and brought him up short. “Uh-uh. I wouldn’t do that, friend.”

“You touch her again, Judd, and you’re going to need more than that peashooter to keep me from killing you,” Tommy growled.

Spencer didn’t move from the bed, but Judd’s manhandling hadn’t slowed her tongue any. “So it’s true. You’re working with him?” she asked, her eyes still boring into me like knifepoints.

“No,” I said but thought better of it. “Yes. Kind of. We’re both here for the same reason. But this…” I swept an arm around the room. “This wasn’t part of my plan.”

“What was your plan then? To get me into bed to get closer to my dad?”

I winced and looked at Tommy. He was still watching Judd and his gun, and I hoped that was enough distraction from what his daughter had just announced. I turned back to her. “I came for a book. That one.” I pointed to the book in Tommy’s hand. Judd’s eyes followed and locked greedily onto the ledger. “That’s it. I just wanted the book back.”

“A book,” she said, practically spitting the word back at me. “You did all this for a stupid book?”

“It’s not… I can’t really explain it, but it’s important to someone in my clan and they want it back.”

“Your clan!” I could tell by her expression I wasn’t helping my cause.

Judd laughed again. “I tried to explain it to her too, but I don’t think she’s as smart as you said, Buffer.”

The muscle in my jaw twitched as I bit down on my response. There were only so many battles I could fight at once. “I’m not a transfer student from Loyola. I’m not even really enrolled at Balanova. I’m from a Traveler clan in Louisiana, and I came up here to settle a score. That’s the whole story.”

“What does this have to do with my dad?”

Okay, maybe not the whole story. I looked at Tommy again, and this time he looked back. It was bad enough that Spencer had to find out everything about me; I wasn’t about to dump all of Tommy’s history on her too.

Once again, though, Judd decided to do the honors. “You mean you never told your little girl all about the trouble you caused, Saint Thomas? I’m surprised at you. You know what the Good Book says about liars.”

“Shut your mouth, Judd, or I’ll shut it for you,” I warned.

He moved the gun to me again. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Dad?”

I heard Tommy’s long sigh but couldn’t take my eyes off Judd’s gun to turn and look at him.

“Go ahead and tell her, Tommy,” Judd coaxed. I wanted to tear his lips from his face rather than look at his smile a second longer, but the gun in his hand kept me where I was. “I, for one, would be very interested to hear you try to explain this.”

“Before you were born, I was a member of the same Traveler clan. I was a conman, and I was good at it.” Tommy paused, and when he started again, you could tell how hard it was for him to spit out the rest of his story. “Twenty or so years ago, I was running a scam with another Traveler named Jim—his dad.” Tommy indicated me with his head. “I had a bad feeling about it from the start. Something was off about the mark. I tried to talk Jim out of it, but it was a bigger score than either of us had seen and he wanted it. Turns out I was right. When the mark realized what had happened, he went ballistic, came after us with a shotgun. Jim was killed, and I knew I had to get out. I couldn’t keep living the way I was.”

It felt like all the oxygen had left my body. Tommy hadn’t killed my da. He’d gotten himself killed for the sake of a big score. Just like Jimmy Boy had said. Now I was staring down the barrel of a gun because of my own goddamn ambition.

I finally tore my eyes away from the pistol to look at Spencer. The devastation on her face was much harder to take than the anger that had been there a moment before.

“Spencer,” I said, taking a step toward the bed despite the gun trained on me.

“Stay the hell away from me,” she said, scrambling back like a scared crab. “You’re a monster!”

The word hit me like a baseball bat to the face. I hung my head, deserving every word, but surprisingly, Tommy spoke up. “Spencer, he may have lied to you, but in the end, he chose you. I offered him this.” He held up the battered book that had caused all of our trouble. “But he chose you. He’s no monster.”

“This is just great.” She laughed bitterly. “You’ve been completely opposed to any guy I’ve liked since the fourth grade, and this is the one you finally decide to defend?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Judd’s angry question brought all of our attention back to him and his weapon. “You had the book in your hands and you chose that?” He waved the pistol in Spencer’s direction. “I should kill you now,” he said, pulling it back to me. I never thought I’d be so relieved to have a gun pointed in my face.

“All right. Enough,” Tommy said. He took a step forward, shouldering me out of the way so he could stand between Judd and I. “I’ll give you the damn book, and you’ll let her go, right?”

“You really think you’re in a position to negotiate?” Judd sneered at him.

“You want the book. I want my daughter safe. I don’t think I’ve been in an easier negotiation in my life.” The steadiness in Tommy’s voice was impressive.

“Fine,” Judd said.

Tommy tossed the ledger onto the bed in the same way Judd had tossed Spencer. It bounced once, then slid to a halt at her feet. “There. You’ve got it. Let her go.”

“You heard him, sweet tits. On your feet.” Judd beckoned to Spencer with the gun but kept it pointed at Tommy this time.

Spencer didn’t move for a long time. She looked from Judd, to the book, to me. I pleaded with her silently to get up and come to me so I could get her out of that room. Mercifully, she slid from the bed and took several shaky steps toward my arms, which had lifted instinctively to reach for her.

“Oh, but there’s just one more thing,” Judd said, as if it had only now occurred to him. “See, Pop knew that Buffer here would be too much of a chickenshit to finish the job, which is why he sent me.”

“And now it’s finished,” I said. “You’ve got the ledger.”

“Right, but that’s not the end of the game.” Judd lifted the gun and pointed it straight at Tommy’s heart. “This is.”

It only took one glance between Spencer and I to work out what we’d both do. In the same instant that Judd squeezed the trigger, she grabbed his forearm and yanked it hard, and I threw myself into Tommy, sending us both crashing into the wall. The shot was deafening. Heat exploded through my upper arm before it went numb and a red stain started to creep across the fabric of my torn sleeve. Spencer clamped her teeth onto Judd’s wrist, and he shrieked. The gun flew from his hand and tumbled under the bed. He shoved Spencer back, then dived for the ledger, rolled onto the floor, and got back to his feet in one motion.

“This isn’t finished. Not by a long shot.” He ran for the door and swung it open. It slammed into my side, blocking any attempt I could make to grab him before he disappeared. I heard his car engine roar to life and the tires of the Mercedes squeal as he tore away from the motel.

“Someone will have heard that,” Spencer said, already back on her feet. She and Tommy both helped me to mine, though I barely registered what was happening. “We should go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“SO EXPLAIN THIS again. You two are…what? Some kind of gypsies?” Spencer asked.

I sat at the old table in Tommy’s kitchen, my bloody shirt balled in my lap. “Not—”

“Travelers,” Tommy said. He sat at one of the island’s white stools. “They…” He paused. “We call ourselves Travelers. People call us Irish gypsies but rarely in a kind way.”

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbled into the first aid kit she’d opened on the table between us.

“I think we have bigger things to worry about than ethnic insensitivity,” I said over her head. “Whatever protection you had from Pop is now gone along with Judd and the ledger.”

“I don’t think I’m the only one he was here to kill. Lucky for both of us I was smart enough to make copies.”

“That’s good for us, but since Pop doesn’t know about them, I need to get a hold of Jimmy and tell him what happened. Hopefully, he’ll be able to get Maggie somewhere safe.”

“I’ll call Maggie.” Tommy slid from the stool. “To let her know you’re safe and she and Jimmy aren’t. I’ll make arrangements for them to get up here, and we can figure out where to go from there.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear from you,” I said, looking him straight in the eye.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Your safe combination. 1031. It’s her birthday.”

Tommy gave me a long look, then nodded once.

“That’s a story I wouldn’t mind hearing sometime,” I said.

“It’s only partly my story to tell,” he said. “Maggie and I were close. I was close with both your parents, but she and I met when she first came over from Ireland. Your grandparents had already promised her to Jim though. I never really had a shot. When your dad was killed, I begged her to leave with me, but your brother was just a toddler and she was pretty far along with you. She just couldn’t imagine the kind of life you boys would have on the run.”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Spencer said, though she didn’t look at him.

Tommy winced. “Spence, I know you don’t want to hear it now, but I did what I had to keep you safe. Please understand that.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to hear it.” She ripped open a package of antibiotic ointment, her back still stubbornly turned on her father.

“So you took off and left her behind with two kids and no one to provide for her,” I said, still trying to piece together my own story.

“I wasn’t going to leave without her, but Maggie wouldn’t let me stay. She knew there’d be trouble after what happened to your dad. She told me about the ledger Michael kept, that it would give me a little cover in case he came after me.”

“It was her idea to take the book?” I couldn’t believe it. Why hadn’t she told me about all this before I left?

“It was. I wouldn’t even have known about it if she hadn’t told me.” Tommy pushed a hand through his hair. “You don’t know how many times I thought about going back for her, but I’m not sure she ever really forgave me for what happened.”

“She’s forgiven you,” I said after considering it for a second. “She didn’t want me to come up here. Tried to talk Pop out of sending anyone after you.”

Tommy almost smiled then. “Anyway, I’ll go make the call.”

I nodded my thanks. He paused in the kitchen doorway for a second and watched his daughter smooth a glob of antibiotic ointment over the gash in my arm. A pained expression twisted his features, but they soon fell into lines of resignation. He left Spencer and I alone without renewing his pleas for her forgiveness.

I closed my eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh through my nose. I concentrated on the feeling of her cool fingers moving across my skin. When she finally broke the silence, the sound of her voice made me jump.

“You and my dad were the most important people in my life, and I didn’t know either one of you.” It was a statement of fact, without any trace of the sadness I would have expected to hear.

“I know, Spence.” I opened my eyes again to watch her, though she refused to look at me just as stubbornly as she had Tommy. “But your dad really did think he was protecting you. As far as I can tell, the only thing he’s been worried about since you were born was keeping you from getting mixed up in all this.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t work out so well, did it?” She slapped a piece of gauze over my wound, sending a sharp current of pain down my arm and up through my shoulder. I sucked air between my teeth but didn’t even think about asking her to be gentler.

“I’m sorry, Spencer. I could say it a thousand more times and it wouldn’t make up for what I’ve done, but it’s the truth. I know you’ll probably never forgive me, but—”

“Probably not.”

The corner of my mouth lifted in spite of my throbbing arm or the raw guilt I felt. “Always straight to the point, huh?”

“I couldn’t get anyone on the phone.” Tommy came back into the kitchen, a cell phone pressed to his ear. “I’ve called three times, but it just rings. Is this the right number?” He crossed the kitchen and handed a scrap of paper to me. The number for the trailer’s landline was scrawled across it, and I wondered vaguely how Tommy had it and if he’d ever used it before today.

But for now I was too concerned with getting ahold of Maggie or Jimmy Boy to ask. “Let me try my brother.” I pulled the cell phone from my pocket and dialed the number for the emergency phone he’d promised to keep on him at all times. It rang once, twice, three times. Nothing. After the fifth ring, a prerecorded voice told me the caller I was trying to reach was unavailable. I hung up and tried the number again. When I got the same message, I set the phone down and looked at Tommy.

“Something’s not right. Jimmy would’ve answered the phone if he could, and Maggie’s never far from the trailer. There’s no good reason we can’t get ahold of them.”

Tommy grunted. “Then I’m guessing there’s a pretty bad reason why not.”

“This has to have something to do with Judd,” I said. I was starting to panic, but I had to keep my head straight if I was going to figure out what to do next. “I have to go back to help them.”

“And what do you think that’ll accomplish? You just strolling back into the Village on your own.”

“I’ll figure something out on the way, but I’m not just going to sit here and do nothing,” I said, getting to my feet. Spencer stared up at me, still in her chair at the table.

“I’m not suggesting you do nothing, but you can’t go alone either. I’ll have to come with you. We can get there faster in my car than you can on a bus anyway.”

I blinked at him. Why would he agree to go back to the Village, especially now that there was nothing to keep Pop from finishing the job he’d sent Judd up here to do?

“It’s my family. You may have been close with Maggie twenty years ago, but that’s a pretty tenuous reason to get yourself killed now.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t understand yet, but we don’t have time to waste explaining them. Anyway, the Village is probably the safest place for me right now. Michael may be bold enough to send his son here to kill me, but he’s not going to risk exposing the whole clan by having me murdered on his doorstep. Keep the dirt far away from home. Rule number one.”

He had a point. No matter how angry Pop was with Tommy, he was still a reasonable man, and he wasn’t going to risk everything he had in the name of revenge. At least, not unless it was hundreds of miles from home.

“Fine then. We’ll go together. When can you be ready to go?”

“I’m ready now,” he said.

“Give me ten minutes,” Spencer said, pushing back her chair and closing the lid on the first aid kit. “I just need to grab a few things.”

Tommy and I both stared at her. “Spence, you can’t come,” I said.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re staying here,” Tommy said.

Spencer’s gaze swiveled from me to him and back. “If you two think I’m going to sit at home and wait to find out whether you’re alive or dead, then you’re crazy.”

“It’s not safe,” I said, trying to make her understand. “I love you too much to put you in danger again. You’ve been through enough.”

“Exactly! I’ve already been kidnapped and held at gunpoint. I even had the pleasure of bandaging my boyfriend’s gunshot wound. And you think I’m better off staying here alone?”

The corner of my mouth turned up. “Boyfriend?”

“That’s what you got from that?” She tried to sound annoyed, but there was a slight twitch in her lips, too.

“I think she’s right, Tommy,” I said, but my eyes never left hers. “She’s safer with us, and more than that, she deserves to go. This involves her just as much as it does either one of us.”

Tommy growled in frustration and shoved a hand through his hair again. “Shay, this isn’t—”

“What did you call him?” Spencer narrowed her eyes at her father.

I winced, though this time it had nothing to do with my arm. Funny how the first lie I told her would be the last I’d come clean about. “He called me Shay.”

The narrowed eyes turned on me. “What?”

“My name isn’t Shane Casey.” I fought the urge to drop my head in a display of the shame I felt. “It’s Shay. Reilly.”

Tommy cleared his throat. “I’ll give you two a minute, but if we’re going, we need to go soon.” He left us alone in the kitchen for a second time, but neither of us noticed much.

“Shay Reilly,” she repeated after he’d gone. She stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “I’m Spencer Costello,” she said, offering her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I took her hand in mine and couldn’t stop myself from pulling her into my arms and crushing her against my chest. I kissed her, not caring if she’d pull away or punch me or jam her knee into my groin. It was worth the risk. And it was a hundred times more worth it when she kissed me back, even if hesitantly.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I said against her mouth.

Spencer leaned back to look me in the eye. “This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven, you know.”

“I know.”

“I mean, you saved my life and my dad’s, and that’s not nothing. But really, I don’t even know who you are.”

“I know,” I said again and kissed the tip of her nose. “But we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other on the way to Louisiana.”

Acknowledgements

We couldn’t have finished this book without the love and support of our families, so the first very big thank you goes to Max Ernst, Darleen Zimmerman, David Pincus, Cecile Bruhn, and Steve, James, Rhys, Alisha, and Violet Bruhn. We love you all so much!

For being with us from the very beginning (and offering some very helpful feedback on an earlier draft) we’d like to thank Kristyn DiDominick, Angelo Boccia Cedeño, and Dustin Moore. Thanks to Adam Bricker for inspiring one of the first lines ever written in The Long Game, and for always being a character in his own right. For always being supportive of our writing and just being inspirational, strong women, thanks to Amie Knauer, Meghan Saweikis, and Fiona Shirk. For being super supportive while also offering that little kick in the ass a writer sometimes needs to stay focused (and for making the “day job” just as much fun as time off), thanks to Amy Yoder McGloughlin and Michael Brix.

We absolutely have to thank Agent Pooja Menon of Kimberley Cameron and Associates who gave us so much encouragement, advice, and support along the way, all while being one of the coolest agents in the business. To Kristen and Jolene at Pen & Muses, the friendliest and most helpful publicists we could have asked for, and Rebecca A. Weston, the most thorough copy editor. To all the wonderful, talented, amazing, and hilarious ladies in the WrAHM society--we never would have been able to do this without you. Finding this group has been nothing short of miraculous for us. Thank you to Laurelin Page, Melanie Harlow, Emma Hart, Robin Lucas, Delancey Stewart, and Elizabeth Otto in particular, for going above and beyond in the help and encouragement department and playing a huge role in bringing this book to life. And an extra big thank you to Leigh Ann who had the courage to lead the way and whose talent, intelligence, and hard-work inspired us to make a go at it ourselves. Thanks to New Adult Authors Unite, and the lovely ladies who run it, our Pen Monkeys, and Dawn Pendleton for starting a great fall promo group. To Team Fynn, our biggest, loudest, and best cheerleaders—we love you guys! Thanks to everyone who follows us on Twitter, Facebook, and Tumblr for all their support. A special thanks to Macklemore and Ryan Lewis for producing the soundtrack to our journey. We’re happy to be I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T chasing dreams.

Finally, our sincerest thanks to anyone reading this book—a writer is nothing without a reader, and we’re eternally grateful to you for giving us a reason to do what we do.

Signed (if you’ve gotten this far),

Chelle Bruhn & Katherine Ernst, the writers behind J.L. Fynn

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J.L. Fynn is the public face of the writing collaboration between Katherine Ernst and Chelle Bruhn. Katherine and Chelle have been writing together since they were 14-years-old and are happy to be able to team up professionally after all these years. They both live outside of Philadelphia, PA and look forward to years of fruitful work together.

Find out more at

www.jlfynn.com

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Content

THE LONG GAME
American Gypsy 1
by
J. L. Fynn

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Acknowledgements

ABOUT THE AUTHOR