Dedication
To my beloved, darling husband who is the very best man I know.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
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
A Letter from the Editor
Acknowledgments
Announcement to Got It Bad
An Excerpt from Got It Bad—Chapter One
About the Author
By Christi Barth
Copyright
About the Publisher
Prologue
Seven Months Earlier
Graceland Cemetery, Chicago
11:30 p.m., October 31
“This is nice.” Frank Mullaney’s brother nudged him, flashing a grin from behind the enormous fake white beard. “We haven’tcelebrated a Halloween together in years.”
Yeah. His brother Ryan had lost his mind, no doubt about it. His brother, who happened to be currently dressed like SantaClaus. On freaking Halloween.
Not that it was any better than his own off-season costume. Frank had flat-out refused—at first—when Ryan laid the leprechauncostume across his bed. Until he pointed out the two best points of the costume. A big red beard and hat that would totallydisguise Frank’s features, and a fake pot of gold. Aka something that wouldn’t look weird for him to be carrying, just like the bag good old Santa had draped over his shoulder.
Since it turned out that just under two million in cash couldn’t be stuffed in your pockets.
Especially not when traipsing through a cemetery. On Halloween. At almost midnight, surrounded by drunken, screaming peopleon ghost tours.
“That’s probably because we’re grown-ass men. Trick-or-treating would be weird at our age.” The thought of candy made Frankremember that he’d skipped lunch. And dinner. Because Ryan showed up at his front door with costumes and this crazy plan.“Although I wouldn’t say no if you pulled a Snickers out of your pocket and tossed it my way.”
Ignoring him, Ryan continued, his voice a little softer. “We haven’t celebrated Halloween since Mom died.”
Way to bring the mood back to serious-as-fuck. Grim enough to match the gravestones they were skirting. “You mean since shewas murdered.” Because Ryan had just shared that little bombshell with him. It was still rattling around in his head like a pinball. Godknew it hadn’t sunk in yet.
Ryan stopped at the edge of a replica of a Greek temple. He dropped his sack onto the concrete foundation of the tomb. Fistedhis hands on the red velvet and padding near his waist. “Can we not talk about that right now? One thing at a time. Let’sget through tonight. Through the next couple of weeks. Then, I promise, we’ll sit down and hash everything out.”
Classic Ryan. Solving problems. Staying focused on the long game. It was exactly what he did as the right-hand man for theleader of the Chicago mob.
Did . . . past tense. Seeing as how today he and Frank had stolen all of the mob’s cash. And then tomorrow, they’d watch their colleaguesand friends get arrested in a sting—and hopefully the missing money would be attributed to the Feds’ raid. After that, theMullaney brothers would disappear forever, courtesy of the U.S. Marshals Service.
Frank shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The frostbitten grass made a crunching sound. Probably similar to theone his bones would make if this whole plan failed and the mob ever caught up with them.
“Are you going to talk to Kieran, too?” Because their little brother was out of the loop on all of it. He had no idea thathis big brothers were even in the mob, let alone close to the top. He was balls deep in law school.
Until tomorrow.
Until they ripped that away from him.
Just to save Frank.
How was that fair? God. Frank swallowed so hard he swore he could hear his Adam’s apple scraping against his throat.
Ryan’s blue eyes shifted to the side. Easy enough to see his discomfort at being pinned down, with the whole place lit upwith spotlights and luminarias along the paths and footlights edging the most famous tombs. “You and I will talk first. Thenwe’ll decide, together, how far in to dial Kieran.”
“You think he’ll hate us?”
Ryan’s mouth turned downward into a bitter smirk. “Since it was all my idea to put us into Witness Protection, yeah, I’m surehe’ll hate me. For a while. Pretty sure that you will, too. Once our new reality hits.”
“No way. Not possible.” The only way they’d survived the death of their mom was by banding together as tight as stucco ondrywall. Their dad dying . . . ah, no. Being murdered by McGinty, per the other surprise truth Ryan laid on him today. Their dad’s death had made their bond more unshakeable.Strong enough to get them through their worst days. It made them strong enough to survive anything, as long as the three ofthem were together. He could never, would never hate Ryan.
“I’ll check back in with you in a month, when you’re jonesing for an MMA fight.”
How many more surprises were coming? Frank shook his head. “I can’t fight anymore?” The mixed martial arts training startedas a way to prove that even though he sat behind a desk, he was just as tough as everyone else in McGinty’s organization.Appearances mattered. Respect had to be earned.
Kicking ass in the ring went a long way to making sure people stopped calling him a pencil pusher. But Frank liked it, too.Liked teaching the skills to kids so they could defend themselves. A good fight worked out all his stress. And yeah, he’dcop to getting a thrill from winning the competitions, too.
“Keeping our noses clean is a pretty big requirement in WITSEC. I think an underground fight club wouldn’t go over—” Ryanbroke off. Grabbed Frank by the neck and pulled him down behind the marble tomb.
“What?”
Ryan put his finger to his lips. Then he pointed at another tour group, coming at them from the edge of the lake. This onewas full of shivering women in skimpy versions of superhero costumes, hanging on the arms of already drunk and stumbling men.
Classy. And definitely making enough noise to scare away any ghosts that were stupid enough to hang around. Chicago’s mostfamous cemetery was full of tours on a regular day. On Halloween, it was as jam-packed as Wrigleyville
