Mostly, it would be horrible because Flynn wouldn’t be in her life anymore.
After a light chuckle, Sierra said, “All I know about the marshals I learned from watching The Fugitive and The Untouchables.”
“Even bald and at sixty, Sean Connery was smoking hot in that movie.” Delany fanned herself and fluttered her lashes.
Sierra dug the toe of her sneaker into the tiny gap between the planks of the porch. “I came forward because a friend calledme brave. He sees me quite differently than I see myself. I decided it was time for me to become the person he thinks I am.The person who could deserve a man as strong and caring and sweet as—”
Her voice trailed off. Because she needed to gulp back the tears already thickening her throat. The ones running down hercheeks were a lost cause.
She loved Flynn. Despite the lies. Despite how after he knew about her horrible mix-up with the criminal element, Flynn hadcontinued to lie to her. To hide so many things about himself. Especially what he had to know was the most important—thathe’d broken the law, too.
The marshal rubbed a small circle on Sierra’s back. Tentatively. Like you’d pat a hissing cat you were worried might horkup a furball in your face. Touchy-feely clearly wasn’t her jam.
“Are you okay? Do you need to take a break from the hard stuff and talk about something else?”
“The only other thing I want to talk about is ten times as hard.” She sniffed. Twice. Then worried that her mascara was streakingdown her cheeks. Talk about a look even less serious than dotted sneakers.
“I’m a good listener,” Delaney offered. “Not as a marshal—just as a friend. Because it seems like you need one right now.”
That’s when it hit her. She could talk to the marshal. It’d be like confessing to a priest. Sort of. Delaney was required by law to keep her secrets, and wouldimmediately be leaving town anyway.
Sierra hitched herself up to sit on the railing. Let her feet dangle. “I’m attracted to a man who is all wrong for me.”
Delaney sat on the corner opposite her. And gave an exaggerated wince. “Ah, the classic bad boy. Those are hard to resist.”
“I fell for him thinking he was a moody, quiet bad boy. But now I think he might be actually bad. Reformed, but without any guarantee it’ll stick. Especially because he just hurt me pretty badly. As I’m sure you guessfrom the whole Rick story, I’ve got some baggage. Scars on my heart. Why should I metaphorically open my shirt, hand overa knife, and give this guy a chance to stab me some more?”
Yup. That rant about summed it up. Sierra was just plain scared.
Delaney’s nose crinkled. Her mouth twitched to the side as if she was deciding between two responses and had no idea whichone to spit out. She rubbed at the thin bracelet on her left wrist. A silver key and a heart-shaped lock dangled from it.“Can I tell you something? A little nugget of wisdom I’ve gleaned not just from dating, but from the complicated work lifeI’ve got going?”
Oh, thank goodness. Because she really and truly had no idea what to do about Flynn. Flynn-the-freaking-ex-mobster. Except,Sierra reminded herself, that wasn’t Flynn. Flynn was the man who opened the door for her and gave her foot rubs. The ex-mobsterwas someone else. Someone she didn’t know.
The real questions was whether or not Flynn saw himself as two different people. The old bad guy, and the new-and-improvedgood guy. Should it make a difference that he’d sort of fallen into it? That he’d balanced on the legal side of the fence—albeitwhile knowing full well what was going on with the rest of his organization?
Didn’t knowing about the criminal activities and yet not reporting them make him complicit?
On the other hand . . . she’d never picked up the phone and reported Rick or Wayne to the police. She’d skipped that obligationout of pure selfishness, to keep herself safe. Flynn had the added responsibility of keeping his secret to keep Kellan safe.
So no, Sierra didn’t have a leg to stand on in the Self-Righteously Aggrieved Territory. It just left her as Empress of Cowardlyand Petrified Land.
A growing headache throbbed behind her right eye. “Of course. I’ll take any advice you want to toss my way. I’ll even payyou for it, with a sketch, if you want.”
“Thanks, but this’ll be free. I’m not supposed to accept presents from witnesses.” A tiny smile lifted the corners of Delaney’slips as she played with the intricate key. “Bad boys aren’t always as bad as they seem on the outside. In fact, they can bepretty darned wonderful on the inside.”
Sierra recognized that type of smile. The googly eyes. The unfocused gaze. It was an over-the-moon-for-a-guy smile. Clearlythis so-called advice was colored by a serious case of lust. No wonder it was weak. “That’s not advice. Advice is a black-and-whiteline between the right choice and the wrong one.”
Delaney steepled her hands in front of her nose. Sucked in a long, deep breath. Then, as if imparting the secret of the universe,she said in a near-whisper, “Life isn’t black-and-white.”
Seriously? What was next—a marine biologist stopping by to tell them that water wasn’t wet?
“That’s an odd thing for a law enforcement official to say.”
Her hands dropped back to her sides. Her face fell, too. “Trust me—I’m getting slapped with the confusing dichotomy of thatwith growing regularity. It’s very difficult to balance your heart—and your hormones—against what you think is right.”
“Adulting is so darned hard.” Sierra wrapped her arm around the post and leaned against it. Wishing it was Flynn. How pathetic was it when even a splinterysupport for the roof made her miss him? “I don’t know what to think. All I’m doing is feeling. And all I’m feeling is miserable.”
“When you’re with your bad boy who’s all wrong for you?”
Sticking out her tongue, Sierra replied, “No. I’m miserable because I broke up with him.”
“Would you feel better if he
