Five weeks until the wedding.
I slam back the last of my Guinness and signal for the bartender to bring me another. The Rowdy Mule is crowded for a Thursday night, probably because some wannabe Irish band is playing crappy folk music.
Cassidy plops down beside me at the bar and leans over to give me a tight hug. “When the heck did you get here?”
“About a half hour ago.” She’s late, like always, but I don’t hold it against her. Cass is my cousin and my best friend. She’s cute as a bumblebee and has her head in the damn clouds, but I love her to death.
“You look super cute right now. Where did you get that shirt?”
I pluck at the big, oversized collar and shrug a little. “Just found it in some thrift shop.”
Which isn’t remotely true. Every time I adjust the fabric slightly, I get another whiff of its smell. I can’t bring myself to wash it, even two weeks since I first stole it from my future husband’s house.
Now I’ve got it on with some tights, similar to how I wore it for him, but with a cute belt like a big old dress.
It works. Mostly. Enough, anyway.
“Yet again you manage to make the impossible possible.” Cass orders a gin and tonic when my second beer arrives. We talk about family gossip, mutual friends, and how college is going for her. I smile and nod along, doing my best to be happy for her, while inwardly I’m burning with jealousy.
I wanted school. I applied and got accepted to six different universities, but my father made it clear that I wasn’t going anywhere. Even though I was getting recruited for gymnastics and I probably wasn’t going to have to pay much, if anything, in tuition. Your place is with your family, he’d said to me when I showed him my letter from Notre Dame. Not a smile, not a hug, no proud high-five, nothing. Just his usual glare and stern frown.
That was four years ago, and I’ve never gotten over it.
Cass is lucky, though. She’s a couple of years younger than me, and her parents are a little more permissive. She has to live in their house, but at least she gets to attend UBalt and get a degree.
While all I’ve done since graduating high school is learn how to pick a lock and jam open a window.
Finally, after finishing her first drink, she leans in close and gives me a sly smile. “So, I’ve been dying to ask—”
“And now you’re drunk enough to do it?”
She grins, bobbing her head up and down. “How are you feeling about the upcoming wedding?”
Nerves jangle in my stomach like pennies rattling around my guts. I touch the shirt and smooth it down, trying not to think about the smell of his room, that cold glass eye watching me as I stroked myself into orgasm, that incredible low voice talking to me the whole time. Calling me a slut, making me beg.
He left a mark on me, and I still haven’t even met him.
“I’m resigned,” I say, glaring down at my beer. I take a foamy sip and spin the glass in slow circles. “It’s important. I get it. But I’m not excited.”
“I know,” she says softly, leaning against my shoulder. “There haven’t been any attacks since the deal went down, though. That’s good, right? You’re like a hero or something.”
I shrug slightly. She’s right, nobody’s gotten hurt, all thanks to my noble sacrifice.
Except I was never given the choice of whether I wanted to be a hero or not.
And deep in my heart of hearts, I wonder if I would’ve had the courage to say yes.
“Want to hear something terrible? I know what’ll happen if I don’t go through with this, but I keep having a fantasy about running away.”
“Where would you go?” she asks.
“Somewhere warm. Probably in the Caribbean? Maybe down to Australia, as far as I can run.”
“Your dad would come looking.”
“Yeah, probably, and I’d be looking over my shoulder all my life, assuming he doesn’t catch me right away. That’s why I haven’t done it.”
She hugs me tightly. “I’m so sorry, Riles. I know this sucks. I wish I could do something to help.”
“It’s fine. Actually, I have an idea.”
“What do you need? Seriously, anything.”
“Help me fake my own death.”
She frowns a bit and squints at me. “I could borrow my dad’s car and make it look like you drove it into the harbor?”
“That’d be perfect. I always thought my death would be dramatic.”
“Should we light it on fire first?”
“Make it explode then drown it. A fitting end.”
“Just imagine how Brenden would feel.”
I glare at her. “Don’t ruin the fantasy by bringing up my brother.”
“Just saying.” She grins back sweetly. “He’d be pretty broken up if his little sister got killed in a car-drowning explosion.”
“Not like he’s here anyway. My big brother’s off on another one of his heists.” I throw back my second beer and gesture for another, even though I probably shouldn’t. Two Guinnesses and I’m fine. But three sometimes ends with trouble.
Four and I’ll find myself in jail.
“How’s that going anyway?” Cass asks, waving for her own drink refill.
“Who knows? He doesn’t communicate dick with me when he’s gone. That asshole shows up out of the blue, teaches me all the new tricks he learned out on his job, and then disappears again for weeks at a time.”
I love my older brother, and everything I know about stealing, pickpocketing, and general thievery comes from him, but he’s not the most reliable sibling in the world.
“Want me to ask around?” she offers, eyebrows raised. “I bet my brother knows something.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m getting married pretty soon. Not even the great Brenden McGrath would dare skip my wedding and risk my wrath.”
“Very good point,” she says with a laugh, and we clink our glasses together.
I can tell she wants to ask me more about the wedding. But the truth is, I loathe talking about it. There’s nothing I can do, no changes I can make, no words I can speak or actions I can take. All I have is waiting until the day I walk down the aisle to pledge myself to a man with a really good voice, an incredible smell, an obsessively neat house, and a high-tech security system.
Instead of going into all that, I quickly ask her about some guy she’s been seeing and swerve the conversation away.
Cass goes on for a few minutes, really warming up to the subject, until she glances over my shoulder and instantly stops talking. Her expression falls, and she leans away from me like I’ve suddenly started vomiting blood all over the place.
“Riles, your dad,” she warns.
I swivel around and spot my old man marching through the crowd with an all-too-familiar black duffel bag clutched in his white-knuckled hands.
“Well, hello there, father of mine,” I say cheerily.
He gives me a hard glare and slams the bag down onto the bar next to me. Without a word, he unzips it and tears it open, showing off a whole bunch of lovely thieving tools: pry bar, lock picks, bump key, glass and bolt cutters, wire splicer, flashlight, gloves, and other worthwhile sundries.
Cass looks horrified. I’m mostly just annoyed.
“I told you to stop,” Dad says with a hard stare.
I’m very aware of the people near us watching carefully. Lucky for me, though, most of them are in the McGrath organization in one way or another, so this probably isn’t the first time they’ve seen me get dressed down in public.
“I know you did, but—”
“No more excuses,” he growls, leaning in close. “You’re getting married to an important man in a few weeks. No more childish games. No more playacting like you’re some street thief like your brother. You’re my goddamn daughter. You went to private school. You won gymnastics competitions. You’re better than this.”
I open my mouth to snap out some sharp retort, but all my thoughts suddenly drain away under the pressure of his disapproval. His jaw works, and he looks truly disgusted in a way that makes my entire body itch. If this were anyone else, I’d sit up tall, insult them to their face, make jokey comments, do anything to deflect and act like I don’t give a shit what they think about me, except I can never keep it up with him. Not with my old man.
The only person in the world who seems determined to think I’m about as useful as gutter slime.
“I’ll get rid of it,” I say, shoulders slumping.
“No, Riley, I will get rid of it, because I don’t trust you worth a damn to do it yourself. Stop fucking up. Get yourself together, girl. You’re embarrassing me.” He zips the duffel shut and slings it over his shoulder before looking at Cass. “And you should be at school.”
“Good to see you again, Mr. McGrath,” Cass says quietly, looking away.
Dad glares at her. Then he turns that deeply disappointed frown on me again. “You are under no circumstances to burgle, pickpocket, or generally steal ever again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Good. Be home in an hour. Don’t embarrass me further by getting into trouble.”
With that, he slings the bag over his shoulder and storms back out.
I lean onto my elbows and stare into my glass. Shame floods my body. My face is bright red, and I’m absolutely mortified. I’ve been yelled at by my father in public before, but that was something else.
Everyone knows about my marriage. They’re aware of what it would mean for the whole family if I mess it up. The war with the Brotherhood will rage on, and more of our young men will end up dead in the streets.
Their blood will be on my hands.
“You okay?” Cass asks gently and rubs my back.
I lift my beer and tip it into my mouth. I drink it all down in several big gulps. Once the glass is empty, I place it primly back down on a coaster and give her my biggest smile.
“Never better. Why do you ask?”
She grins back.
While inwardly I’m mortified and crumbling, aware that I have only a few weeks of meager freedom left.
