Page 13 of Mob Saint

“She can hear you. You’re making yourself look bad and all of us out to be whiney losers.”

He looks over at me, and he’s not angry when our eyes meet for a flash. But he is when he looks over at this woman. I inhale a deep breath before walking over to the bitch pack.

“My husband did not leave me for another woman. My husband died while driving me to the hospital because I was in labor. I did not leave the hospital with a baby.”

They ripped the wound back open. I want to vomit—preferably all over the three of them. I’m struggling not to tremble, and Seamus is by my side. I force another step forward.

“We worked together. That’s how we met. We purposely had the same shifts, knowing anything else would mean we’d never see each other. When we weren’t at work, we were homebodies. My husband never had time to cheat on me. Do not trash his name by saying he was an adulterer. Say whatever the fuck mean girl shit you want to about me and my looks. But say shit about my dead husband, and you and I will have trouble.”

I spin on my heel and march toward the restroom. I know Seamus is following me, but he’s giving me space. I duck inside and lock myself in a stall. I squeeze my eyes shut as I pull my lips in, forcing myself not to cry.

I didn’t lie, but I sure as fuck didn’t paint a truthful picture except for what happened that day. Aaron never laid a hand on me. He knew I’d fight back. But we had the same shifts because he was controlling as fuck. We were homebodies because he wanted all of my attention. I never, ever gave him reason to think I would cheat. I loved him when we got married. We got married because I believed we loved each other.

Our two-and-a-half-year marriage was hell most of the time, but neither of us had anyone else to fuck, so we fucked each other. We wanted a family, so we tried. Fate fucked us. I wanted to divorce him, but that was a death warrant—one he wouldn’t necessarily have signed or followed through with, but one, nonetheless. Fate fucked me.

I’m definitely not going to McGinty’s now. I want to shower and go to bed. It’s bad enough I have to go to Trenton tomorrow. It’s bad enough I’ll get little jabs and barbs about the singularly most heinous thing to happen to me. I had that shit laid bare tonight.

I walk out of the stall and nearly scream when I find Seamus inside, leaning against the door. I take a step back and slam into the stall wall.

“Tiera, I’m just here to make sure you’re left alone. I wanted to be sure you were okay. I’ll wait outside.”

“Stay.” It comes out as barely more than a whisper. He’s protecting me, and I’m not ready to give up that sense of security. It’s been decades since I’ve felt like someone gave a shit about me not being scared. And I don’t mean scared because I used to walk through fire—and not metaphorically. I mean safe from the life outside work.

He takes two steps away from the door, and I drop my bag. Then I’m rushing into his arms. He wraps his around me, and I’m hugging a bear. He’s even bigger and more muscular than I realized. He does nothing but hold me. I listen to his heart as I fight again not to cry. The longer I listen, the calmer I feel. He makes no move to let go or do more. He just holds me. When I release a shuddering breath, he strokes my hair down my back. I want to take the ponytail out since it’s tight enough to give me a headache. But if my hair’s down when I walk out, people really will believe we fucked in here. He rests his cheek on the top of my head as we keep hugging.

Can time just stop now?

“Tiera, I’m so sorry that happened. I want to say I can’t believe they’d talk about you like that, but I’ve known Stella since we were kids. I have a past with her sister, Maureen. Truthfully, all the guys my age in my family do. Stella looked down on her sister for—for her many liaisons while trying to convince all of us to do the same thing with her. She was way too young for us, even once she was in high school, and we were in college. By then, none of us saw Maureen. Anyway, the point is, she’s always had a mean streak. I don’t know the other two women, but neither have struck me as the still waters run deep type.”

“But you are.” I burrow against his chest more.

“Thank you.”

“And I know you apologized because you feel badly that it happened. But don’t apologize for other people being shitty. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t own their fucked-upness.”

I’m not ready for him to hold the outside of my arms as he pushes me away. I want to cling to him.

“I apologized as much for them as for me. I already knew.”

“You ran a background check on me as soon as you saw my name on the witness list. Before you even saw me.”

“Not quite. We didn’t know you were on the witness list until a moment before the prosecutor called you to the stand. Cormac sent Sean a text to have him do it. I knew before the next morning’s session. I don’t know what to say beyond I feel guilty now that I snooped.”

“You didn’t snoop, and I don’t think you would use that information against me. You did what a responsible attorney would. You found out what you could about a surprise witness. Given you’re an O’Rourke, it’s no surprise your family dug deeper. I’m not an O’Brien and never have been, never will be. But my family’s been tied to them since the O’Malleys kicked them out of Boston generations ago. The moment you heard Trenton, you knew I was connected.”

“It still doesn’t feel good to know something so intensely private without you telling me. I regret that.”

“But I don’t believe you’d ever use that against me, Seamus. Never.”

I’m adamant about it. My tone makes him narrow his eyes. He practically pulsates with anger.

“Who has, Tiera?”

“I didn’t say anyone has.”

“You wouldn’t be so emphatic about me not doing it if you hadn’t already experienced someone hurting you. Who?”

“Shay—”

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