Page 69 of Offside Bride

Finally, the guys stand up. The bigger mobster says, “So here’s the deal—you help us get what we want, or…” He lets the threat hang in the air, glancing meaningfully at Maggie.

Something snaps inside me. I step closer to the Italian, using every inch of my hockey player’s bulk to make myself a physical threat, even though I’m outnumbered.

“If you so much as BREATHE in her direction,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous, “I’ll break your spine.”

The Italian’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oooh tough guy, huh?”

Muscles tensed, I’m ready to throw down if these goons make a wrong move. But instead of swinging, the big guy’s face breaks into a grin.

“I like that.Devo ammetterlo, ragazzo, hai le palle,” he chuckles, slapping me on the shoulder.

I shrug his meaty hand off me.

“You’ve got two weeks,” he says, all business now. “If we don’t get what we came for, your old man’s gonna have a big problem. And trust me, so will you.”

The skinny one straightens his jacket and says, “In the meantime, we’ll just take some collateral.” He whistles, and I realize with horror he’s eyeing Otto.

Before I can react, he’s across the room, opening the cage door. Otto, bless his feathered heart, squawks indignantly, making farting noises, “Did you poop? Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do?”

Maggie finally finds her voice, horror etched on her face. “What are you doing? You can’t take my bird!”

The skinny guy just chuckles, spotting Otto’s travel cage in the corner. As he stuffs him inside, he says, “Relax. You’ll get him back once we get what we’re owed.”

Maggie loses it. “Don’t you dare hurt my bird!” she screams, lunging forward. I barely manage to catch her, holding her back as she thrashes against me.

“Two weeks,” Nose Job reminds us as they head for the door. “Get us our stuff, or we find out if parrots can swim.”

As they leave, Otto’s voice echoes back to us. “Who let the birds out chirp chirp chirp.”

I pull Maggie into my arms, feeling her tremble against me. “I promise you, I’m going to fix this. And we’re getting Otto back.”

“They just…showed up,” Maggie says, her voice a little shaky. “I didn’t know what to do…so I made them sandwiches.”

“It’s okay,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “You did great. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

She pulls back, her eyes narrowing on me. “Your dad’s the Irish Mob Kingpin? I need you to tell me what the hell is going on, Sawyer, or so help me.”

“We were married for better or worse. I couldn’t have done better and she couldn’t have done worse.”

— HENNY YOUNGMAN

22

MAGGIE

Ifeel like I’ve stumbled into some bizarre movie plot, except this is real life. My life.

“So, let me get this straight,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “You knew your dad was mixed up with the mob, but you thought he was just…what? Their accountant?”

Sawyer takes a deep breath. “Yeah, something like that. Like a CPA to the Mob, you know? I had no idea he was…a Crime Lord.”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” I say, imagining a timid pencil pusher with a receding hairline. Of course, I don’t know what Brian O’Malley looks like. That’s just what I picture in my imagination.

“One thing I did know,” Sawyer says, his voice tender now, “was how I could never have a normal life. I knew I could never have a wife and kids and feel like they were safe. Ever.”

He pauses, and I can see the pain in his eyes. “That was the real reason I didn’t want to marry you, Maggie. That was why I walked out on you at Owen and Emily’s wedding during our…you know. Because you did something to my heart that day—like I knew you were The One…and it scared the crap out of me.”

Well, crap.

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