Page 67 of A Very Un-Shakespeare Romance
When they reached the women’s patio, Robbie spotted Summer resting her elbows on the kitchen island, wearing a white yoga outfit, her face tense and pale. Clarice was sitting on a barstool, also in yoga attire, also looking tense. Tim knocked on the patio door, and when Summer rose and waved them in, he slicked open the door.
“I hear someone got stung by a jellyfish, Clarice.” Robbie winced. “Having experienced a sting before, I sympathize. Let’s get you upstairs. Then I need to talk to Summer.”
“Actually, I need to talk to you too,” Summer said, coming around the island with a smile on her face.
Except that smile was a little tight, and suddenly his stomach was tensing in response. “Ah…if you’re a little upset about how things ended—”
“Not at all.” She came and stood in front of him, and he caught her shallow intake of breath. “Actually, Robbie, I have a question for you.”
He glanced over at Tim and Clarice, wondering whether they should find a private place to talk. But her green eyes were locked on him, and she didn’t seem bothered by the audience. “Shoot.”
Clarice puffed out a laugh; Summer slid her a look before returning her focus to him. “First question. Do you trust me?”
Shock landed first, and then he was narrowing his eyes. “Yes, mostly. We haven’t known each other long…”
“No, I suppose not.” She laid her hand on his forearm, igniting a fire on the bare skin below his T-shirt. “Well, I’m telling you that you can trust me all the way, and I’m asking you to believe that.”
His brows slammed together. “Okay, this is getting a little weird. What’s going on here?”
“She’s not planning on tying you up and hauling you off to Vegas to get hitched, so don’t worry,” Clarice answered with an evil grin.
“Haha.” Oddly, his stomach didn’t flip-flop at the thought of her dressed up in a casual white dress as they stood before a preacher in Sin City. “Very funny, Clarice. You know, you certainly aren’t acting like someone who got stung by a jellyfish.” He eyed the group staring at him, knowing when he was being cornered. “So what’s all this trust talk about?”
Summer reached into her purse and pulled out something that looked like a black wallet before flipping it open. The wordsFBIscreamed at him. The gold badge and identification photo slapped him in the face. “No, you can’t be…”
“I am,” she said softly, guilt lighting her face as she set her ID down on the counter. “Lily Meadows out of the Boston office. This is Sheila Morales, my partner. And we’re here to help you with Tara’s problems.”
He watched her lips say the words, and all he could think over the rage boiling in his blood was that he’d kissed those lips and told her he didn’t want their time together to end. That he’d fallen for her. “Well, fuck you! You’ve been undercover this whole time? How dare you not tell me. We are so done here.”
Turning on his heel to leave, he was shocked to see Tim standing in front of his exit, arms clenched across his chest. “I know you’re mad, Robbie. I was a little too. But they’re here to help, and honestly, bro, don’t you feel better knowing you had two law enforcement officers looking out for the girls all the time along with us?”
He got in his brother’s face. “No, I fucking don’t, Tim. Get out of my way.”
“No,” he answered sternly, even as his Adam’s apple shifted in his throat. “You need to listen to them. Come on, Robbie. Lily didn’t like lying to you any more than you did her. You both have feelings for each other. Now, set it aside and open your ears.”
He could not believe his baby brother was challenging him. “You don’t tell me what to do. Move, Tim, or Iwillmove you.”
“Robbie, please don’t walk out,” Summer—Lily—pleaded. “I went against my boss for a plan that doesn’t involve bringing Tara in officially.”
Spinning around, he realized his heart was pounding against his ribs. “You are not fucking bringing her into the FBI. Over my dead body.”
Clarice—God, what was her real name?—gave a giant sigh. “The Kellys would love it if we were all dead, don’t you think? That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Now take a moment and work it out. You’re a good police officer. You know what’s at stake here.”
He glared at her before Summer—dammit, Lily—stepped into his vision. “We both know how things work when this much mob money is involved, Robbie,” she said calmly. “Stop and think for a minute over this shock. It’s why you gave Roland Thomas in Internal Affairs the cash in the toy store parking lot outside Boston after you picked up the girls from the Beacon Hill gym.”
Boils might as well have covered his skin for how enraged he was. “You’ve been watching me this whole time? How long have you been on this case? When—”
“My CI told me Janice Brewster was bragging about the Kellys paying for her new fur coat.”
“Jesus Christ,” he said, running his hand over his neck.
“Janice said her boyfriend, Scotty Flanagan, was on their payroll and going places in the organization. Two days later, Tara found out her ex was cheating. At the time, we weren’t sure whether she was involved in the money laundering. Then we watched her haul a rather heavy bag out of the nail salon. You know what’s next. We started to surveil and caught the Kellys slashing her tires—”
“You didn’t protect her!” He cursed, clenching his fists as he stared her down. “Her kids were in that house.”
“We were prepared to step in if it got uglier,” Lily told him, her brow knitting. “Take a minute and let that sink in. The cops have the same MO.”
He spun away, his jaw popping. The cop in him was warring with the cousin, the one who hated knowing Tara had been so terrified out of her skin she’d run and sent her girls away. To him.
