Got it Bad Read online

  Dedication

  For my husband, who may have secretly pined for months

  just like Kellan before finally asking me out…

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  By Christi Barth

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  Northwestern University Law School, Chicago

  November 1, 2:30 p.m.

  Kieran Mullaney pushed through the double glass doors of the Northwestern University Law School and sucked in a deep breath. Other people might think he was nuts, what with the exhaust fumes, pollution, general downtown stink of Chicago in the air. But Kieran only smelled freedom.

  No more notes on his iPad. No more trying to hide his side-eye when that douche canoe Pietro cut off every woman in the class when they tried to answer.

  Law school didn’t suck. It was sometimes interesting. It just wasn’t fun. Or rewarding. Or, you know, not even his choice. Not that he’d get pissy about that now. Nope, Kieran planned to celebrate his freedom, for the next few hours at least, by finding someone sexy and sassy and talking her into a drink. No talk about tort law. No case law. No law, period.

  Flirting. That’s what was on the docket. Kieran didn’t need his four years of undergrad or three years of law school when it came to his mastery of romancing the fairer sex. He’d been charming women out of their tops, bottoms, and everything underneath since . . . well, since long before his brothers actually thought he’d lost his virginity.

  He looked down Superior Street for a hot prospect. Pretty much any woman that he didn’t recognize from law school would do. Kieran almost jolted when his gaze connected with two blue eyes staring right at him. Very blue, long-lashed, and with a single, I’m interested raised eyebrow.

  “Oh, hey there,” the woman said and then she added an upward, flirty-as-hell tilt to her mouth that sealed the deal. She had noticed him.

  This was a million times better than trying to stay awake in Criminal Procedures class. Plus, she was unexpected. Kieran fucking loved surprises.

  “Hi yourself, beautiful. Are you hanging around the law school because you need a lawyer? Or because smart men with enormous earning potential turn you on? Either way, I’m your man.”

  Her smile flipped downward into a disapproving smirk. “Wow. Has that line ever worked? I mean, ever? There’s four huge problems with the four sentences you just smarmed at me.”

  Kieran was equal parts pissed that she’d called him out on his lazy come-on . . . and intrigued that she’d called him out on his lazy come-on. “Smarmed isn’t a word.”

  “Didn’t you hear? You can make anything a verb these days. The grammar police officially gave up when squeed got added to the OED.”

  Surprise Girl was definitely around his age. Definitely his type, what with the sass and the smarts.

  Definitely hot, with those wide, pink-glossed lips that begged to be kissed and thick blond hair that fell just below her shoulders. Kieran really wanted to slide his fingers through it, tug just hard enough so that her head tilted back and he could skim his lips along her throat. And he’d glimpsed one hell of a body wrapped up in a cream sweater and jeans before locking his eyes respectfully above her chin. Oh, and those knee-high brown leather boots that were the best god-damned thing about autumn in the Midwest.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “So what are your official complaints with what I said?”

  A super slo-mo blink indicated that she’d expected an apology, and been surprised by his challenge. Then she shoved up the sleeves of her sweater with a determined squint. Game on.

  “You can’t assume I’m ‘hanging around’ the law school. I just saw you come out the door, which means you have zero knowledge of where I’m coming from or going. And I just came from a walk on the lakeside trail, so in fact, you’re wrong.”

  Feisty was more fun than overtly flirty in Kieran’s book. He shrugged, just to egg her on. “Okay, that’s one.”

  She tossed her head. The motion sent her hair rippling in the late-afternoon sunlight. Exactly the way it’d ripple if Kieran flipped her on top of him in a bed. It was also the classic hair toss he’d seen a thousand times from women trying to get his attention. “If I did need a lawyer, I’d go find an actual lawyer. Not some student who may or may not pass the bar exam on the fifth try.”

  He held up two fingers, spread in a wide V. “Two.” Kieran barely bit back a snort. No way would he be one of those idiots who didn’t prep enough to pass on the first try.

  “As for that presumed earning potential?” She patted the bulge of her fat, pumpkin-colored purse. Geez, that thing was big enough to hold a gun. Most women he knew stuck a credit card in their iPhone case and called it a day. What could she be lugging around in there?

  Kieran widened his stance and tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. Arguing with the pretty stranger was a hell of a lot more fun than arguing in mock trials. “It’s a well-known fact that even the dumbest lawyer can pull in the big bucks. Why do you think so many people suffer through three years of law school hell?”

  A smile slipped past her guard faster than a meteor streaking across the sky. Surprise Girl was enjoying this argument as much as he was. Looking up at him from beneath half-lidded eyes—another top-level flirt move—she asked, “What if you become a public defender?”

  “If I planned to be poor and principled, I’d be a teacher already.”

  A motorcycle missing its muffler roared by, and the sharp blast it made whipped her head around as fast as if she’d thought it was a sniper. Guess in today’s world you couldn’t be too careful. Just as fast, she zipped her attention back to Kieran. “Or you took out loans for all seven years of college and won’t actually turn a profit on your super fun eighty-hour work weeks until you’re pushing forty?”

  “Three.” He conceded her point with a nod. And wiped a hand across his mouth to hide his grin.

  Finally, the woman crossed her arms just beneath her breasts, lifting them to his attention. Not like he needed the help, but Kieran appreciated all her subtle physical indications of attraction while she tried to win the argument. “Either way, why assume that you’re the man who can meet my needs? You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Four.” Kieran moved closer. So close that he smelled her perfume. Something fresh, like rain in a forest. Close enough that, yeah, he could see straight down the V of her cleavage to a thank you, God amount of creamy skin surging against the lace edge of her bra. “And now I’ve got an answer for you.”

  She tilted her head up, her chin jutted forward in an ongoing challenge. Which, yeah, exposed even more cleavage. And that couldn’t be an accident. Especially not when she practically purred her next words. “Go on.”

  “Yes, apparently all of that does work—because you’re still standing here arguing with me.” Kieran let his arms swing forward just enough so the backs of his hands brushed
the backs of hers. A jolt—tiny, but visibly noticeable—ran through both of them at the touch. So he did it again. “Arguing invariably leads to kissing.”

  Those pretty pink lips parted. Then they closed again, and she licked them. God, the woman was killing him with this non-flirting flirting. “Is that so?” It came out all husky, the way he imagined her voice sounded at midnight. In the dark. In bed.

  Kieran spread his fingers to interlace, backward, with hers. Just the tips. Just to tease both of them a little. “Well, you have two choices. We could skip right to the kissing. Or we could go for a drink first. Do something old-school like—and I’m just spitballing here—learn each other’s names.”

  “I’m intrigued.” Another toss of her thick blond hair. “Looks like I’ve found an actual gentleman.”

  Not like he’d had a choice. “Believe me when I say I’ve had chivalry literally beaten into me.”

  Her mouth formed a silent O of shock. Then her hands flipped over to lace even tighter, and she squeezed. “Your mom hit you?”

  “Never. Not once,” Kieran said emphatically. “But after she died, my big brothers raised me. At that point, we’d been wrestling and beating each other up for years. It was better to get an atomic wedgie as a reminder to hold the door open for a girl than because Ryan and Frank thought I looked weird at them when passing the ketchup.”

  Her whole face softened. Thick, dark brown lashes batted in double time over those wide blue eyes. “I’m sorry to hear she died.”

  Crap.

  Usually Kieran remembered to keep the whole dead parents thing under wraps. Women tended to focus on it. To abandon all other topics and be the comforter, the soother. Soothing wasn’t sexy, though. If he wanted to share memories, he’d turn to Ryan and Frank. Because those memories weren’t something he casually discussed. Ever.

  “It was a long time ago.” He’d learned to use the technique of deflection on this topic long before officially learning its usefulness in law school. “And wedgies aside, I couldn’t ask for better brothers. They both work like dogs so that I can go to law school and just study, instead of splitting focus with a job or worrying about loans.”

  Something in her eyes flickered. “They sound great.” Another flicker. Like thoughts were racing fast behind them. Kieran didn’t know what that was about. Did mystery woman have brothers? That she missed? Maybe off in the armed forces?

  All he knew was that he wanted to find out.

  “Ryan and Frank are the best guys in the world. I’d lay down my life for them, but they’d move heaven and earth to beat me to it.”

  Flicker number three. “I’m impressed.”

  Uh-oh. Kieran lifted a hand to brush away a stray leaf the November wind had just blown into her hair. “Before I ruin my chances and send you running into my not-nearly-as-hot-as-me brothers’ arms, how about that drink?”

  “You stayed both polite and charming while you stood up to me. That’s a fine line most men can’t balance on.” She stroked a single finger slowly down his sternum. “I think I’d really enjoy going out with you.”

  It was the middle of the afternoon. Luckily, they were in Chicago, so finding an open bar day or night wasn’t exactly a problem. “Let’s walk to Navy Pier. Hit the Tiny Tavern, soak up the view of the lake and the city?” Because Kieran absolutely wanted to keep talking to this fun, feisty woman.

  “How about we drive?” She pointed to a huge black SUV half a block down. The oversized, darkened-window kind that usually alerted you to the presence of movie stars. “I rolled my ankle skidding on some leaves at the entrance to the tunnel under Lakeshore Drive.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be standing on it.” Kieran lifted her into his arms with a fast but smooth swoop. It did not at all suck to have his forearm squeezed between her calf and thigh. And he wouldn’t begin to let himself notice the softness of her breast pressed to his chest.

  Okay, he’d notice, because he wasn’t fucking dead. And this woman snuggled tight against him was the best thing he’d held in a very long time.

  Her arms lifted to wrap around his neck. “Before we go any further, I have to say that meeting you was an unexpected pleasure. Truly, the best part of my day.”

  “Same here.”

  A megawatt smile lit up her face. “I’m Delaney Evans.”

  “Kieran Mullaney.”

  “I guess that makes this an official date. Now that we know each other’s names.”

  “Nope. Not official yet.” Kieran tilted his head to just barely brush her lips with his as he walked. At least, that’s what he’d intended. But she tasted like coconuts and freedom. Kieran slid his tongue along the crease of her lips, and hell if they didn’t part right away. His grip tightened on her, hand splaying wide across her taut stomach.

  “You hang on to me while I get the door open.”

  But then the big door opened to his left. Kieran twisted at the noise, instinctively tucking Delaney a little bit behind him. Then he gaped when he saw his brothers inside.

  “Get in, K.,” Ryan ordered.

  There was someone in the driver’s seat. Delaney slid out of his arms, stepped around him—without any limp—and climbed in to sit next to Frank. Confused as all hell, Kieran followed her, dropping his backpack on the floor. She closed the door. The car merged into traffic, moved down the block, and was on Lakeshore Drive before Kieran could do more than squint in confusion at his brothers as he buckled up.

  “What the hell is this? Where are we going?” Then he twisted around to look, really look at Delaney. The residual softness in her expression from their kiss was gone. She’d added a brown blazer before fastening her seat belt. And now? She’d just pulled a gun out of the side pocket to her seat and tucked it into the back of her pants.

  A gun? A freaking gun? He’d hit on a woman who carried a gun? Yeah, that struck Kieran a little harder than wondering how she knew his brothers. Or why anybody needed a gun in the middle of the afternoon. Which, as a soon-to-be lawyer, was probably a dumb thought. Criminals didn’t punch a time clock. Was she a criminal?

  “Who are you—really?” he demanded.

  “Delaney Evans. U.S. Marshal.”

  No shit? Marshals were way hotter than he’d ever imagined. Kieran was also pretty fucking off-balance if that was his first response to whatever the hell was going on right now.

  “I’m sorry, Kieran.” Ryan shook his head and let his hands dangle off his knees. His oldest brother hadn’t looked that sad and serious since . . . hell, probably since their dad died. “It’s a shitty way to do this, but I can’t think of a good way.”

  “To do what?” Because Kieran was fucking worried at this point.

  “To tell you that we’re in the Chicago mob. Both of us.” Frank pointed back and forth between himself and Ryan. “Or we were, until this morning.”

  No. No fucking way. Kieran shook his head, trying to shake Frank’s words back out of his ears. “That’s one hell of a sick joke.”

  “Notice how we’re not laughing.”

  Yeah, he’d noticed alright. The pair of them matched head to toe. Kieran catalogued the oddness of all of it. Their mussed dark hair—and they both liked to hog the mirror a lot to be ready for any hot women that might cross their paths on a given day. Black jeans and tees, on a weekday when they should at least be sporting ties. Most of all, the hangdog downward tilt to their whole faces. This . . . whatever this was, it was deadly serious.

  He tried to lunge sideways to get to Delaney, but the damned seat belt snapped him back in place. Kieran white-knuckled the armrest as he torqued his body around. “Holy shit, did you arrest my brothers?”

  “No.”

  “Then why—oh.” His brain finally revved past the shock. If what Ryan and Frank alleged was true, there was only one reason there’d be a U.S. Marshal in the car with them. “You fuckers are going into Witness Protection, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. I’m so, so sorry, K.”

  “Cut the apology crap.” He didn�
��t have time for it. Because Kieran had the feeling he was already on borrowed time. That any second Marshal Evans would kick him out of the car and he’d never seen his brothers again. “You’re leaving me? This is you two saying goodbye? Forever?”

  Damned if there wasn’t a lump in his throat. This couldn’t be happening. The Mullaney brothers were tight. Tight in a way that only happened when you lost both your parents before you could shave. He’d never even thought about what life would be like without them.

  “No.” Ryan fought briefly with his seat belt before just reaching over and gripping Kieran’s upper arm. Squeezing it like a python. “We stay together. Always. Keeping the three of us together is the only thing that matters. It’s the reason we’re joining WITSEC.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re ratting on the mob . . . for us?”

  “The head of the mob, Danny McGinty—”

  Delaney cut him off with a buzzer-like noise. “Hey. Remember the ground rules. Kieran doesn’t need details. The less he knows, the better.”

  Ryan’s eyes burned with blue fire he aimed back at the marshal. “He needs to know the name of the man who fucked us over. The man who was behind the death of our parents.”

  Kieran’s suddenly upside-down world did another one-eighty. Nobody had ever said their parents were murdered. What else about the life he thought he knew was a total lie?

  The woman he still—unfuckingbelievable—wanted to kiss gave a sharp nod. “Fair enough. But watch yourself.”

  “McGinty had some deals fall apart. He needed someone to take the rap, do time in prison. He picked Frank to be the fall guy. When he oh-so-generously gave me the heads-up, I decided to take action. No brother of mine would rot behind bars for something he didn’t do.”

  The repeated honk of the taxi in the lane next to them bought Kieran time to figure out how to ask the obvious question. “You’re a mobster—but you didn’t commit a crime?”

  “Pretty much no. I really do—” Frank grimaced “—did run the construction company you know about. Kept my nose clean. It was the front for the mob, but legit. I sure as hell didn’t do what McGinty wants me to cop to.”