Page 100 of Guilty as Sin

Chapter 48

Cora

When it’s time for me to return to work, I do. When it’s time for me to brush my teeth, when it’s time for me to eat, sleep, wake up, shower, I do. Connor makes sure of it.

Jennifer and Lucy know right away that something’s wrong. I’m a zombie, my eyes hollow and my voice empty. I go with the lie that the O’Sullivans concocted for the public—there was an explosion at the high-rise, caused by a gas leak. I was there when it happened, and I’ve been so shaken up by it that I moved back here.

“Is your husband okay?” Lucy asks. It’s just the three of us in our clinic’s break room, downing our coffees before the morning’s patients arrive. I take a large gulp of the too-hot bitterness. I need to feel the pain in my esophagus, anything to distract me from the pain of thinking about Brady.

“He’s fine,” I say. “He wanted us to stay at the high-rise, but I wanted to move back here.” I take a deep breath, and continue telling the truth. “So we had a bit of a fight, and now I’m here.”

“Marriage isn’t something to force,” Jennifer says, quoting me. I’d expected her to be smug about the failure of my hasty marriage, but she sounds morose, sympathetic as she wraps me in a big hug.

Lucy throws her arms around both of us, and I sag with relief to be surrounded by my friends. Real friends, now that they know who I really am.

When Connor stops by the clinic to bring me lunch, both Lucy and Jen perk up. I’m reminded that Lucy called him hot when she saw the photo of him being released from Cook County. Apart from the new scar through his left eyebrow, he’s back to looking like his normal self. And yet, I don’t think it’s his appearance that’s causing the real stir.

It’s who he is. Connor Muloney, only son of Cormac Muloney, head of the Boston Muloney crime family, as Lucy had read aloud from the article.

“We left that life behind,” I tell her when she finally brings it up after Connor leaves. “He and I both did. I’m not even a Muloney anymore.”

But I am a Muloney. All it took was the unleashing of my violence for me to realize that. I’m mafia at heart, and being raised as a Muloney shaped me into who I am today, vengeful and power-hungry and oh so deadly.

Stab. And slash.

Returning to my civilian life as an ophthalmologist carries no such thrills for me. Buried beneath the mountain of my catch-up paperwork and admin tasks, I’m reminded how boring it can be, this career I worked so hard for.

I’m good at it, but I’m also good at the criminal life. Gathering intel, driving a getaway car, intimidating a drug dealer—I thrived as an asset. I enjoyed it.

Now, even seeing patients feels unfulfilling. I can’t afford to indulge regret about leaving that life behind, no matter how much the emptiness hurts. But diagnosing glaucoma is nothing compared to the rush of stitching up a stab wound.

Brady’s warm skin beneath my fingers. His erratic pulse beneath my palm. His hard co⁠—

The number of times per hour I have to stop myself from thinking about him is pathetic. It doesn’t help when his world literally collides with mine.

Late one morning, Brioni breezes into the clinic. Before I can say anything, the gorgeous blonde slams me into a hug.

“I’ve missed you,” she says, surprising me. “I’ve missed your energy at the pub.”

“Um. Okay.” I’m not sure how else to respond.

When I introduce her to Jennifer and Lucy, Brioni greets both of them with hugs as well. Unseen by Brioni, Lucy raises her eyebrows at me in a silent question. All I can do is shrug. Brioni’s friendly, that’s all. If she weren’t so damn genuine, I’d suspect that her visit was some ploy by the O’Sullivans. But she is genuine, and her kindness is a weapon. She pierces me through when she suggests the four of us go out for drinks later.

It’s strange, my worlds colliding. And of course Brioni gets along well with Jen and Lucy when we meet up with her. I still ache with the reminder of Brady that Brioni inevitably is. She’s like a sister to him, after all. Irrationally, I find myself missing the O’Sullivan family dynamics, even Finn’s teasing. I’d finally felt like I belonged to a clan. Despite initially hating them and all they stood for, they were my people.

Brioni doesn’t mention any of the O’Sullivans. I get the sense that she’s following my lead, and so we talk about everything but the people I so inexplicably miss.

For the most part I just sit and listen, too drained to contribute to the conversation. The other three discuss secondhand stores and the White Sox and bodice rippers, and round out the night with plans to go thrifting in Chinatown followed by cocktails at a tiki bar. They’re making sure I get out of the house.

The more time I spend with my three friends, the duller my pain of missing Brady becomes.

What makes it stab me again, sharper each time, is catching sight of the guard that he’s assigned to me. My husband still cares about my safety. Each guard is discreet when I’m out and about, but whenever I’m in the apartment, I can see them at their post directly through the back window.

One evening after a takeout dinner with Connor, I recognize Pete when I peer out to check, his dark windbreaker blending him into the shadows. My decision takes less than a second. I grab our extra container of egg rolls, the ones that were supposed to be leftovers, and I pull on my shoes.

“Stay here,” I tell Connor. He mutes the TV, suddenly concerned.

“Where are you going?”