Chapter Eleven

 

“Where is my sister?” Hugo demanded as he slammed open the door to Chief Finn’s office. “I swear, if this is a—”

“Hugo, I’m here.”

His heart still pounding with adrenaline and fear, he whirled to find Bronte huddled in a chair against the wall, her eyes swollen from crying. “What happened? Why didn’t you come home last night? Where have you been all day?”

He saw her send a quick, frightened glance in Solomon’s direction and held onto his rage by a ragged thread. “What’s that look for, Bronte? Tell me before I have to cut his balls off.”

Her vulnerable expression swiftly replaced with disbelief, Bronte rolled her eyes and reached out to grab his hand protectively. “How about you not threaten the chief of police in an actual police station, how’s that work for you? As if I don’t have enough problems.”

“Then tell me what you’re doing here. And why have you been crying?”

“Younger already promised not to tell, but I need your word, Hugo. What I’m about to say to you doesn’t leave this room. At least, not if it’s heading in the direction of anyone at work or a blood relative.”

He sat down beside her, concerned. “Whatever you need, I have your back. You know that.”

“I’m married.”

Hugo was on his feet again before he could catch his breath. “You’re what?”

“Please don’t make me repeat that. It’s too horrible.”

He forced himself to look at Solomon. Back in uniform, his hair still shoulder-length, but confined with a hair tie that made him look like a pirate. He looked tired, handsome as ever, but tired. “Does anyone want to elaborate?”

“It seems that your sister was out having drinks with a friend when she ran into…the man in question. He convinced her to have a few more rounds, and she woke up with hazy memories of Niagara Falls and karaoke.”

Hugo had to sit down again. “You went all the way to Niagara Falls last night?”

Bronte held up her hands, shrugging. “I think so? I remember a short flight, and that we only had two hours before we had to fly back home. Then we went out to celebrate the wedding.”

She sniffled. “It sounded true when he said it.”

“When who said it? Who got you drunk and flew you out of state and away from your family?”

That’s all it took for Hugo to witness a rare event that he hoped he’d never have to see again: Bronte, still a little drunk from the night before, sobbing uncontrollably against him. “The punk ass leprechaun,” she cried into his sweater.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” William fucking Finn?

Unbelievable.

Hugo glared over Solomon’s shoulder. “Where is he?”

“Interrogation with Brady, Ken, Seamus and Uncle Shawn. For his own protection.”

“For his protection? He accosted my sister. He’s the man we’ll be pressing charges against. She’s the one that needs protection.”

Solomon rubbed his jaw and shook his head. “There’s video of the ceremony. She was drunk, but visibly willing. She’s also the one who gave him his most recent black eye. And she did it in front of a dozen policemen.”

“He deserved it.” Bronte pulled away from him and mumbled into her Kleenex. “And if he comes anywhere near me talking about conjugal rights, I’ll punch him again.”

“Would you mind if I talked to my sister alone?” It was difficult, being this close to him and trying to wrap his head around what Bronte was saying.

“Of course, Hugo. Take all the time you need.”

He wasn’t sure where to begin. “You don’t drink.”

“Rarely,” she corrected. “I rarely drink. But Erica from pediatrics has been having a rough time with her husband. When we went out the week before last, all we did was talk, so I thought it would be fine.”

“So how did drinks with a friend turn into Niagara Falls?”

She blew her nose. “The third place our driver took us to was a little bit shady. I think the waitresses were strippers, or their uniforms were bikinis, I’m not sure. I should have known he’d hang out there.”

The third place. So they weren’t just drinking, they’d been bar hopping. “What happened next?”

“He got rid of some jerks who were trying to pick us up, and then he gave Erica some really detailed advice about her situation.” She bit her lip, looking up at him self-consciously. “Good advice. She got excited and called her husband to come pick her up.”

That must have been really good advice. “What happened to the driver?”

“He took us to the airport.”

Hugo sighed and curled an arm around her shoulder. “Okay. Somewhere between good advice and the airport there’s a reason that makes sense. I know there is.”

Bronte wiped her eyes. “Is there? I’m forty-one and he’s foolish enough to make me laugh when I didn’t feel like punching him in the face. Isn’t that reason enough to do the man a favor when you’re drunk?”

“This isn’t a favor, Bronte. You didn’t loan him your car. You legally tied yourself to a stranger so he could stay in the country. That’s against the law. It’s called marriage fraud.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bronte looked like she might cry again. “Younger is fixing it for me.”

“What do you mean? Unless he’s shipping William off to Ireland today—”

“He called in reinforcements. The Finns are on task in a crunch. Apparently they were already taking care of things for William without filling him in. He didn’t need to get married at all.” Her lower lip quivered and Hugo held her tighter. “I didn’t catch everything, but I know it’s good news. So we’ll get this annulled and no one will ever have to know. Except for most of the Finns, this police station and you.”

She whipped around in her chair, and grabbed his chin firmly in her hand. Her eyes pleading. “Repeat after me, Hugo. No one will ever have to know.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Bronte.”

“Specifically?”

He snorted. “I will not tell Cassandra and Foster Wayne or any of their children, especially the one that lives with me since he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I’m never drinking again.”

Hugo leaned back against the wall and tugged her with him until she laid her head against his chest. “That might be best for everyone.”

“I mean it. It makes me maudlin. I start to think too much about where my life is going, how long it’s been since I’ve had sex with anything but a vibrator.”

Hugo pretended to wince. “Hold up now, Bronte. My innocent ears are bleeding.”

“Please, you hear worse every time Austen throws a GPP.”

“I say worse.” He couldn’t argue. “But then you mention something about ugly dicks or pervertible emergencies and the world makes sense again. I didn’t realize you were feeling lonely, Bronte. You should have talked to me.”

“You’ve been busy going crazy over your own bit of Irish ham.” She snorted wetly against his shirt. “Younger still likes me so don’t tell him I made a ham joke.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it. I remember you being touchy for a year that one time I called you piglet.”

“I won’t say anything.” Hugo shook his head. “My sister is married, but only until she can get an annulment, and we can’t tell the family. I’ve got all that, but there’s one thing I’m still confused about.”

“What’s that?” There was a hesitance in her voice that told him not to ask anything specific about William. He was dying to know why his normally practical older sister married a twenty-something troublemaker she’d wanted to punch practically from the moment they’d met.

He wouldn’t ask. Not today.

“Why karaoke?”

He’d startled a laugh out of her and she whacked him lightly on his chest in thanks. “It must have been a dare,” she finally managed. “You know I have a hard time resisting a challenge.”

He knew. “What now? Do I take you back to the Wayne-plex or should I get your husband’s permission first?”

She didn’t laugh or take offense at his teasing. Instead she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Hugo. I know this is probably the worst thing I could have done to you right now.”

He tried to smile. “Getting married? I could think of worse things. Having Wild William for a neighbor sounds like a bad idea for everyone at the moment.”

“You know I’m talking about Solomon. It’s been two weeks and you still haven’t told me what happened between the two of you this time.”

“I’m not ready yet.” He wasn’t sure if he ever would be. Not this time. He was doing his damnedest not to think about it at all, working himself to exhaustion and helping his brother Emerson hunt for a home of his own.

Maybe he’d take a turn at living in the apartment above his parent’s garage. He loved spending time with his brothers and sisters, but he needed a change. He could feel the way they looked at him now. Saw the eggshells they were walking on, and it only made things worse.

The only problem with the garage plan was his mother’s special brand of ESP. She always knew when something was wrong with one of her children. Part of Hugo was surprised she hadn’t already made her way to the station because she’d “sensed” Bronte’s tears.

If he moved in next door, she would realize he was missing a vital piece of his heart. She would sense the absence, the void he’d been feeling inside his chest since he’d sent Solomon away.

At least she couldn’t read his mind. More and more often, he’d been considering heading south for a while. Taking a job somewhere warm and sunny, miles away from all things Finn.

She wouldn’t like that plan at all. Cassandra Wayne had strong feelings about families sticking together. Preferably within the same zip code until retirement or death.

“Hugo? Don’t shut me out. I told you about my drunken wedding. Fair is fair.”

He was already shaking his head before she finished speaking. “Not here, Bronte. Not in his office, surrounded by his things. I’ll talk, I promise, but can it wait until we’re somewhere else?”

Bronte nodded, standing up and straightening the outfit he’d just gotten around to noticing. “Where did you get that dress, Bronte-saurus?”

She adjusted the cap sleeves and tugged up the plunging neckline to make it as modest as possible. “Austen’s closet. I was sick of wearing scrubs and sweatpants, and I knew she’d never miss it. Our sister has more dresses than one woman needs.”

He couldn’t let her leave the office like that. Bronte was busting out all over. “You have a jacket?”

“Over there.”

Relieved, he tugged it off the chair, frowning as he realized who it belonged to. “This isn’t your jacket.”

Bronte slid on the oversized wool coat, watching as it swallowed her completely. “What’s his is mine. That’s marriage, little brother.”

 

***

 

Solomon walked into the interrogation room, oddly thankful for the yelling that instantly assaulted his eardrums, distracting him from his reaction to seeing Hugo storm into his office.

His first instinct had been to jump over the damn desk and kiss the hell out of the man. He wanted to ask if he’d seen a newspaper or watched any of the local channels recently. To find out if anyone had told him about the city’s fascination with Chief Finn’s mystery romance.

He must know. And if that was true, Solomon had gotten his reply loud and clear. Despite his declaration, Hugo still didn’t want anything to do with him.

He was a stubborn bastard, he knew that about himself. But eventually, even he had to take no for an answer.

That was a no. Game over.

Unfortunately, his insane Irish cousin hadn’t gotten the family memo about giving the Waynes a wider berth while Solomon recovered. Even Thoreau had been conspicuously absent whenever he went to the pub.

Maybe he feels sorry for you.

No maybe about it. Everyone did.

Everyone except William, who’d decided that since he didn’t have anything better to do, he’d trick Hugo’s inebriated sister into getting married.

“Look, you lot have had your fun and all, but I’ve got a honeymoon to get started.”

William was surrounded by a group of grown men whose jaws simultaneously dropped at his declaration.

Solomon slammed his hands on the table in front of him. “There isn’t going to be a honeymoon, Billy. Never. Going. To. Happen. She’s spent the last hour recovering from a hangover and crying her heart out in my office. Hugo just came to take her home.”

William tried to stand but a hand on his shoulder kept him locked in the hot seat. “She’s crying? The last time I saw her she was spitting fire and knocking my block off.”

Solomon hung his head in frustration. “Did you finally take one too many hits to the head? Of course she was crying. She got drunk and married a strange man in search of a green card. Bronte is a smart, successful, beautiful woman. She’s family. She isn’t a mark. You took advantage and you know it. If you want to stay out of prison and on this side of the damn pond, at least own up to it.”

A flicker of guilt sparked in his light blue gaze. “I knew her margarita made her more amenable to me than she’d been the last few times we’d met.”

“Few?” Solomon interrupted. “Did you see her after you blew up my dishwasher and broke my arm?”

“That wasn’t my fault.” William swore then looked down at his fingernails. “After that fight a few weeks ago. I needed stitches.”

“Bronte was your Florence Nightingale?”

He nodded grimly. “She was. She’s just so passionate. She gets this crinkle between her brows when she’s mad that…” He looked around at the men watching him and sighed in defeat. “I may have taken advantage of the situation.”

Uncle Shawn covered his face with his hand. “Your grandfather is going to get on a plane for the first time in his life just to throw a plate at my head.”

“Who needs to wait for that?” Brady interrupted, staring at William in dismay. “As soon as Thoreau finds out a Finn tricked his sister into holy matrimony, we’ll never be able to drink at the family pub again. Talk about poisoning the well.”

Solomon met Brady’s gaze. “None of us says a word. Bronte made me promise that Hugo is the only Wayne who gets this information. So until we can start the annulment paperwork everyone needs to take an oath of silence right here and now.”

“Annulment? We just got married, and now you want us to get it annulled?”

“I don’t want it, I demand it,” Solomon growled in warning as he pounded his fist into the table to drive the point home.

“It’s not your marriage on the line,” William argued hotly.

“I’m the reason the two of you met. This is my fault, and I’m not willing to be responsible for any more pain to Hugo’s family.”

“Son, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Shawn said soothingly. “This is all William’s fault.”

“Gee thanks.” William glared up at his older relative. “I appreciate the touching sentiment.”

“I don’t know if an immediate annulment is the best idea.”

Everyone turned to look at Ken at the same time. “He’s renewed his visa multiple times now, and without an actual job—”

“I work plenty.”

Solomon snarled. “Let the adults talk, Billy. And don’t make me think about how you get paid and why.”

Ken was watching William with a thoughtful expression. “With the current climate, it might be better not to draw attention to his status with more paperwork. Not until I can talk to some of my old connections.”

Solomon knew Ken still worked for the feds on occasion. He was too good at what he did for them to cut all ties. “Bronte will want this to happen as quickly as possible.”

Ken tilted his head, thinking. “Maybe there’s an alternate solution. Seamus and I have a friend that might have work for your cousin. It would take him out of town and get him out of Bronte’s hair for a while.”

Solomon felt another headache coming on. “But they’d still be married.”

“In name only,” Shawn said, glancing at Ken with a hint of admiration. “If he’s got steady work, and a marriage on the books, I bet that’d go a long way to helping your connections make his stay more permanent.”

“God help us,” Brady muttered, earning William’s ire.

“So you’re all about making me leave town? Is that what you’re asking?”

“Once again, not asking. And more to the point, you’re fucking lucky that we’re willing to do anything at all. The last thing I want to do is reward your shitty behavior.” Solomon bent down until he could look the younger man directly in the eye. “The only thing you’ve got going for you right now is that we’re family, and we know that your brother and sister are worried about you and want you to stay. We also know that there are other, less than savory reasons why you don’t want to go back to Ireland.”

Solomon straightened, stretching the tension out of his neck, his eyes still narrowed on William. “And today, we’ve all been made aware that you can break the law. But can you walk the line? Can you trust us, your family, long enough to help you out of this bind? Or are you going to stick with this angry grifter bullshit?”

William leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, his body language screaming belligerence. “I don’t seem to have much of a choice.”

“You have a choice,” Ken argued kindly. “It’s just not a very good one at the moment.”

He bit his lip. “What if Bronte files for the annulment while I’m gone?”

“Convince her not to. Tell her about the out of town job.”

Solomon frowned at his uncle. “Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying this?”

“It’s like Mission Impossible.” Shawn’s grin made him look ten years younger. “Kind of exciting.”

“Our family was never known for being on the right side of the law,” William said with his signature smirk. “Not until this piece of work came along.” Jerking his chin in Solomon’s direction.

Solomon rolled his eyes. “Thanks. I appreciate the sentiment.”

Brady covered his mouth, trying and failing to smother his laughter.

“Make the call,” Solomon nodded to Ken. “If William can find a way to talk to Bronte without her family finding out about last night, and—I can’t believe I’m saying this—if she agrees to hold off on filing for a few months, we might have a plan.”

“Hugo won’t be happy with you,” Brady murmured.

“Then nothing will change.”

Shit. This was the worst idea Tanaka had ever come up with. “Are we sure about this job?”

“We’re sure.” Ken nodded. “I have a feeling he’ll get along with everyone just…” he glanced at William and smiled. “Just about the same as he does here.”

“That’s not promising.” But if it worked, it would have to do.