Fatal Burn (West Coast 2)

And he’d found one.

Shannon couldn’t believe it. This was like some weird, surreal movie, a bad knockoff of a street-fighting scene in West Side Story.

And she wanted no part of it.

“Hold on,” Robert said to his siblings. He crossed the parking lot at a jog while traffic rushed past and the night, beneath the security lamps, closed in. “What’re you doing here?” he demanded, ripping the key from Mary Beth’s fingers and pulling her away from his car.

“Looking for you.”

“Where are the kids?”

“Like you care!” she feigned shock, throwing her free hand over her chest while he held her other wrist in a death grip.

“Where the hell are Elizabeth and RJ?” he demanded in a low whisper.

“With my sister. Margaret’s looking after them.”

“So you could hunt me down?”

“That’s right.” Mary Beth played the part of the wounded martyr to the hilt. Except for Liam lurking in the background, a tall, menacing shadow, as if he was her “muscle.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Robert demanded.

“No, honey,” she said, sarcasm dripping fr

om her words, “that’s you. Now, where the hell is your goddamned whore? In one of these primo, deluxe units?” Her nose wrinkled in disdain as she waved her hand at the bank of doors to the rooms of the cheap motel. “I want to talk to her.”

“Cynthia’s not here.”

“Cynthia,” she repeated, hissing the word as if she were a snake. “You sure?” Again, she made a gesture toward the motel where Travis Settler had taken up residence. “I’m supposed to believe that she isn’t holed up in one of these rooms?”

“No, damn it,” Robert insisted. “Now go home, Mary Beth. Get the kids. You’re making a scene and a fool of yourself.”

“Me? Honey, you did enough of that for both of us.” There was pain in her eyes.

“Mary Beth, please, this isn’t the place,” Shannon said and took a step forward, but Shea’s hand clamped over her good arm, restraining her.

“Yeah, as if you would know about that!” she sneered. Mary Beth was on a roll, almost as if she enjoyed the audience. Her eyes returned to her husband. “Don’t pretend to care about family pride or reputation or any of that shit. Who’s the one driving all around town in a flashy new sports car that he can’t afford? Who’s been sleeping with a known slut? Ignoring his marriage vows? Ignoring his kids? Moving into a bachelor pad when he’s got a family at home?” she demanded. “Jesus, Robert, you don’t give a rat’s ass about making scenes!”

Robert bristled. “Mary Beth, stop it!”

“You stop it. You’re the one who’s acting like an idiot!” she lashed out. On the far side of Robert’s BMW, Liam moved in closer.

Shannon wanted to drop through the pocked asphalt. This was so over-the-top, so much a part of Mary Beth, who was ever the drama queen. As much as she empathized with her sister-in-law, Shannon despised public displays. She’d had enough to last a lifetime and she was furious with her brother for being such an idiot. Either stay married and faithful to his wife, or get a divorce, but don’t flaunt his current mistress in Mary Beth’s face.

“This is getting way out of hand,” Shea muttered under his breath. Releasing Shannon’s arm, he strode across the lot and said to his brother, “Can’t you get her out of here?” He hitched his chin in Mary Beth’s direction as a car pulled into the parking lot, headlights washing over the group.

“Butt out, Shea.”

Shea ignored her. “Listen, Mary Beth—”

“Shut up! This isn’t your fight.”

“You’re making it mine.” Shea’s eyes narrowed on his sister-in-law. “Take this somewhere private.” He turned his gaze to his brother. “Get her out of here, Robert. Before there are complaints. Before someone calls the police.”

“Aren’t you a cop?” Mary Beth taunted.

“Get her the hell out of here now.” Shea ordered. “Or I will have to do something.”