Oakland, California

Happy got to the diner as fast as humanly possible. By the strain in her voice, he could tell something was off with Catherine and he was anxious to find out why. So, as he hopped off his bike in the parking lot, he practically sprinted inside.

Considering it wasn't even seven o'clock in the morning yet and the place was pretty dead, it wasn't hard for Happy to spot her. As he approached the table, Catherine set down her menu and stood. She flashed him a radiant smile before wrapping her arms around his neck for a welcoming hug. He followed the gesture, curling his arms around her sides. Taking a breath, he was swimming thanks to the sweet, romantic notes of her rose and vanilla perfume.

"I appreciate ya meetin' me here on such short notice. And so bloody early."

As they slid into their respective sides of the booth, Happy took notice to how Catherine seemed to be in business mode. She also looked extremely exhausted and stressed, despite the concealer and heavy foundation attempting to hide the purple circles under her eyes.

Happy turned his coffee mug right-side-up so the waitress could fill it when she made her rounds again. "You sounded off on the phone. Everything okay?"

He didn't like her hesitation or the way she rolled her lower lip between her teeth. Crossing her arms on the table, Catherine wondered just how truthful she could be with him. Ever since Chibs planted the seed of doubt with Liam, she was struggling with who she could trust. Her gut was telling her she could trust Happy.

"I know we planned on spendin' the day together, and I wanted to tell you this in person so you didn't think I'm full'a shite. But somethin' happened, and I have to go back to Belfast. My flight leaves in a couple'a hours." For as stoic of a man as Happy was, Catherine could see he was disappointed. He seemed so excited last night when they planned to ride out to the beach and spend the day in the water, soaking up the sun. Reaching her hand out, she placed it on top of his. "Please understand this wasn't my decision. I'm under orders to return."

Happy understood, but that didn't mean he wasn't furiously annoyed, disappointed. Maybe even a little upset. He was frustrated with himself for having gotten his hopes up in actually being able to spend time with her. This was why it would never work, Happy reminded himself. Catherine had a demanding life in Northern Ireland and it was stopping them from getting to know each other on a platonic level. Not that they'd be friends, anyway. They may have shared the outlaw lifestyle, but they were living in two different worlds.

She was utterly crushed when Happy moved his hand out from under hers.

"Your kids okay?"

"Aye," she nodded. "My Da and eldest brother were arrested last night, so the council wants me home." Looking at her watch, Catherine was saddened to see she had to get going to the airport. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a folded slip of paper and handed it to him. "Please make sure this gets to my Uncle?"

Happy tucked it into the inside pocket of his kutte. "I will."

After thanking him, she stood up. Catherine wasn't ready for this goodbye. "You should hop the pond and come see the Emerald Isle. I'm sure SAMBEL wouldn't mind playin' host."

"I'll see what I can do, kid." Getting out of the booth, Happy pulled her in for a hug. "Travel safe. Hopefully, it won't be six years until I see you again."

Just as it bothered Catherine when Happy took his hand away from hers, it bothered him that she didn't acknowledge his latter words. Pulling away from the hug, Catherine patted the patches on the right side of his chest and simply told him to take care.

He watched apathetically as she walked out of the diner. From the giant front window, his eyes never once left Catherine as she crossed the parking lot to the blacked-out SUV that was waiting. An Irishman jumped out of the front seat and opened the back door for her. Once she was inside and the SUV took off, Happy could shake the feeling that her life was about to dramatically change.


Short Strand - east Belfast, Northern Ireland

It was nearly three o'clock by the time Fiona finished cleaning up the wreck left behind by the PSNI. She refused to allow the madness to drive her down a road of loathing and instead used the opportunity to do a much-needed de-clutter. Half the stuff that had been thrown from the bookshelf and the cabinets, Fiona didn't know she had. Plus, scrubbing the floor and baseboards was a good activity that kept her mind off the fact Jimmy was currently sitting in a prison cell.

Throwing the scrub brush into the bucket of murky, soapy water, Fiona peeled off the thick yellow gloves and stood. Her knees ached like no-tomorrow. Surely they would be bruised before the sun rose in the morning. Grabbing the handle of the bucket, she wiped a sheen of sweat off her forehead as she hauled it into the kitchen.

Pouring the water down the sink, she looked around to inspect Kerrianne's work. Her daughter had taken charge of cleaning every nook and cranny and much to Fiona's delight, it was sparkling.

After washing her hands, she took a moment to rest, but she refused to allow herself to think. Nothing ever good came of it when she did.

There was still one mess awaiting her upstairs and if she planned on finishing at a reasonable hour, she had to tackle it now. Grabbing the lemon-scented furniture polish, glass cleaner, and ratty cloth, Fiona trekked up the stairs.

From Kerrianne's room, she could hear music pouring out from the cracked door. The day had taken its toll on the teenager. By how composed Kerrianne had kept herself through it all made Fiona one proud momma. Even amid the officers harassing her, Kerrianne never once folded and showed disrespect. Nor made Fiona feel as though this was all her doing, as the life they lived was the direct result of a series of bad decisions made on her part.

She decided she'd surprise Kerri and yank her out of school early on Friday, then take her to Dublin for the weekend after visiting Jimmy.

With her elbow, Fiona pushed open her daughter's bedroom door. She looked up from the magazine she had been flipping through, politely asking what the intrusion was all about.

"Turn off that music and go wait downstairs, please; Auntie Liv should be here soon with Brien and the wee boys."

Kerri huffed and got up to shut off the stereo. Socializing was the last thing she wanted to do, but she'd do it if it made her mom happy. Without another word, she grabbed her magazine and headed downstairs.

Shaking her head at the teenage attitude, Fiona turned around. She stood in the doorway of Jimmy's office, thankful the mess wasn't as bad as it could've been.

The bookshelf had been completely emptied. Every drawer in the desk had been dumped out on to the floor. The safe had somehow been pried open, and the cushion of the armchair was sliced.

It brought a small smile of satisfaction to Fiona's face when she remembered just how vexed the officers had been when they didn't find a single shred of incriminating evidence. She took it as an insult the PSNI thought she and Jimmy would be stupid enough to keep the cash, fraudulent passports and driving licenses they were searching for in the house.

They were stashed away south of the border, in a safety deposit box under Fiona's late grandmother's name.

Setting the cleaning supplies on the desk, she started there first. It didn't take long to put the drawers back into the place, and she simply tossed the stuff at random back inside. Jimmy could reorganize it all when he was released. Next, she put everything back in the safe, then moved on to the bookshelf. Most of the pictures had been knocked off the wall during the raid, so she picked them up to rehang.

She wiped off the dusty glass and smiled at the first photo. It was of a very young Kerrianne, sitting on Jimmy's lap as he blew out the candles on his 35th birthday cake. Then there was another of her and Jimmy at a rugby match with Patrick and the three O'Toole siblings. More of Kerrianne growing throughout the years.

Of course, there was Catherine's first Communion, and her graduation from St. Dominic's.

Holding the frame of Catherine clutching her diploma and one arm wrapped around Jimmy, Fiona noticed something was off about that photo. She tilted it more towards the light. Something was pushing the corner of the photo out. Flipping it around, Fiona unlatched the clasps and removed the cardboard backing, finding the culprit of the bulge.

It was a yellowing envelope, folded in half.

Maneuvering to sit down in the desk chair, Fiona set the pieces of the frame on the floor before unfolding the envelope.

"Mother'a Christ," she said, removing a stack of Polaroids.

There she was—Catherine sitting at a bar beside Dessie Dennehy. Her elbows propped up on the countertop with her chin resting on her knuckles, smiling at the camera. She was young.

Grabbing the photo that was inside the frame, Fiona compared the two images. She looked no older than her graduation photo, which meant the Polaroid must have been taken when she was training in Crossmaglen.

Catherine and Jimmy had been together for less than a year at that point, and Fiona was none the wiser to what was going on right under her nose. No one was. She could remember being at IRA barbecues in Dundalk, where some of the lads would tease Catherine about her infatuation for Jimmy. But with how Catherine responded to them, Fiona didn't suspect it had gone further than a childish crush. There was a deep-rooted history between those two and no one would ever know their true story.

She continued flipping through the photos. They were mostly of Catherine hanging out and drinking with the boys from Crossmaglen.

It was the next photo that made Fiona's jaw drop and her stomach turn.

Sprawled out on her back in an unrecognizable bed, propped up on her elbows, fully naked with her legs spread wide open, was, of course, Catherine. That sultry smile, those darkened eyes, she clearly felt comfortable with her photographer.

Quickly, she moved on the next one. But it was even more vulgar than the former, though it was far less nudity.

Catherine's back was pressed flush against Jimmy's chest and she had one hand resting on the back of his neck. Jimmy looked ungodly younger, too. His dark brown hair was much longer and fuller, his face was tight, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. Through hooded eyes, he was looking at Catherine with more than just lust. It was a raw deep affection.

To Fiona, Jimmy looked like a pathetic lovesick teenager.

By the angle of which the photo was taken, it was impossible to see anything further south of Catherine's bare left breast. With her mouth agape, accompanied by the blush on her cheeks, neck, and chest, it was obvious Catherine snapped it while Jimmy was in the middle of fucking her.

No, that wasn't fucking. The way those two were staring at one another, they were in love.

Slamming the photos facedown on the desk, a blazing, ugly jealously wrapped its claws around Fiona. She didn't envy Catherine in the slightest—her life had turned into the biggest train wreck anyone in Belfast had ever seen.

She was jealous of Jimmy.

She couldn't even begin to count the number of times that insufferable prick had fucked up. He endlessly brought misery to the people in his life, and hurt them beyond repair along the way. And how was he punished? By God giving him everything he ever wanted in life. A beautiful and loyal woman, who was eighteen-fucking-years younger than him, loved his sorry ass beyond all comprehension. He had a biological son who was bright and well-mannered. He made a pretty penny as a career criminal.

Yeah, that was fair, Fiona thought. Real fucking fair.

That asshole had everything, and she lost it all.

"Ma!" Hearing Kerrianne call for her, Fiona scrambled to get the Polaroid's back into the envelope. Just as her daughter popped her head through the open doorway, she tucked the envelope into the back pocket of her jeans. "Auntie Liv is here. She brought pizza, too."

"I'll be down in a minute," she said, smiling.

"Don't take too long. Bri's already diggin' into the pizza and ya know that boy can eat."

Fiona chuckled at Kerrianne's warning and assured her she'd right down. Once Kerrianne was downstairs, she headed into her bedroom. Pulling the photos from her pocket, she stashed them at the bottom of her underwear drawer. Sooner or later, they'd be useful.

Down in the living room, Fiona first stopped to say hello to Eamonn and Sean. Knelling down to their level, she opened her arms for hugs. They dropped their slices of pizza onto the plates, darting right to her. After such a rough day, it was a blessing to have those boys in her arms.

It bothered Fiona for a long time that Eamonn was Jimmy's son, but once she stopped denying the truth and learned to accept it, that boy managed to find a special place in her heart. Smothering their chubby cheeks with kisses, Fiona was happy they seemed rather composed after the morning antics.

"How are you boys doin?" she asked.

Eamonn pushed his ginger hair off his forehead, and he looked at her with light blue eyes. "Gran let us stay home from school, and we spent the day with Uncle Brien-"

"Yeah, and, and he even let us help him fix his motorcycle!" Sean interrupted, excitedly. Then he looked around, an honest curiosity filling him. "Where's Jimmy? Can he take us to the park to play football like yesterday? That was so fun."

Fiona took a sharp breath. She wasn't sure what Oliva had told them about Patrick's arrest, so she decided to play it off, keep it simple and vague.

"Jimmy's not here, lovey. He had to go on a wee trip for work."

"Is he with Mammy?" Eamonn asked. "I got to talk to her today and she said she's comin' home!"

Why did they have to ask so many questions?

"I'm not sure when he'll be home, but I promise when he is, he'll take you, boys, to play football."

The way Eamonn's face fell into visible melancholy, reminded Fiona all too much of Catherine when Chibs had to break the news to her about Patrick's numerous arrests. But the way he furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, that was all Jimmy.

The boys seemingly accepted her answer and they went back to eating and watching cartoons.

In the kitchen, Fiona was greeted by an exhausted Olivia. Her sister-in-law had spent the day putting not only her shambled home back together, but Catherine's, too. She also played a game of phone-tag with Patrick's lawyer, all the while trying to keep tabs on Liam. Olivia was lucky in the sense that her husband and son had yet to be moved from Musgrave, which filled her with some hope. As long as they were there, it was nothing more than routine questioning. However, with Jimmy and Donny at Maghaberry, she was worried sick that Catherine would be picked up by the Gardaí the moment she stepped foot on Irish soil.

After Catherine heard the news, she rang home. When she spoke with Olivia and Brien, neither had the heart to tell her Darragh's rosary—which she kept dangling from one of the posts of her headboard—had broken during the search.

Between the internment of nearly every man she loved and the snapped rosary, they feared Catherine would snap.

"Ya hear from Jimmy's solicitor yet?" Olivia asked, handing Fiona a much-deserved glass of whiskey.

She nodded as she took a sizable sip. She welcomed the burn to the back of her throat. "Aye. They've only charged him with IRA membership at this point, and O'Shea told me that's only because they wanted a reason to move him down to Lisburn. If no one talks, the charges should be dropped in a couple'a days…they've nothin' concrete on that charge."

"Someone's gotta be talkin'," Brien added, with a mouthful of pizza. "Da only went active again, what? Two months ago? If they didn't have reliable, new information, they never would'a picked up Da durin' this raid."

A tensioned silence blanketed the room. No one wanted to acknowledge the fact Brien was right. So, Olivia tried shifting the conversation.

"Let me know when you go to visit Jimmy. I've got a wee stack of books you can bring so he doesn't die of boredom before he gets out."

After finding the Polaroids of him and Catherine, the last thing Fiona wanted was to see him. Nonetheless, she had to save face and pretend everything was fine. "I'm bringin' Kerri up on Friday."

"Do I have to go?" she groaned. "I hate gettin' searched and the screws weird me out. Take Eamonn instead; Jimmy'd be more excited to him anyway."

Brien snorted and reached for another slice of pizza. "Catherine'll just love that. She doesn't even want Eamonn to know that Jimmy's his da, so she'll fuckin' go mental if she finds out any of us brought him to Maghaberry."

No one had taken notice of the small human waltzing into the kitchen in search of more food. When Brien saw that tiny hand reach over the table beside him, he just about had a heart attack. Swallowing hard, Brien turned his head to see Sean—a kid with the biggest mouth—standing there, a slice of pizza in his hands. He cocked his head to the side and looked at his uncle quizzically.

"If Jimmy's our da, then why does Mammy tell us our daddy's name is Darragh?"

Brien had no idea how to handle that question, and without thinking, he once again opened his big mouth. He stumbled on his answer, "Well, Darragh is your daddy-"

"And Jimmy is Eamonn's?"

"Technically, yeah, but-"

"Jesus Christ, Brien, shut up!" Olivia reached across the table and rightfully smacked the back of her son's head.

Kerrianne slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, and both Olivia and Fiona looked as though their heads were about to explode.

Easing out of the chair, Brien knelt to Sean's level and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Sean, you can not, I mean never ever, tell that to your brother. Or your ma."

Sean nodded, but obviously didn't take his uncle seriously, because the second Brien let him go, Sean bolted back into the living room yelling to his brother. "Eamonn, guess what? Uncle Brien said Jimmy's our daddy!"

Jumping to his feet, Brien ran his fingers through his shaggy hair and rested his hands on the top of his head. He bounced on the balls of his feet, in complete shock that he just spilled the family's dirty secret. With Catherine on her way back to Belfast, he knew he probably only had hours left to live.

"Holy shite…holy fuck! I cannot believe I just did that! Caitie's gonna fuckin' kill me, isn't she, Ma?"

Olivia calmly sat down. Fiona handed over her glass of whiskey. After knocking the rest of it back, Olivia looked her son square in the eye and shook her head. "She won't have the chance to. Because I'm gonna put ya in a wee plot in the backyard first."