Author's note: iamthatplace: I'm glad you like my story and I hope I can maintain your interest. Just-a-moment: Nothing is more mortifying for an author than spelling errors. I can't seem to get that proofreader whatnot. Help? Glad you like the story! Reid's Girl: I know! Why does Connor always get all the cutty? Also any ideas for a title would be awesome since I am completely void of any and all title-ish ideas. Keep reading. End

Chapter III

Sun poured through the window onto her face. She groaned and rolled over; feeling the mattress and comforter, her eyes flew open. Pain shot throughout her body and she groaned again, Oh God, why couldn't I just be dead?

She sat up and looked around. The room was plain: asylum white walls, another bed, and a turned over crate as a night stand. Threw the doorway she saw a man sitting at a table, drinking coffee with a distaste expression. He glanced over at her and quickly slapped another man's elbow. "She's up."

They walked in, both about same height, one a dirty blonde and the other she remembered as Murphy. "How ya feeling?" He asked.

The other abandoned his coffee for a cigarette. "You remember anything?"

She was bleary eyed but alert. She looked back and forth at the two, scraping her memory. Her eyes fell down at her blood stained shirt and it slammed into her. Eddie's blood. "Oh God."

"Put ya head between your knees," the dirty blonde instructed. She fell forward, gasping for air. "Control your breathing. You're alright, now."

"What. Happened?"

He let the smoke curl up from his lips and before he could say anything she held up a hand, "Let me have one." His brows shot up, but he leaned forward and gave her his half cigarette. She took a long drag, eyes closed, and her face relaxed. "Go on."

"You were about to get your brains blown out but Murph here fucking blindsided—"

"Wait. What were you doing there?"

"What were you doing there with a creep like that?"

She exhaled sharply, "That was my home as of last night."

The boys exchanged glances but didn't say anything.

"You were what? Walking about and decided to play hero?"

"You should be fucking grateful. You didn't exactly have the situation at your benefit."

She didn't have a quick retort and just leaned back. "I'm sorry. I mean, thank you. I just—where am I?"

"Our little shit apartment, in the 'ghetto' of Boston."

"You want some coffee?" Murphy finally said something. "Its awful, seeing Connor couldn't toast bread to save his life."

Her head throbbed from lack of caffeine. "Anything will suffice as of now." Murphy left the room and she looked at Connor. "Why save me?"

"Impulse. Instinct. What ever you want to call it." He leaned forward, holding out an empty beer can. "Here, ash."

She flicked the cigarette and Murphy returned with a mug. "Thank you," and she took a hard swallow only to cough and gag. "They're grinds in this!"

"Told you it was awful," Murphy settled down on the other bed. "You feeling alright?" That brought attention back to her throbbing shoulder and ankle, but she didn't say anything. "Are you hungry?"

"Depends if Connor made it or not."

He made a face and Murphy laughed, "We can go out and get you something, actually."

She shook her head, "I don't think I could stomach anything yet."

A car horn went off outside and Connor looked out the window then at Murphy. "Duke." He looked at Brodie. "We're leaving for a couple of hours."

"Sleep," Murphy said, standing up and grabbing his black coat. She opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand, "You're body must be exhausted. There's Advil in the cupboard somewhere."

Once they left she jumped to her feet and scampered to the bathroom. Her reflection shocked herself. Her hair was matted and tangled with blood and dirt, half her faced was a deep shade of blue. She bent over the sink and turned on the water. She slowed her breathing, tears stinging her eyes. Grabbing a bar of soap, she scrubbed down her face and neck and arms, a stream of dirty water circling down the drain. She found a comb and tore threw her hair till it was tangle free and started to strip down.

The shower was hot and quick. She rubbed her skin raw, as to remove everything that happened the previous night. Stepping out, she dried herself and looked down at her dirty clothes. Unappealing, she decided to dig in one of the boys drawers and settled on a Led Zeppelin shirt and boxers and curled back in bed. She cried herself back to sleep.

- - -

That night, stumbling up the stairs, Murphy inhaled deeply. "The fuck?"

"Is something burning?" Connor took the steps two at a time. The brothers burst threw the door to see Brodie standing there, back to them, stirring. The little kitchen table was set up with their mix-matched silver and paper plates. "The hell are you doing?" Connor asked. "Is that my shirt?"

She looked over her shoulder, "I'm making lasagna! With steamed carrots, snow peas, squash, and broccoli." Brodie pulled out the pan from the over and placed it on the table. "Yes this is your shirt, I hope you don't mind." He nodded numbly. "Sit and eat."

"We have an oven?" Connor looked at Murphy.

He shrugged and sat down while Brodie cut out a portion for him.

"Where did you get all this?"

Brodie pulled out three Dasani bottles and placed them at each setting before sitting herself down. "I had about a grand on me from last night." She scooped some vegetables onto her plate. She felt their eyes on her, "I didn't retain it in a sexual manner!" She took a bite. "I made a deal. Cocaine."

"One fucking deal?" Connor's mouth was full and he had sauce on his chin.

"Save up of deals," she corrected.

They chewed silently, the boys savoring a motherly-made meal, first in a long time, and Brodie debated cleaning her plate and walking out the front door, gone forever. "I got new sheets since I bled on your last ones, by the way."

Murphy looked up at her, a moment longer than needed, "Thank you. And this is delicious."

She smiled, "Thank you. Three cheese lasagna. My grandma showed me how to make it. How was your day?"

They looked at each other and said nothing. She didn't attempt at conversation again and they finished the meal in silence. Brodie stood up and began to clear the table, "There's beer in the fridge."

Connor pulled two out and threw one to Murphy, "Wonderful. I wanna keep her around, Murph." He said settling in front of the television.

"I'm not some fucking pet!" She called from the kitchen. She turned around to throw away the plates when she saw a man with a head of gray hair standing in the doorway.

"Smells good."

She screamed.

In seconds, the boys rushed in, guns drawn. "Duke! The hell you sneaking up on her like that?" Connor laughed, putting his gun away.

"I'm sorry, Miss, I didn't mean to frighten you."

Heart still racing she gave a small smile, "No, I'm just a bit edgy, sorry." She looked back at the left over lasagna. "Are you hungry? Oh," she wiped her hands on the boxers and leaned forward, "I'm Brodie."

"We met last night."

"You were there too?" She looked back at the twins. "Why?"

The three looked at one to another and still said nothing. She rolled her eyes and went to grab herself a beer and plopped down into a chair. "Fine then." She sighed. "It's not like I need to know, right?"

"Its best you don't, Miss," Duke said solemnly. "Can you excuse us?"
She went to the bathroom and washed her face; she squirted toothpaste on her finger and scrubbed it onto her teeth. I miss good hygiene.

Coming back out, she was back in her jeans and bloody shirt. The three men looked up at her. "Where you going?" Connor asked.

She shrugged, "Get a hotel room or something. I can't just fucking stay here."

"The hell you're just leaving," Murphy said, standing up to block the door. "You'll stay here."

"Where will I sleep?" She asked.

"My bed."

"And where will you sleep?"

"The point is, you're staying," Connor cut in. "You can't just fucking waltz out like last night didn't happen."

She looked at him steadily. "Why?"

"Chrissake, why? A man was fucking about to kill you in cold blood. There has to be more to it then you cutting him short." Connor pushed out the fourth chair. "What happened last night?"

"I need to sit down and spill out my story when I can't even get a straight answer about where you two have been all day?"

"Stay," Murphy said firmly. "Please."

And she did. Brodie took up Murphy's bed, which he obligingly gave up. She cleaned up, adding a women's touch to the crusty bachelor's pad, and cooked for them, groceries she bought with her own funding. They never pressed if she was to leave or not, either.

- - -

The next night, the boys came home to no dinner. "I wanna go out," Brodie said, scurrying around to find her other shoe. "I want a job."

They exchanged glances, "Where we eating?" Connor asked, pulling his jacket back on.

"Mario's Resturante. I used to go there all the time. I don't know if he'll remember me, it's been two years."

"My perfect little Italian sorto!" Mario cried out the moment they stepped through the door. "I never thought my eyes would grace beauty again! Who are these handsome boys with you?" He rushed to her and kissed her on each cheek.

Brodie giggled, "These are my—" she stopped. "My friends. Murphy and Connor, this is Mario."

After handshakes, he pulled them towards the back, "I give you the best seats in the house! Antonio! Menus! Rapidamente!"

"He's very…enthusiastic." Connor said.

"Obsessive, more or less," she took a sip of her water. "But he has some of the best Italian food in Boston."

A waitress came over and took their orders. "How did you find this place?" Murphy asked.

"When I was this artsy teenager, me and my friends came in here all the time. They moved on and I got a job as a server."

"And you want to start that again?"

"Yes."

"Fine by me," said Connor. "But we'll be walking you to and from work."

"But, I'm not technically in any immediate danger."

"What makes you figure that?" Murphy's mouth was full of breadstick and Alfredo sauce.

"The papers reported my death in the fire. I'm dead, right now."

"Shouldn't you call some family and let them know otherwise?"

"Naw, I've lost contact with them all two years ago."

Their food was set in front of them and Connor took a huge mouthful before asking, "Why is everything two years ago with you?"

"That's when I met Eddie."

"Who's Eddie?" Murphy asked.

"He was in the house."

HeHehh

They didn't press right away and all that could be heard was the clinking of silverware on china plates and soft chewing. Since she gave no further explanation of Eddie, Connor asked, "Who was Eddie?"

"My fiancé."

"You were engaged?"

"Thus the term 'fiancé'."

He pointed his fork at her. "Getting cute with me now, eh?"

She gave a small laugh. "We were engaged, recently, actually. It would be two months tomorrow."

"Again with the two's," Murphy commented. "You miss him?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't sound ass too enthusiastic. Didn't you love him?"

"To a point." They both stopped chewing and stared at her. "Don't get me wrong, he was a great man, but it wasn't like I was head over heels for him. We were compatible. He had something I craved. Stability."

"And he was fine with the fact you dealt out kilos of cocaine to rich teenagers?"

She laughed again, harder. "Actually, he was a drug lord. Dealt it to the Mafioso."

"Engaged to a drug lord?" Connor scraped around his plate to get any excess food. "In a way, it suits you."

"So, why did that man try and kill you?"

"He was actually there to kill Eddie, which he succeeded in doing."

"What did he do to piss someone off so much?"

"The Yakavetta family, one of their kids was turning twenty-one. They asked for twenty-one kilos of cocaine as a present for him."

"Christ."

"Eddie was done though, he wanted out. His sources were drying up, mostly because of the series of drug busts last year. He wouldn't be able to produce that much but the Yakavetta's, its like, if you don't do it, they'll kill you." She fell silent as the server's cleared their table and filled their waters. "Eddie packed half of it with cocaine and the other store bought sugar. He figured, we'd get the money and leave, just drop off the face of the earth." She stood up and pulled out some cash. "Obviously, they found out before we could disappear."

Murphy held up his hand, "It's on us."

"Mario!" She called out as they made their way to the door. "When do I start?"

Mario blew kisses upwards, "Thank the Lord! My sorto returns to me! You come tomorrow at twelve. Wear darks jeans and get white tennis shoes."

"So what about you guys?" She asked as she pushed the door open. "What do you do?"

Murphy looked at Connor, who was lighting up a Marlboro, and said, "We like to help people."

"What? Volunteering? You teachers or something?"

"More like, we help good people by getting rid of bad people."

She stopped and looked back and forth between the twins. "Like, hit men? Is that why you were there? To get Eddie?"

"No," Connor blew out the smoke, "I mean, in a sense, we are, but we weren't there for Eddie."

She looked confused. "That's it? You go around killing who think is bad?"

"It's more than just that—"

"Then just tell me. I fucking blurted out everything to you two. If we're going to be living together then there needs to be trust." She stormed up the stairs and Murphy looked at Connor.

"Temper. Like Ma."

"Irish, Ma or not."

"So, do we tell her?"

"She says she can handle it."

"Don't they always though?"