Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) by Elise Stokes

gestures with his fingers for me to stop talking. He motioned to Rusty with his eyes.
    I nodded.
    “She’s Emery’s girl,” he explained to his brothers.
    “Hi, Cassidy,” Rusty called over.
    Marky whipped around and pointed at him. “Eyes forward, and mind your own business.”
    Rusty pouted. “Jus’ bein’ friendly.”
    “Ah-hem.” Marty cleared his throat and made crazy eyes to warn Rusty to take heed. Then he offered me his hand, and a big, toothy smile took over his freckled face. “Marty O’Shea at your service.”
    I shook it, taken with all of the O’Shea boys. They were totally charming.
    “Rusty Blagojeviche!” Riley hollered. Her office door flew open.
    Rusty quivered.
    “I have a bone to pick with you .” Riley pointed at him and gave him the eye. Emery followed her out, assessing me. He smiled, seeing that I felt right at home.
    “Whoa-ho-ho! Look who’s here.” Marty put his hand out as if to shake Emery’s hand and dope-slapped him instead.
    “Good to see you, too, Marty.” Emery gave him a sinister grin.
    “Don’t antagonize him,” Marky advised his twin, slinging an arm around Emery’s shoulders. “You know payback’s a-comin’.”
    Marty shook a finger at Emery. “Don’t even think about hacking me again.”
    During this playful exchange, Riley approached Rusty in measured steps, her expression stern.
    Rusty shrank in his chair.
    “You’re going to listen, Rusty Blagojeviche, and you’re going to listen good.” She bent forward, hands on hips, sticking her face in his.
    Fidgeting, Rusty averted his eyes to her enormous chest, before catching himself and forcing his gaze to the floor.
    “Look me in the eye,” she ordered.
    His eyes bounced up to hers, wide with terror.
    “I haven’t always been lawful.”
    “Here we go,” Mickey sighed.
    “My dear, sweet husband, Seamus O’Shea, God rest his soul”—Riley reverently made a quick sign of the cross over her chest, as did her sons—“and I were master thieves back in Ireland. There wasn’t a lock or security system that could stop us. Even churches weren’t immune to our thievery, I am deeply ashamed to admit. Good offerings went straight from the safe and into our sacks. I tell you this to give you a taste of what we were. Stealing benevolence.” Riley shook her head regretfully, clucking her tongue. “And we continued our crooked ways here in America, until fate caught up with us. Our criminal reign came to an end that night, as did Seamus.” Riley compressed her lips, fighting to control strong emotion.
    My throat tightened with sympathy.
    “New York State gave me plenty of time to think over my wicked ways,” Riley continued when she’d regained her composure. “While I was incarcerated, my boys lived with my brother and his wife back home. I had two options: to change or not to change. I chose change.
    “I took college courses in prison, passed them with flying colors, and was accepted into Wallingford University while still behind bars. On the day of my release, the first faces I saw walking through those prison gates were those of my beloved sons, and they saw a new woman. We flew to Seattle the following morning, where I attended the prestigious Wallingford. Me—Riley Bryne O’Shea, poor Irish girl, safecracker, and convicted criminal! Now if that isn’t a story of inspiration, I don’t know what is. Are you making your next court date, Rusty?”
    Rusty bobbed his head, gulping.
    “My ears need to hear it.”
    “Yes, Riley. No more problems from me.”
    “Be a man of your word, like these four behind me.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “I’ll hold you to it.” Riley straightened up. “Lass,” she addressed me, “did Emery tell you how we met?”
    “He said you met in college.”
    She nodded, looking impressed that I knew this much. “We were the odd ones out, so to speak. Someone had to take the little tyke under their wing.” She walked over to Emery and drew him into her arms. “Be