There was a darkness in his eyes I’d never seen. “That’s what I thought, Elle. Now, there’s something I need your help with.”
Even though we were alone in the house, he turned the music up, and whispered.
I listened, nodded, and after much thought, hesitantly said, “I’ll think about it and let you know tomorrow.”
With his simple request on the table, he set his glass down and headed for the stairs. When he was halfway, he turned and said, “Good night, Elle.”
Pulse racing, once I knew he was in his room I scurried up the stairs and into the room I’d been staying in. I’d slept here many nights, but for the first time since I’d arrived in Boston more than three months ago, I locked my door.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I got into bed and held my phone close. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I called Logan. I had to talk to him.
It only rang once. “Elle, everything okay?”
I sunk further down onto my pillow. “I needed to hear your voice.”
There was a lot of noise in the background. He was out somewhere. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound right. Did something happen?”
In a whisper, I told him, “I need to tell you something.”
“Elle, I can’t hear you,” Logan said.
I opened my mouth to speak again.
“Sorry I’m late.” It was a female voice I didn’t recognize.
“Hey, can I call you back?” Logan asked clearly into the phone. Clearly to me.
Crushed, I answered with barely audible words. “No, you don’t have to.”
“Elle.” He said my name as if it pained him.
“I shouldn’t have called,” I said louder and hung up.
I remembered wondering that first night at Molly’s if he had a girlfriend, or a girl, or someone in his life. Was that the voice I’d just heard?
Deep.
Husky.
Sexy.
Was that the real reason he’d left me alone in his hotel room?
Tears were streaming down my face.
I felt like I’d been stabbed in the chest, right through my heart.
But really, what had I expected? That he’d tell me he loved me after knowing me for only five days?
I covered my face with my hands and relived the day my mother died, the day my kidney failed her, the day I was declared unable to ever give life, the day my father declared me useless.
Somehow, amidst my sorrow, I fell asleep.
Clementine was the only joy I had in my life now. I wouldn’t lose her.
Sometime later during the night I heard my phone ring.
I didn’t answer.
He left a message that if I needed anything, I should contact Declan at Mulligan’s Cup or Frank at Molly’s.
Obviously, that was his way of telling me to leave him alone.
Wish granted.
DAY 7
LOGAN
I knotted my tie and looked in the mirror.
In my black Dolce & Gabbana suit, the Martini stretch wool—one that my grandfather insisted I buy five of—a crisp white shirt, and a red tie, I was the epitome of high-society class.
Just the way my grandfather liked.
Although he preferred everyone who worked for him to wear gray, it was never my nature to truly conform, and if I did that today he’d know something was up.
I had, however, gotten a haircut and given myself a close shave.
He liked the clean-cut look.
A test smile showed that I’d brushed my teeth properly. They were white and gleaming.
I looked good enough.
Good enough to charm Grandpa Ryan, I hoped.
All he would see tonight was Logan Killian Ryan McPherson—the golden boy he had high hopes for. The man he hoped to groom to take over his empire.
That was never going to happen.
Under the appearance I wore so well, I wasn’t the man he wanted me to be. I’d never be that man. I had too much of Killian, the Killer, McPherson in my blood. And I’d never felt more like him than today. I had fire in my belly and steel in my spine.
I was determined.
Tomorrow was Friday, and I had yet to figure out why Michael wasn’t shitting his pants by now. A call placed to him from my father earlier today only confirmed that he was planning on delivering.
What—he didn’t say.
And we had no idea.
The information we’d gathered on Tommy had led us nowhere so far. I needed a backup plan. The details of how I was going to get the money to Michael were sketchy, but I’d work that out tomorrow once I had the funds secured. No matter what Patrick wanted, I knew if what Michael had wasn’t enough, offering more money would at least buy time.
Not much, but it was still time.
Disappearing with Elle was my only other option, and I knew she’d never go for it. So this had to work. Either way, it had to.
Declan had been able to track down a lead on at least one drug deal that went down at the hotel. He found the buyer, but getting him to talk, getting the details, was a different story. He was working on it.
With nothing else to go on, I had to visit my maternal grandfather in New York City. Tell him everything he wanted to hear so that he’d release his hold on my trust fund. Loosen the strings attached to it. I’d have to deliver on my promises, of course. But it didn’t matter. Selling my soul to him to get the money would give Elle the reprieve I needed to bring Patrick and Tommy down.
It would be worth it.
My grandfather would never see the blood in my eyes or the hatred in my veins. He was oblivious to anything but conformation. And besides, he thought it was for my own good for me to be like him.
How could he not see that I never would be?
What he also failed to see was that what he was doing to me was just as binding as my ties to the Blue Hill Gang.
Sighing, I buttoned my designer suit jacket.
Trust fund baby.
Blue blood.
Silver spoon
Heir to a fortune.
I was more than that but today, I would pretend I wasn’t.
Shoes on.
Watch on.
One last look and I was good to go.
Game time.
On a mission, I hopped in my SUV.
I-90 was a bitch.
I waited as long as I could to leave, but I needed turnaround time. It didn’t seem to matter if it was seven A.M. or seven P.M., as was the case, because the pavement was always jam-packed.
Exhaustion had crept into my bones and it wasn’t going anywhere, so another night of only a few hours’ sleep didn’t really matter.
It took over an hour to reach the I-84 exit.
Just as I was about to take the ramp, my cell rang. My dash lit up with a number I didn’t want to see. “Yeah,” I answered.
“We have a lead,” Agent Meg Blanchet said.
“What kind of lead?” I asked, extremely curious.
“We got that warrant to tap O’Shea’s office landlines early this morning. He got a call a few hours ago from a female, we’re guessing his wife, telling him his delivery had arrived.”
Like a crazy man, I swerved all the way into the right lane and zoomed off the interstate to turn around. “What were his instructions?”
The woman I knew as the she-devil cleared her throat. “He didn’t. He hung up without a word, like he knew his phone lines were being monitored.”
“Odd.”
“Yes, I agree. I think he switched to his cell and we don’t have the go-ahead to monitor that yet. Do you think you can contact his wife’s sister and see if she knows anything about this supposed delivery? We have a unit outside his house, and either O’Shea has slipped out of the house without us knowing or he went to bed and he’s not planning on going anywhere. The place is dark and we can’t see any movement inside.”
“He’s got a young kid—he wouldn’t leave her alone. Did you notice if Lizzy’s sister was with him?” I hated referring to Elle in that way, but the less the devil herself, Agent Meg Blanchet of the Drug Enforcement Administration, knew about what had transpired between Elle and me, the better.