Logan yanked out his wallet and opened it, handing me ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. “You go to the Mandarin on Boylston Street, at the intersection—”
“I know where it is,” I interrupted.
“Check in and use cash under the last name Smith. Leave a key for me. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done. And you said Peyton was coming back to work tomorrow?”
I nodded.
“See if you can get her to open up the boutique. By then the bust should be all over the news and Michael won’t be looking to make any deliveries to Patrick. Still, just in case, I’d rather you be unreachable until I can figure out what’s next.”
I nodded again. “What do I tell him after he learns the cocaine is in Tommy’s possession?”
Logan was silent for a few moments. “Tell him you don’t have a clue. He’ll have to assume the delivery was intercepted.”
I wanted to cry, my eyes desperate, terrified, darting toward the stairs where down below lay my future. If anything went wrong, I could easily be locked away forever.
Oh, God.
Did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean to.
“Elle, it’s going to be okay. You and Clementine will be safe. Now go—I got this. I’ll clean it all up.”
In a daze, I went to the counter to gather my things.
Safe?
Was that ever going to be possible?
I just didn’t think so.
DAY 8
LOGAN
My hands were shaking as I pressed the up arrow.
My stomach turning.
It was after midnight.
And I’d just committed a felony.
A Class B felony, punishable by prison time.
A shit-ton of prison time.
I was an attorney who’d sworn to uphold the law and I’d just not only moved one hundred bricks of cocaine, but also interfered with a major DEA investigation.
Also on my mind, I’d moved one hundred of the two hundred and fifty missing kilos.
Was this really a new shipment?
Was it part of the missing deal gone bad?
If so, where was the rest?
I had no fucking clue.
Still, a major bust.
Enough to take down the Flannigan family?
I hoped so.
I’d done just what I told Elle I would. Packed up the coke, cleaned up the salt crystals, and then driven to Lucy’s. I had a stop to make along the way. I needed empty liquor boxes. I called Frank. Told him what I needed. No questions asked. He’d been an informant on the DEA’s payroll since the Tommy incident. He was also a messenger to Blanchet when I needed him to be. I knew I could trust him. The only thing he asked in return was that I stay as far away from Molly as I could. That was the least I could do.
It was well after midnight and the alley behind the strip joint was dark. Perfect. I was just starting to unload the coke into the boxes when that fucking phone call finally came. It seemed to take forever, and I was beginning to think I was going to have to abandon my plan and drive over to O’Shea’s to make sure Elle was in one piece. And more than likely kill O’Shea if he’d touched a hair on her head.
All went well, though, and she was safely on her way to the hotel. Moving quickly, I restacked the boxes outside the back door and took off.
Not the safest plan.
Not the smartest plan.
If anyone came around looking in the trash, I was screwed. But my hope was that the she-devil would make her move quickly. I made the call, kept it short, and hung up on Blanchet while she was yelling at me for not being able to witness the exchange, since the product was already at the drop.
Shaking it off, happy it was almost done but knowing it wasn’t over by a long shot, I used the key Elle had left for her “husband” at the desk and stepped inside.
In that moment, just as the door closed behind me, I felt an overwhelming sense of arousal. The room was small, just a giant bed, a closet, a bathroom that I knew she’d just showered in, and her, safe, and larger than life. The arousal I felt when I laid eyes on her wasn’t the kind of juvenile jolt a Victoria’s Secret catalog or Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue would have stirred up when I was fourteen. No, it was . . . I didn’t know . . . like my whole mind, not just my body, was suddenly overcome by everything she was.
She was wearing the hotel’s white robe and she was fidgeting with the terry-cloth belt. “Are you okay?” she breathed with a sigh a relief.
My gaze flickered hot over her.
She stopped her fussing. “I know you’re upset with me. I’m sorry.”
My whole life has felt like I’ve been suppressing my emotions and right now, I just couldn’t do it any longer. I needed a release. I needed something real. I needed . . . I needed her. I stabbed my finger in the air. “Stop that shit right now. I understand why you did what you did, but you should have told me about it first.”
She looked guilty. “I know. I’m not sure what came over me, but I heard that woman’s voice over the phone line and shut down.”
We stared at each other without blinking. “That was the DEA agent. You have to know I don’t want anyone but you. How could you not know that?” My voice was raised, rougher and tougher than I wanted it to be. But there was so much bottled up inside me, I couldn’t contain my anger and frustration. It was just leaking out.
Elle took a step toward me, her own anger now blazing in her eyes. “You should have told me what you were doing all along. You lied to me!”
My strides were quick. “No. I didn’t. I just didn’t tell you. I couldn’t! There was too much at stake.”
We were toe to toe like fighters in a ring. “You didn’t tell me. I didn’t tell you. What a pair!” Her voice was sardonic, laced with bitterness.
I looked into those green eyes. “We are a pair.”
She raised her arms out and gave a sarcastic laugh. “So, as a pair, where does this leave us?”
I gripped her upper arms, bringing them down. “Together!” I shouted.
“Together?” her voice was questioning but still filled with anger.
I licked my lips. I tasted salt. “You’re pissed at me because I was at a bar with a woman I hate?”
“No, I’m not pissed at all.”
My arms slid down her sides to her hips. “Then what are you?”
Her brave façade melted away instantly. “Relieved. Thankful. Grateful.”
“Then show me. Tell me. Or let me show you. Let me tell you how I feel. I need to be able to communicate with you, and conversations aren’t always the best way for me to do that.”
In a flash, she untied her robe and I stepped back so I could watch as she shrugged it off. “Fuck me. Tell me how you feel. Show me,” she whispered.
She was naked and my entire body was on overload. Amped on adrenaline, or love, or fear—I didn’t know which. I didn’t care. I just stepped toward her. “You sure?”
She swallowed, and this time the sound that left her throat was more like a purr. “Yes. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Quickly, very quickly, I dropped to my knees in front of her and buried my face between her legs. “Because I need to taste you,” I told her with my nose at her clit, my tongue jetting in and out of her pussy right off the bat. Her sweetness was just too much. I couldn’t get enough. My hands skimmed the back of her thighs and I brought her closer.
Her hands went to my hair, lightly at first, barely skimming it. She said something. I wasn’t certain what, but it sounded like, “That feels so good.”
“I need to feel how wet I make you.”
She moaned so loud, I felt it down to my core and with that, I began to eat her up. Devour her. All along letting her know just how sweet she tasted.
Her fingers sunk further into my hair, tugging at it. She cried out and it was rough and raw. My hands were on her ass, holding her close, and I licked every inch of her pussy. Her moans were electrifying, and I hooked one of her legs over my shoulder so I could really get inside her. The flicks of my tongue were quick at first and then sliding it down, I buried it deep inside her with alternating sucks, licks, and flicks.