by Karr, Kim
I thought I might be dreaming, but the cold wetness of his hard body told me I wasn’t. “Take this off,” I demanded, tugging at his T-shirt.
His answering grin was utterly charming and adorable. It was the look that said sex was on his mind. It was the look I had missed so very much.
The blanket slid off my shoulders and impatiently I helped him strip his wet shirt over his head.
When it fell to the floor, he gripped my hips and tugged me flush to his body. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?”
Every part of me had an idea, because it must have been as much as I’d missed him. “Logan,” I breathed.
His hands roamed my body, over my hips, stopping to finger the elastic of my sleep shorts, up the torso of my camisole, and stopping again to cup my breasts. “Yes,” he responded with a nip at the sweet spot on my neck he knew drove me wild.
“You have to promise me that was the last time you’ll leave me. No matter what. I can’t go through this again.”
He toed his sneakers off. “I can’t either, Elle. And I never want to.”
My fingers went to his waistband and I pushed his wet track pants down. “Promise me, Logan. Promise me.”
Standing in his boxer briefs with his wet clothes surrounding us, he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. “I promise you, Elle, I promise.”
The honesty in his voice was all I needed to hear. Words were for later. Right now all I needed was to feel him. All of him. And I was going to start with his mouth. I kissed him until my face was numb. Until my lips tingled and my skin burned from the stubble of his jaw. And even then, that wasn’t enough. I wanted to reacquaint myself with every inch of him from his head to his toes. “Let’s go upstairs,” I said, wanton and breathless.
His roaming hands stopped their movement, but only to pull me closer and hold me tighter.
With my arms around his neck, I rested my head on his shoulder and held onto him just as tightly.
Our hold was fierce.
Warming.
Loving.
Forgiving.
Comforting.
And I hoped everlasting.
I tried to undo myself from his hold, so we could go upstairs. “Come on,” I managed.
He didn’t move. Just held me tighter.
Beneath my fingertips, I could feel his body tense. “Logan, what is it?” I asked.
Finally, after a few moments, he pulled back, and I nervously watched as he picked up the blanket and wrapped it around the both of us. “Let’s go sit on the couch. I have something to tell you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DAY 15
LOGAN
“What are you doing here?”
My head jerked up from the stack of papers on my desk. “Um . . . I work here.”
My old man perched himself on the corner of my desk. “Don’t be a smart-ass. I just thought you were taking a few days off to be with Elle.”
I shook the glower off my face. “She had to go with O’Shea to Lizzy’s viewing.”
“Arrangements were made quickly.”
I gave him a solemn nod. Elle had told me O’Shea seemed in a hurry to put all of this behind him. Odd way to put it.
My old man folded his hands together. “And let me guess, by the look on your face I’d say you weren’t invited.”
I leaned back in my chair and pointed my finger at him. “You’re good.”
He shook his head. “Well, I can also guess you’re not happy about it, either.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t know her and it’s not my place to be there.”
“But?”
I shrugged. “I would have liked to be there to support Elle.”
“And?”
He was smart. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Don’t get me wrong. I understand this is a tough time for them both. It’s just weird that they’ll be spending so much time together.”
Understanding sparked in his eyes. “You’re jealous.”
Maybe I was wrong about the understanding. “No, I just don’t like Elle anywhere near him.”
He raised a brow. “It’s okay if you are, son. It makes sense. She’s a beautiful woman and he’s a man. Just remember he’s also a man who just lost his wife. Regardless of the situation surrounding her death, I’m certain he must be grieving.”
I’d decided not to say anything to my old man about O’Shea and my suspicion that maybe he had something to do with Lizzy’s murder just yet, or about the strange messages Elle had received. Only two to date, but that was the real reason I didn’t go today. She just felt they were warnings and had something to do with her relationship with O’Shea. I agreed. Since we had no proof of anything, I didn’t want to add more to the pile of shit my old man was already dealing with, so I answered smoothly but honestly. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I still don’t trust him. The smoke screen he conjured up about his wife’s disappearance has too many holes in it.”
“Logan, listen to me: I know you’re concerned about Elle’s safety and so am I, but I think there are some things better left alone. And at this point O’Shea and Lizzy’s involvement with Tommy and Patrick is one of them. The old saying Don’t poke a sleeping bear might be one that applies in this case.”
I completely disagreed but nodded in agreement anyway. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Well, I had some stuff to get done today, so it all worked out fine.” I looked at my watch. “Where have you been, anyway?”
“I went to an AA meeting down the street and then was going to head home early, but I saw your car when I was walking back so I came in to check on you. What do you say to letting your old man buy you dinner?”
I stood and rounded my desk. “Sorry, Pop, I’ll have to take a rain check. Elle said everything should be wrapped up by five, and I think I’ll try to catch up with her and take her out to dinner. Do you need a ride, though?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
He nodded.
“Then can I ask you a quick question?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Have you ever heard of anyone on the street referred to as the Priest?”
His brow creased. “No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?”
I shook my question off casually. “No reason really, I just heard someone refer to the Priest and had no idea what they were talking about.”
“Church maybe,” my father laughed, rising from the desk and patting my shoulder. “A place you might want to visit once in a while.”
It was then that the thought struck. The call and message Elle received spoke of God. Was the Priest the one contacting Elle?
Holy shit.
No, it couldn’t be, or could the connection be that easy?
“Logan?”
I snapped out of it and gave my old man a shake of my head. “What can I say? I follow the lead of my old man.”
“I probably should have done a better job on that one.”
I laughed. “You know what they say about hindsight.”
“You got me there.” He looked at his watch. “I think I’ll catch dinner with Killian. Give Elle my condolences.”
“I will,” I said, and couldn’t help but notice that his shoulders were slumped. “Hey, is everything cool with you?”
Like a bat out of hell, he averted his gaze. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“No you’re not. Talk to me.”
With a sigh, he turned to look out the window. “It’s nothing I want you involved with and I mean it, Logan, but Patrick has me pulling financials for all his businesses. He’s looking for something and I’m fairly certain it’s what we already found.”
“How? He’s still in jail. I thought his bail was denied?”
“It was. His trial attorney contacted me.”
I should have known. “What’s he looking for?”
“My best guess—to verify his son’s involvement.”
“The Tommy connection to the drugs. The reason
they’re in jail,” I commented.
My father nodded. “And the money clearly leads back to Tommy and I knew about it. If I act like I didn’t know Tommy was stealing money, I’m fucked, and if I tell him I knew, I’m even more fucked.”
“Then don’t tell him anything. It’s not your fucking job to look out for his tweaker son.”
He turned back around. “No, but it is my job to make sure the money-laundering process runs efficiently.”
“Patrick is behind bars, and hopefully will stay that way. Can’t you stall? Ride it out and stay clear of him.”
The smile on his face was anything but genuine. “He owns me, Logan, you know that. I do what he says, when he says, regardless of where he is.”
“Maybe it’s time you talk to Gramps. See if he knows anyone that can help get you out of this. With Patrick behind bars, there has to be a way. Someone out there willing to cut a deal.”
Wide steps brought him close to me. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”
I wasn’t sure he would. “Call me if you need anything.”
He patted me on the shoulder before he left. “I will.”
Following the impromptu discussion with my father, I felt both better and worse. Better about O’Shea and Elle having to spend the day together, and worse because my old man’s situation should have been getting better with Patrick behind bars, not worse.
When the brief for a client that had to be filed in federal court on Monday was complete, I glanced at my watch. I had a shit-ton of other work to do but decided to spend some time researching scripture to see if what the caller had recited and texted to Elle had any context. After finding nothing that made sense, I concurred with Elle: it was this man’s, whom I’d concurred could possibly be the Priest, own words.
Before closing out, a local advertisement online caught my eye. Taking the bull by the horns, I decided to quit waiting around for Elle to be finished and text her.
Me: Everything go okay today?
I knew Elle felt torn. She hadn’t seen her sister in fifteen years, and all she knew about her was that she had abandoned her family and somehow put them in danger. On the other hand, she was her sister. I didn’t push her to talk about it. I knew if she wanted to she would.
When she didn’t answer, I quickly sent another text.
Me: Can you meet me somewhere?
Then, like a chick, I sat back in my chair and waited. Unable to concentrate on anything, I paced my office, cleared some papers off my desk, then stared at my phone screen. It was just as I was about to head out and go meet up with my old man at the nursing home when my phone buzzed.
Elle: Yes. We just finished eating. Where?
Dinner was out of the question since she’d already eaten, but that was okay because I had something better in mind. I wanted to take her on a real date, but it would be dark if I went to go pick her up first, so I settled on a pseudo date.
Me: At the George Washington Statue in the Public Garden.
Her response came in the way of a smiley face: “:)”
I’d never texted nor written a heart, smiley face, or anything like that in my life. My fingers hovered over the keypad until finally I just did it: “:)”
Lame.
I felt incredibly lame.
I almost looked around and wondered if this was me sitting here. Shaking off what James would surely call the secret Romeo within me, I grabbed my keys and got ready to go.
The Internet had notified me that today was opening day at the Swan Boats, and I’d always seen people riding in them during the spring and summer months but never thought about going on one myself. It was like the carriage rides in Central Park; I’d always seen people taking them but had never actually ridden in one of the carriages myself.
With Elle, I wanted to do things I’d never wanted to do before.
Stupid, dumb things. Things couples did.
Chances were small that anyone would see us together there but just in case, I shoved my hat on my head and slid my sunglasses onto my face. It was still slightly cool outside, so the knit hat didn’t look that out of place. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to worry about being seen with Elle for much longer. I’d put in a request to meet with Tommy and although my request had been denied, Miles was working on a way around that.
The area of the park where the statue was located was under construction, as was almost everything in the Garden this time of year. Winter damage was harsh, but I was certain by the end of April there would be no sign of it.
I leaned back against some of the scaffolding that surrounded the at least forty-foot height of the eerily lifelike bronze George Washington on his horse. With my tie removed and sleeves rolled up, I looked like a resident out for a stroll after work.
A text from Miles told me Elle had arrived and he was off for the night. Miles and a crew of hired security men had been watching out for her since we’d gotten the note from Tommy in the hotel. Surprisingly, she’d never objected.
Scanning the area, I spotted her before she saw me. She was rolling some of that lip balm in a small silver tin that she seemed to have in multiples on her lips. She’d changed since I’d seen her this morning. No longer in a black skirt and blouse, she was wearing black skinny jeans, a gray sweater, her red hat, and a pair of boots.
I was practically frozen in place she was so beautiful.
It was hard to believe there was ever a moment when I thought being apart was the best choice for us.
This stupid fucking situation we were in wasn’t going to be easy to navigate, but I knew if I could just keep my shit together and think clearly, I’d get through it. I had two things to do—eliminate Tommy as a threat for good and figure out what O’Shea had or hadn’t done.
Maybe it was jealousy that had sparked the change of mind.
Maybe it was the fact that no one was safe.
Maybe it was because this wasn’t just about me anymore.
But I now felt confident I could accomplish those two things while keeping Elle safe and in my life at the same time.
She put the tin back in the purse that she wore strapped across her body and scanned the area with an almost blank expression on her face.
I pushed myself up just as she spotted me and I saw her entire face light up.
My legs moved fast and I smiled at her the entire distance it took to reach her. “Hey,” I said.
“Hi,” she said, smiling.
“Everything go okay today?”
She half nodded. “Only a handful of people showed up and none seemed to know my sister at all. It was sad, really.”
“Who were they, then?”
She shrugged. “I think they were people Michael knows from the courthouse. I’m not entirely certain. I saw one or two of them at the fundraiser. At least Michael’s sister stopped by for a few minutes. It was strange, though, that no one else from his family came.”
My hands went to her waist. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”
“Thank you. I know you wanted to be but it’s not possible right now,” she said, and to lessen the burn, she placed her hands on my chest.
“Is everything all set for tomorrow?”
She sighed. “It is. Michael is going to keep it small.”
I nodded, having nothing else to say.
For the next few moments we gazed at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, and then I broke the connection only because the pull of her lips to mine was too much to put off for another second.
That mouth. I needed it.
Those lips. I was hungry for them.
That tongue. All I wanted was to taste it.
I was greedy for her.
Before I got as carried away as my thoughts in a public place, I broke the kiss. “Come on, we don’t have much time.”
“For what?”
“Just follow me.”
She accepted my outstretched hand.
Loving the feel of having her by my side, I squeezed her small
hand. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
She nodded. “Distract me. Tell me what we’re doing here.”
“I’ll do better than that, I’ll show you.” I led her over the Lagoon Bridge to the Swan Boats. “See those?”
“The boats?”
Apparently not everyone knew how famous these boats were, so I paused halfway across the bridge and turned so we could lean over the railing. “Those aren’t just any boats. They are the Swan Boats.”
Her husky laugh was contagious. “I can see why they’re called that, but what is the significance?”
“Good question. In the late 1890s everyone wanted to ride across the lagoon, but obviously allowing anyone and everyone wasn’t feasible due to its small size. A really smart guy named Paget was the first to apply for a license for what he called a boat for hire. He wanted something to draw people in, to want to pay the cost of the small excursion, so he selected swans.”
“Why swans?” she asked.
I’d done my research and grinned at the fact that I knew the answer. “They were inspired by the opera Lohengrin, in which real-life swans pulled a boat carrying a knight on a mission to rescue a beautiful maiden. Paget couldn’t use the real swans, so he decided to camouflage his boat operators with the shape of a much-larger-than-life swan made from copper.”
“I love the romantic notion behind it.”
Romance was never my thing, but if she thought this was romantic, who was I to tell her otherwise? I pointed to the platform of waiting people. “Riding on one is a rite of passage here in Boston.”
“Then by all means, lead the way, my knight.”
More excited than a boat ride should have made me, I smiled at her. “I’m not sure I’m a knight by any definition.”
She tugged on my hand. “Well, you’re mine.”
I didn’t respond to that. I couldn’t. I was no knight. I still wasn’t sure I would be able to protect her in the way she needed protecting. A change of topic felt best. “So it’s probably best that I confess right now that I’ve never ridden on one.”
The corners of her mouth quirked up. “You said it was a rite of passage.”
My shrug might have been a little cocky. “It is, but I’m a half-breed Bostonian so it doesn’t apply to me.”