The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

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The After Party (A Badboys Boxset) Page 13

by Karr, Kim


  “You’re not spending the night?”

  “No, I wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Oh, I just thought with everything going on today, you’d want to be close to Clementine.”

  That horrendous ache in my chest for that sweet girl who’d lost her mother seemed to be moving to all parts of my body. I had to shake it off or it would overpower me. Without explanation, I opened my door and then turned to him. “I’m sorry, Michael, I need some air.”

  The sound of my door shutting coincided with his door opening. “Elle, wait,” he called.

  “Michael,” someone who had parked behind us called at the same time. I turned back to see a man and a woman who I had seen at the cemetery walking toward him, with a younger man who looked to be around eighteen, possibly their son, between them. The woman had long black hair, the color of licorice. The man had dark brown hair, almost black as well, like Michael’s, but it was graying at the temples. His eyes, even from here, looked icy blue. The younger man was a cross between the man and woman, but he had dark brown hair like the man. All three of them were carrying armfuls of flowers.

  “Seamus, you didn’t need to come,” Michael responded in a clipped tone.

  Stepping up my pace, I tossed over my shoulder, “I’ll see you inside.”

  My body was trembling and I felt like the sky was falling down on me. But then as soon as I opened the door, I heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet and I felt like I could breathe again.

  “Mommy!” Clementine shrieked as she toddled toward me.

  My heart went into full-on arrest and panic wrapped around me. Snapping my head back, I saw that Michael was still outside and hadn’t heard her. The nanny, on the other hand, was standing in the entrance to the kitchen with a narrowed gaze.

  Clementine had been calling me that for almost two weeks now, but never had she done so in front of Michael. I wasn’t certain how to handle it. A part of me loved the very idea that I would get to call this beautiful, precious little girl my daughter. Another part of me knew she wasn’t mine, and that Michael wouldn’t approve. But the biggest part of me was worried he would approve, and that name would come with a price I couldn’t possibly pay. Not now that Logan had entered into my life.

  Keenly aware that I would most likely have conceded to such terms before Logan made me feel unbalanced in a way I couldn’t wrap my head around, I never wanted to have to choose between Clementine and Logan. I hoped it would never come to that. I’d tried to explain this to Logan this morning but I just couldn’t get the words out. If he had even an inkling that Michael had expressed interest in me, I wasn’t certain how he’d react. Or maybe I was certain. And I couldn’t take that chance.

  Besides, I rationalized, Michael had never openly made a play for me, or told me directly that he wanted me, Not yet, that small voice inside me stressed.

  Guilt pricked me for not mentioning my concerns to Logan. I’d been trying to shake my thoughts off as preposterous, but I just couldn’t because they simply weren’t.

  As of late, Michael’s desire had been written all over him. It was in his eyes and the way he looked at me, in his lips and the way they parted when he saw me, in his words and the way he spoke them. I think Logan had sensed Michael’s interest in me from the first time we met in Michael’s office, even though at the time, I was completely unaware of Michael’s feelings.

  Before now, I had the illusion of his marriage to my sister to hide behind. Now that Lizzy was dead, though, I was worried that once the grieving widower was done mourning, the subtleties would be done, too.

  God, I hoped not.

  For now, I could handle this. I just had to keep Logan and Michael apart. As much as I wanted to tell Logan how Michael made me feel, it wouldn’t help anyone; in fact it could jeopardize my relationship with Clementine, and she was the one thing I couldn’t bear to lose.

  “Up,” that sweet little voice urged.

  More than happy to comply, I lifted her and cradled her in my arms. “Have you eaten your lunch, sweet girl?” I asked.

  “I was just preparing it,” the new nanny, Heidi, said in her German accent.

  Heidi was in her mid-twenties and at almost six feet tall, she looked like she should have been a supermodel, not an au pair from Germany who’d just moved in with Michael and my niece.

  “Great, I’ll sit with her.”

  As I walked toward the kitchen, I glanced at the photos around the house. Michael’s mother, his sister and her family, him and Clementine, just Clementine, but there were none of him and Lizzy, or Lizzy and Clementine.

  Out of nowhere, but not for the first time, it struck me that Michael and Lizzy might not have been happily wed. I’d never asked. Yet, there were no pictures of the two of them in the house, no wedding mementos anywhere, and he very rarely talked about her. When he did, she was Elizabeth, a name I know she’d have never allowed, as that was the name our father called her.

  “Where’s my girl?” Michael called from the front door.

  I looked over at him and pushed all of my craziness aside. Today was a day to mourn my sister. Tomorrow, I’d worry about what came next.

  “Daddy. Daddy!” Clementine yelled in a burst of excitement.

  Right there was the problem. The hex to all the negative theories I had about Michael. He loved his daughter and she loved him. No matter what he was, he was a good father.

  And what I wouldn’t have given to have had a father like him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LOGAN

  I had a teacher in the sixth grade who used to nag me about my lack of focus.

  If only she could see me now. Every fiber of my being was focused on figuring out what the fuck had happened to not only the rest of the stolen cocaine, but also where the hell the five million dollars in cash was. Gaining this knowledge would help me prove or disprove that O’Shea was way more involved than he let on.

  In addition, I still had to figure out what Patrick was really after when he made the demands on O’Shea.

  The money?

  The drugs?

  Lizzy?

  The connection?

  Everything?

  If he was after Lizzy, she wasn’t in the picture any longer. Had he taken her out, not O’Shea?

  Or was my gut right and there something—someone—else also involved?

  Obtaining this information was key to keeping Elle safe, on all fronts. It would not only take Tommy and Patrick out of play for the rest of their natural-born lives, but could possibly implicate O’Shea. Fighting fire with fire was my game, and my hope was that Tommy and Patrick were the ones who would get burned. It was also going to help me see just how involved O’Shea was.

  Agent Meg Blanchet had gone freezer on me. She hadn’t spoken a word to me since she blew a gasket over the hotel fiasco. Of course, she was still also pissed about my lack of delivery and follow-through in the cocaine bust. I wasn’t certain whether that was good or bad news. Sure, part of the drugs had shown up right in the Blue Hill Gang’s backyard, and as hard as they tried to deny the connection, the evidence was hard to negate, but still the pipeline was unknown. The source a mystery. The kingpin missing.

  My cell rang.

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  “Hey, you’re never going to believe this,” Miles said excitedly.

  “What is it?”

  “One of my guys at the BPD said a gang member has agreed to turn state’s evidence.”

  “RICO?”

  “Yes, sir.

  I slammed the wheel in excitement. “No fucking way.”

  “Keep it to yourself but I wanted you to know the charges will be filed soon, and then Blanchet will be able to try Patrick and Tommy for the crimes they ordered other members of the gang to commit. Murder, torture, robbery.”

  “Best news I’ve heard in a while.”

  The Racketeering Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act allowed the DEA to gather enough circumstantial information on someone for him to be for
mally charged for crimes not directly committed by him but linked through his assistance. If a gang member spilled Tommy and Patrick’s outlaw behavior, it would be a huge win for the DEA.

  “I thought you’d think so.”

  “Yeah, thanks again for the heads-up. At least I know for certain they won’t be getting out anytime soon.”

  “Right. I think they’ll be locked away for a good, long time. I’ll talk to you later if I hear anything else.”

  “Thanks again,” I said. “Miles, wait, what about—” I called, but he had already disconnected. I tried him back and got voicemail. Hopefully Declan had taken care of the Tommy visit arrangements with Miles.

  I downshifted the Rover to take a turn. God, I loved this vehicle. Loved to drive it when I had steam to burn. As long as I was moving fast, I wasn’t overthinking everything or doing anything stupid.

  Right now, my life felt like it was spinning out of control, and it scared me. Not because I needed to be in control of those around me, but because I wanted to be in charge of my own destiny for once in my life. And that call might have put me one step closer.

  Slamming down on the accelerator, I hit the turnpike at high speed. I weaved in and out of the traffic. Faster and faster I took my speed until I was forced to slow down. The exit ramp had a sharp turn and I needed to get to my destination in one piece.

  I pulled into the parking lot of the boxing gym around the corner from Declan’s coffee shop, Mulligan’s Cup, and not much farther from Elle’s boutique, The House of Sterling. As I eased my Rover into a spot, I couldn’t believe how helpful Declan Mulligan had been. When we were kids he’d hung with Tommy’s crowd. He was even the driver the night Tommy attacked me. Somehow he managed to turn his life from shit to something decent, and I think helping me was his way to atone for his sins. And that was something I not only got but also respected.

  He’d started seeing Peyton, Elle’s employee, and they seemed happy together. Both were artsy and seemed like a good match.

  Were Elle and I good match?

  For a moment, I just sat there, listening to the engine hum as I tried to pull my thoughts together. I wanted to talk to her. Tell her the news. To atone for my own sins, I guess. But I knew she wouldn’t be able to talk and calling her would only piss me off. It had been a long fucking day, though, between the argument I had with Elle this morning, seeing my grandfather and our more than weird conversation, and then watching Elle with O’Shea. Seeing him take her hand to comfort her. That should have been me.

  With a shiver, I gazed out at the brick buildings that surrounded me and took more than one calming breath. When the ill feeling passed, I rolled down the window to let the fresh air whisk away the jealousy I couldn’t shake.

  I was in bad shape.

  I just wanted this fucking day to be over. Saturday. All day. Who the hell held a funeral from practically dawn to dusk? I knew I sounded like I was whining because I couldn’t be with my girl, but I couldn’t help it.

  Right then I told myself to stop being a pussy.

  Manning up, I grabbed my duffle and moved like lightning out of my vehicle and into the gym. Declan was already at it, punching the bag with a force that told me his mood wasn’t much better than mine. I stopped for a moment. Watching him in action made me grin.

  Feeling like a caged tiger, I approached him. “Hey, man.”

  He jerked his chin in response and threw one last punch before tossing me his gloves. He’d called me right after I left my grandfather and told me to meet him here. I didn’t have my gear, but I didn’t really need it.

  Arteries pumping with adrenaline, muscles bunched, ready to punch anything that got in my way, I got to it.

  I would have thought all the sex I was having would wear me out. But instead it was having the opposite effect on me. I had more energy and drive than ever. Or maybe it was pent-up frustration I was feeling. Whatever it was, I was going to take it out on the bag.

  I let loose a thundering punch.

  Declan whistled. “That bad of a day, huh?”

  I nodded. “Did you talk to Miles?” I asked.

  “Just got off the phone. He said he had just hung up with you when he got word.”

  “What is it?”

  “He can get you in early in the morning, but that’s all he can guarantee. Tommy might be moved by afternoon.”

  I pounded into the bag. “How long will I have?”

  “He said fifteen minutes at the most. Go in and tell the guy behind the desk you’re Flannigan’s new attorney. He’ll bring Tommy up and let you in.”

  My teeth were grinding together, the sweat pouring down my back. I knew gaining visitation wasn’t going to be easy. Even as an attorney I hadn’t been able to arrange it myself. Luckily, it turned out Miles still had deep connections, and my little upcoming “sit-down” had been arranged courtesy of him.

  “Yeah, okay. No one will block me once I pass the desk?” I asked, pulling off my gloves.

  “Miles assured me that not a single sheriff in lockup is on the Flannigan family’s payroll. He also told me to tell you there’s a dark corner in the basement with no security cameras, and for the right price, Tommy could easily be dealt with down there.”

  Raw punches to the bag were going to leave my knuckles bruised. “If only it were that fucking easy,” I muttered. I wasn’t a killer, though. I may have crossed the legal line when it came to the drugs, but I wasn’t going to cross that line.

  “Miles also got one of the cokeheads to talk, but he didn’t know much.”

  I turned for a moment to catch my breath. “What did he say?”

  “He doesn’t remember exactly where he was buying his product. Just that it was a tall skyscraper down on the waterfront.”

  The bag once again became my outlet for my anger. “How the fuck doesn’t he remember the address?”

  Loosening up, Declan reached for the gloves I had tossed and put them back on. “He’d moved on. That was two dealers ago. Miles is going to walk him down there tomorrow night and get him to point the building out. He needs five hundred, though.”

  I slammed the bag over and over. “Yeah, okay, I’ll drop it off when I leave here.”

  Declan started punching again and we each took our pent-up frustration out on the bag.

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but I was drenched in sweat before my hands began to ache and my muscles burned—this was what I needed.

  Declan pointed under the bag. “Hey, man, I think that’s enough.”

  I looked down and sure enough, blood was dripping on the floor. “Probably time to hit the shower.”

  In the locker room, I let the water sluice down my body. I had to get my shit together. This anger, rage, frustration, or fear, whatever it was, wasn’t healthy. I couldn’t change the situation Elle and I were in, but if I kept up the way I was, I might just drive her away.

  Having realized this, I emerged, feeling like I could handle things better. My goal was right in front of me—bring them all down and close the door behind me.

  “Want to talk about it?” Declan asked as he tied his boots.

  I slipped a T-shirt over my head. “I was a dick to Elle this morning.”

  He stood straight. “That’s what’s bothering you?”

  I shook my head. “Yeah.”

  “Look, man, that’s the one thing that has an easy solution.”

  I furrowed my brows.

  “You do what all groveling men do when they fuck up.”

  Shoving my feet in my sneakers, I glanced over at him, “And what would that be?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and laughed. “Come on, man. Don’t you watch the movies?”

  My look was one of question.

  Declan shook his head. “Buy her candy and flowers.”

  This time I raised a brow. “That’s a little cliché.”

  “Then do something sweet and romantic. Women can’t stay mad at a man for long when he gets all romantic on her.”
/>   I shrugged. “Not really my thing.”

  His quirked smile wasn’t making me feel any better. “Well, if you fucked up, you better learn how to make it your thing or get used to sleeping on the couch.”

  I winced at the thought.

  “Trust me, man, and do it. Take it from someone who has way too many ex-girlfriends, if you don’t, she won’t be your girl for long.”

  With a sideways glance, I considered what he said.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ELLE

  I was ready to scream.

  The day had been an endless parade of casseroles, neighbors, Michael’s colleagues, and I didn’t know who else.

  It just all seemed so fake.

  None of those people knew my sister.

  Erin seemed to be doing a good job as hostess and was talking to just about everyone.

  At seven thirty, I read Clementine a story and put her to bed. And then when I felt like I couldn’t take another moment of “I’m sorry for your loss” from another person who didn’t know my sister, I excused myself.

  My fingers were just reaching for the handle of the door in the kitchen that led outside when a hand grasped them. “You’re Michael’s sister-in-law?” a man asked. It was the same man I’d seen with all the flowers in the driveway earlier.

  Something about him seemed off and I didn’t look up. “Yes,” I answered.

  “He is very fond of you.”

  My eyes stayed trained to the floor. “We have a common goal of making sure Clementine is happy despite the sadness surrounding the death of my sister.”

  “Hmmm . . . yes, the child.”

  I didn’t like the way he’d said that. “Clementine,” I reaffirmed.

  “Yes, Clementine.”

  Chills ran down my spine. I didn’t like the way he’d said her name.

  “Are you going outside?” he asked.

  “No, I was just making sure the door was locked,” I lied and then stepped back, not sure why but knowing I didn’t want to be alone with him.

  “Seamus.” Michael’s voice sounded like a warning.

  The man turned and walked toward Michael. “There you are, we need to talk.”

 

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