The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

  He was going through the list again, in more detail.

  “Fucking A,” he bit out.

  I was behind him in an instant. “What?”

  “There’s a greenhouse about fifty miles east of Sudbury owned by a Rose Corporation. Do you think it could have any connection to Rose O’Shea?”

  “Yes, it has to. Let’s go.”

  “It’s a good two hours away, Logan. Let me call the Sudbury Sheriff’s Department and see if they can send someone closer.”

  “No, I want to find her.”

  He stood and gripped my shoulder. “You did, but you have to let someone else get her. Someone closer. Someone with authority.”

  Gearing up, I stared at him, daring him to stop me.

  He stepped closer. “Logan, listen to me. I know you’re going crazy right now, but her life could depend on this. We don’t have any backup. We don’t know what we’d be walking into. Let the authorities take care of this.”

  “Make the call.” I conceded.

  Although I hated to admit it, he was right.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  ELLE

  My fingernails bit into my own skin.

  Digging, gouging, tearing, trying to free myself.

  I was an animal being held captive.

  No, I was a girl, a good girl.

  Wait, I was a woman.

  As I rose to consciousness, I wasn’t sure how long I’d been here. I wasn’t sure about anything. The only thing I was certain of was that more than likely I was going to die, and it was going to be sooner rather than later.

  Muted voices were incomprehensible, but I didn’t care anymore. I was shrouded in darkness and I couldn’t fight it anymore. It wasn’t my choice. My body was making the decision for me. I hadn’t eaten. I’d been injected with insulin at least three times that I knew of. My confusion was evidence that hypoglycemia was setting in. It was a symptom I knew well. One I’d helped my mother overcome many times. Except, I knew the outcome when untreated. And it wouldn’t be long before my brain shut down.

  Far in the distance, I thought I heard sirens. No, I wanted to hear sirens. I wished I heard sirens.

  Suddenly, the voices became clearer. “Get the fuck out of here, now.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “Leave her.”

  Oh, God.

  “Don’t leave me,” I tried to scream.

  But the sound of a car’s screeching tires and the silence in the room told me they were gone. And that I was all alone.

  Logan’s face flashed before me. I spoke to him. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m just not strong enough.

  The whistle of sirens seemed to be closer.

  Hope rose in my heart.

  There was the sound of a door.

  More voices.

  Talk louder. I can’t hear you.

  Then my body slammed against something hard and I heard a thud. I think it was me. I wanted to open my eyes. To see where I was, but I just couldn’t.

  I was weak.

  More hands were touching me. I wanted to scream. I did scream, but I don’t think anything came out.

  Words were echoing all around me.

  The moon was strangling the sun—no, the sun was strangling the moon.

  Tires were spinning.

  I was in a car.

  No, I was on a train.

  Another thud.

  I could see.

  Lights were bright above me.

  I was moving again. Fast. Really fast. I was back on the train.

  Or had I been in a car?

  This time I focused on only one of my senses—hearing, for now. I concentrated hard and when I did, I could make out what was being said.

  “She’s in and out of consciousness.”

  “Drug overdose?”

  No, I don’t do drugs. I was trying to talk. Could they hear me?

  “I don’t think so.”

  No, they couldn’t. “Call Logan. I need Logan,” I said.

  “How’d she get here?”

  “Sudbury Sheriff’s Department brought her in.”

  They weren’t listening to me.

  “Symptoms?”

  “Sweating, tremors, palpitations.”

  “Pupils?”

  “Dilated.”

  “Sounds like insulin shock. I need a CBC, stat.”

  A pinch.

  “Her pulse is steady.”

  Was I in a hospital?

  Yes, yes I was. But was it too late?

  I couldn’t think anymore.

  And then everything went black again.

  Time passed. I had no idea how much or how little.

  There was an incessant swooshing noise that woke me up.

  My eyes flew open.

  I felt a bit drunk.

  Yet still, I could see things. There wasn’t a mask of darkness around my head anymore—the blindfold was gone.

  I could hear things more clearly—they were no longer muffled.

  The sounds were coming from machines.

  One in particular making that beeping noise that made me want to scream. I’d heard it only once before—when I was in the hospital having my kidney removed and ended up barren.

  It was tall and obnoxious and it stood beside me, blinking red numbers, and it was then that I noticed the long plastic tube that ran up from the back of my hand to the pole.

  Panic gripped me.

  Where was I?

  I was on my back, propped up. The material beneath me was utterly foreign. It was white and stiff, and smelled faintly of bleach—I wasn’t on a hard, damp ground anymore.

  I wasn’t in heaven.

  I wasn’t in the fiery pits of hell.

  I was in the hospital.

  How?

  My head pounded as I tried to remember what had happened. I struggled to sit all the way up. I needed a phone. I had to call Logan.

  Everything was a scattered mess in my head; even his number was a jumble. I was dizzy, light headed, and still I reached for the phone that should have been beside my bed but there wasn’t one there.

  I glanced around.

  The small amount of rectangular blue sky I could see through the slats of the blinds to my right told me it was daytime. I had no idea what day it was, though, or how long I’d been here.

  Clementine. Would she have been waiting for me?

  Anxious, I folded the covers back as gently as I could and sat on the edge of the bed. I had to find a phone. I glanced down. My fingernails still had some dirt under them; my legs were clean but bruised, my arms the same. I touched my face. It stung—my lips, my cheek, my nose.

  The pole worked well as a crutch for support and I wheeled it into the bathroom before I would make my way into the hall. I looked in the mirror to find a bandage across my cheek; my lips were cut and bruised, and my nose looked slightly burned.

  A murmur of voices from outside my door put me on alert. I hurried back to my bed, my pulse skipping.

  Who was coming?

  When the door handle turned, I held my breath, hoping it was Logan.

  But how would he know where I was?

  Familiar eyes greeted me. As if I’d been struck by lightning, my body jerked. His eyes. They were the same icy blue eyes as the man who had taken me.

  I felt the blood drain from my face.

  The room began to spin.

  My fingers gripped the sheets.

  The noise coming from the machine now sounded as loud as a hammer and I wanted to smash it.

  My breathing felt irregular and I took a huge breath. Blinking a few times, I talked myself off of the ledge. Of course, I knew it wasn’t Michael who had abducted me. It couldn’t have been. I’d have known if it was.

  Still, fear crept around the periphery of my mind.

  “Elle, you’re awake.” He rushed over to me, his cell ringing as he crossed the room.

  “Where am I?” I asked. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion and I wasn’t sure my
words would make sense.

  His arms were around me and he was hugging me.

  I felt nausea rise in my throat, but swallowed it down.

  His cell rang again. The ringing of the cell phone was agitating. Still ignoring it, he pulled back and grabbed my hand as if relieved to see me. “You’re in a hospital in Springfield.”

  An anxiety I couldn’t name formed in my chest. I tried not to flinch but I did, and I ended up pulling my hand back. I closed my eyes and attempted to reject the feeling that he had anything to do with my or my sister’s abduction, but in this moment, he was a stranger. Nothing made sense.

  His phone was driving me crazy. “Answer it,” I said rather harshly.

  With a heavy sigh, he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at it. His features darkened in the strangest way, but he still didn’t answer it. Instead he switched the ring to vibrate and focused on me again. “Are you in pain?” he asked. This time there was a new tone in his voice. One I’d never heard.

  Hushed.

  I didn’t like it.

  As if my lack of response was a yes, he started for the door. “I’ll get the nurse.”

  “No, not yet.”

  I could see his phone vibrate in his hand. I wanted to ask him if I could use it. I wanted to call Logan, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to explain myself. Still, I stared at it the entire time he poured me a glass of water. “How’s Clementine?” I asked, more concerned about her than ever.

  With the glass in one hand and his phone in the other, he handed me the water. “She’s fine. Here, drink this.”

  Once I’d taken a sip, I looked up at him. “How did you know I was here?”

  His sigh gave away his concern and he sat in the chair next to the bed. “I was at the Sudbury Sheriff’s Department when units were dispatched to the scene.” His last words trailed off.

  I looked at him strangely. Town names didn’t matter to me. I could have been on Mars, that’s how far away I’d felt.

  “I was worried about you. You were missing and I’d filed a missing persons report. I was notified when the Mercedes was found and I wanted to talk to the men who impounded the vehicle, directly.”

  With a shudder, I forced myself to talk even though I didn’t want to. “I wasn’t missing. A man took me, Michael, a man who told me I had to walk down God’s path, a path that leads to you.”

  Silence stretched between us. “Shhh . . . you don’t have to talk right now. I’ve told the police we’d go down to the station tomorrow in order to give you some time to think, to get everything straight in your head,” he finally said.

  Straight? How did he know it wasn’t straight? It wasn’t, but I hadn’t told him that. Did he know who had taken me, who had taken my sister? Any calmness I might have had in me, any patience or tolerance, had been left on that dirt floor wherever I had been. I felt raw inside and I wanted answers. “Michael, the man who took me said he had taken Lizzy, too.”

  His phone was buzzing again and when he glanced down at it, all the color drained from his face. And then just like that, like what I’d said wasn’t news to him, he jumped to his feet. “Listen, I need to go,” he said, and headed for the door.

  “Michael!” I called.

  He turned back. “The doctor said you should be released tomorrow. I have something I need to take care of, but I’ll be back later to check on you.”

  “Michael!” I called again, but the door closed.

  What just happened?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  LOGAN

  I was a force to be reckoned with.

  As I strode down the hospital corridor, nothing or no one was going to stop me from seeing Elle.

  As soon as Miles had gotten the call that Elle had been found, he slapped the siren on his car again and we took off. Unfortunately, no one would violate HIPAA policies, so I had no idea how she was. All I knew were three things. She was alive. She had been admitted and was on the fifteenth floor. And I was going mad.

  My legs couldn’t move any faster. I wanted to run, but didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I hadn’t stopped at the desk, hadn’t checked in. I snuck by with my hat on and sunglasses on my face. Somehow, I managed to slide right past the reception area without so much as a whisper. I wasn’t going to take a chance at being denied access.

  The hospital was huge and it took fucking forever to navigate. When I got in the elevator, there was no button for the fifteenth floor. I turned around to find a nurse with a cup of coffee in her hand. “Excuse me, how do I get to room fifteen ten?”

  She gave me a smile. “Take the red elevator to the third floor, follow the sign for the green elevator, then take that one to the fifteenth floor.”

  Something tight in my chest exploded like a grenade.

  I thought it was my heart, blown into a million pieces.

  This journey was taking way too long.

  What if she needed me right now?

  “Thank you,” I said, and this time I ran.

  At the door to the room, I came to a stop and braced myself for the fact that O’Shea might be there already. When Miles made the call, he had learned that O’Shea was at the Sudbury Sheriff’s Department. He was more than an hour closer than us.

  Resolve, resignation, hatred, and rage were just a few of the emotions that passed through me. Tempering all of them, I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to stay in the shadows anymore. I couldn’t. Elle was mine, and I was going to claim her for all the world to see.

  Elle and I would deal with the fallout of O’Shea finding out about us, together.

  A small huff of laughter escaped my lips. I talked the talk, but in the end I knew I’d do what I had to in order to make sure Clementine remained in Elle’s life—even if that meant stepping away.

  Pushing all the shit aside for now, slowly, I pulled the door open.

  My heart was a drum banging in my chest as I eased it open. The room was dark, and emotion flooded me when I saw her lying so still in the bed. So much so, I almost dropped to my knees and prayed. Something I hadn’t done since my grandmother was alive.

  It really was Elle.

  She was alive.

  Somewhere deep in the fiery pit of my soul, I doubted it was really her. I feared that because I was a sinner, my punishment was going to be losing her.

  Absolution.

  Redemption.

  I vowed to seek both.

  Her profile was beautiful and I stopped where I was to just stare at her. The woman in front of me was more than an alignment of features. She had become the one thing that kept my heart beating and my mind sane.

  I needed her.

  Before I moved any farther into the room, I looked around over the rim of my sunglasses.

  No O’Shea.

  When I was certain I was the only person in the room, I took my sunglasses off.

  As if she could sense me, her head snapped in my direction. “Logan!” she cried.

  I rushed toward her and my stomach fell when I saw the bruises on her face. Not because of how she looked, but rather because of the pain she must have endured. My fists balled at my sides and anger welled beneath the surface of my very being. “Elle,” I said, my own voice broken, gruff. When I reached the bed, I fell beside her and took her hand. “Elle, I can’t believe it’s really you.”

  She struggled to sit up.

  “No, don’t move,” I insisted.

  She ignored me and reached her arms out, her hands reeling me in. “Logan,” she cried again.

  There was no hesitation as I moved to embrace her. Gently, so gently, I lifted her chin before I pressed her body to mine. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.” That voice wasn’t even mine.

  She nodded through the sobs and slammed her head to my chest. “I am, now that you’re here.”

  Suddenly, I was a live wire. My world, the one that had seemed tilted, cracked in her absence, was righted with her in my arms, and despite knowing this was nowhere near over, I couldn’t help bu
t feel happy.

  I wasn’t a poet, nor was I a romantic, but at that moment everything seemed just a little brighter.

  I climbed onto the bed. I had to be beside her. Her tears were bordering on hysteria and I needed to help calm her down. I lifted her head, careful not to look too closely at her wounds right now or the thought of them having been inflicted on her might just cripple me. And I couldn’t afford that handicap, not here, not now.

  “Oh, Logan.” She said my name again as if I were her savior.

  I wished I had been.

  I wished I’d found her yesterday.

  No, I wished I’d gotten to her before anyone took her.

  I wanted so badly to rewind time and be the one to take her place.

  “It’s me. I’m here. I’m here.”

  “How . . . how . . . did you find me?” she cried.

  I reached to stroke her hair. It was matted, and a mess, caked with dirt.

  Oh, fuck. What had happened to her?

  Again, I forced myself to focus. She needed me and she needed the calm me, the one that had never existed until she entered my life. “Later. I’ll tell you everything later.”

  Her body was trembling despite the warmth in the room. “He had eyes like Michael’s, the man who took me, he had eyes like Michael’s. He told me he had taken my sister to set her on the right path, to repent for her sins, and that he had taken me so I could avoid the path she had taken.”

  My mind flipped back to being at her sister’s apartment yesterday, which, according to the leasing office, she’d had for almost three years. There were some men’s things in it—enough to indicate Tommy had been living there. Yes, she must have committed adultery. But who would hold her captive because of that?

  The lease was in her maiden name, and was signed when she first moved to Boston. Employment records from Lucy’s corresponded to that date. Facts indicated that she blew into town, got a job at Lucy’s, and formed some kind of bond with Tommy. Where O’Shea fit in, who the hell knew?

  It seemed that even after she married him, she spent a great deal of time at her apartment. The rent had been paid in cash every month through January. February, March, and April hadn’t been paid, and an eviction notice was getting ready to be processed.