by Kim Karr
Ironically, knowing he was working with the DEA helped soothe my nerves. “What did she say?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. They don’t know where Tommy is. Come on, we have to go.”
“Where are we going?”
He indicated I should walk toward him. “I’m going to take you to my father’s house. Right now it’s the safest place.”
“Isn’t he Patrick’s counsel?”
“Yeah, but Patrick has a half-dozen attorneys. My father isn’t one he’d use to get him out of jail. Besides, I can’t imagine he’ll even be given bail. He’s too much of a flight risk.”
My steps were slow. “And what about you?”
With an extended hand, he urged me to move faster. “I’m going to find Tommy.”
Hearing him say it again didn’t make the blow any easier. I stopped. “Logan, please don’t do this. The police are looking for him. Let them find him.”
His headshake was determined. “They’ll never find him. He might not be very bright, but he’s not stupid.”
My fingertips reached for him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
There, I said it.
He took my hand and tugged me toward him. He didn’t say anything to me. Didn’t give me false hope. Instead, he kissed me like I was his world. I could feel him, I could taste him, I was him. His hands clutched my face tightly as his lips moved against mine. My hands rested on his chest but then moved up to wrap around his neck. I needed to be closer. He did too. He pulled me even tighter to him and started grabbing fistfuls of my hair. In that moment, he held me as if it were the last time we’d be like this. I wanted to fight for control with him, tell him not to kiss me like this, but our lips and our bodies were moving in such perfect sync, I couldn’t. It was as if our minds were branding this feeling into our souls and I didn’t want the moment to end until the full image was captured.
When he pulled back, I looked at him. I wanted to beg him to stay with me. Not to go out into the night alone. Yet, I knew there was no arguing with him. He was determined to protect me no matter the cost. Besides, he had already made up his mind, and the way he was staring at me told me what I already feared—if he didn’t succeed in finding and stopping Tommy, he was going to leave me in order to save me.
And crush my heart.
DAY 9
LOGAN
Relying on others for help felt strange.
I’d been on my own, forging my own way, and dealing with my own shit for so long, asking for assistance didn’t seem right.
Yet, I didn’t have a choice.
I couldn’t be in two places at once, and Elle’s safety was at stake.
The ride to my old man’s was quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts. When we pulled into the driveway, I turned off the ignition and looked at her. I knew she was upset. “Talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Whatever you have to,” I said. “Whatever you need to. Just get it out.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t want you to go after Tommy.”
Trying to comfort her, I reached for her hand. “I have to. Don’t you see? If not I’ll go insane constantly looking behind my back, wondering what’s lurking around every corner, waiting for what’s next.”
She pulled her hand away. “Then there’s nothing more to say.”
“Elle,” I sighed.
Her eyes met mine. “Logan, I’m tired. And I’m worried . . . for you. For Clementine. For Michael. And for me. I just want this to be over.”
I nodded. “So do I.”
She turned her head and her eyes were hidden from me, but I had already seen the tears that were glimmering in them, and it killed me.
“Let’s get inside.” There really wasn’t anything more to say. She’d said it all. The truth was . . . I was worried too.
It was almost two in the morning and the house was lit up like a Christmas tree.
I’d called my father as soon as I left the hotel room and given him a very watered-down version of what had happened. Then I’d called Declan Mulligan, a guy from my past who I hadn’t expected to be a friend, and Miles Murphy, who wasn’t ex-military like I thought but ex-BPD, who’d worked in the gang crimes division for years until he was shot in the line of duty sometime last year and subsequently decided to retire. I filled them in and asked for their help. Miles had agreed to call some of his ex-cop friends to come over to my old man’s tonight to look out for Elle. He was coming to keep guard as well, and then if it came to it, he’d help take her home in the morning and get her house and business wired securely. Declan was showing up as well, but not to keep watch; he had the best intel on Tommy.
“Wait for me to come around,” I told her and then got out. As soon as I did, the kitchen door flung open. My old man stood there, gun at his side, eyes shifting in the night. I gave him a nod and rushed over to Elle’s side. I tried not to show her the fear that was flowing through my veins.
With my hand on the small of her back, I guided her toward what used to be my gramps’s house and was now my old man’s. She fidgeted. Her fingers combed through her hair and she smoothed it. It was then that I realized she hadn’t formally met my father yet. The run-in at O’Shea’s law office, more than a week ago, wasn’t the impression I wanted her to have of him.
My old man stood stoic as we hurried through the door. His eyes met mine when I passed him and I could see the disapproval in them over the deal I’d made with the DEA, but he said nothing. Instead he followed us in and secured the door behind him. Once he slid his gun inside his waistband, he surveyed us. The creases around his eyes and lines on his face told me he was worried too.
We were all standing in my gramps’s kitchen and the ghosts couldn’t have had any larger of a presence. With lingering visions of blood everywhere, I closed my eyes and had to forcibly suppress the memories of the night Tommy attacked me and my then somewhat-girlfriend Kayla in here.
“Logan,” my father said quietly as if he knew what I was envisioning.
The sound of his voice made me blink out of the horrific flashback.
Focusing on Elle, I knew it was time to break the ice and do the formal introductions, as awkward as they seemed in a situation like this. “Pop, this is Elle Sterling. Elle, this is my father, Sean McPherson.”
She held her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mr. McPherson.”
To my surprise, Sean McPherson, attorney-at-law, admitted alcoholic, my part-time boss and my old man, stepped forward and hugged her. “Call me Sean.”
The embrace wasn’t long, but it was enough that I could see the look of relief on her face. Had she been worried about meeting him?
“Coffee?” my old man asked, stepping back.
“No, thank you,” Elle replied.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a cup, if you want to make a pot. I’m going to take Elle up to my room. She’s tired.”
My father nodded and then started for the sink.
“This way.” I took Elle’s hand and her bag and we headed toward the family room, and then up the stairs to the room I was staying in.
Once we were in there, Elle looked anywhere but at me.
My shit was everywhere. I’d only been here a few days since moving out of the Four Seasons and hadn’t bothered to unpack anything. I was living out of duffle bags. I reached inside one and pulled out a pair of track pants and a sweatshirt. “You’ll be safe here. No one but Tommy would ever come to Killian McPherson’s house. And with Miles, his crew, and my father on guard, he’ll never make it past the threshold even if he tries.”
“I know you wouldn’t take me anywhere that wasn’t safe,” she whispered. I could tell she was scared. I hated that she was.
Wanting to get out on the street as fast as I could, I quickly stripped out of my dress clothes and changed.
Elle walked over to the bureau and picked up the picture that was sitting on it. “Is this you?”
“Yeah, I was around four, and that’
s my grandmother and grandfather.”
“I can see the resemblance.”
Dressed, I sat on the bed and put my sneakers on. “The bathroom is at the end of the hall. Ask my old man for anything you need.”
She nodded but didn’t turn around. She just kept staring at the picture.
“Elle, I have to go,” I said, standing and grabbing my hat. As I headed for the door I wanted to go over to her, put my arms around her, and kiss her, but it didn’t feel right. Not right now. Not when she was in danger. Not when everything was so fucked up.
Her voice caught me just before I hit the hallway. “Be careful,” she said quietly.
I waited a moment, to see if she’d turn around.
She didn’t.
Better that way.
Quickly, I closed the door and my mind to the struggle I was feeling between my head and my heart. I’d told her we were in this together, but that was before. Before the note. Before the one thing I wasn’t sure I could wrap my head around—Tommy hurting Elle. That’s why I had to focus on removing the threat; everything else would have to wait.
Downstairs, Declan and Miles had already arrived. They were sitting at the kitchen table with my old man. They all looked at me solemnly when I entered the room.
“Is she all set?” my father asked.
I nodded and headed to the coffeepot to pour a cup.
“Who else knows what you did besides Frank and Elle?” He asked this as he walked to the kitchen door. Frank lived next door, but his house was completely dark. He must have been asleep. I doubted he knew anything about the takedown—yet.
“No one, and Frank doesn’t really know anything. Only that I needed some empty liquor boxes. But I’m sure when he sees the news, he’ll figure it out.”
My old man turned around and his eyes were filled with pain. “I’ve done everything I could to keep you out of this life, Logan, to protect you from the darkness it brings,” he started.
I set my cup down and held up my hands. “Not now, okay? Not now.”
He dropped his head and ran his hands through his hair. I knew what this was doing to him and I hated it.
Focus. I had to focus on what I had to do. There was no space for feelings in this room, or in this house, or in my life right now for that matter.
“Come on, Declan, let’s go,” I said, striding toward the door.
He rose but stayed where he was, peering at both Miles and my father.
I kept moving.
I could hear the guys’ voices as I walked out of the kitchen door and into the cool night. They were still talking as I stepped onto the driveway but now I stopped listening. I didn’t need to hear what they had to say.
Minutes later, Declan hopped in the Rover and pulled out his phone. “I asked around. The only place Tommy has been seen lately besides Lucy’s is down at the docks in Southie.”
“Then that’s where we’ll start.“ I pulled out of the driveway and drove around for a bit to make sure I didn’t have a tail. I was pretty certain the last time I’d left the waterfront I was being followed, and now I was almost certain it was Agent Blanchet who had been on my tail that night. She knew way more about what I’d been doing the past week than I’d let on.
When I didn’t see anyone behind me, I headed for the Seaport District. I was going to find Tommy Flannigan if I had to turn over every square inch of the place. The motherfucker could be hiding in an abandoned warehouse like a rat for all I knew. I didn’t care. I’d flush him out. He was going to be mine—no matter where he was.
It was still dark when I took the streets one at a time, weaving through them, up and down, all the way from the channel to the river. The ice had melted in the water, but it kept its mucky winter shade. There wasn’t much activity this late and there was no sight of him. It was time to hoof it, so I parked near the Boston Fish Pier. “Where the fuck do we start?” I asked Declan.
We had less than three hours before dawn at the most and I knew if I didn’t find him tonight, I never would. It was too easy to hide in the city in the daytime. And come nightfall tomorrow, he’d be long gone. It was no use going to Lucy’s—the strip club was where the drugs had been found, and the police were swarming there.
Declan’s phone had been going off like crazy. He’d put feelers out everywhere. I couldn’t believe how well connected he was. Someone said he’d seen Tommy walking down Seaport Boulevard hours ago. We headed down that way, pulling on every warehouse door we could to see if any were loose or had recently been broken into. It was crazy, but as kids, we did this all the time. We’d come down here and wedge open the doors to the warehouses and scare the shit out of anyone who followed us inside. It was a game. I’d played it. Tommy had played it. So had Declan. Back then Southie was also a dump, though, and there were a shit-ton of abandoned buildings. Not so many anymore.
For over an hour Declan and I walked on opposite sides of the streets, up and down the docks, and through alleys. The wind was brutal and it was cold, so I’d pulled my hood up long ago. Lost in my thoughts, I kept walking, searching, pulling on doors, looking behind garbage cans, peering into smaller alleyways, checking out the homeless to see if Tommy was pretending to be one of them.
“Hey, man.”
Declan’s voice grabbed my attention and I looked across the street at him as he came jogging toward me.
“He’s at the fucking Seaport Hotel.”
My heart pounded. “No fucking way. I thought he’d checked out.”
“Miles just called. A buddy of his in security has been on the lookout and spotted him about an hour ago. Checked in under some alias, but he’s there. Room 510.”
I started moving backwards and pointed my finger at Declan. “Take the Rover and go back to my old man’s. I’ll meet you there later.”
“No way, man. You’re not going there alone.”
I shook my head, still pointing. “I don’t want you involved any further. You’ve done enough for now. Don’t follow me. Just go.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Declan, you have to leave. I can’t take the chance of you getting caught up in something dangerous.”
He stood there motionless.
“Please, man.” My voice was pleading and I think he got what I was saying. My conscience couldn’t handle it if he got marked or worse if he got killed in the crossfire.
He said nothing.
I took that as an okay and turned around and started running. The hotel wasn’t far, and it would be faster to get there on foot than heading all the way back to my vehicle anyway.
It was almost dawn by now and the early morning sky was just erupting. To everyone else I looked like I was out for a run, not on a mission to confront Tommy Flannigan and—and what? That was the question, wasn’t it? Do I sell my soul to the devil and kill the motherfucker? I decided not to go there in my mind right now. One step at a time—first I had to find him.
It was the longest fucking ten minutes of my life, but finally the Seaport Hotel was in sight. I strode through the lobby like I belonged there, hit the up arrow at the bank of elevators, and casually stepped into one when the doors opened. Beneath my calm exterior I was screaming, because my time of reckoning had finally come.
I stabbed the button for the fifth floor and the elevator seemed to crawl up to it. In the hallway, it felt a little surreal. I glanced down and was shocked to see my white knuckles and the ropes of muscle straining against the backs of my hands. I shook off any doubt. I had no choice but to do this. I’d use my fists. If I beat him to a pulp and he didn’t recover, I couldn’t be charged with premeditated murder. The law was flashing through my mind. Murder in the first degree. Voluntary manslaughter. Involuntary manslaughter. It didn’t matter; all would come with a prison term.
If I killed this motherfucker tonight I was going to be without Elle in my life. If I didn’t, if I turned around right now, I was going to have to let her go.
It was a lose-lose situation all the way around. B
ut the come and get me if you dare note Tommy had sent me was sent for a reason, and I was going to find out what that reason was.
My strides were long. Room 500, 502, 504, 506, 508, and finally 510. Focused on the gold numbers, I reached my destination in less than three seconds.
Without even thinking about it, I lifted my leg and kicked the door in, throwing the entire weight of my body into it. Luckily, this hotel was old and so were the doors.
Barreling into the room, I was shocked when I saw him. I had to remind myself that this time I wasn’t going to be held down by three men while he wielded his knife at me.
Yes, it had been a very long time since we were face-to-face, and there he was, looking the same. Like time had never passed. His eyes met mine with a dare, a come-and-get-me, and then he scampered from the bed to the floor in less than a heartbeat. On his feet, he stumbled backwards. “It’s been a long time,” he snickered.
I clenched my teeth and drew in a breath to calm the fury surging through my veins. “Not long enough.”
“You got my note?”
My blood started to pump so fast that I could hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears. “I did. But you already know that. Why else would I be here?”
That grin was back. “A friendly chat between old friends.”
“Fuck you,” I spat.
He shook his head. “Not one to let bygones be bygones?”
Ignoring the shit spewing from his mouth, I rushed forward and slammed my fist into his face. “What do you want from me?”
He bounced off the wall and I grabbed his shoulders before he slumped to the ground. Kneeing him in the gut, hitting him hard enough to lift his feet off the floor, I then let him tumble down. “We need to talk,” he managed.
With his face on the floor, I placed my foot on his back and pressed.
He yelped like a dog.
“Talk!” I barked out.
“Let me turn around.”
Easing my foot away, I stepped back but kept my gun pointed.
Slowly, he turned over and wiped the blood from his mouth.
“I’m waiting,” I sneered.
Instead of talking, he lunged for the gun that was sticking out from under the mattress.