by Kim Karr
“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 publ
ic 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.”
She got a little flirty and took the lead, leaping in front of me. “It doesn’t apply to me either then, but I’m still going to board first and beat you to the title.”
I laughed. “I’ll let you have this one.”
“Last call,” the operator yelled and we both picked up the pace, speeding to the pavilion, where I quickly paid the nominal fee and we crossed the wooden platform.
We were the last ones on, so we had to sit in the back row. That was fine with me. With my arm around her shoulder, the boat started toward the southern end of the lagoon and then slowly circled the edge. It was quiet and relaxing, almost making my life feel a little normal.
“Can I ask you something?” Elle whispered.
Calm and steady for the first time in so long, my gaze slid her way. “Yeah, sure, anything.”
“When I was at your apartment in New York, you had photographs of the Brooklyn Bridge on your walls. Why?”
An emotion I’d buried deep within myself long ago wormed its way up. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my thighs. “It’s stupid really.”
Her chin was on my shoulder and her breath was a whisper. “Tell me.”
I turned my head to see her. “When I was a sophomore in college, I took a photography class and one of our assignments was to photograph something that represented hope to us. I picked the Brooklyn Bridge. Having grown up being shuffled between the Upper East Side and Beacon Hill, my hope was that someday I’d find a place I could call home.”
The feel of her hand on my back was comforting as she rubbed it. I’d never had this from any other woman, not even my mother. “That makes sense. But why Brooklyn?”
I loved that she cared to ask, but I shook my head. “It’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
My eyes met hers and I felt like I could share anything with her. “My college roommate in my freshman year was from there and he used to take me home with him once in a while. His family had a huge loft and they seemed really happy there. Everything appeared so simple. I guess I kind of envied that kind of life.”
She kissed my cheek. “I think we both yearn for the stability we never had in our lives. For me, my hope came in the prospect of visiting a new place, like maybe this would be it, a place I could call home; for you it came in the form of a bridge. I get it.”
Straightening my back, I pulled her to me. “Yeah, I guess we are a lot alike.”
The rest of the ride was nothing earth shattering, but being beside her and doing something out in the open that new couples do made it feel like so much more.
Just as the boat began to pull back to the platform, I placed my hand on her thigh and then whispered, “Can I follow you home and bid you a proper good night?”
She snorted laughter, either at the old-fashioned way I asked the question or the fact that I asked at all. “I’m not sure.”
My fingers squeezed her thigh and my other hand cupped her shoulder as I leaned even closer, close enough so that I was touching her ear with my lips. “What aren’t you sure about? How good I’m going to make you feel or waiting to get home to have me?”
She shifted in her seat, and I leaned back and watched as her cheeks flushed. “Logan!”
“What?” I shook my head as if innocent, giving her a sideways smile. Before me, Elle wasn’t big on sexual innuendos or anything to do with sex for that matter, other than the act. She hadn’t allowed talking and didn’t do repeats. We were both very similar and very different in that respect. I didn’t do repeats, but the only way I had of connecting with women was by talking during sex.
Her tongue snuck out and licked her bottom lip. “Be a gentleman.”
With a shrug, I smirked, “I tried that, but when I asked if I could see you home and it got me nowhere, I had to up my game.”
The boat docked before she could say anything and as we were in the last row, we were ushered out first. I passed by her, and stepped up and then offered my hand.
She smiled at me. It was a sexy, playful smile, but it still revved me up. When her feet were on the platform and we were safely out of the way of others, she grabbed me by my belt loop and tugged me flush to her. “Being a gentleman isn’t getting you nowhere, not by a long shot,” she purred.
My smile was wide and I could feel every heartbeat in my cock.
It looked like I’d be seeing her to her door, and inside her door, and up her stairs, and then all the way to her bed.
Who knew—just maybe I was a gentleman after all.
DAY 16
ELLE
My heavy lids fluttered at the incessant singing of birds outside my window.
Squinting, I pried my eyes open.
It was early, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. I had way too much on my mind. Still, today was a day to dread and I wished sleep would pull me back in.
With a small sigh, I rolled over and then couldn’t help but smile when I saw the man I had come to love in such a short period of time sleeping soundly beside me.
Our relationship hadn’t had a conventional start. We’d met under less than ideal circumstances. A situation neither of us had chosen to be involved in.
At first when we met, I thought we were on opposite sides, but I soon found that wasn’t the case. And in the midst of the turmoil, we were drawn to each other in the most intimate of ways. Although we tried to fight the magnetic pull, we couldn’t. Shortly after meeting, we sought comfort in each other, and soon discove
red it was a comfort we’d never felt with another.
The man I silently called my protector, my white knight, stirred at my slight movement but didn’t wake. Exhaustion must have taken its toll.
The sight of him, all long, muscled limbs and smooth skin, curled my fingers in anticipation of touching him. Guilt held me off. I knew he hadn’t slept through the night in days. Worry over me had consumed him. Sure, he played a good game. Made like everything was going to be okay, but I could see beneath his tough exterior to the gentle, terrified man beneath.
Logan McPherson had been raised in two worlds. Shuffled between the wealthy elite of New York City and the brutish Irish Mob of Boston, he had become a man with two sides. The one seen by most was the dauntless, strong, confident man who knew how to take care of himself and everyone around him.
The protector.
The other side, the one he camouflaged, was a man who was drowning in the sins that surrounded him. Only through small glimpses had I seen the toll the violence that surrounded him had taken over the years.
The victim.
All I could do was be there for him and hope that with Tommy Flannigan in jail, all the chaos would soon be put to rest so he could begin to heal.
Placing a soft kiss on the scar beneath his eye, I carefully slipped out of bed. As soon as I tugged his white button-down on, his clean, fresh scent assaulted me and I had to turn back for another glance.
Hair the color of expensive milk chocolate that he wore brushed forward looked slightly more rumpled than usual. Where normally his beautiful hair feathered against his forehead and cheeks, now it was sticking out everywhere.
Bed head suited him, though.
The sheet had fallen away and my eyes greedily scanned his body from the twin dark circles of his nipples, to the ridges of his ribs, down to the narrow cut of his waist, and then stopped on hip bones that jutted out beneath the sheet.
Long and lean.
Powerful and strong.
Dauntless.
Covered by the soft cloth was all the rest of his magnificence, but also covered was the scar that ran down the inside of his thigh. That one, along with the scar under his eye, was a constant reminder of the danger he faced when in the presence of a woman, which was the source of his constant worry over me.