Crush (Tainted Love Duet #2)

by Kim Karr

  Logan leaned toward me and kissed the corner of my mouth where the tears had accumulated. “I can believe that.”

  I took a deep breath and blinked away the blur. I wasn’t crying over what I was about to tell him. The incident had long ago passed. I was crying that he cared enough about me to figure things out no one had ever even attempted. “My father didn’t like us to spend money on needless things but my mother thought that occasion deserved a new dress, so she took me shopping and I found the most perfect red satin dress. It was almost identical to Mulan’s. When I put it on I felt strong and brave—it represented everything I wanted to be. My mother did my hair and I got all ready and then waited for my father. He was late, as usual, and beeped the horn for me to come out when he arrived. I had my coat on already and ran to the car.”

  Logan was softly caressing the bare flesh of my shoulder, and I had nestled myself farther into his chest as I continued to speak.

  “Needless to say, my father didn’t see my dress until we arrived at the dance. As soon as I took my coat off, his nostrils flared. I knew he was angry but had no idea why. The night went on and I had fun walking around. When it was time for the fathers to dance with their daughters, mine was nowhere to be found, so I stood alone in the corner where no one could see me. As soon as the dance ended, my father grabbed my arm and told me it was time for us to leave. By then he smelled of alcohol and I knew he was drunk. We got in the car and he turned toward me and said one thing, and one thing only to me. It wasn’t how pretty I looked, or how proud he was of me, though; he simply told me only whores wear red.”

  “Fucking asshole,” Logan muttered under his breath.

  I lifted my head. “Without another word, he took me home and ordered me to my room to take my dress off. Once I did, he took it and locked the door. He and my mother argued for a long while, but I don’t really remember what was said. What I do remember, though, is the next day my dress had been shredded like pieces of red silk ribbon and was laying all over my parents’ entire room. I vowed not to cry for that dress. And I didn’t. Instead, I vowed to be stronger and to not allow him to crush my spirit. Ever since that day, red has been my favorite color. He might have had a need to control everything in our house, but I knew I’d never let him control who I was.”

  Logan pulled me to him and held me tightly, stroking my back with his fingers. “I can’t even tell you how sorry I am that you grew up with a man like him for a father. You’re beautiful, Elle, inside and out. Despite him.”

  There was probably something more to say, something profound, like that my inner warrior blossomed under his tyranny, but exhaustion had taken hold of me and I closed my eyes.

  His voice was soft when he spoke. “Hey, I have to leave early in the morning. Miles arranged for me to see Tommy, and then I need to run by Brighton House and check on my gramps. Do you want to drop me off at my old man’s first thing tomorrow, or can you wait until I get back and we can go pick up his car then?” he asked quietly.

  My sleepy eyes had just begun to fall into slumber but now popped open. I turned to look at him. “Why are you going to see Tommy? Nothing has happened. Why can’t we just leave things alone?”

  He swiped the hair from my face. “It doesn’t work that way. And I don’t want us looking over our shoulders, waiting for something to happen. I can’t live like that.”

  With a sigh, I turned back and laced my hand in his. “I’ll wait until you get back.”

  He squeezed me tightly. “It’ll be all right, Elle. I promise.”

  I think I nodded.

  “Good night,” he whispered.

  I closed my eyes again and dreaded the coming of tomorrow for so many reasons.

  DAY 17

  LOGAN

  The fucker was smiling like he’d just gotten a get out of jail free card.

  His arms were tatted up, half-sleeves to his elbows. His eyebrow was missing a ring that the Suffolk County Sheriff’s Department must have confiscated. His dark blue eyes, mousey brown hair, and sharp jawline were staring at me, daring me to set foot inside.

  No dare was necessary.

  He had no idea.

  I was more than ready for this.

  Just seeing him unfurled a lifetime of hatred. I could feel my jaw clench and my fists ball at my sides.

  Easy, I thought.

  Control.

  Focus.

  Stick to the plan.

  Don’t act like you did the last time.

  Just get in, get what you need, do what you have to, and get out.

  Fifteen minutes was all I had to get enough to make it look like he was a rat. And in doing so, set myself free. You see, a rat would be extricated from his power faster than lightning would strike a pole in a storm.

  Tommy Flannigan might have thought he was untouchable, but he couldn’t be more wrong. His coveted status as the son of the Blue Hill Gang’s boss didn’t mean shit to me, and soon enough it wouldn’t mean shit to anyone else.

  The number two, second in command, son of the boss—soon none of that would matter.

  I couldn’t wait.

  He was pure evil.

  Vile.

  Ruthless.

  Scum of the earth.

  No one was off-limits to him—but me.

  And if that didn’t put a smile on my face.

  He hated me.

  It was mutual.

  Blamed me for his unwed pregnant sister’s suicide.

  I blamed him for so much more.

  Unfortunately for me, he also held the key to my kingdom in his hand. He was everywhere, even locked up, and I knew it. That’s why I was doing this. I just hoped my plan worked.

  The Nashua Street Jail was a maximum-security facility in Boston and it was no playground. But I wasn’t looking to play. That note. That note that read The letter E wasn’t meant for Emily was a threat. A threat I wasn’t going to push under the rug or cower down to. This time, I was going to fight, tooth and nail, with anything and everything I had.

  “Ready?” the voice behind me asked.

  Snapping out of my thoughts, I couldn’t help but admit, “Ready isn’t even close.”

  The uniform laughed like he hated the motherfucker sitting at the steel table almost as much as I did. Gave me hope that Tommy’s stay would be anything but pleasant despite any connections his father might have.

  The door opened into the small room. All the furniture was bolted to the floor, the overhead light had a cage around it, and security cameras were in every corner. A malfunction with the sound couldn’t be helped, but courtesy of Miles there would be lots of pictures. Lots of proof that Tommy Flannigan was turning against his father, against the Blue Hill Gang. Or at least that was how it was going to look before I finished with him. First a visit from me, then one from the Attorney General’s office, on a Sunday nonetheless, the big favor Miles had arranged, should do the job. No doubt Tommy wouldn’t say anything to either of us, but no one else had to know that.

  Dressed in his prison uniform and shackled in chains, I found myself hesitating for a moment before stepping into the same room as Tommy Flannigan. Old instincts died hard. Last time I saw him our face-to-face wasn’t so civilized. But this time, I reminded myself, it would be. It had to be.

  “Just knock on the door if you need anything,” the corrections officer told me.

  I gave him a nod. “Will do.”

  Tommy was positioned directly in the middle of the table with his cuffed hands on its surface. He didn’t look up when the door closed or at the sound of my feet on the linoleum floor. Instead, his eyes were trained on the tabletop.

  With steady strides, I eased toward him, taking my time, rehearsing my words in my head. My nerves were locked down deep inside me. To anyone on the outside I looked rock solid. The fabric of my slacks hid the quivering in my legs. Just before I reached the table, I forced my knees to steady.

  My shadow loomed large over his small body as I strode toward him. When I came to a halt, hi
s head snapped up and lifeless eyes stared back at me in a suddenly expressionless face. Something had shifted in the sixty seconds since he glared at me through the window.

  I placed my palms on the table, leaned down, and stared back at him, my expression just as flat as his. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

  His lips twitched into a dangerous smile. “McPherson.” And then, there it was, the hatred. The one thing no one can keep locked inside.

  My hands stayed steady on the table as I leaned down. “Flannigan.”

  “I knew you’d come see me.”

  Every muscle in my body went taut. “I want to kill you with my bare hands.”

  “Come on. You don’t really mean that, do you? I saved your ass by never telling my old man Emily was pregnant. You owe me.”

  My teeth clenched. “I don’t owe you shit.”

  Fire seemed to light in his eyes. “It wasn’t for you anyway. I wasn’t sure if it was yours and if my old man looked into it, he might not like what he found out.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Had to protect my boys.”

  I didn’t believe him for a minute. He’d never let anyone touch his sister. She was the only thing he ever cared about.

  Ignoring his poor attempt to goad me, I leered at him. I was here to make it look like he was turning against the Blue Hill Gang. My way of protecting Elle. I had to remember that. I had to keep my shit together.

  “Sit down.” He motioned with his chin to the only other chair in the room. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  Controlling my urge to fling myself over the table and choke the life out of him, I remained where I was. “I think I’ll stand.”

  He shrugged. “Then I think this visit is over. And here I was hoping to have a heart-to-heart about your girl. Elle, isn’t it?”

  My fingers pressed the table so hard my knuckles were turning white. Still, I knew I couldn’t give him the upper hand. If I did, he’d see through my real reason for this visit. That it was a show. A picture to present to the world. A lie. A well-thought-out lie. He’d asked me here. Had something he needed to tell me. Why me? Who else did he have to turn to that wasn’t on Patrick’s payroll? I was fucking perfect. Thoughts back in the game, without a word, I slid backward and started for the door, hoping his need to taunt me would far surpass his need to flex any control he thought he might have over me.

  “Hey,” he called, the quiver in his voice giving him away.

  Triumphant, I turned around.

  He was sitting up straighter and that smile had slipped from his lips. “Come back here. You’re going to want to hear what I have to tell you.”

  My lips twisted. “What exactly do you think you have to say that I want to hear?” My tone was light, breezy. Very I don’t give a shit because I really didn’t give a shit.

  “I know things you’re going to want to hear.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “About Elle’s sister.”

  “Like what?” I practically spit.

  “Like who killed her.”

  That got my attention, and in three strides I was back at the table. “What are you talking about?”

  Those hard eyes narrowed on me and then toward the chair.

  Not playing, truly curious, I lowered myself into the seat. “Explain to me what you’re talking about.”

  “I know who killed her.” His voice broke.

  The motherfucker had feelings for Elle’s sister—it was written all over his face. You had to be shitting me. “You know who killed Elizabeth O’Shea?”

  He nodded his head.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because she deserves justice.”

  I had to laugh. “And I’m supposed to believe you care . . . why?”

  “Because I fucking loved her.”

  Noises of disbelief escaped my throat. I couldn’t help it.

  “You have to go after him.”

  “I don’t have to do shit.”

  “You’re the only one I’ve got, man.”

  The hairs on my neck stood up. Desperate. He was desperate. I didn’t have to put on a show after all. He really was going to talk. “And who exactly is him? Who do you think killed Lizzy?”

  “It’s not who I think killed her. It’s who I know killed her.”

  “Who?” My voice rose.

  He leaned forward. “Her fucking husband did it.” He practically spit the word husband.

  I might have thought that too but with him telling me, now I wasn’t so sure. How could I believe him? “Are you sure it wasn’t you?”

  His cuffed hands gripped the table and his face turned red. “I told you, I loved her.”

  “Like that means shit to me.”

  “Listen to me. He stole the drugs from us and later he killed her.”

  Something in my mind scrambled. I knew Michael had to have been playing some kind of game with the drugs. I just didn’t know why he’d put everyone around him in jeopardy if he had them. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  That taunting smile was back. “Oh, did I get your attention now? Worried about your precious Elle being around him?”

  “Don’t say her name,” I fucking growled.

  He remained silent.

  Pulling my shit together, I inched back in my chair. “Yeah, you got my attention, but not for long.”

  “I’m not fucking around with you. I’ve told the guards at least a hundred times that I know who killed her and not a single fucking one of them will pay any attention to me.”

  My heart was racing but I remained calm. We weren’t buddies and he wasn’t looking to help me out. “And you think I will?”

  “Yeah, I do. You’re smart enough to know, once a killer, always a killer. Extrapolate from there, Silver Spoon.”

  I didn’t let him rattle me. “What do you think I can do with this information?”

  “Make the motherfucker pay!” he seethed.

  My cough couldn’t disguise my laugh. “You want him to pay? Are you fucking kidding me? What about you? What about your sins? You’re the one who should pay.”

  He was shaking his head. “This isn’t about you, McPherson.”

  Now I laughed out loud. “No, it’s not. But for some fucked-up reason I’m the one who’s here. Why didn’t you just send one of your crew to take care of him, like you did me? Oh wait, that’s right—because you can’t be there to watch, you sick fuck.” My emotions were taking over. Reel it in, McPherson. Reel it in. The plan is going better than expected. Don’t fuck it up.

  With his hands, he tried to shake the table. “This isn’t about you. Or me. I’m in here; what more do you want?”

  Focus. I had to focus. He was right. “I know that,” I seethed. “But like I said, I’m the one who’s here. So tell me, why not use your crew?”

  “You really don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

  I stared at him flatly, giving nothing away.

  “I don’t have a crew left.”

  My brows popped. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Tommy eased forward. “My father put a hit out on me. As soon as I get out of solitary, I’m a dead man.”

  Holy shit!

  My worries about Elle’s safety, when it came to Tommy anyway, might just be over. Looked like my plan to remove Tommy from the equation was going to be taken care of courtesy of Patrick Flannigan, fuck him very much. I should have left right then and there, but I didn’t. “Why would your father put a hit out on you?” I asked, trying not to sound triumphant. I still wasn’t entirely buying what he was feeding me.

  “He found out what I was doing. That I was trying to break free of him. And that I’d been using his money as capital to buy drugs. Found out I had a part in losing the two hundred and fifty kilos of coke. Found out I’d fucked everything up.”

  My head was spinning and still back at the lost crew. “So you can’t hurt Elle?”

  That sinister laugh was back. “Aren’t you fucking listening to me?
I don’t give a shit about her. I want Lizzy’s death avenged.”

  I narrowed my eyes on him. “Then why did you send me the note?”

  He laughed. “That note I sent you was just to make sure you ended up finding me. When I sent it Lizzy had gone missing again. At the time, I thought you could help me find her. I didn’t know she was already at the bottom of the fucking river. You can rest assured your little girlfriend is safe, from me anyway. I promised Lizzy I’d leave her sister and her kid out of this.”

  Relief crashed over me.

  Could I really trust him, though?

  Was he playing a game too?

  My jaw twitched. “What about the girl you attacked outside the boutique?”

  “She was collateral damage.”

  I pushed against the table. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I thought she was Lizzy’s sister. She was wearing the same red hat I’d seen her sister wearing.”

  Anger ripped through me. “You just told me you promised Lizzy you wouldn’t hurt her sister. Now you’re telling me you thought it was her when you carved up her skin. Make up your fucking mind and stop feeding me a line of bullshit.”

  “It’s not like that. The night before, Lizzy had gone missing, and I needed to keep you away from her sister in case she was somewhere out there waiting to talk to her. And the only way I could think of to make sure you stayed clear of her sister was to leave my mark.”

  I found myself in a haze of needing to know what the fuck he was talking about. “You have less than three minutes to make any sense out of all this bullshit. After that I’m walking.”

  He sucked in a breath. “It all started when Lizzy and I had decided to take off. We were going to grab the kid and leave Boston. Disappear. But in the midst of making out plans, I got this call with an offer I couldn’t turn down.”

  “What kind of offer?”

  His smile was sly. “One that would make me more powerful than my old man.”

  “What kind of offer?” I repeated. Like I cared about his power trip.

  “To be a wholesaler for the biggest drug supplier in Boston. Me. To be one step under the top of the cocaine chain. It had the potential to be a fucking gold mine.”