Blow

by Karr, Kim

  Her body formed to mine in the most perfect way. One of her arms wrapped around my waist and one of her legs was tucked between mine. With her against me, my body felt strange. Alive. Like it had been brought back to life.

  I knew then that I’d do whatever I had to do in order to keep her safe.

  I also knew that staying away from her was the best way I could do that.

  I just hoped to fuck I could.

  DAY 2

  ELLE

  Ring. Ring.

  The incessant ringing of the telephone jarred me from slumber.

  But it was the strong arms, warm body, and rhythmic breathing enveloping me that made me jerk my eyes open.

  Oh. My. God.

  I ignored the intrusive sound and peered up. Logan McPherson. How had I ended up sleeping in his arms? But more importantly, why did I feel so safe?

  The phone cut off and then started up again.

  Oh shit. What time was it?

  The thought that I might have overslept and missed the opening of my store launch had me jumping up and lunging for the phone.

  I looked over at Logan, who had just sat up and was scrubbing his jaw. “Hello?”

  “Elle, it’s Michael. Are you okay?”

  Logan was in a white T-shirt, his button-down tossed to the side of the sofa sometime during the night. “Michael, I’m fine. I was going to call you this morning to talk to you.”

  “If it was about the car, you don’t have to. The garage already called to notify me that the window of the Mercedes had been broken and it wasn’t noted at pickup. I was obviously confused, but it was quickly cleared up when they told me about the flat tire. Why didn’t you call me last night?”

  “The window?” I questioned.

  Logan was stretching, his washboard abs peeking between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. When he heard the shock in my voice, he immediately stood and walked over. “What?” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting across my neck.

  My mouth shut, my mind clouded, and my body felt aflame. God, everything about him was molten lava, hot to touch and ready to erupt.

  When I didn’t answer, he repositioned that long, lean body of his so that he could hear. Closer, and closer still until his hand covered mine, and he was obviously satisfied.

  That didn’t help at all.

  Now our bodies were so close that I not only became very aware of just how little clothing I was wearing, but just how much I wanted him.

  Michael was still talking. “The driver’s side, evidently. The garage wants me to stop by and verify that there is no interior damage from the rain before they begin the repairs.”

  Shaking the fuzziness from my brain, I realized how stupid I had been. “I’m sorry. I had the garage tow it because there was no spare. It must have occurred in the process.”

  “Are you okay?” Michael asked again with concern.

  I didn’t want to discuss what had happened last night over the phone. “Yes, I’m fine. But can I come over after I close the boutique? There are some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

  “Yeah, sure, of course. Listen, do you want me to pick you up and take you to work?”

  Muscles rippled beside me with Logan’s slight movement. “No, I can walk but thanks for asking.”

  “You sure?”

  My eyes were on the impressive muscle tone beside me. “Yes, I could use the exercise. I’ll be inside all day.”

  “Okay then, since Clementine is already awake, I’ll head over to the garage as soon as I get her fed and changed to sign off on the estimate for the damage. They said they could still deliver the vehicle today, but it would be a bit later with the additional repairs that are needed. I told them that was fine since you were working until six anyway.”

  The sea of white still encompassed me. “Thanks, Michael.”

  “Elle,” he said in a low tone.

  “Yes.”

  “You should have called me.”

  Logan’s body stiffened at that and he moved away from me.

  “We’ll talk later,” was my only response. After all, he was right. I should have.

  Logan was rinsing out the coffeepot, and as soon as I hung up he said, “I’ll drop you off at the boutique. What time do you have to be there?”

  I looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. I really had wanted to walk but time wouldn’t allow for that. “About five minutes ago.”

  With a rumble from deep in his throat, he turned around and his hazel gaze raked my length. “You’d better hurry then.”

  I felt the heat in his glance and the warmth chased my chill away. “Yeah, I will.”

  Logan bobbed his head toward the stairs. “I’ll be here waiting.”

  I gave him a slight smile. “Thank you . . . for everything.”

  Our eyes connected, but eventually he turned around and busied himself scooping coffee into the filter.

  Not quite a full minute later, I managed to unglue my gaze from him and make my way up the stairs to hop in the shower. Standing naked as the warm water flowed over me, I couldn’t help but think of Logan. The way he moved. The way he spoke. The way he watched me. The way his body had been wrapped around mine so protectively. I remembered waking from a bad dream and him trying to console me. How I’d ended up in his arms, I didn’t recall, but it didn’t really matter.

  No matter what he said, I knew the truth—we were on opposite sides.

  And that meant there was no way we could be together.

  Logan had never showed anything but concern for me. Yet, he’d come with his father to give Michael a warning. What came after the warning was what concerned me. And would Logan be involved with that?

  I had no reason to believe he would. I didn’t want to. But I had to push the intoxicating man from my mind and face reality. My first step toward that was to concentrate on getting ready. I wanted to look hip for my boutique opening but was in a hurry, so I had to compromise.

  I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans and found an off-white flouncy blouse to wear under my black leather jacket. I went with chunky ankle boots and quickly blew my hair dry to calm some of the wildness. I coated my lashes with mascara and dabbed on some clear lip gloss.

  When I looked at myself in the mirror, I envisioned Logan putting his arms around me. Running his fingers through my hair. Kissing my glossy lips. Tucking his hands under the flare of my top.

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Stop it,” I chastised myself.

  And besides, I had bigger issues to think about, such as who slashed my tire and broke my window, and who had been lurking around my house last night.

  With that in mind, I stepped into my closet and pulled a tote down from the shelf and then threw a few things into it. I was going to take Logan’s advice and stay at Michael’s, at least for the night.

  Thirty minutes had elapsed when I started down the stairs.

  Not bad.

  Logan was fully dressed and on his phone, quietly talking over near the door that led to the back. As soon as he saw me, he hung up. I knew better than to ask.

  My .22 was on the counter. He opened the chamber to check if it was loaded. I already knew it was.

  My larger purse was beside me and I reached to take the gun.

  That was not what he had in mind. Instead, he emptied the chamber. “Let me show you.”

  “Logan, I know how—” I started to protest, but he wasn’t listening.

  His long, lean body was behind me in a matter of moments and his hands were on mine, raising them. “Aim and shoot.” He squeezed my finger against the trigger, firing off dry rounds. “You don’t hesitate. You understand?”

  I nodded and concentrated on the weapon in my hand, not the powerhouse of a man practically holding me.

  His strong body pressed to mine. His competent hands were showing me how to take care of myself. He didn’t appear to be holding anything back—he knew what he was doing to me, to my body. The thought snapped me o
ut of my haze. “Logan, I know how to use a gun.”

  Moving to the side, he reloaded it. “I’m sure you do. It’s just that last night, you were aiming that gun at me but I knew you had no intention of pulling the trigger.” He set the gun on the counter and stepped into me. “If I were anyone else, you’d be dead.”

  I bit my lip. “I . . . I wasn’t ever going to shoot you.”

  “Why?” He didn’t even blink.

  Because I want you madly. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because there’s just something about you. I couldn’t say any of those things. Blinking those thoughts away, I said, “Because I knew you weren’t here to hurt me.”

  He stepped even closer. “No, you didn’t.”

  All I could do was shake my head. I did know it. I could feel it.

  “Listen, if you don’t plan to pull the trigger, then you never aim. If you think even for a minute anyone is a threat to you, I want you to shoot first and think later. This isn’t a game. These people don’t dick around. Do you hear me?”

  I nodded. I was a little freaked out, but I wasn’t going to admit to that. I wasn’t sure just how much danger I was in. Maybe he was a little paranoid. Either way, I needed to stay strong. “Yes.”

  His voice softened and his demeanor changed. “I don’t mean to scare you, but these guys are professionals. They creep around in the dark, lurk around corners, hide in alleys. Don’t go anywhere alone.”

  “Who are these people? Are they going to come into my store?”

  He shook his head. “They won’t do anything out in the open and they may not even be after you.”

  “Then why are you telling me these things?”

  “I just want you to stay safe. Do you understand? Stay safe.”

  “I understand,” I said, sounding a little breathy.

  His hands gripped my hips and he pulled me to him.

  I went more than willingly.

  His lips hovered over mine. “You have to stay safe,” he repeated.

  Just then my cell phone rang. I jerked back and reached for it. It was Peyton.

  “I’m on my way,” I answered.

  “I can’t believe you’re not here yet. Did you hook up with Mr. Big Dick?”

  “Peyton!” I admonished. “I’m just running a bit behind. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Okay, but when you get here I want all the details.”

  “’Bye,” I said, trying not to smile and wishing there were details to spill.

  He took my phone and hit some buttons. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything. If you can’t reach me, I’m at the Four Seasons. I’ll leave your name at the desk.”

  I took the phone back. As soon as I shoved it into my bigger purse, he handed me my gun. “This too.”

  I put that in my purse as well, and grabbed the smaller purse. I’d switch everything else later. “I’m ready.”

  He nodded toward the front door and grinned at me. “Come on, then, let’s get you to work.”

  I should have been scared.

  And I was.

  I should have been worrying about why all of this was happening.

  And I was.

  But right now I just wanted to bask in how much that grin melted me.

  LOGAN

  The clock was ticking.

  Seven minus one. Six days left. Six fucking days until Patrick makes his move.

  Time had given me clarity. Whoever had been harassing Elle was doing just that. If Patrick were trying to strike, there would be no close encounters. And if it were Tommy . . .

  With a shiver, I shook that thought away.

  I’d know if it were him.

  Lost in my thoughts, I glided into the parking lot of the garage where Elle’s car was towed last night. The place was more like a compound. There was a row of five bays on one side and five more bays directly opposite those, with an office connecting them. Once I parked, I looked toward the only open bay and saw O’Shea standing near Elle’s car. He had his kid in one arm and a piece of crumpled paper in his other hand.

  Fuck.

  I had hoped to beat him here and scope out the inside of Elle’s vehicle before he did. Whoever broke the window did so after I had seen the car—either on the way here or after it arrived. Still, my head was clearly not in the game last night. How the hell had I missed the piece of paper? Unless I hadn’t. When I checked the car last night, I know I looked around, including in the backseat, where I tossed some toys aside. It couldn’t have been there then.

  Shoving my thoughts aside, I watched as O’Shea spoke briefly with someone near Elle’s car. The guy wore a blue quilted jacket but also had a tie on, so I assumed he was the manager. O’Shea seemed twitchy. He was bouncing the baby nervously on his hip. She was playing with the large silver rattle attached to a red ribbon that I moved off the seat last night. Despite the manager edging toward the door that must have led to the office, O’Shea seemed to have no interest in following him. The mechanic reached inside and pulled out a clipboard.

  O’Shea turned and I put my hat on and slid down in my seat. I probably didn’t have to; my windows were pretty heavily tinted and he didn’t seem to be on alert. O’Shea had of out the bay when he stopped and turned back around. The manager was holding up the clipboard. O’Shea took it and scribbled something, his John Hancock more than likely, and then quickly walked out.

  The manager wandered back toward the door and I watched as O’Shea shoved the paper he had been holding into his pocket and then loaded the baby in his own car. I needed to see what the hell was on that piece of paper. The way he was acting was shady at best, and instinct told me it wasn’t just a receipt for his dry cleaning. I wanted to follow him, but if Patrick was already tailing O’Shea, him finding out I was stalking O’Shea wasn’t going to be pretty.

  His tires practically squealed as he pulled out of the compound. He was obviously in a hurry.

  I couldn’t help but wonder why.

  My greatest obstacle was time. As I was pondering my next move, I spotted the mechanic from last night getting ready to close the bay.

  Bingo.

  Moving quickly, I strode over to him. “Hey dude, remember me?”

  He glanced up, rope in hand. Jerking his head toward Elle’s car he said, “Yeah, I talked to you about this Mercedes SUV last night.”

  I nodded. “I just wanted to check on it. Make sure you were able to order the tire.”

  He scratched his head. “Let me find out.”

  As soon as he started walking over toward the office door, I darted for the Mercedes. I knew I wouldn’t find anything, but I wanted to have a look-see for myself. Sure enough, the window was completely busted and glass shards covered the seat and floor.

  “Hey, there you are.” The mechanic looked me over like I’d been the one to bust out the window.

  “Yeah, sorry. Just wanted to have a better look in the daylight. What’s the ten on the tire? Did you get it ordered?”

  “You’re all good. It should be here soon,” he said, my explanation apparently not appeasing him. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No,” I said walking backwards, edging away from him before he asked too many questions or called anyone else in. “Thanks again.”

  “Sure, anytime.”

  I hopped in my Rover and hightailed it out of there. As I drove, I prayed like hell O’Shea mentioned his stop at the garage to Elle and in turn she trusted me enough to tell me about it. I needed to know what was on that piece of paper. Was it a threat? A warning? From Patrick? From Tommy?

  By the time I reached my suite at the Four Seasons, I was utterly wiped. I needed to catch a few z’s before heading to my father’s to discuss the best way to have a face-to-face with Patrick in order to find out what he had in mind for O’Shea.

  The amount of effort Patrick was putting into this whole thing told me he wanted something more than just the net out of the five mil. I knew how he operated. He sent his associates first and then
shortly after failure of delivery, Tommy would show up. And nothing good could happen then. Yet, Tommy had been sitting on this for almost three months. That alone told me there was something in it for him. A connection? A product? A pipeline? I didn’t know what, but I was going to find out. And if, by chance, it was about the money, I’d give Elle, who in turn would give O’Shea, what I had in my accounts; it wasn’t much, but it might buy some time.

  That reminded me, I had to call my grandfather Ryan and tell him I wouldn’t be back in New York this week. There was no way I was leaving Boston.

  I flopped on the couch and pulled out my phone to make the call, but then thought an email would be so much easier. Logan Ryan had already revoked my access to my restricted trust fund. It didn’t become legally mine until I turned thirty. My maternal grandfather was cutting me off until I severed all my ties with the Blue Hill Gang. Too dangerous to access that kind of cash, he reasoned. If I told him I wouldn’t be back this week, chances were good he’d put a hold on my paychecks, too.

  I typed a simple email that said I had a case that could possibly detain me and hit send. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

  There was a mixture of guilt and resignation in my mind as I headed for the Liberace-style bathroom. I sat beneath the heat lamps as I glanced around. The large Jacuzzi tub and black marble shower with six jets and rain head were way more than I needed on a daily basis. Sure, I’d grown up surrounded by luxury, but sometimes it was a little over the top.

  Many months ago, after I received the call about my father’s arrest, I’d checked in here. I went for a standard room, but then Grandpa Ryan made an appearance, and before I knew it, I was upgraded to this suite. I scratched my head. How the hell had I agreed to that? Right, you never said no to Grandpa Ryan.

  At first, he covered the hotel bill. Then last week, he called me into his office after my weekend visit here and told me he’d been checking on my father’s progress. Since he appeared to be doing well, it was time for me to leave him on his own and concentrate on my own job. He wasn’t asking.

  That was the first time I’d seen that side of him and I tried to bite my tongue at the audacity of that arrogant old man, but I didn’t do a great job and I knew my anger bled through my response. Although I was in no way disrespectful, when I returned to Boston, the front desk asked for a new credit card, since it seemed the one on file had been declined. I didn’t bother to call my grandfather; I knew it was his way of telling me he was in control. I also knew then where my mother got it. It obviously ran in the family.