Bedwrecker
Page 28
That didn’t mean shit.
Elle Sterling
Emotion rushed through me.
I wasn’t going to cry.
My clothes were scattered and I busied myself dressing.
Seconds passed.
Minutes passed.
Pacing, counting steps, back and forth from the door to the window, I wore a path onto the carpet.
Finally, I couldn’t take the monotony and flopped on the bed. Unsure of what to do, my thoughts started to wander.
My defense mechanisms weakened with each additional tick of the clock and soon I found myself swallowing against the knot that was lodged in my throat, but I could do nothing about the sting of tears behind my closed eyes.
Logan and I had come so far, so fast.
Neither of us had expected to meet in my brother-in-law’s law office just a week ago. Neither had expected to run into each other at Molly’s Pub later that night. And certainly neither of us meant to have this intense connection.
It was all so surreal.
Somehow we’d become entangled in a drug war brewing amid the Boston Irish Mob, and we weren’t the only ones.
There was my missing sister. I had no idea how innocent or guilty she actually was. Then there was Logan’s father, who had been skirting the edges of the law with the Blue Hill Gang for years. There was also Michael, my brother-in-law, who was acting suspiciously. On top of all of that, Logan was working undercover with the DEA but also trying to protect me from everyone.
And me? I just wanted to keep my niece, Clementine, safe. And if things went well, have Logan be a part of my life.
The odds were against us.
Was this a sign? Was everything that was falling apart around us fate telling me I should have known better than to think we could belong to each other?
I refused to let my thoughts go down that road.
Logan was different.
This was going to work out.
Pushing my issues and insecurities aside, I had to believe that we were going to make it. That Logan would be strong enough to fight his demons. That Logan was going to get through this and that I would be by his side to help him.
After all, it was just a note.
Words on a paper meant to scare him.
Meaningless—or so I hoped.
I was certain that after the initial shock, Logan would see it that way too.
I had to believe that. I just did.
Anyway, by all accounts, if the news was correct, Tommy was in jail and no longer a threat to us. To me. To Logan.
I pressed my lips together, keenly aware of the passage of time.
My attention went to the TV where Channel 7 news was still on. They were replaying the arrest. I turned the volume up. This time names were flashing across the bottom of the screen.
“More breaking news,” the TV correspondent announced. “Members of the powerful Flannigan crime family are among at least twenty-four people arrested tonight in a major drug raid. Details are sketchy, but a confirmed two million dollars in cocaine has been seized. Among those arrested tonight, the alleged head of the Irish Blue Hill Gang, Patrick Flannigan. Sources acknowledge some high-ranking members are still at large, but all efforts are being made to bring them in. If you have seen any of these men, call our hotline.”
I crossed my arms, fighting off the chill that had seeped into my bones. There, before my eyes, was a picture of Tommy Flannigan. I hadn’t known what he looked like before now, but I knew I’d never forget it. Those cold, brown eyes, the lifeless look on his face, the evil that was written all over him.
Knock. Knock.
I jumped, startled out of my own skin.
My heart started to race.
My pulse thundered.
Fear began to set in.
It wasn’t like me to be afraid.
I was strong.
I was resilient.
I’d been through a lot in my life and I’d come out on the other side.
Hardened.
Determined.
Immune.
What had changed?
“Elle, it’s me, open up.” His voice was husky, commanding.
Relief washed through me. “Logan!” I rushed to the door and threw it open.
In a flash, he was inside. Tall, hard, and imposing, the more-than-competent man locked the door behind him. As soon as he did, his eyes moved over me like he wasn’t certain I was really standing here before him, alive, unharmed, in one piece.
With a determined step, I wanted to reassure him, so I pressed myself against him and stroked my fingers through his beautiful hair. It was rumpled and sticking up everywhere and still, he was breathtaking. “Did you find him?”
He let out a long sigh. “No, not yet.”
The words not yet made me shiver. I pushed my fingers through his hair again. “His picture is on TV. They said he hasn’t been picked up.”
Logan’s eyes closed as if in pain and then he leaned in and let his forehead rest against mine. “Get your things together. We have to go.”
Pausing, I breathed him in—my friend, my lover, the man I loved. I didn’t argue. I knew we had to leave. I just wished we didn’t have to. “Give me a minute.”
He nodded.
In the bathroom, my reflection confronted me. My hair was a mess. My eyes were red. My face blotchy. My clothes in disarray. Could Logan see that I was scared?
I hoped not.
With a deep breath, I shook off my own fear.
It was just a note.
It didn’t mean anything.
What really frightened me wasn’t what might happen to me, but what might happen to him.
I heard his voice. He was on the phone. “Fuck you. You said you’d get him, you reassured me that he, of all people, would be brought in.”
Silence.
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m going to find him.”
Silence again.
“I can’t guarantee that.”
There was a crash, a thud.
Then silence.
More silence.
I waited to open the door.
He was going to go after Tommy, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
I was scared. I was scared for him. Sure, he was competent, strong, capable, and dauntless even, but Tommy was a part of the Mob, and the Mob wasn’t just one person, not just one set of eyes, or hands, or legs, or barrels of guns ready to hunt him down—it was dozens, potentially hundreds.
When I finally opened the door, Logan was composed and dressed in the same clothes he’d arrived in only hours ago. But it seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Who were you talking to?” I asked.
He rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows as he spoke. “Agent Blanchet of the DEA.”
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.
Crush is Available Now
New York Times bestselling author
NO PANTS REQUIRED
THE SET UP
TURN IT UP
SET THE PACE
TAINTED LOVE
BLOW
CRUSH
TOXIC
THE 27 CLUB
FRAYED
BLURRED
MENDED
DAZED
TORN
CONNECTED
And watch for these titles coming in 2017
Pantydropper—this is Brooklyn’s story
Heartbreaker—this is Chase’s story
Tie the Knot—this is Cam and Makayla’s final chapter
Kim Karr is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author.
She grew up in Rochester, New York, and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She’s always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level, but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and recently decided to embrace one of her biggest passions—writing.
Kim wears a lot of hats: writer, book-lover, wife, soccer mom, taxi driver, and the all-around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read. One of her favorite family outings when her kids were little was taking them to the bookstore or the library. Today, Kim’s oldest child is seventeen and no longer goes with her on these now rare and infrequent outings. She finds that she doesn’t need to go on them anymore because she has the greatest device ever invented—a Kindle.
Kim likes to believe in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends, and happily-ever-afters. She loves to drink champagne and listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.
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