Blow (46 page)

It’s a fact.

Not someone from the Mob.

Not someone connected to the Mob.

Not anyone you know.

A hit man.

I’ve heard of ways to contact one. Someone who knows someone who knows someone.

Someone from the old neighborhood. Someone with prison tats. Someone who maybe wears a do-rag. Who the fuck cares—he could look like Motely Crue. Hell, on the other hand, he could be a business man wearing a two thousand dollar suit.

I really don’t give a shit.

What he looks like is irrelevant. It’s what he does that matters.

Sure, there’s a steep monetary price attached to the deed. That’s not what worries me.

I’d give every cent I had if it meant she’d be safe.

It’s what it would really cost me—how big a piece of my soul it would take—that keeps me from making that call.

I reread the note, “That E wasn’t meant for Emily.”

One thing was clear . . .

He knows about Elle and me.

Tommy Flannigan, my enemy, my foe, the mob boss’s son, the one I have been forbidden to make contact with, knows I have someone in my life that I care about. He might even know I love her. And she’s not his sister. She’s not Emily. Because I defied him, because I dared to move on, I know he’ll taunt me, try to break me, try to drive me out of my mind.

For over a decade he’s loomed over me.

He threatened me, mutilated a girl I’d dated, and just last week harmed one he thought was Elle. He was into drugs as a user as well as a cutthroat player in the Blue Hill Gang. He was always crazy, but lately he’d been breaking all the rules. Nothing was safe from him anymore—it was like he had nothing left to lose these days.

Breaking the treaty wasn’t a surprise.

The thing he doesn’t get is I’m no longer fearful. As of right this minute, the rules of the street no longer apply to me. There is too much at stake for me to think about what could happen if I went up against the Blue Hill Gang. I have to think about what has to happen in order to keep her safe. And that’s one thing, and one thing only.

Tommy’s threat has to be eliminated.

Somehow.

Someway.

But murder for hire would have to wait.

I looked over into Elle’s eyes.

Paralyzed.

Frozen in place.

Wide.

Scared.

Still beautiful.

I haven’t even known her for two weeks, but she’s a part of me. I can’t—no, I won’t—let anything happen to her.

“Logan,” she whispered quietly.

Escaping from my thoughts, I wanted to say something. Something profound. Something that would make sense. Something that would make everything okay. But there was nothing.

My eyes searched her face. As soon as they did, I saw the once glimmering green in her eyes was now dull, and her lips were quivering.

It made my chest tighten.

But it was when I saw the apprehension in her body language, the hairs on her arm rise, the unsteady rise and fall of her breathing—the fear she didn’t want me to see, the fear she was trying to hide from me—that I knew what I had to do.

I had to find him.

Now.

I was going to settle the score with Tommy Flannigan once and for all.

Whatever the outcome.

The note crumpled in my fist and I let it drop to the floor. Tugging my shirt on, I once again looked over at her. “Stay here, lock the door, and don’t let anyone in. I mean it, not anyone except me. I don’t care who they say they are.”

“Where are you going?” Fear laced her voice.

“To find Tommy.”

“But the news, they said members of the Flannigan family had been arrested. Maybe he’s already in custody.”

I looked down at the note on the floor. I had a gut feeling he wasn’t. This wasn’t something he’d send someone else to do. This was something he’d take too much pleasure in doing himself. “Maybe he is,” I said to help calm her nerves, “But someone arranged to deliver that note to this room, and I’m going to find who it was.”

“Logan, no.” She reached for me as I slid my feet into my shoes.

I had to shrug away from her.

I had to do this.

On my way to the door, I stopped for just a single moment to look at her. In that moment there was nothing more I wanted than to feel her arms around me, press my body to hers, look into her eyes and tell her we were going to be just fine.

But that would be a lie.

And I wasn’t going to lie to her.

Not about this.

“Logan,” she pleaded.

I heard the pain in her voice and my heart stopped. Still, I kept moving. I had to do this—for her. The door closed behind me and I heard the latch.

She’d be safe in there until I returned or . . .

My despair was immediately replaced with rage as my eyes fell on the white jacket of the guy who had delivered the note. Unable to control myself, I rushed for him, but came to an abrupt stop when I got a little closer. He was standing in the hallway with his back to me, kissing a girl, also in uniform. I waited. She giggled, gave him a wave, and then walked down the hall. As soon as he entered the waiting elevator it started to close, and I darted for it.

My hands jammed between the panels and the doors flew open.

There he stood.

Lipstick on his lips.

Smiling.

Like he didn’t have a care in the fucking world.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

I lunged for him.

Had his lipstick-stained collar in my hands so fast, I could barely see the fear in his eyes. “Who put that note on the food cart?” I hissed.

He was shaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With a tug, my grip tightened. “I’m not going to ask you twice. Who put the note on the food cart?”

There was a dripping sound on the elevator floor. I think he pissed his pants. “Some dude paid me fifty bucks to slip it onto your tray. He said it was a joke between you and him.”

I slammed him against the wall. “What did he look like?”

Mumbling, words barely coherent, he answered, “Short, brown hair, piercings, and he had a limp.”

Tommy.

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is he?” I said through gritted teeth.

The guy was crying. “I don’t know.”

I loosened my grip. “Where did you leave him?”

He crumbled against the wall. “Outside the kitchen door.”

I hit the service level. “Scan your card. Show me.”

Shaking, he nodded. “Look, mister, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. He said it was a joke. I believed him.”

My body went rigid.

A joke!

When I slipped my hand in my pocket, he raised his palms. “Don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Ignoring him, I pulled out my money and handed him a fifty. “Just show me where you saw him last. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Visibly relaxing, he scanned his card and the elevator glided down toward the service level.

Within minutes we were just outside the kitchen.

With a shaky finger he pointed. “He was standing right there when he approached me, but once he gave me the note, he headed for the stairs.”

“Where do they lead?”

“To the lobby.”

I gave him a nod. “Thanks, man. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His laugh was more like a cry. “Nah, I wasn’t really worried,” he said.

That was a lie.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I pushed open the door and hit the service hallway. Once inside the Mandarin lobby, I scanned it and then the lounge.
Nothing.
No sign of him. I searched the bar. The restrooms. The offices.
Nothing.
I climbed the grand staircase and then combed the exterior of the building.
Nothing.
He was nowhere in sight.

That didn’t mean shit.

Chapter 2

ELLE

E
motion 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 into 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 less than eight days 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 Irish mob here in Boston, 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. And 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 this fate telling me I should have known better than to think I could belong to him?

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 with me by his side, Logan would be strong enough to fight his demons. It was just a note. It didn’t scare me. It really didn’t. And I was certain it wouldn’t scare him. Besides, by all accounts, if the news was correct, Tommy was in jail and no longer a threat to us,
or me.

I pressed my lips together, keenly aware of the passage of time.

My attention went to the TV, where the 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 confirm some members of the family 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 his face before now, but I knew I’d never forget it. Those cold brown eyes, the lifeless expression, 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 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 and locking the door behind him. He slouched against it and 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 pressed myself against him and stroked my fingers through his beautiful hair. It was rumpled and sticking up everywhere but 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 yet.”

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. “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 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 tens, potentially hundreds.

When I 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.

“Agent Blanchet of the DEA.”

Ironically, knowing he was working with them 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?”