Blow (40 page)

I dug my fingers into the steering wheel as I sped back to the hotel. I knew what I had to do. Elle needed to go back to her life—without me. I closed my eyes, hating myself for the things I’d done that had put me where I was today.

But until I could take care of Tommy, she wasn’t safe with me. She might not be 100 percent safe with O’Shea, but I knew she was a hell of a lot safer with him than me.

Something felt off as I drove.

Was someone tailing me?

I took a swift turn and then another.

Looked again.

No one.

What the fuck was up with my imagination?

I had to cool it.

Concentrate.

Focus.

The lobby of the hotel was empty and I strode up to the desk, paid my bill with the cash in my pocket, and told them I’d be checking out in the morning.

When I opened the door to my suite, a chill ran through me. The terrace door was open, the curtains flapping against the wall. It was eerily quiet, and panic like I’d never experienced struck all at once.

My heart sped, my pulse raced, and a cold sweat broke out covering my forehead. “Elle!” I shouted.

No answer.

An image of Elle lying naked on the floor with an
E
carved into her stomach came unbidden. I ran to the bedroom. She wasn’t in bed. My gut twisted into a knot. I drew my gun and approached the slightly ajar bathroom door.

The light was warm and Elle was standing in her white shirt, just about to turn the shower on.

She was fine.

I had to say it more than once to convince myself.

Paranoia was a dangerous thing.

She
was a dangerous thing.

She’d gotten under my skin, worked her way into my veins, and was now somehow making her way to my cold heart.

“Logan.” She jumped. “You scared me.”

Setting my gun on the counter, I inhaled a deep breath and rushed toward her.

She’d scared me too.

“Why are the doors open?”

She shrugged. “It was really warm in here and I wanted some air.”

Without a word, I backed her up to the counter and took her in my arms. I held her for the longest time before I pulled away. With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned her shirt and stripped it off her body. She was naked before me and so beautiful. As my eyes shifted, I could see myself in the cracked mirror over her shoulder.

I closed my eyes, unable to look. I didn’t want that constant reminder that burdened my skin to be anywhere in my thoughts.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked.

My mouth was greedy on her neck. That sweet spot I knew she liked me to kiss was the first place I attacked. My hands roamed her body, never lingering, just needing to feel her everywhere.

Her head was thrown back and her words came out low. “Logan, did you find out anything about my sister?”

Breaking contact with her was a struggle, but I managed to lean back. “I did, but right now, I need you.” I couldn’t hold my words back. I hoped she understood.

She looked at me, and then as if she knew just how desperate I was for her, she started to unzip my pants. We moved together with the rhythm we had created and together we stripped my clothes off.

I was about to set her free, but I couldn’t suppress this need inside me to put my mouth all over her—to lick every part of her, to claim her, to mark her, to make her mine.

A noise escaped that beautiful throat of hers, something hoarse and raw, something akin to the way I was feeling—primitive.

My desire to fuck her was so fierce, I wasn’t sure my legs could hold us. Something was bursting inside my chest. Whatever it was, it was bold and unrelenting.

We were kissing and kissing and before I knew it, I had her up on the counter and her legs were wrapped around me. My cock was right where it needed to be. All I had to do was slide it inside her.

She swiveled her hips in a way that said,
Fuck me, fuck me hard, and fuck me now.

I kept kissing her. Her mouth, her chin, her jaw, her throat.

My name slipped out of her lips in a sigh. “Logan.”

With my hands on each side of her face, I blinked a few times until she came into focus. When she was all I could see, what came out of my mouth was a surprise even to myself. “I want,” I said slowly, “to make love . . . to you . . . on the bed.”

The words were dry coming out of my throat and I had to swallow a few times before I could finish the sentence.

I wanted to say so much more, but for now, I settled for that.

She found my mouth again for one more kiss. “I’d like that too,” she said, a little breathless.

My arms were under her back and behind her knees. I was carrying her into the bedroom, in a gallant way, taking my time, looking down at her with each step. Her eyes met mine and I wondered if she was feeling anything close to what I was.

The look on her face when I lowered her down onto the great, big bed with the clean white sheets told me she did, and her actions reaffirmed it. She brushed the hair from my forehead and drew a line down my scar. Her touch was soft and gentle and as she pulled her fingers away, she lifted herself to kiss me there, right there, the spot that reminded me what I’d done every time I looked in the mirror.

However, when she looked at me, she didn’t see the monster I saw. Her eyes told me she saw something different, and it felt like another layer of the ice around my heart had melted.

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

I did.

We stayed in the missionary position with my body covering hers. I shivered a little with my first thrust and she did too.

I took my time. I didn’t rush things. I wanted what remained of the night to last forever. We moved together, slowly, making love over and over, until daylight flooded the room.

“Elle,” I murmured when I rolled off her.

She turned to her side to face me. She was beautiful in the morning light. I wanted to tell her what I saw when I looked at her. That even though we barely knew each other, I felt something for her I couldn’t explain. How she somehow lit me up from within. How the sound of her breathing was something I looked forward to hearing. And how her scent was one I couldn’t live without. But that wasn’t what I told her. Instead, I told her what I’d learned that night. That it was her sister the other night. That I thought it was her sister in O’Shea’s house, too. That if Lizzy was still close, so was Tommy. We talked about what her sister could have been after, but she didn’t have a clue. And finally, I told her that for her and Clementine’s sake, we needed to stay away from each other.

Gently, she stroked my hair and kissed my mouth. And then she killed me. “I know,” she said in a strained voice.

But neither of us spoke of when or how we’d do that.

In the early morning light, I pulled her close and stroked her back, softly lulling her to sleep.

When her breathing was even, I eased out of bed, tucked a few things in a duffle bag, and slipped out the door.

In the elevator, I brought up Declan’s number.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Hey man, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Elle is in my suite at the Four Seasons. Can you head over there and take her to the boutique? Tell her to stay at O’Shea’s house and call me if she needs me.” Although I hated the idea, I knew his house was like Fort Knox and she’d be safer there than at her place.

“Yeah, no problem. Charlene is here and can cover for me.”

“Don’t forget to make sure she knows who you are.”

“I’m not completely stupid.”

The elevator door opened. “Yeah, right. Sorry, man. I’ll leave the key at the desk in your name.”

“Okay, I’ll head over now.”

“And Declan, I’ll be at my father’s. Stop by tonight. If you’re still willing, I could use your help.”

“Sure, man. I’ll be there.”

“Grab Miles, too, if you don’t mind. I want both of you to connect with my old man.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

A quick stop at the desk to leave the key and tell them I’d be back for my things and then I was walking out the door.

A sudden sadness hit me.

And I couldn’t help but hope I wasn’t walking out of Elle’s life too.

DAY 6

ELLE

I
wasn’t doing well.

It had been almost two days since I’d seen Logan.

Aside from a couple of text messages, we hadn’t been in contact. One message asked me if Michael had mentioned anything about Friday. My response was what it always was: no. And the other came just before I left work. It was informative only. He still hadn’t found my sister.

I wanted to hear his voice, to talk to him, to tell him the things I was feeling. But he had left me alone yesterday morning without so much as a note or a goodbye, and although I knew it was the best way for us to part, it still stung.

My fantasies that the truths I had yet to tell him would be accepted were just that, fantasies. And the space he had put between us helped to put that in perspective.

Using my key, I let myself into Michael’s house. I had decided to take Logan’s advice and stay at Michael’s for a few days to be closer to Clementine. I wasn’t certain what could happen with Michael or Logan and wanted to be near her.

It was after nine and I knew Clementine would be asleep. With Peyton recovering and Rachel working only part-time, I was working from opening to close. I set my keys on the foyer table next to the fresh vase of flowers. Michael must have gone to see his father again today at the florist’s shop. He’d gone almost every day this week and I wondered if his father was ill.

Next to the flowers was a picture of Michael’s deceased mother. She was beautiful, posed like an old-time actress in the photo, wearing a strapless sundress and sitting on picnic table with her legs crossed in her high heels. There were pictures of her throughout the house. Oddly, there were no pictures of him and Lizzy together in the house, though.

“You’re home late.” Michael, his rumpled suit, was sitting in a chair in the family room. He had a thick stack of papers in one hand and a glass of amber-colored liquid in the other. There was a yellow legal pad on the table beside him with notes or one of his lists written on it. Soft music played and the lamp beside him shined down only to give enough light for him to see whatever it was he was reading.

We exchanged glances. I hadn’t told him anything about Logan and I. I just knew he wouldn’t be happy about it and I couldn’t jeopardize my relationship with Clementine.

“What are those?” I asked for lack of anything else to say.

“Résumés for a new nanny.”

“Why? What happened to Sarah?” I asked, shocked at this news.

He swirled his drink in his hand. “She gave me her notice today. She’ll stay until I find a replacement, at least.”

The news made me wonder—first his secretary, now the nanny. Was there something I didn’t know?

“Maybe Lizzy will come home before then.” I didn’t know why I said it. I shouldn’t have. Logan had told me not to say anything. I knew Logan suspected foul play on Michael’s part, but he didn’t know Michael like I did. Still, even though I trusted him, something inside me told me to keep my mouth shut, so I did.

He sipped his drink and looked at me with suspicion. “Have you heard from Elizabeth?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s just I’m sure she misses Clementine.”

Michael set the stack of résumés on the table beside him and stood with his glass in hand. He strode over to the bar and picked up the crystal decanter. “Can I pour you one?”

“No, thank you. It’s been a long day. I’m going to change and make something to eat and then go to bed.”

With his glass full, he turned around. “I picked you up that shaved garden salad you like and a lobster roll with fries. They’re in the fridge.”

“B&G’s,” I said with a smile.

He nodded. “I knew you’d be tired and that you probably wouldn’t have eaten.”

“Thanks, that was really nice of you,” I told him and headed upstairs.

Clementine was fast asleep and safe in her room. I stared at her for the longest time. She was an innocent caught up in a mess, but I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her, nor was I going to let anything impact her blissful state. She was too precious. I swiped at my tears and kissed her softly. “I love you so much,” I whispered.

In my room, I slipped out of my clothes and into a pair of comfortable sweatpants. When I slipped on the white, oversized button-down that smelled of Logan, I held it to my nose. His scent was fading but it was still there. I wanted to see him. To talk to him. To be with him.

I shook off the feeling.

Pulling my hair on top of my head, I made myself think of other things. I needed to head back to my place tomorrow to get some clean clothes. I needed to do inventory. I needed to review sales.

Socks on my feet, I went downstairs. The family room was empty. Maybe Michael went to bed. My stomach was growling and I headed for the kitchen. I poured a glass of orange juice and sucked it down before I poured another. Then I opened the containers. I didn’t even bother to sit down. Instead, I stood at the counter and nibbled on the lobster roll in between forkfuls of salad.