Blow (41 page)

Ummm,
Boston’s seafood was so delicious.

“Is it good?” Unexpectedly, Michael was behind me and even more unexpectedly, his chin was almost resting on my shoulder as he looked down at my food.

Every part of me tensed and I quickly turned around. “Yes, I was starving. Do you want some?”

Out of character, he moved closer, caging me in. With the smell of alcohol on his breath, he said, “Are you offering?”

My heart was thumping, and not in the way it did when Logan was near me. I wasn’t afraid of Michael. I knew I could take him down with a swift knee to the balls. I didn’t want to have to do that. In the confined space he’d cornered me in, I casually reached back and picked up one of the containers. “Yes, here you go. I’m stuffed.”

He stepped back and took the food.

We both knew that wasn’t what he meant, but at least he pretended it was.

“I’m exhausted. I think I’ll check on Clementine and go to bed.”

“If you don’t mind, I need to discuss something with you.”

Anxiety tightened in my chest, but somehow I managed a smile. “Sure, what is it?”

“There are a few things, actually. Mind if we go in the other room and sit down?”

Panicked, I blurted out, “Is this about Lizzy?”

His expression went blank for a moment. “No, not directly. Are you sure you haven’t seen her or heard from her?”

I straightened my shoulders, drew in a breath, and forced myself to give him a slight smile. “No, I haven’t.”

With a bob of his head, we were both walking toward the family room. He stopped at the bar and poured himself another scotch. “You sure you won’t have just one?”

Sitting down, I found myself feeling awkward. “No, I’m good.”

His liquor glass was more than halfway filled without ice and I began to wonder how much he’d had to drink tonight. Michael turned and leaned against the bar. “There’s a very likely possibility Elizabeth won’t ever return.”

“You don’t know that.”

He sipped on his drink and studied me. I felt like he knew I knew something. “No, I don’t, but I have Clementine to worry about. I need to start thinking about my will. Who will take care of her if something happens to me?”

I looked at him, feeling pricks of tears in my eyes. “Michael, what’s changed? I don’t understand why we’re talking about this now.”

Michael’s gaze remained steady. “I think I made a mistake not going to the police. I thought I could find her and keep her out of prison for what she’d done. But now I’ve exhausted all of my available avenues and we still haven’t been able to find her. The private investigator has found nothing, her cell has no activity, and her bank accounts haven’t been touched. She’s gone, Elle. Gone.”

Knowing I couldn’t blurt out, “No, she’s not. She was seen last Saturday,” I bit my tongue instead and whispered, “She still might show up.”

He shook his head and the liquor swirled in his glass. “I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to go to the police on Monday and report her missing. I should have done it a long time ago. I can’t keep shielding her from her own destructive behaviors. It’s time I start worrying about my daughter and myself, and that means legally divorcing her so I can appoint someone as Clementine’s guardian.”

Whoa.

My shock must have shown. He’d never talked about my sister like this. Like someone he didn’t even like. Like someone he didn’t have any compassion for. I was finding it hard to take in.

“Elle, I think that person should be—” He paused to look at me. “Erin.”

What?

Hurt, I had nothing to say. He knew how much I love that little girl. How much I think of her as my own. Why would he want her to live with his sister, who already has four children and her hands full?

“Of course I’ll make provisions to make certain you have visitation, should something happen to me.”

My patience wearing thin, I fired, “Why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t you be discussing it with your sister?”

His voice as calm as an unruffled breeze, he answered, “I thought you might disagree.”

Blinking at him, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was somehow looking to blackmail me in some way. I hoped it was the liquor he was consuming that was sending the wrong vibe my way. Rising to my feet, I strode closer to him. “If you’re asking me if I want to be named Clementine’s guardian, you already know I do.”

There was a darkness in his eyes I’d never seen. “That’s what I thought, Elle. Now, there’s something I need your help with.”

Even though we were alone in the house, he turned the music up, and whispered.

I listened, nodded, and after much thought, hesitantly said, “I’ll think about it and let you know tomorrow.”

With his simple request on the table, he set his glass down and headed for the stairs. When he was halfway, he turned and said, “Good night, Elle.”

Pulse racing, once I knew he was in his room I scurried up the stairs and into the room I’d been staying in. I’d slept here many nights, but for the first time since I’d arrived in Boston more than three months ago, I locked my door.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I got into bed and held my phone close. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I called Logan. I had to talk to him.

It only rang once. “Elle, everything okay?”

I sunk further down onto my pillow. “I needed to hear your voice.”

There was a lot of noise in the background. He was out somewhere. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound right. Did something happen?”

In a whisper, I told him, “I need to tell you something.”

“Elle, I can’t hear you,” Logan said.

I opened my mouth to speak again.

“Sorry I’m late.” It was a female voice I didn’t recognize.

“Hey, can I call you back?” Logan asked clearly into the phone. Clearly to me.

Crushed, I answered with barely audible words. “No, you don’t have to.”

“Elle.” He said my name as if it pained him.

“I shouldn’t have called,” I said louder and hung up.

I remembered wondering that first night at Molly’s if he had a girlfriend, or a girl, or someone in his life. Was that the voice I’d just heard?

Deep.

Husky.

Sexy.

Was that the real reason he’d left me alone in his hotel room?

Tears were streaming down my face.

I felt like I’d been stabbed in the chest, right through my heart.

But really, what had I expected? That he’d tell me he loved me after knowing me for only five days?

I covered my face with my hands and relived the day my mother died, the day my kidney failed her, the day I was declared unable to ever give life, the day my father declared me useless.

Somehow, amidst my sorrow, I fell asleep.

Clementine was the only joy I had in my life now. I wouldn’t lose her.

Sometime later during the night I heard my phone ring.

I didn’t answer.

He left a message that if I needed anything, I should contact Declan at Mulligan’s Cup or Frank at Molly’s.

Obviously, that was his way of telling me to leave him alone.

Wish granted.

DAY 7

LOGAN

I
knotted my tie and looked in the mirror.

In my black Dolce & Gabbana suit, the Martini stretch wool—one that my grandfather insisted I buy five of—a crisp white shirt, and a red tie, I was the epitome of high-society class.

Just the way my grandfather liked.

Although he preferred everyone who worked for him to wear gray, it was never my nature to truly conform, and if I did that today he’d know something was up.

I had, however, gotten a haircut and given myself a close shave.

He liked the clean-cut look.

A test smile showed that I’d brushed my teeth properly. They were white and gleaming.

I looked good enough.

Good enough to charm Grandpa Ryan, I hoped.

All he would see tonight was Logan Killian Ryan McPherson—the golden boy he had high hopes for. The man he hoped to groom to take over his empire.

That was never going to happen.

Under the appearance I wore so well, I wasn’t the man he wanted me to be. I’d never be that man. I had too much of Killian, the Killer, McPherson in my blood. And I’d never felt more like him than today. I had fire in my belly and steel in my spine.

I was determined.

Tomorrow was Friday, and I had yet to figure out why Michael wasn’t shitting his pants by now. A call placed to him from my father earlier today only confirmed that he was planning on delivering.

What—he didn’t say.

And we had no idea.

The information we’d gathered on Tommy had led us nowhere so far. I needed a backup plan. The details of how I was going to get the money to Michael were sketchy, but I’d work that out tomorrow once I had the funds secured. No matter what Patrick wanted, I knew if what Michael had wasn’t enough, offering more money would at least buy time.

Not much, but it was still time.

Disappearing with Elle was my only other option, and I knew she’d never go for it. So this had to work. Either way, it had to.

Declan had been able to track down a lead on at least one drug deal that went down at the hotel. He found the buyer, but getting him to talk, getting the details, was a different story. He was working on it.

With nothing else to go on, I had to visit my maternal grandfather in New York City. Tell him everything he wanted to hear so that he’d release his hold on my trust fund. Loosen the strings attached to it. I’d have to deliver on my promises, of course. But it didn’t matter. Selling my soul to him to get the money would give Elle the reprieve I needed to bring Patrick and Tommy down.

It would be worth it.

My grandfather would never see the blood in my eyes or the hatred in my veins. He was oblivious to anything but conformation. And besides, he thought it was for my own good for me to be like him.

How could he not see that I never would be?

What he also failed to see was that what he was doing to me was just as binding as my ties to the Blue Hill Gang.

Sighing, I buttoned my designer suit jacket.

Trust fund baby.

Blue blood.

Silver spoon

Heir to a fortune.

I was more than that but today, I would pretend I wasn’t.

Shoes on.

Watch on.

One last look and I was good to go.

Game time.

On a mission, I hopped in my SUV.

I-90 was a bitch.

I waited as long as I could to leave, but I needed turnaround time. It didn’t seem to matter if it was seven
A.M.
or seven
P.M.
, as was the case, because the pavement was always jam-packed.

Exhaustion had crept into my bones and it wasn’t going anywhere, so another night of only a few hours’ sleep didn’t really matter.

It took over an hour to reach the I-84 exit.

Just as I was about to take the ramp, my cell rang. My dash lit up with a number I didn’t want to see. “Yeah,” I answered.

“We have a lead,” Agent Meg Blanchet said.

“What kind of lead?” I asked, extremely curious.

“We got that warrant to tap O’Shea’s office landlines early this morning. He got a call a few hours ago from a female, we’re guessing his wife, telling him his delivery had arrived.”

Like a crazy man, I swerved all the way into the right lane and zoomed off the interstate to turn around. “What were his instructions?”

The woman I knew as the she-devil cleared her throat. “He didn’t. He hung up without a word, like he knew his phone lines were being monitored.”

“Odd.”

“Yes, I agree. I think he switched to his cell and we don’t have the go-ahead to monitor that yet. Do you think you can contact his wife’s sister and see if she knows anything about this supposed delivery? We have a unit outside his house, and either O’Shea has slipped out of the house without us knowing or he went to bed and he’s not planning on going anywhere. The place is dark and we can’t see any movement inside.”

“He’s got a young kid—he wouldn’t leave her alone. Did you notice if Lizzy’s sister was with him?” I hated referring to Elle in that way, but the less the devil herself, Agent Meg Blanchet of the Drug Enforcement Administration, knew about what had transpired between Elle and me, the better.

Her laugh was abrupt, cold even. “He dropped the kid off at his sister’s earlier. But Logan, I would have thought you’d know the answer to the whereabouts of
Lizzy’s sister
before me.” She stressed Lizzy’s sister.

That’s when I knew I was fucked.

“I know you’re having a relationship with the missing woman’s sister. I’m not stupid. I just hope you’re not.”

With everything in me I wanted to tell her to fuck off, but then my father would end up in jail on the trumped-up RICO charges she was ready to pounce on. It was the ball she dangled over my head. The reason I was doing this in the first place. It was the reason she had me picked up four months ago. She’d hoped my bleeding heart over my father would persuade me to help her—and she was right.

The Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act allowed the DEA to gather enough circumstantial information on my father for him to be formally charged for crimes not committed by him but linked to him through his assistance. The only way he would be spared from being charged was if I agreed to cooperate with the DEA and get them all the information they wanted.