The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

  Chills ran down my spine.

  Say yes?

  Say yes to what?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  DAY 13

  LOGAN

  The general etiquette in black-tie dressing was that there should be no watch on your wrist. The unwritten rule stated that if a timepiece had to be worn, it should be a pocket watch, but if one absolutely must wear a wristwatch, it should be a slim dress version thin enough to hide underneath French cuffs.

  My big, sporty Patek didn’t really meet the qualifications, but then again most of the time I doubted I myself met the qualifications.

  I hated going to events like this because of all the social niceties one had to abide by, but at least this time I wasn’t being forced to attend by my mother or grandfather. This time I was on a mission that would bring me closer to getting Elle back in my life.

  The campus was all too familiar. After I’d fucked up and gotten kicked out of Harvard at orientation for stupidly thinking I could sell drugs on campus and get away with it, my father pulled some strings of his own and got me into the School of Law at UMass. My mother was so disappointed in me that she didn’t talk to me for almost a year, and my grandfather Ryan was equally as upset and only talked to me a dozen or so times during my entire law school stint. Like I’d come to realize, they were two peas in a pod.

  As I parked and looked out over the harbor, my mind was anywhere but here. It was on Elle. It had been since I saw her get in that cab. How was she? What was she doing? Did she miss me as much as I missed her? Fuck, just standing there, I could still remember the way she tasted.

  Shaking my melancholy off, I forced myself to focus and headed inside to find Pierce Foley. Pierce was a thirty-something Upper East Sider whose wife was connected to the Kennedys, and that relationship had the couple rallying among the political fundraisers all up and down the East Coast.

  James had called me back as promised with five names of guys who he had heard the elite grapevine used cocaine and were also highly connected to the Boston social circle. I couldn’t believe it when I called Foley’s New York law office and they said he and his wife were in Boston for a fundraiser.

  Maybe luck was on my side.

  A quick sweep of social media informed me that I was looking for a man of average build, a little on the husky side, with thinning brown hair deeply parted on the side. I hoped it wouldn’t take long to find him, and then I hoped even more that it would take even less time to befriend him and find out what he knew. From what James had told me, I was certain pumping a few drinks in him would help me with that.

  The place was jammed with people, and even at a cost of a grand per ticket, it didn’t surprise me. The rich always loved things that were expensive. In my monkey suit, I moved around in the way I’d been groomed. After having to stop to talk to the few people I knew, I tried to sideline any more familiar faces. I grabbed a quick glass of water with a lime wedge from the bar and was finally able to start my search.

  Through the crowd it was hard to spot anyone who didn’t look like Pierce Foley. I walked the perimeter of the room, moving closer to the center with each lap. Thirty minutes later I still had not found him. This time I started in the center and worked my way outward. I was almost to the wall of windows that overlooked the Boston Harbor when I spotted him.

  At the bar.

  Bingo!

  Casually, I made my way over and sat beside him, setting my glass down. I leaned in toward the bartender and ordered a gin and tonic, which I had no intention of drinking, and then looked toward a very bored-looking Pierce. “I’m on my third, what about you?” I lied.

  He swirled what I guessed was a scotch and raised it. “My third as well. Long fucking night.”

  I smirked. “You’re not kidding. I swear having to be on good behavior always makes time pass even slower.”

  His roar of laughter told me I was in. “What do you say we do a shot?” he whispered.

  I pretended to look around. “I’d better not. If the fiancée catches me getting out of hand, I’ll be in the doghouse for a week.”

  Just saying fiancée, making up another woman, made the words burn in my throat.

  “Good point. If my wife, Sarah, sees me drinking too much, I won’t even tell you what will happen to me.”

  My grin came easily. “What’s it like?”

  He arched a brow.

  “Being married, I mean. I’m supposed to get married next month and I have to be honest, I’m not really feeling it.”

  “Cold feet. I get it. I went through the same thing. Marriage is hard. I’m not going to lie. Of course, it has its ups and downs. I’ve been married for almost seven years, and I have to say I’ve been feeling the seven-year itch for a while now. But on the whole it’s worth it.”

  The bartender set my drink down. “My friend here needs another.”

  Pierce held his hands up. “No, I shouldn’t.”

  “Come on, one more, and you can give me some honest advice. No one ever wants to be honest about marriage.”

  With a quick gulp of his drink, he set it down. “Sure, one more.”

  As he glanced around the room to be certain his wife wasn’t anywhere nearby, I poured half my drink into my water glass. Last thing I needed was to fog my brain. Fuck only knew what I’d be saying then.

  By the time he’d finished his fourth, he’d practically told me his life story. He had two kids, worked for his father-in-law, and had a nagging wife. A variation on the very picture I had in my head of marriage.

  It was my parents’ life all over again minus one kid.

  “How do you do it every day, man?” I pretended to slur.

  “Escape.”

  “Escape?”

  His shoulders rose and he sniffed through his nose, holding one nostril closed.

  “And your wife doesn’t care?” I asked.

  “Oh, she’d care.”

  “She doesn’t know?”

  Chewing on an ice cube, he shook his head. “Clueless.”

  I lowered my head a bit. “I’m new in town. If one was looking for an escape, where might one find it?”

  “The Priest,” he whispered.

  “The Priest?”

  “Well, not him directly, but he’s the one you’ll be getting it from.”

  “How do I get in touch with him?”

  “That, my friend, I can’t tell you.”

  “Come on, really?”

  “Sorry. He has rules, and he’s ruthless if any of them are broken. Besides, I’ve never actually made contact. A buddy of mine takes care of it for me.”

  “Pierce, there you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a woman’s voice called.

  He shoved his drink toward me. “Pretend you don’t know me.”

  My smile couldn’t have been more genuine. “Not a problem,” I said and turned the other way.

  “You’re not drinking, are you?” his wife asked when she got closer.

  He stood. “No, I was just getting you that glass of water you asked for.”

  “That was an hour ago.”

  “Are you certain it’s been that long?”

  I peeked at them and saw her tuck her arm around his. “Come on, there are some people I want you to meet.”

  “Yes, dear,” he said, and turned and gave me a wink.

  Poor bastard was all I could think.

  My time with him was up and if you discounted learning Pierce Foley was an addict in every sense of the word, I’d learned one real thing. The drug supplier in Boston’s high-society circle went by the alias “the Priest,” and I doubted that was Lizzy, or O’Shea or Tommy for that matter. Neither seemed like the religious type to me.

  I didn’t know how to reach him.

  Didn’t know his connection to Lizzy.

  Wasn’t even sure if finding him could help me find Lizzy.

  Still, knowing the kingpin’s street name made me feel like I was one step closer to getting Elle back.

  Standing
from the bar, I glanced around for the nearest exit. Something caught my attention. Narrowing my eyes, I focused on a group of boisterous men deep in conversation with one lone female among them. Not just any female. A beautiful woman with ginger-colored hair standing way too close to Michael O’Shea.

  My gut twisted.

  My body stiffened.

  My vision blurred.

  It was Elle.

  My Elle!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ELLE

  Whenever I thought of political fundraisers, I pictured old men standing around outside smoking cigars, women in stodgy long dresses clustered together gossiping, and glasses of cheap wine everywhere.

  That was not the scene I was currently immersed in.

  The grand ballroom was beautiful in a roaring twenties kind of way. The ceilings were gilded with a golden hue, the chandeliers were gleaming crystal, the carpet red, and the linens black. And right in the middle of it all was a giant champagne fountain that was absolutely gorgeous.

  After thinking about it, I’d said yes to Michael. The voice on the phone had rattled me and I wasn’t sure what the call was about, but I was almost certain whoever was on the line might have been threatening Clementine. It was after that I decided Michael wasn’t being truthful. There was too much that didn’t add up. Going to this fundraiser might help me figure out what it was. I longed to discuss it with Logan, but I’d already burned that bridge.

  In the midst of all the chaos, I’d been worried about the dress Michael had selected for me to wear. It was a long black silk, almost classic-style A-line with a deep vee in the back, but the matching deep vee in the front brought it to a whole new level.

  It was a bit too sexy for me.

  I might not have seen my sister in fifteen years but there was no way her breast size had shrunk that much, therefore there was no way she’d have been able to wear a dress like this without spilling out of the sides.

  “Can I get you anything?” Michael asked, pressing his hand to the small of my back.

  He’d been talking to the same group of gentlemen for the past twenty minutes about the Suffolk County crime rate statistics and I was out-of-my-mind crazy. With a smile I said, “No, I’m good, but if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to use the ladies’ room.”

  “You’re bored, aren’t you?” he whispered in my ear.

  His concern seemed genuine, but I wasn’t taking anything he said at face value. “No, not at all. Watching you at work is fascinating.”

  The smile that lit up his face made me wonder if I’d taken my attempt to be upbeat a little too far. “The least I can do is walk you to the restroom.”

  “No, Michael. Stay and network. You’re doing such a great job.”

  He moved a little closer. “It’s you who’s doing the great job.”

  Without pretense, I gave him a return smile. “I’ll be back.”

  It was odd, but I couldn’t tell him about the threatening call I’d received. I was too suspicious of him. Although I wanted Michael to succeed in his bid to be nominated to run for the Suffolk County District Attorney position, I had to wonder what the big push was right now when his life was so completely turned upside down.

  With each passing day, my doubts about Michael’s sincerity kept mounting. How was he going to keep my sister’s drug dealings out of the press? And if it did come out, would he be implicated? Because if I knew he was somehow involved, and Logan knew he was involved, someone else must surely also know.

  Like the deliverymen, I thought.

  Chilled, I couldn’t help but think about how they ended up.

  The restrooms were near the bar and I took my time walking the short distance to them. My feet were killing me in the heels I was wearing and I couldn’t wait to kick them off. In truth, I couldn’t wait for this night to end. All this hobnobbing was exhausting. It didn’t take more than one night of this to know the political arena wasn’t exactly my cup of tea.

  As soon as I opened the bathroom door, I found it to be equally as impressive as the ballroom. There was a lounge area with a few comfortable-looking chairs, a perfume bar, and stacks of black washcloths next to bottles of luxury soap. Obviously it had been decked out for the evening.

  The perfume bar drew me to it and I looked at the various bottles. Jo Malone was among them, and I picked up the lavender scent and sprayed it on each of my wrists. Once I’d rubbed them together, I lifted them to my nose and closed my eyes to enjoy the fresh, clean scent.

  There was a crinkle, a tickle, a tease on the back of my neck. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who it was. His own fresh scent gave him away. I gasped as my body betrayed me, my toes curling and my stomach fluttering at just the hum of his body near mine.

  Lips brushed my neck and I couldn’t stop myself from trembling in need.

  “You look incredible.”

  That voice was raw. Husky. Sexy. All Logan.

  My eyes snapped open and I found his hazel ones staring back at me in the mirror with more lust in them than any one human should be allowed to convey in that manner. “What are you doing here?” I somehow managed to ask, albeit in a squeak.

  His hands gripped my hips and pulled me back toward him. I melted into his hard body and felt how much he wanted me.

  Fire flamed through my veins, giving way to lustful desire that I couldn’t suppress.

  I missed him.

  I hated not being able to talk to him.

  Hear his voice.

  Touch him.

  Feel his body against mine.

  Yet, I knew I had to stick by my decision. My life wasn’t my own anymore and I had to remember that girl needed me.

  His hold on me was possessive and he urged me to tilt my head to the side. “I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”

  My pulse was beating wildly and even though I knew I shouldn’t, I gave in to his unspoken command and tilted my head.

  Those lush lips skimmed down my neck.

  And I couldn’t resist him.

  In my red-hot haze, I allowed myself only a moment to absorb the feeling. While doing so, I admired him. I couldn’t help myself. Dressed in an expensive tuxedo, he screamed class, sophistication, and all things money. Pressed white shirt, black bowtie, and dropping my eyes I noticed he was even wearing expensive-looking shoes. He fit in at events like this so well, while all night I’d felt so out of place. That had to be another sign of why we shouldn’t be together. When I lifted my gaze and found his eyes, I knew I had to push him away. We were over. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

  His hands started tugging my dress up. “Everything about you is my business,” he growled.

  It was then that I realized he must have seen me with Michael and he was jealous.

  Jealous!

  Was he trying to make his mark, stamp his claim on me? Well, I wasn’t his. He’d had a choice; he’d chosen not to be with me. I turned around and shoved him away. “No, Logan, you’re wrong. We’re not together anymore and nothing about me is any of your business.”

  My words were cold and they killed me to speak them, but for the past few days I’d been just barely holding myself together. If this little tête-à-téte, or whatever this was in the bathroom, went any farther, it would surely make me crumble when he was finished marking me and then left me alone—again.

  Logan grabbed my wrist. “Don’t say that, Elle.”

  My breath caught when I looked at the real him, not the reflection of him. His eyes were wide. Pupils dilated and dark. So intense. And his lips were slightly parted, the lower one wet from where he’d just swiped his tongue. So delicious looking.

  The urge to kiss him was too much to bear and I had to close my eyes to try to find my center, but I couldn’t. The sexual tension between us was off the charts and quickly causing my control to shift.

  His hand was still holding my wrist and he let it slip lower. Before I knew it, he was tugging me into a bathroom stall and I was going wil
lingly.

  Saying nothing, he pushed me against the door, hard enough to rattle it. He moved closer until we were face-to-face, chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip, and then his hands were lifting my dress.

  I shuddered when his thumb moved back and forth against the inner skin of my thigh. Slow, even strokes. This small touch was enough to electrify me and the shudder of my breath echoed in the small space.

  He leaned even closer and his lips brushed my earlobe. “Tell me you’ll wait for me.”

  I turned my head the tiniest bit toward him. I felt like I was going to break in two right there, I was so torn.

  But I had to keep my stability—for Clementine.

  My lips barely moved when I said, “I can’t do that.”

  “You can.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t, Logan. I can’t put my life on hold for something that might never come.”

  The air around him crackled dangerously. “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  His lips skimmed down my neck. “Do matter what you do, you’re mine, Elle. Mine. You’ll always be mine.”

  Torn between giving in to him and holding on to what I knew was the right path for me, I had to get away from him to think clearly. In a split-second decision I reached behind me and unlocked the latch, causing the door to swing open. I didn’t deny that I was his. He already knew I was. My body’s reaction to him alone was enough to confirm that, but I did say something I knew would make him dislike me, or maybe even hate me. Keep him from following me and tearing me apart. “I have to get back out there. Michael will be wondering where I am.”

  “Michael,” he spat.

  Guilt set in and I had to push it away. I was doing what I had to do. Still, I tried to ease the burn of my words. “Logan, I’m here with him to support him politically, not that I owe you any explanation.”

  His expression cleared. I couldn’t read him at all. But then he leaned back against the sink and gripped the edge tightly, and I knew he was hurt.

  I hated this. All I wanted was to be with him, but our separation wasn’t my choice.