by Karr, Kim
Logan took over for me, surging his body upward and taking control of mine with his hands on my hips. I drew in a shuddering breath and wrapped by arms around his neck. He pumped slowly at first and I found myself leaning in to kiss his mouth. I kissed him hard, and he returned my kiss with the same strength. We were all lips, teeth, and tongue. Wild. Frantic. And soon the energy transferred to our bodies. He started to fuck into me, faster, faster still. Abandoning the kissing, I pushed myself upright and began to ride him, matching his pace.
Cries of pleasure sputtered from his throat, rough, gravel-like, filled with a rumble. “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. That’s so good. That’s it. Oh, fuck, I’m going to come.”
Words that sent me right over the edge.
He pumped faster and faster and I followed in that rhythm that existed only between us. Unable to hold on any longer, I arched my back and closed my eyes. Pleasure filled the space in my head where my mind no longer was. In the space that should have held thoughts was nothing but flickering lights, small bright stars in a far distance, and colors of the rainbow. I rode out my orgasm in that place, not allowing coherent thoughts to reenter my mind until I had exhausted every ounce of pleasure that was coursing through my body from head to toe.
He murmured my name. My heart, which was already pounding, skipped a beat. Without opening my eyes yet, I answered with his name. “Logan,” I breathed.
In response, he rolled onto his side and his hands found mine. Lacing our fingers, he pulled me flush to his chest. “Come here.”
At the sound of his voice again, I opened my eyes and looked at him. If it was possible for your heart to be so full of love for someone that you felt it might explode, that’s how I was feeling. We hadn’t expressed our love in words since that dreadful night, but we both knew how the other felt. Those three little words didn’t always have to be spoken for someone to know it. Besides, how many times were those words spoken among people in an empty, meaningless way? “I love you” could be said without really meaning it. But showing it, that meant everything.
Satisfaction filled the air. We were both breathing loudly when Logan propped himself up on his elbow. I turned as well, folding my arm under my pillow.
Gently, he ran his fingers through a stray piece of my hair that had fallen to the side. When he tucked it behind my ear, he sighed. “I want to come with you today to your sister’s funeral.”
Treading cautiously, I grasped his hand tighter and brought it to my lips. “Logan, you know you can’t.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want him there—I did. But those calls frightened me and I didn’t know what they meant but knew they had something to do with Michael and I. For now, Logan and I would have to remain a secret.
Taking his hands from mine, he flopped onto his back and put them behind his head. “I want you to tell him.”
I moved closer, stroking my fingers over his chest. “You know I want to, but the calls are freaking me out. What if they have something to do with Michael? Or what if when I tell Michael that I’m involved with someone, with you, it doesn’t go over very well?”
Logan was quiet at first, and I wasn’t sure what he was thinking.
“Hey,” I whispered.
Instead of answering, he looked over at me with a blank expression on his face.
“Michael not knowing about us doesn’t change anything. You know that, right?”
He scowled. “Yeah, sure I do. It’s just, it’s bad enough we have to be concerned about being seen in public. I hate that you have to tiptoe around him because you’re worried about him finding out.”
“Logan, even if the calls weren’t an issue, it’s too soon to tell him. Too close to everything that has happened. Think about it: what if I did tell him and then he started thinking about the drug bust? He’s not stupid; he could figure things out.”
Logan ran his hand down his face. “Even if he did, what does it matter? It’s not like he’s going to go to the cops.”
I willed my racing heart to slow down as I sat up and pulled the sheet with me. It was time to be honest. “Logan, I haven’t told you everything that happened those first three days we were apart that first week.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “The threat of Clementine being kidnapped wasn’t the only reason I agreed to help Michael.”
Practically his entire body went taut. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly enough to keep his anger at bay. “It’s not what he did. It’s what he said earlier that same night he asked me for his help.”
“You mean the night when he asked you to commit a felony,” Logan said through gritted teeth.
“Logan, we’ve discussed—”
He held up a hand. “Just go on.”
I flinched at the coolness in his tone. “Well,” I stuttered before pulling myself together and just spilling it. “He alluded to the possibility that he could cut me out of Clementine’s life, forbid me from seeing her. And Logan, I can’t allow that to happen. You have to understand, I can’t do anything that might jeopardize my role in her life.”
Logan sat up abruptly. “What the hell are you talking about? He knows how much you love her. Why would he do something like that?”
Emotional warfare, I thought but didn’t say out loud. That would really send him reeling. My fingers curled into my palms as I spoke. “Before he told me anything about his plan, he let me know he was going to report Lizzy missing and then file for divorce. Then he said he thought it would be a good idea with everything going on if he named Erin as Clementine’s guardian.”
“His sister, the one with four kids? Not you? I don’t—” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, and clenched his fists. “Did he blackmail you?”
I shook my head. “No, not exactly. He was much more subtle about it. He started with the guardianship and then moved on to what he really wanted. He tried to convince me that Clementine’s safety was in jeopardy and that was why I needed to help him. But I saw through his words. The reason he told me about possibly naming his sister as Clementine’s guardian was so that if the kidnapping threat wasn’t enough to make me say yes, the hope of ensuring my place in Clementine’s life would be. And it worked, because I did help him. I had to. For her.”
Logan was up and out of bed faster than I could blink. Punching his legs into a pair of track pants that were folded on top of my dresser, he yanked them up and then started pacing the room. “You understand for any guardianship to be invoked something would have to happen to Michael, so all of his talk is a bunch of presumptive bullshit.”
The lawyer in him was taking over.
“I do understand that, but it was more than just the dangling of awarding me possible guardianship. There was an undertone to his words.”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Tangling my fingers together, I admitted what I hadn’t even really admitted to myself. “I just got the feeling that he was giving me a choice to make and if I made the wrong one, he was going to cut me out of Clementine’s life altogether.”
Logan slammed his fist against the wall. “Motherfucking piece of shit. That’s it. I’m done with this charade.”
“Logan, calm down. Please don’t do anything stupid. Don’t jeopardize what I have with my niece,” I begged.
The pacing started back up. “And the fundraiser, did you go to that under the duress of a threat as well?”
I shook my head. “No, he asked me to go with him as a favor. I didn’t say yes until I got that first call.”
The muscle in Logan’s jaw twitched.
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place. I knew how you’d react.”
He stopped at the foot of the bed and ran his hand through his hair. “Knew how I’d react to the man you’re spending so much time with threatening you? Using an innocent child as a pawn? A man who might be a killer? How should I react? Sit down and have a drink with him?”
>
I threw my hands up. “Logan, stop it. You have to calm down. Michael has all the cards. I have to play by his rules. And if you do anything that pisses him off, makes him doubt my loyalty to him, he will cut me out of her life, I know he will.”
Hands on his head, he paced. After a few moments his breathing seemed to relax. “So you did what he asked. Has he done what he underhandedly dangled before you and named you her guardian yet?”
I shook my head. “That wasn’t something he actually said he would do.”
“Did he name his sister?”
“I’m not sure. We haven’t discussed any of this since that night.”
“Fucking son of a bitch.” His mouth quivered, that’s how angry he was. “You have to trust me when I tell you, he’s dangerous.”
My feet reached for the floor and I stood on the rug that used to belong to my mother. “No, he’s not dangerous. He’s manipulative. There’s a difference.”
Logan took the two steps between us in one stride and gripped my arms. “No, Elle, in his case, there’s not.”
I sighed in exasperation. “Please don’t start with the you think he killed my sister talk again. He might be many things, but he’s not a killer.”
Logan drew in a breath and huffed in frustration. “I know how important Clementine is to you and how important keeping her in your life is, Elle, but you have to start thinking more clearly.”
This conversation was going nowhere. “I have to get ready,” I said and started to walk toward the bathroom.
Logan grabbed my wrist. “I’m going with you today.”
Determination showed in my face when I spoke. “No, Logan, you’re not.”
With certain gentleness, he let go of my wrist and grabbed some clean clothes. “Fine. I’ll stay out of sight but I’ll be there, and then tomorrow I’m going to see Tommy to find out what the hell he, Lizzy, and O’Shea had going on.”
“Logan, no, you can’t go see him. It’s too dangerous.” My pleas went unheard.
The door was slamming behind him before I could even voice my concern. Two seconds later I heard the hallway bathroom door slam as well.
I hated this.
I wanted to talk reasonably.
But we both needed to calm down.
Listening to the water run, I knew he’d be showered and out of the house before I even took my bath.
Talking would have to wait.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LOGAN
I leaned down on the reception counter. “Where’s he at today?”
The nurse behind the desk pointed to my right. “Ahhh . . . big poker game in the rec room.”
My huff of laugher couldn’t be helped. “I hope he’s not taking everyone for all they’ve got.”
She laughed at that and moved her chair closer to the window. “I think its penny-ante, so you never know.”
Amusement still in the air, I glanced around. When I saw no one in the vicinity, I slipped her two C-notes. “Make sure he gets what he needs this week, will you?”
Without hesitation, she took the bills. Folded one and slipped it into her top. Folded the other and put it in the desk drawer. When they were both out of sight, she looked up. “I always do. Last week it was Jack Daniel’s for his chocolate ice cream and jelly beans to put on his pudding. God only knows what it will be this week.”
Standing straight, I thumped the counter. “Thanks for taking care of him, Judy. I really appreciate it.”
A slight blush crept up her cheeks. “It’s really no problem. I don’t mind at all. Besides, he’s a real sweet talker, that one,” she said before quickly turning back to her computer screen.
With a shake of my head, I headed toward the high-stakes poker game. The halls of Brighton House, the top facility for elderly care in Boston, were like any other nursing home in the area. White, drab, and if they didn’t smell like piss, they smelled like Lysol. The only difference, this place cost a fuck-load more.
Having taken a shower, dressed, and given myself an attitude adjustment, I had an hour before the funeral, and decided it was time to stop avoiding my grandfather.
The room wasn’t that far from reception and I reached it quickly. When I did, I leaned against the door and couldn’t help but smirk at what I saw. The place was filled with people. Some playing chess, others watching TV, a few reading, and even a handful at the computer stations against the back wall. But Gramps wasn’t anywhere near those traditional forms of entertainment. Instead, there he sat, at a large round table with a bunch of women playing poker. Women had always been his weakness. My grandmother had been the love of his life, and when he lost her, he never remarried, but that didn’t mean he didn’t chase anything with a skirt, and even at seventy-seven he hadn’t changed.
“Shit,” he said as he threw his cards on the table.
One of the women, the only one with jet-black hair, grinned and raked in the pot of pennies.
“I was so close,” he whined.
Killian “the Killer” McPherson was many things. Predecessor to the current Blue Hill Gang’s Irish Mob boss. Outlaw. Fighter. Lover. Gambler. Card shark. And card shark had to be ranked pretty high on the list.
I slapped my gramps on the back. “Damn, you lost?” I taunted.
He turned in his chair and gave me a wink. “I certainly did. Can you believe it?”
I shook my head. “No, I can’t,” I said, and then I turned my attention to the table. “Hello, ladies,” I greeted.
In response, they all spoke at the same time. I had no idea who was saying what. It was a cacophony of, “Your grandson is so sweet. How handsome your grandson is, Killian. He’s such a nice young man.”
My grandfather twisted his head once again and grabbed my hand. “Where have you been?”
I leaned down. “There’s been a lot going on. Can we talk?”
Glancing back at the woman he had just let win, he said, “Gloria, meet me for dinner tonight at five. I’ll arrange for us to eat alone in my room.”
Gloria brought her hand to her rose-colored mouth. “Oh, that would be lovely.”
In his most charming way, my grandfather reached across the table and squeezed her other hand. All the ladies giggled. “Ladies,” he said, dipping his chin.
“’Bye, Killian.” They waved.
Unlocking his wheelchair, he rolled it back. “Come on, Logan, we’ll go back to my room and talk.”
My hands gripped the handles of his chair. “Are you sure? Sounds like a pretty popular spot.”
His head jerked around. “Take your hands off this damn contraption. I’m not a complete invalid. Not yet, anyway.”
Raising my palms in surrender, I let him take control of the wheels and strode up beside him. His mind was sharp as a tack. But sadly, it was his body that was giving out. After years of fighting, I don’t know how many gunshot wounds, and endless broken bones, he had a hard time getting around. Which is why he was here. After his last fall, he broke his hip and required extensive rehab. My uncle Hunter, who lives in New York City, thought it was best if he had assisted living care. My father agreed. I didn’t, but my vote didn’t count.
My grandfather stayed silent the entire way to his room. As soon as he unlocked the door, he impatiently motioned for me to move. I had planned to help him in, but obviously that wasn’t his plan. “What are you waiting for? Christmas?”
Not so charming, after all.
I moved my ass forward, and he followed. Once inside his suite, he transferred from the wheelchair to the chair he always sat in.
Having learned from experience, I took the chair over near the table and moved it closer to him.
Those dark eyes stared at me. “Well, what do you have to say?”
There were times when I was around him that I felt like that ten-year-old boy again, worried I’d upset him because I wanted so desperately for him to be proud of me. This was one of those times. In a very uncharacteristic manner, I rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants. I never let my
nerves get the best of me.
“Don’t be nervous. Tell me what happened.”
Okay, it was time to do this, so I manned up and did it. I told him everything from the simple—like the security tapes I watched of Lizzy, who was at the time supposedly missing but was for some reason with Tommy at a hotel, to finding the drugs in Elle’s boutique, to what I’d done with them, to Lizzy’s death—to the more complex: my theory that O’Shea had been lying about his lack of involvement when it came to the missing drugs and money.
“So you’re telling me O’Shea somehow managed to magically get his hands on half of what was needed to satisfy Patrick’s demands?”
I shook my head. “Not really, because there’s still the issue of the missing five mil.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I’m still on the drugs. How the hell did he get them? I mean, come on. What? Did he pull one hundred and twenty-five kilos of cocaine out of his ass? “
I had to laugh.
“Something isn’t right, kiddo.”
“Glad you see it my way.”
Finishing up the O’Shea conversation, and having agreed he knew more than he let on, I stopped there. I didn’t tell my gramps about the note I’d received threatening Elle. I didn’t want to upset him. He’d go crazy just knowing Tommy had broken the order given years ago for us to stay clear of each other, because I’d have to tell him that so had I. Yeah, for now, it was best to leave those violations unspoken. I knew I’d have to tell him soon enough; I just needed some more time—I needed to see Tommy first.
When there was nothing more left to say about the shit storm that had become my life, his big palm landed on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Logan, you don’t have to feel guilty about anything. You did the best you could in the shitty situation you were in and you kept her safe. That’s all you can ask for.”
“Did I do what was best?”
