The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

  I slipped the agent five hundred to lose the eviction paperwork for a few days. I didn’t want the place cleaned out just yet. In there we’d found the missing garage door opener to Michael’s place and signs of a struggle. The place smelled like bleach and antiseptic, as if someone had cleaned it thoroughly, and not that long ago. But what struck us as odd was the Bible on her counter. It seemed out of place based on what I’d seen and what I’d known about Elizabeth O’Shea. As soon as we’d left, I’d called Blanchet to let her know about the apartment.

  “The Priest,” I said without even realizing I’d said it.

  Her eyes widened as she looked up at me. “He’s the one who took me.”

  She already knew this.

  I nodded. I knew it too. “Who he is, is the missing piece to all of this.”

  “But why take Lizzy and me . . . I don’t understand why.”

  I squeezed her tightly. “Neither do I . . . but I will.”

  “Logan, I was terrified. After all my self-defense classes I still couldn’t protect myself. I never even had a real chance. They kept injecting me with insulin to keep me quiet.”

  “They?”

  Still trembling, she nodded. “There were two of them. One was the boy who delivered the flowers to me. The other one wore a mask.”

  Blood pulsed in my ears and my calm façade began to crack.

  As if she had to get it out, she went on. “I knew what too much insulin would lead to. I’d lectured my mother about it all the time when she became reckless with her injections. And that sound, the sound of nail against plastic, I knew what it meant each and every time. I begged them to stop. I promised to be a good girl. I promised, but they still kept doing it.”

  I had to man up. I was having a hard time breathing, but what kind of sick fuck does that to someone? “Elle, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Tears streamed down her face. “They used to do that to psychotic patients in the twenties to experiment on them.”

  I swallowed—hard. The lump in my throat was making it difficult to breathe.

  Before I could say anything, the door started to swing open. The nurse’s back was to me and I bolted off the bed, my hand behind my back ready to take action if I had to—hospital or not. I relaxed when I saw a tray of food in her hand.

  “Miss Sterling, you’re awake.” The nurse smiled crossing the room to open the blinds. Once they were open, she turned around and then glared at me. “I don’t believe visitors have been authorized.”

  “What happened to her? What state did she arrive in? What did the doctors say?” All my questions, the ones I didn’t want to ask Elle, came streaming out.

  Her glare reached around me to Elle. “Is this man bothering you?”

  Elle’s laugh was a surprise, but the sobs that followed were not. “No, he’s the only thing in my life that seems sane right now.”

  At that she relaxed. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,”

  “We’ve talked?”

  “Yes, I brought you up here. You were quite out of it, though, so it’s not a surprise that you don’t remember. You kept asking me to call Logan, but I couldn’t make out his last name or the number you were giving me.”

  “This is Logan, Logan McPherson.” She pointed to me with a smile on her face that eased all the pain I was feeling in my heart.

  The nurse’s smile only grew, and she set the tray on the table beside the bed and then went over and took Elle’s pulse. “You need to eat. Perhaps this handsome man could make sure you do. I’ll go notify the doctor that you’ve woken so he can come by and check on you.”

  Elle pushed the tray away. “I can’t eat. My stomach is really upset.”

  The nurse pointed to a needle on the tray beside the food. “The doctor ordered Zofran. It will help, I promise.”

  Elle went to stand. “I need to use the bathroom first.”

  The nurse nodded and assisted her.

  Closing the door, the nurse stepped back into the room. “Now, I’m going to bend patient confidentiality and answer your questions. Just know I don’t do this on a regular basis, but Miss Sterling was asking for you. First, I want to ease your mind. She was not sexually assaulted.”

  Relief flooded me. I’d been a coward and unable to ask Elle myself.

  “Upon arrival, she was very close to slipping into an insulin coma, but thankfully she was brought into the ER just in time. There doesn’t appear to be any sustaining injuries. The cut on her cheek looks like a knife wound but should heal with very little scarring.”

  I flinched as visions of Tommy in my grandfather’s kitchen came to mind.

  “The doctor will suggest having a plastic surgeon take a look at it. I’m not so sure that’s needed, but it’s up to her.”

  The door opened and my Elle stood there, looking so frail and thin. Her cheeks looked hollow, her skin pale, and her eyes dulled.

  “She was slightly dehydrated, but the IV has helped with that. She still needs to take in a good amount of fluids in the next few days. I hope I can count on you to make sure she gets what she needs.”

  I nodded.

  The nurse insisted on helping Elle to the bed, but I stayed close to her side. As soon as Elle was back on the bed, the nurse inserted the needle into the IV. “Now, this will make you drowsy, so I’ll make sure the doctor waits a good two hours before coming by to check on you.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

  She gave Elle’s arm a pat and mine a squeeze. “Listen, I don’t get involved in my patients’ business, but whatever happened, I hope you tell the police. It’s noted in your chart that your statement was vague upon arrival and that you postponed questioning until tomorrow. Please go down there and do it. I’d hate for this to happen to anyone else.”

  I looked at the nurse. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll be escorting her personally.”

  She glanced back down. “Oh, okay. It states here a Mr. O’Shea would be doing so.”

  “His mistake,” I noted, and I couldn’t help but wonder what his involvement was.

  The nurse left and when I swung my eyes back to Elle, that’s when I noticed the bruises on her legs and couldn’t hold back my loud gasp.

  “Logan,” Elle whispered.

  I looked at her face.

  “I’m okay, really I am.”

  “I love you,” I said, and had to fend off the tears that I felt welling in my eyes. I’d never cried in my life, but looking at her bruised and battered was going to break me.

  She reached for me. “I love you, too,” she whispered, and then pressed her lips to mine.

  It was something I had wanted to do but wasn’t sure I should. Her lips looked so battered and bruised. The thought of why they might be turned my stomach and I couldn’t ask, not yet.

  She flinched at the contact and I kissed my own fingers and gently placed them on her lips. “This is me, kissing you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes again, and she kissed her own fingers and placed them on my lips. After a few moments, she took my face in her hands. “You don’t look so great.”

  I had to laugh at that. “Yeah, I’ve had a rough night.”

  Moving faster than she should, she wrapped her arms around me, and I let her hold me for a long, long time. I held her too and in her arms I gained strength. She brought it to me. I knew then we had a lot to discuss. When I finally let go of her, I cleared my throat and pulled a chair up so I could swing the food tray around to feed her.

  She put her hand out. “I can do it.”

  I smiled at her. “I want to. And while I feed you, I want you to talk to me. Tell me everything and anything you can remember. Then I’m going to help you take a shower. And after that I want you to get some rest. Once you’re discharged we are going to go down and talk to Blanchet. This is much bigger than me and Miles, and I think it’s time we let the authorities handle it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am.”
/>   The sun slammed through the window and she squinted.

  “Here, I’ll shut the blinds.”

  She shook her head and reached for the sunglasses that were hanging from my long-sleeved T-shirt. “I want to feel the sun on me. It feels so good. I was cold for so long.”

  That fucking lump was back in my throat and my hands were shaking as I tried to feed her the chicken broth.

  She opened her mouth and accepted the spoonful. She swallowed slowly.

  As I went to give her another, I said, “Listen, before you start, I need to tell you something.”

  Fear riveted her and her entire body went rigid. She stopped me from giving her another spoonful by taking hold of my hand. “What is it? It’s not Clementine, is it?”

  “No,” I said immediately.

  She relaxed.

  “I went to see Michael. He didn’t believe me that you were missing, so I told him I was talking to you on the phone when you were abducted. I didn’t tell him anything else about us, but I’m sure he can figure it out.”

  She took her hand away and indicated I could continue.

  That was a good sign.

  I scooped another spoonful.

  After she swallowed it, she said, “I think you are right. It’s time to come clean about everything. Michael loves Clementine and I know even if he’s angry with me, he’ll do what’s best for her. In the end, he will.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me or herself, but I agreed with her.

  She ate everything on her plate and told me what she remembered, which wasn’t much. I helped her shower and then put her back into bed. She didn’t have any clean clothes, so a clean hospital gown had to do for now. Once she fell asleep, I’d slip out and head to the lobby. Miles was downstairs and I needed to fill him in. And I was also certain he wouldn’t mind heading back to Boston to grab a few things—including one very important thing.

  “Lay with me,” she whispered.

  “I’d do anything for you,” I said as I took my place next to her.

  “Even jump through fire?” she asked sleepily as her head found my chest.

  “Jump through fire, leap from the tallest bridge, scale buildings, anything.”

  “My hero.”

  I wasn’t her hero.

  Or her white knight.

  But I knew what I could be and as corny as the thought was in my mind, I was going to be . . . her Prince Charming.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  ELLE

  A tiny detail sat on the outskirts of my consciousness.

  It was right there but I couldn’t place it. I was in the bathroom when it hit. I’d just woken up and Logan wasn’t back yet. Feeling clearer-headed than I had earlier, I replayed the events of the past few days in my head. It wasn’t long before my mind felt overworked trying to pull everything together and I wished Logan were here to bounce my thoughts off of.

  Unfortunately, that tiny piece of the huge puzzle was lost before I could figure out what it meant. Frustrated, I stared into the white porcelain sink, trying over and over to bring it back.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been standing in front of the mirror. Just looking. Thinking. Concentrating. Until eventually, I gave up and let my mind wander. I wondered if I’d have a scar. When I could kiss Logan without my lips scorching in pain. If the day would come when he could look at me without feeling racked with guilt. This wasn’t his fault. Whatever this was.

  “Elle?”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  The voice caught me off guard. I gripped the sink, feeling panicked. Shifting my eyes around the small space, I knew I had no choice but to answer. There was no escape.

  Still, I didn’t move.

  Michael tapped on the bathroom door. “Elle?”

  “Yes, I’ll be right out,” I called in a shaky voice.

  Why was I frightened? I had no reason to be. He said he’d be back. Why hadn’t I thought to call and tell him not to come?

  Stupid.

  Stupid.

  Stupid.

  Logan had left me his phone in case I needed anything while he went down to talk to Miles, but that left him without one. My instructions were to call Miles if I needed anything, but the phone was on the table beside my bed.

  Standing straight, I opened the door. It was when I looked at Michael that the small fragment I’d been trying to recall from somewhere in the back of my mind came to me in a flash. The memory was of me getting out of Michael’s car after Lizzy’s funeral. I was trying to avoid a conversation I didn’t want to have with him and was rushing for the door when a man called out to Michael. I twisted my head and the man calling to him had icy blue eyes, the same eyes as Michael. The same eyes as the ones I had seen in the rearview mirror. And his son was with him, the same boy who had groped me and injected me with insulin. Seamus. The man’s name was Seamus. Michael called him that.

  I felt myself pale and squeezed my palms shut.

  “What is it?” Michael asked.

  Pensive, I stepped out into the room very aware that I was naked beneath my gown and hating it. It made me feel vulnerable. I shook it off and decided it was time I came clean and that Michael did as well. “Who was the man who came to the house after Lizzy’s funeral with all the flowers?” I asked sharply.

  Michael’s entire demeanor instantly turned aloof. “How would I know? There were a lot of people there that day.”

  I knew he was lying.

  “Why do you ask?”

  My mind was wandering again, back to the picture in Erin’s house, the one with the family of five—Michael, his sister, his mother, his father, and the fifth unknown. I changed tack. “Do you have an older brother?”

  Michael took a step toward me. “What are all these questions about?”

  I stepped back. “Do you?”

  For a moment, neither of us moved or talked. “Have you thought about my proposition?”

  Stunned, I couldn’t even comprehend why he’d bring that up now. “No, Michael, I haven’t. I’m sorry, but someone just kept me captive and injected me with insulin until he could figure out how to put me on the right path.”

  Blatantly ignoring me, he matter-of-factly stated, “You have something I need and I have something you want. It seems like such a simple choice, but still, I need to hear your answer.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re changing the topic,” I said, exasperated.

  He took a deep breath. “There are so many things you don’t understand.”

  I sighed. “Then help me—tell me what I need to know.”

  “Elle, before I leave here, I need to know your answer. That’s all you need to know.”

  I threw my hands up. “Why? Why before you leave here do you have to know?”

  “Clementine’s safety depends on you saying yes,” he said in a broken voice.

  Panic tore through me. “That’s not true. You’re using her to get what you want.”

  He frowned. “I wish I was.”

  No more. I couldn’t take any more of this tiptoeing. He had to stop his lies now. “I’m in love with Logan McPherson and I want to be with him, not you.”

  Physically shaking, he ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I figured as much when he barged into my office looking for you.”

  I shook my head. “Then why did you still ask me about us?”

  “Because I need an answer.”

  My knees felt like rubber. “It’s no, Michael, it’s no.”

  That fear seemed to grow on his face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I needed to sit down, so I made my way to the bed. Once there, I turned to him and softened my gaze. “Please, don’t take Clementine away from me. Don’t punish her for my choices. She needs me in her life.”

  He seemed so distant, even though he was just across the room. “If you’re not standing by my side before the District Attorney nominations, her life will be in danger and there is nothing I can do about it.”r />
  I got to my feet and ran over to him. “What are you talking about? Tell me what you mean.”

  Five seconds had passed before he spoke. “I can’t.”

  My fists were pounding against his chest and tears were leaking from my eyes before I knew what I was doing. “Stop saying that. Just tell me. Tell me now.”

  As if defeated, he closed his eyes. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “The beginning, Michael. Start there.”

  He nodded, and after a few seconds he began to speak. “Your sister and I didn’t fall in love. She was a prostitute I used for sex on a few occasions and although I fell in love with her, she never really loved me. She couldn’t, because she was in love with someone else.”

  “Tommy Flannigan?” I asked, already having determined Lizzy had some kind of connection with him from what Logan had uncovered.

  Another nod. “He wasn’t right for her. He couldn’t help her turn her life around, and that was what she needed.”

  I had nothing to say. I was certain she did need that, but experience had told me no one could do that for her; she had to want to change.

  “And yet she loved him anyway. He was her pimp, for fuck’s sake. He used her to make money. I hated that. Couldn’t stand it. He didn’t want her to clean herself up, didn’t want her to get off the drugs; all he wanted was for her to keep her mouth on other guys’ dicks.”

  I’d never heard him talk like that. “What changed, Michael? If she didn’t love you, why did the two of you get married?”

  “I’m getting to that. Like I said, we knew each other.”

  My temper flared. “Yes, you were one of those dicks she kept her mouth on.”

  “Don’t judge me, Elle. At least I wanted to help her. And I tried many times to get her to walk away from that life, but she wouldn’t. When I was done trying, I gave her my card and told her if she ever needed anything, to call me. For the longest time, she didn’t. But then about two years ago she got picked up on a possession and prostitution charge. That’s when she contacted me. I took her case free of charge, vouched for her, and bailed her out of jail—the court contingency was that she come work for me, my contingency was that she stay away from Tommy. She didn’t really have much of a choice. It was me or jail time. So she agreed to my terms. And as the days went on, she was doing so much better. Every day I could see the light shining brighter in her eyes.”