The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)

by Karr, Kim

  “Mine, mine.” Clementine was reaching for it.

  I handed it to her and put the scissors away. When I did, a small, tented piece of legal paper fluttered out of the shallow drawer. I shouldn’t have opened it when I picked it up, but curiosity got the best of me. It read, “Pick one.”

  Okay.

  The bottom half was torn off so I didn’t get to see the list to choose from.

  “Juice,” Clementine asked.

  I put the note back and shoved the drawer closed.

  While I searched in my bag for her juice cup, Clementine quickly darted for the stairs. I dropped the bag on the first step and let her crawl up them, hovering above her. “One, two, buckle my shoe. Three, four . . .” I sang to her as she took each step.

  My heart had just stopped beating wildly in my chest when I felt the weight of someone’s stare prickle my neck. I quickly whipped around and let out a small gasp. There was a man, younger than the one who’d just stormed in, standing in the entranceway. I should have been afraid after what just occurred, but I wasn’t.

  He didn’t look like he wanted to hurt us.

  As I took him in, the air was once again ripped from my lungs, but for an entirely different reason. I drew in a breath and wasn’t sure if my reaction was the adrenaline high I was still on or if it was because he was utterly, unquestionably perfect from head to toe. Handsome face. Strong jaw. Sensuous lips. Beautiful eyes. Broad shoulders. Flat stomach. Narrow hips. And long legs.

  He stared at me just as the other man had, and concern began to stir in my belly. I picked up Clementine and remained where I was for a moment, trying to decide whether I should leave or stay.

  I couldn’t read him at all.

  His voice was soft yet husky when he finally spoke. “I didn’t mean to startle you. The sign said to come in.”

  Despite my inability to read him, I felt secure enough to walk down the stairs. “It’s fine. I just didn’t hear the door.”

  His smirk threw me for a loop. “You were busy . . . singing.”

  Exhaling, I ignored the slow flush I felt spreading all over me. “I guess I was.”

  The handsome man’s eyes swept over me as he said, “You carry quite a tune.”

  Warmth radiated all the way to the tips of my toes. That voice did something to my insides. Something that made my stomach dip. Not knowing what else to do, I laughed.

  I sounded ridiculous.

  And I needed to focus.

  To snap out of it.

  His chuckle in response was soft. I found myself staring at him again.

  “Down, down,” Clementine demanded, forcing me to pull my gaze away.

  “In a moment, silly girl,” I reassured her, and then once I handed her the cup I’d taken out of my bag earlier, I glanced back at the handsome stranger. “Are you looking for Michael?”

  The heat in his eyes was undeniable.

  “Actually, my father.”

  There was a strange feeling coursing through my body from head to foot. It had my head spinning. Finally, his words registered and I refocused.

  Was he looking for the madman?

  “Sean?” I asked in a surprisingly calm tone.

  His slight nod told me I was right. My eyes studied him, as if my body somehow wasn’t in sync with my mind. I couldn’t help myself. He had a small jagged scar just under the inside corner of his left eye, but it didn’t detract from his incredibly good looks. As I stared, I could see the similarity between him and the older man. Same square jaw, chiseled nose, same face shape.

  But his hair wasn’t peppered with gray. Instead it was the color of the most delicious chocolate. Brushed forward on his forehead, feathered toward his cheeks, and shaped perfectly around his ears, in such a way that he looked professional yet hip at the same time. But more than his hair, it was his eyes I noticed. They were the most vibrant hazel eyes I’d ever seen.

  And they were still looking back at me. “So he is here?” he asked.

  With a nod, I gestured toward Michael’s office. “He seemed . . . upset.”

  Long lashes fluttered as his eyelids shut and then quickly reopened. “I hope he didn’t do anything stupid.”

  “I hope you understand, there are no second chances.” Sean said sharply.

  The door had creaked open, and a heated conversation floated toward us.

  “I do,” was Michael’s short but tense response.

  The handsome stranger strode toward his father, his face now a picture of restrained anger. Sean spotted his son and narrowed his eyes. “I told you to wait in the car.”

  His son squared his broad shoulders. “And I told you to wait for me to park.”

  Clementine, still on my hip, was oblivious to the bitter exchange as she reached forward toward the handsome stranger. He was closer now, and the playful grin he gave her made my stomach flutter.

  His eyes went from her to me, and I could feel the weight of his stare. I shivered under its intensity.

  The moment was broken when Sean huffed and shot Michael one last glance. “I’ll deliver your message and be in touch.” He then rushed by me, glaring at his son. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

  His son nodded toward Michael, and then he cut his gaze back to me. He was staring again.

  I found myself staring back.

  And I studied him further. His brows were slightly darker than his hair color. His skin was smooth. There were faint, very faint, freckles on his nose that perfectly matched mine. And his slight beard was scruffy in a way that looked like he shaved daily, just not close, or maybe it was a five o’clock shadow.

  Looking at him made my body feel like it was made of Jell-O.

  “Good night,” he said. And then just like that, he turned and walked away.

  My heart stilled. “Good night,” I whispered.

  I couldn’t help but watch him. He had a slight swagger that made him fit right in on the streets of Boston. That walk had my eyes still glued on him as he strode out the door. On his neck and the way his short, wispy hair exposed his nape. On his pants and the way they hung low. On his tight ass. On his long and lean body.

  I very rarely found anyone even mildly attractive, but I found him extremely so. I wondered how old he was. Not that it mattered. Still, even after the door closed, I couldn’t get the picture of him out of my head.

  I tried to turn my mind off.

  To focus on what mattered.

  But it was extremely difficult to do.

  The gravitational pull I felt toward him was just undeniable.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LOGAN

  “What the fuck?” I barked.

  My father kept walking and ignored me.

  Furious, I grabbed his arm. “I said, what the fuck was that?”

  Of all the things I’d helped him do for the Blue Hill Gang over the years, we’d always steered clear of women and children; they were off limits.

  My father turned and glared at me. “Don’t ever challenge my authority in public like that again.”

  Remorseful, I dropped my grip. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that in front of them, but you crossed the line.”

  He started to pace. “I thought he’d be alone.”

  At least he was rattled. “Maybe the next time you go off half-cocked, you’ll make sure you know what you’re walking into.”

  The sunlight was fading but I could still see the lines on my father’s face. This kind of shit was wearing him down. He stopped and looked at me. “Look, Logan, I appreciate your help, but I told you on the way over here, I want you to stay out of this.”

  The anger I had just managed to suppress flared up. With a step toward him, I pushed my finger into his chest. “You don’t get to decide when I’m in and when I’m out.”

  “I saw the way you looked at her,” he said, his voice more even now.

  I shoved him, still pissed as fuck that he went in there. As soon as he saw the woman and child, he should have bolted. “I didn’t look at her in a
ny way. You don’t know what you’re talking about. All I want is for you to slow down and think before you involve people who don’t need to be involved.”

  Maybe I had looked at that woman in a certain way, but it didn’t mean shit. I might have grown up in two very different worlds—one where wealth bred cordiality and one where violence led the way—but somehow there was a part of me that wasn’t divided, and that part would never fuck another man’s wife.

  My father’s laugh was dry. “Slowing down isn’t an option and you know it. Just stay away from her,” he warned.

  With an uneasy feeling, I said, “Promise me she will be left out of whatever Patrick has planned.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not my call. He already thinks O’Shea needs a little motivation, which is why he sent me. Besides, Logan, chances are good that with what’s on the line, Patrick has already looked at different ways to solve this problem.”

  I got right in his face. “I mean it. Make sure she’s not one of them.”

  Visions flashed before me. Kidnapping. Rape. Torture.

  My father looked around as if someone might be watching. “You know I can’t. That’s not my place. Besides, my visit today was strictly social.”

  “Right,” I muttered under my breath.

  He pointed his finger at me. “You need to calm down.”

  Irate, I balled my fists at my sides. “Don’t tell me what I need.”

  If that horrible gut feeling wasn’t worrisome enough, my father looked equally as troubled. “Go cool off. I’m going to see Patrick and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be anywhere even in his vicinity. I’ll catch a cab.”

  I didn’t argue. “Fucking best idea you’ve had in a while.”

  My cell started to ring and without a second thought, I walked past him and left his ass.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ELLE

  “Who was that?”

  As the thought escaped my lips, I cringed that I’d spoken it out loud. Michael wasn’t paying attention to me, though; he was already putting his coat on, and his aloof demeanor snapped me out of my daze.

  Either he hadn’t heard me or he was ignoring my question. I waited patiently for an explanation but as the moments passed, I knew one wasn’t coming. Especially when he reached over and took Clementine from me.

  Once she was fully in his arms, icy blue eyes darted to mine. “You shouldn’t have brought her here early.”

  I peered at him. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” he responded tersely.

  “Were you expecting him?”

  “No,” he snapped. “He called earlier and told me he’d call me back later, or I would never have had you meet me here.”

  I’d bitten back my irritation long enough. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

  Michael grabbed Clementine’s coat from the hook and put it on her. “You know what that was about.”

  His tone told me everything I needed to know.

  This was about her.

  He sighed and then spoke softly. “The mess she left behind is catching up with me sooner than I anticipated. I thought I had more time.”

  “What did he say?”

  Michael closed his eyes. “He told me time’s almost up.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He stared at me without answering.

  “Who is he, anyway?” I asked as a new wave of terror overtook me.

  The diaper bag was on the floor and he picked it up. “Someone you don’t want to piss off. It’s best if you pretend you never saw him.”

  “What’s his full name?” I pressed as I slipped my trench coat on and then my hat.

  Michael opened the front door. “Sean McPherson.”

  The cool wind hit my face and it blew my hat off when I stepped outside. “What does he do?”

  “He’s an attorney in Dorchester.”

  I walked down the steps and waited on the brick sidewalk. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he does. What matters is that you stay away from him.” He sounded annoyed.

  It pissed me off.

  “I got that the first time you told me.”

  Without a second glance, he looked away.

  I was exasperated but knew he wasn’t going to say anything else. We’d been having the same type of conversation for the past three months.

  “Where’d you park?” he asked.

  “Around the corner.”

  Michael’s Mercedes was sitting right in front of us. He nodded his head. “Get in. I’ll drive you there.”

  I shook my head. “No, I think I’ll walk.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he unlocked the doors.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I just need some air.”

  Michael bent to buckle Clementine into her car seat and I flashed him a disgusted look. I couldn’t believe he was really going to pull the “it’s for your own benefit” crap.

  When Clementine was secure in her seat, he turned toward me with remorse in his eyes. “I’m not purposefully keeping you in the dark.”

  With my brows raised, I responded emphatically, “Yes, you are.”

  Again, he glanced away. “Okay, you’re right. I just don’t want you involved.”

  “But I already am.”

  Michael shook his head and took a step toward me. “Stop saying that.”

  I sighed in frustration.

  Michael gently put his hands on my arms. “Don’t let McPherson rattle you. He went to school with my father; they’re old friends. He’s a hothead, but he wouldn’t hurt me.”

  I wasn’t so sure.

  Having had enough, I shrugged out of his hold and stepped around him to kiss Clementine. “See you soon, baby girl,” I said to her and nuzzled her nose.

  I hated saying goodbye.

  Michael opened his door. “You all set for tomorrow?”

  “I’ve just got a few more things to do. I’m heading there now to finish up.”

  He gave me an encouraging nod. “Let me know what I can do to help.”

  I smiled and said, “I think I have it all under control.”

  “I know you do. You’ve done a fantastic job.”

  Praise wasn’t what I looking for. The wind was cold and I dug into my pockets for my gloves. “Thanks.”

  “’Bye, Elle,” he said, staring at me for a beat. When he got in the car and started it, he glanced at me before shutting his door. “I’m sorry I was short with you earlier.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I told him.

  Michael closed the door and turned back to check on Clementine.

  He was a good father.

  I waved goodbye as the tires rolled forward, and then I put my gloves on and shoved my red felt hat farther down on my head.

  As I walked up the sidewalk, I occupied my mind by trying to avoid getting my heels stuck in the cracks between the bricks.

  It gave me something to do—I was feeling restless. I wasn’t used to staying in one place for so long and it was beginning to catch up to me.

  I gave up on not ruining my favorite boots when the late March drizzle began to fall and I had to move briskly to avoid getting too wet. As soon as I turned onto Tremont Street, I immediately saw that my rear tire was flat.

  “Crap,” I muttered as I stood there and the rain started falling harder.

  I looked around for shelter. The corner bar I must have passed at least a dozen times was only a few feet away. I decided to go in and call AAA from there.

  I didn’t want to bother Michael about something I could take care of.

  My damp, thin raincoat clung to my body and I reminded myself I should really buy a coat that was functional, not just fashionable. Shaking my head, I hurried toward the door to Molly’s Pub, getting wetter and wetter with each passing moment.

  As soon as I entered the vestibule, it was quiet enough for me to make the call. The operator connected me to the nearest station. “
The mechanic will be at least thirty minutes,” the attendant told me.

  Contemplating what to do, I decided on a drink. “That’s fine. I’ll be at the bar at Molly’s.”

  “Wait,” she called. “What number should the mechanic call when he arrives?”

  I gave her my cell but doubted I’d hear my phone. The music was already pretty loud from here. “Also, in case he has to come in, I’m wearing black—black raincoat, black pants—oh, and a red hat,” I added.

  She huffed and sounded annoyed. “Normally we ask that you wait by your vehicle but since it’s raining, I’ll let him know how to recognize you if he can’t reach you.”

  “Thank you,” I told her before hanging up.

  Once I’d tucked my phone back inside my purse, I pulled open the interior door to reveal a very crowded bar. Not only was I certain I would never hear my phone, but there was also no way the mechanic was going to be able to spot me in here.

  I’d have to keep my eyes peeled for him.

  The large room was dimly lit, glowing with soft white light. There was a steady pulse of music. A small dance floor was filled with people. Most were standing close and talking, others were already dancing. The DJ booth was already manned and larger than the dance floor. Still, the bar was the showpiece. Glass lit shelves displayed bottle after bottle of liquor, in addition to glasses in every shape and size.

  The space was eclectic. The dark paneling and old-fashioned parquet wood floors flowed into the modern space from the vestibule. I liked it.

  The pub, as it was called, was more like a club, and it was jam-packed with the happy hour crowd. I considered leaving but decided against it.

  It had been a long week, and one drink was deserved.

  As if moving in slow motion, I tried to push through the crowd.

  I wasn’t dressed like the other women. Wearing leggings, boots, and a simple long-sleeved cream-colored blouse that buttoned up the front, I was dressed for winter even though it was spring. Most of these women had stripped out of their work jackets and sweaters to reveal sexy camisoles or sheer tops. They had planned for their night out.