by Kim Karr
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.
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?”
He nodded. “She’s your Achilles’ heel. Mine was my Millie, and I’d have done anything, and I mean anything, to keep her out of harm’s way.”
Relief was all I felt. I’d stayed away from him because I thought he’d be disappointed that I didn’t follow through with the plan that would have, without a doubt, put Tommy and Patrick away for life, and in doing so, eased the hold Patrick had over my old man. I feared he’d think that I’d pretty much fucked it all up by picking Elle. Sure, Tommy and Patrick would still do prison time, but nothing like the life sentence they would have been given had the transaction been witnessed by the DEA and the source of the cocaine identified.
“How do you feel about this girl?” he asked, his voice going soft, quiet.
Done trying to deny anything, I admitted, “I love her.”
“Does she prefer winter or summer?”
I shrugged.
“What’s her favorite movie?”
I shrugged again.
“Does she like chocolate?”
I raised my brow. “I’m not certain. What’s with the twenty questions?”
He blinked a few times. “Come here,” he said, reaching for me.
I eased forward.
“If you love her like you say you do, then you’ll find out even the smallest details about her. It’s your business to know what her favorite flower is, her favorite smell, color. If she likes a table or prefers a booth. Would rather stay home and watch a movie or go out. Remember, Logan, it’s the little things that matter the most. And always, always, say good morning and good night. Never let a day go by without that.”
More wisdom.
“Well?” he prompted.
“I don’t know all of those things yet, but I love her.”
He leaned closer and took my head between his hands. “I know you do. I know you do. Now the hard part begins—showing her every day that you do, no matter what.”
He was choking up and the emotion was overwhelming. He wasn’t an affectionate man and when he became emotional, it was usually out of anger. In that regard, I was a carbon copy of him. The change in demeanor compelled me to hug him. As I started to wrap my arms around his big body, he bear-hugged me so tight I almost couldn’t breathe. For nearly thirty seconds we stayed that way and then we broke apart.
My grandfather cleared his throat. “I’m so proud of you for so many things. I don’t think I tell you that often enough. But I want you to know, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret having kept you in Boston. I should have made your father move to New York City when your mother asked him to after you were born. Or I should have at least made you start high school there. If I hadn’t been so selfish, you would never have been a part of this fucked-up world of mine.”
I shook my head back and forth. “Don’t say that, Gramps. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me in my life. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have known what was real. I wouldn’t have understood what it meant to be grounded. I am who I am mostly because of you.”
Tears streamed down that old man’s face.
“I mean it, Gramps. I love you.”
With a lift of his hips, he took a hankie from his pocket. “Enough,” he said as he blew into the white cloth. After he stuffed it back in his pocket, he said, “Over in the top middle drawer of my dresser is a silver box. Bring it to me.”
The emotional litany having affected me as well, I was thankful to be able to get up and walk around. The box was one I remembered from the house. It had been in his room and I was pretty certain it belonged to my grandmother. I’d never really paid much attention to it but as I picked it up, I noticed that although it had a very slim shape it was heavy. And the box itself was quite ornate. Scrollwork embellished the sides, and in the center of the top was an oval with a coat of arms.
Suddenly curious as to what it was, I handed it to my grandfather. “Here you go.”
He took it with both hands and carefully set it on the table beside him. “Do you know what this is?”
“No.”
With great care, he set his hand on the top of it, like it was precious. “This box was given to me by your grandmother’s father. Millie and I weren’t even eighteen when we got married. We were so young, but we were determined to leave Ireland. Her father had no money to give us and he knew going to America was going to be a hardship on his daughter. I tried to reassure him that I would take care of her, but he wanted to ensure that she would be okay. That’s why he gave me this. In case I ever needed something so badly, and had no way of getting it.”
My brows bunched.
With his hand still on it, he went on. “It’s a snuff box and it belonged to his great-great grandfather. I’m not sure what it was worth in 1956 when it was given to me, but I had it appraised in the seventies when all the violence on the streets got out of hand. At the time I was thinking of taking my family and disappearing and wanted to see how far it would take us.”
“How much was it worth then?” I asked curiously.
“One-point-one million.”
Shocked, I gasped. “And you leave that in your dresser? Shouldn’t you lock it up?”
“Na, everyone thinks it’s just a cheap box.”
I couldn’t believe it. I’d had no idea.
Moving past its history, he opened it up and took out two key rings. With shaky fingers he managed to pocket one of the keys before holding the other up to show me. “This key is to a safety deposit box at the Chase Bank over on Washington Street near Franklin Park. Do you know which bank I’m talking about?”
“Yeah, I kn
ow where it is. The one on the corner of Park Avenue.”
“That’s the one. Inside that safe deposit box is your grandmother’s engagement ring and our wedding bands. I want you to take them and when you’re ready, you give that diamond to that girl of yours.”
I stared dumbly at him.
He put the key ring back inside the box and handed the box to me. “I don’t have as much to give you as your grandfather Ryan does, but I want you to take this. Use it if you ever need to. Think of it as a security blanket, like I did.”
Unease washed through me and I shoved it back his way. “What’s all this about?”
Sensing my worry, he reassured me. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while, and now that you found the girl you’re going to spend the rest of your life with, it seemed like the right time.”
The box had somehow transferred into my hands. “Gramps, Elle and I just met. We’re nowhere near ready to get married.”
He patted my hand. “Time isn’t what matters; knowing she’s the one is the only thing that does. Sure, take some time to get to know each other, but don’t wait too long, Logan. Life can pass you by so quickly.”
“Are you sure you want to give me Grandma’s ring?”
He eased back in his chair. “Millie wanted so much to see you grow up. And when she found out the cancer was going to take her, she hated that she was going to miss it. She made me promise to give the ring to you when the time was right.”
Words stuck in my throat.
“Promise me you won’t wait too long. Promise me, Logan.”
For him, I found the words. “I promise, Gramps. And I’ll bring her by next week.”
His dark eyes glinted with contentment. “I’d like that.”
“Is there something going on?” I asked.
He shook his head.
Somehow I managed to convey what I’d always felt in my heart and gestured between the two of us. “Gramps, this means more to me than all the money in the world.”
His smile was bright and prideful as he looked at me. Then he closed his eyes, and shortly after that he dozed off.
I left his room with another knot in my gut—something just didn’t seem right.
