by Kim Karr
She gave me a slow nod. “Control.”
I laughed, almost sardonically. “Christ. I don’t think I can do that.”
Elle gave me an impassive shrug and took the cuffs from my hands. “Okay then.”
Just as she was putting both items in the case, the click-clack of high heels told me either Rachel or Peyton was coming up the stairs.
I snatched them from her fingers quickly and searched for her purse. It was where it always was, under the cash register. I shoved them inside.
“Do we have a deal?” she asked.
“I’ll think about it.”
Again the impassive shrug and I had to admit, my cock twitched. She was turning me on and I hadn’t even agreed.
Peyton was standing at the top of the steps just as I tucked Elle’s bag back in place. Her coat was on, her purse was on her arm, and I thought maybe, just maybe, the conversation about my new look would be bypassed. But in case it wasn’t, I had my story down. After all, I did have to recite it with my pop’s friends and my clients numerous times throughout the day.
As soon as she hit the main floor her jaw dropped. “Logan, your hair!” Peyton exclaimed in shock. Today her own hair was tinged blue, which matched one of the shades in her multicolored coat and earrings. She looked a little Smurf-like, but what did I know about fashion?
With one hand tightly gripping Elle’s, I rubbed my head with the other. Declan hadn’t informed Peyton about anything that was going on. It was safer for her that way. “I lost a bet,” I said with a slight forced grin.
“You look like Jax Teller when he got out of jail.”
If only she knew how close she was. Still, I had no idea who she was talking about, and I gave her a puzzled look. “Sorry, Peyton, but I’m not sure who he is.”
“Charlie Hunnam from Sons of Anarchy.”
My look remained the same.
She shot a glance toward Elle, who also shrugged.
“Never mind. I guess neither of you are a fan,” she said, almost exasperated.
A mirror was on the counter near me and Peyton pulled out her lipstick and came a little closer. “Oh my God, Logan, your eye. What happened?”
Elle squeezed my hand and then turned around to finish counting. I knew she didn’t like lying to Peyton, even if it was for her own good. “A boxing gym mishap. Nothing to worry about. I’m fine,” I told her.
“Same day you made the bet?”
“Yep.” I kept it short.
“Looks like you lost all the way around.”
I said nothing, just grinned.
Beep. Beep.
“That’s my mother. We’re on the hunt for the perfect wedding dress.”
“Wedding dress?”
“Her mother’s getting married,” Elle laughed.
And if that news didn’t make me feel completely out of it! I knew I had disconnected over the last couple of weeks, but I hadn’t realized just how much.
“In like two weeks,” Peyton said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing like short notice, but when love hits there’s no denying it.” She shifted her gaze to Elle, who was done counting the day’s receipts. “Isn’t that right?” She winked.
Elle actually blushed, which I found adorable.
Beep. Beep.
“I’m coming. I’m coming! She’s so impatient. I have to run. Have a good night, you two.”
“You, too,” I said.
“See you tomorrow,” Elle called.
Like a flash, Peyton opened the door and was gone.
“Are you ready to go eat?” I asked, rubbing my stomach. I was starving.
Just then the bells chimed and a young man wearing a news cap came in carrying a bouquet of roses. “Delivery for Elle Sterling.”
“That’s me.” She smiled, and I could tell she thought they were from me.
They weren’t.
The kid walked over to her and handed them off. “Sorry I’m so late. You’re the last delivery of the day. Have a great night.”
“You, too,” she said still smiling.
“God willing,” he said, and I found his response completely odd.
As if he knew what I was thinking, his eyes found mine, and he stared at me his entire trip back to the door. His eyes were icy blue and he had a familiar look about him, but I couldn’t place him. Under his cap, I could see he had dark hair. A black Irish, as my gramps would have called him.
Elle picked up the card and when she read it, her face fell.
“Who are they from?” I asked, suspicion in my voice that even I hated to hear.
She slid the small card back into the envelope and set the flowers down. “Michael,” she said. “He just wanted to thank me for helping him with Clementine last weekend.”
A noise escaped my throat and I couldn’t stop the wave of nausea that seemed to run through me. I took a deep, steadying breath.
“Logan, don’t.”
I looked away. “Don’t what?”
“I can see you shutting down. You know he and I are going to come into contact with each other. It’s impossible to avoid him. Not if I want to keep seeing Clementine.”
Infuriated, I tried to push the anger away. I pulled in another deep breath and tried to think of things differently. She didn’t ask to get the flowers.
Okay, it still irked me, because she did get them.
And I didn’t send them.
Different take.
She didn’t want him. She wanted me.
And that was the truth.
I let the air seep from my lungs.
Elle crossed the room to the display of handheld satellite radios shaped like small purses from Japan that could really jam. Instead of turning off the one that was playing music, she turned it up. “Do you like to dance?” she asked out of the blue.
I didn’t want to let her distract me. but I was tired of arguing about him. I had decided to trust her and until O’Shea could be sorted out, either as bad or worse, I had to stop my shit. I made a conscious decision then to let this go.
For now, anyway.
I leaned back against the antique counter that once sold tickets for a carousel in Vienna and watched her hips sway in the short black dress she was wearing. It made her legs look a mile long. “When I was in college I spent my summers in the Hamptons and my friends and I used to hit the clubs, but I haven’t done that in a while.”
Her hands went above her head and her entire body started to move slowly.
I pushed off the counter and made my way over toward her. I didn’t know the song that was playing, but it didn’t matter. When I got close enough, I offered my hand. “May I have this dance?”
She smiled at me and her smile reached her eyes when she extended her hand. “I didn’t mean you had to dance with me.”
I pulled her close to me, right up against my body. “I don’t have to do anything. I want to.”
She bit her lip.
My hands anchored her hips and we danced slowly in a circle, our feet moving half an inch at a time. She’d told me one time that she hadn’t gone to her prom. I could give her the prom. If someday she wanted something grander I’d bring her to the Met Ball. Fuck, I would give her everything she’d missed. I wanted her to experience it all.
We moved well together, those two pieces of a puzzle that fit just right.
After a while, I took it up a notch, changing moves from slow dancing to more dirty dancing. My thigh slid between hers and we continued to move together. Everything around us disappeared and it was just the two of us in our wonderland.
Her hands slid from my shoulders up to cup the back of my neck. She rubbed the spot where once she’d been able to run her fingers through my hair. My hair was gone, but her touch was hot. I felt branded. Like she knew I needed to know we belonged only to each other.
Heat flared where my groin rubbed against her lower belly. I had to kiss her. I slid my hands up her back to tangle in her hair, and then I tipped her head back so I could slide my lips down her neck.
She made a noise that had my hands skirting the hem of her dress, but I stopped myself. I didn’t want everything we did to end up in sex. I wanted to show her we could be together and not end up naked. It just seemed like the mature thing to do when one was trying to have a real, grown-up relationship.
But fuck, it was hard to stop my fingers from twitching. She, too, was fighting the driving desire. I could tell. Her eyes were squeezed closed. Her lips were parted. And her nipples were like small diamonds protruding from the fabric of her dress.
My lips found her ear. “When we make it to New York, I’ll take you to the Rose Bar. It’s a great place to go dancing.”
She kept moving. “I think I’ve heard of it.”
“Jeremy owns it. It’s a Jet Set property.”
The lace of her dress flapped with our movement and somehow I managed to keep my hands at bay. “I had no idea he was that famous,” she joked.
I laughed. “Not famous, just a friend.”
“I liked all of your friends who came to be with you for Killian’s funeral. The way you talk about them I know they mean a lot to you.”
They did.
But then so did she.
“And they liked you.” I slid one of my hands up to the center of her back between her shoulders and then dipped her low. I had to stop before I wasn’t going to be able to. I kept her there for a few moments and then pulled her back into my arms. “I hate to end this, but we should probably get going.”
She was still gazing at me, biting her lip.
My body was starting to react to hers and I felt my own lips part. I quickly let go of her and shook my desire off. “Come on, we don’t have much time to eat before we have to meet the guys. Where do you want to go?”
Elle looked flushed. “How about the Hornet’s Nest?”
I gave her a little tap on her ass. “Sounds great. Now let’s get moving.”
Many choices in my life have been hard to make . . . none harder than passing on sex. Great sex. Sex with Elle . . .
ELLE
“So it’s decided then?” Miles asked quietly.
Logan was glaring at everyone. He was all coiled power as he stood over the table in the break room at Molly’s. With his tie removed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the first couple of buttons of his white shirt undone, his muscles seemed to flex with his every movement. “No, it’s not,” he barked.
Declan cocked his head and looked toward Miles.
In response, Miles slid a piece of paper across the table and Declan picked it up and read it out loud. “Compound agent found on outside packaging is a perfect match to compound agent found in vehicle registered to Logan McPherson.”
“I know what the fucking report states,” Logan muttered, flopping down in a chair beside me and grabbing my hand. He laced our fingers together and I rubbed his skin, hoping it might calm him down. Agent Blanchet had given him a copy of the report with the information she had on him before she released him. He could be in a lot of trouble. This was my fault and there was nothing I could do to help him. I felt guilty. I felt helpless. I hated it. I had to do something.
“Then you know we don’t have much of a choice because I don’t care what that bitch told you, this is some persuasive evidence that you committed a felony, and you know as well as I do, she’ll use it if she has to.”
I shivered at the thought of what Logan had done for me. How he’d risked his entire future for the choice I’d made. And even though I’d do it again as long as it meant keeping Clementine safe and out of harm’s way, it didn’t temper my guilt.
Logan’s eyes burned into me and I knew he could see my despair. With a squeeze of my hand, he gave me a small smile. I gave him one in return to reassure him I was fine. Even so, he still flung Miles a filthy look.
Just then, my phone rang. I let go of Logan’s hand and quickly reached for my purse to silence it. I’d received three blocked calls at dinner. Including the one from yesterday, that made four in two days. Logan insisted on answering them himself, but whoever was on the other end hung up at the sound of his voice every time.
“Give it to me,” Logan said through gritted teeth.
I shook my head. “Let’s just ignore it.”
Miles and Declan were having their own conversation and weren’t aware of what was going on. “Maybe Elle can help,” Declan said, drawing my attention back to the table.
Miles cocked his head as if he understood what the glances and glares were about and then slid a pad of paper my way. “Can you show me what the keypad looks like?”
I knew it was my decision whether or not I tried to get into Michael’s panic room, but I still found myself glancing back to Logan. When I saw his face was twisted up in anguish, my heart banged in my chest. I hated what this was doing to him, but I knew it had to be done. We had to find out the truth. Both Logan’s and Clementine’s futures depended on it. With that in mind, I averted my gaze to the empty paper in front of me and proceeded to draw the rectangular box as I remembered it.
When I was done, my heartbeat had not yet slowed. If just the very idea of what I had agreed to do was making me nervous, how was I going to react when I was actually doing it? With a deep breath, I slid the paper back over to Miles. “The outside was stainless steel, the inside was black with blue number pads. Above the numbers were a red, a yellow, and a green light.”
He looked at my drawing. “It appears to be a standard digital two-relay keypad with a magnetic lock.”
“Which means?” Logan asked with a harshness in his tone that made me wince.
Miles ignored Logan’s hostility. “It means once you enter the assigned code, the number sequence will deactivate the magnetic lock, and the door will open. If the keypad is programmed to toggle mode, then when you enter the same code it will either release the lock again or reactivate it.”
“I don’t understand. Why would Elle have to release the lock again?”
“These types of locks are complicated. Once the lock is deactivated, there are two possible outcomes. The door could automatically close itself after thirty seconds or it might remain in the open position.”
“How will I know which one to expect?”
The sigh Miles gave told me the news wasn’t good. “You won’t. It’s programmed during the initial installation and I have no way of knowing.”
Logan cursed and scrubbed his jaw.
Stiffening my spine, I tried not to worry. Logan was doing enough of that for the two of us. “Okay, so worst outcome, it closes on its own. All I have to do is reenter the same code to get out. I got it,” I said, my throat thick, my tone sounding choked.
I hated the weakness I was showing.
“There’s one minor caveat.”
Logan cursed again.
“If the alarm was not installed in toggle mode, and the door has closed, then there will very likely be a different release code. If you can’t figure it out and you continually try, you could trigger the second relay. Most of the time, the relay is wired to the existing home burglar alarm and will set if off.”
Then Michael would know what I was up to.
“Can’t she just lodge the door open?” Declan asked.
“No, an alarm will sound if the door is programmed to close itself.”
The fluorescent lights in the ceiling bounced off Logan’s handsome face and I could see the torment in his expression. “So you’re telling me if the release code isn’t the same as the entry code, she’ll be stuck in the panic room.”
“Yes.”
“And there’s no way for you to determine this before she goes in there?”
“No. It all depends on how the door was initially set up, which unfortunately we don’t have any way of knowing.”
“Fuck that then. She’s not going in there. We can’t take that risk,” Logan said. Then he added, “I’ll do it.”
“No,” I gasped. “Michael would know.”
“She’s right, Logan,” Miles said, the
n he looked toward me. “Do you think you know the code? It would be a series of four numbers.”
My brain was thinking it through and I talked out loud. “His computer password was Clementine’s birthday, which was six numbers. It would make sense that the code for the panic room would be similar. Maybe just the month and date or the month and year?”
The corners of Miles’s mouth tipped up. “Sounds logical.”
Miles was all muscle. Large, broad, and ripped, he was intimidating looking. He also had way more girth than Logan’s lean body bore. But Logan didn’t seem intimidated by this. He didn’t seem to notice or care. My guess was that they were equally powerful.
“And if she’s wrong?” Logan asked tersely.
Miles, on the other hand, seemed oddly nervous in the presence of Logan, especially tonight. Perhaps it was due to Logan’s natural brooding demeanor or his obvious dislike for Miles’s plan. I wasn’t really sure, but as usual, he answered quickly. “If the house and panic room alarms are linked, a breach will trigger, and the entire house will be activated. If it is connected to the BPD, they’ll be alerted to an intruder. If they aren’t linked, then the lock will blink in a series of red flashes repeatedly until—”
“That’s it!” I yelled, clasping my hands together and grabbing the attention of all three men in the room.
Logan’s hand gripped my knee. “What’s it, Elle?”
“That night I saw someone in Michael’s study. I saw a red blinking glow. It had to be the keypad. And what if the person was my sister? She could have been trying to break into the panic room.”
Logan nodded in agreement.
“But she must not have gotten in. That’s why I saw the red blinking light. If Lizzy couldn’t guess what the code was, then it can’t be Clementine’s birthday or her name or anything of significance to do with her daughter.”
Everyone around the room looked grim.
Logan leaned forward and put his elbows on the table and his head down.
As it started to register, I realized that wasn’t good news at all. “How many attempts can I make until the light is activated?” I asked Miles.
“Three; after that it will lock you out from even attempting a new code and continue to blink until a bypass code is entered.”
