Blow (43 page)

Spilling everything I could. Begging him to listen with every ounce of my being.

He placed his hands on his lean hips.

Dropped his head.

Lifted his chin.

Looked at me.

Looked away.

I was still babbling.

Then, as if he could hear me through the glass, he tucked his phone in his pocket and took a step toward me. Then another. And another still. He didn’t stop until his hands splayed against the window right where mine were.

Mirror images of each other.

His stare locked on mine and we spoke to each other in a way we never had.

Deep.

Heartfelt.

True.

Not words.

Emotions.

Emotions that seemed to seep out of his eyes and into mine. Emotions that, if I was reading him right, mimicked my own.

Could that be?

After a moment, or two, or maybe three, he slowly removed his hands from the glass and the connection was lost. When he started to walk away, I knew I had read him wrong.

Like a rag doll, I collapsed to the floor on my knees. Burying my face in my hands, I cried for everything in my life I’d lost, for what I was doing, for who I was—the weak, pathetic girl my father had always known me to be.

“I am listening,” he said in that low, husky voice that did something to my insides.

Snapping my gaze, I looked over toward the door, the sound, him. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was standing in the open doorway, the door itself locked in the open position. He looked dauntless.

Had he heard me?

For the first time since we met, he seemed intimidating. Like a powerhouse. Strong. Fearless. Unyielding. Tougher than his beautiful face and body let on. “Talk to me. What was the plan? We don’t have much time.”

On shaky legs, I rose to my feet. “Much time for what?”

Logan stepped inside and pushed against the mechanism that kept the door open. Once it closed, he locked it and looked at me. His eyes were distant, his expression blunted by fear or maybe hatred.

I hoped not hatred.

Something pulsed beneath my skin—despair, sorrow, love, agony? Maybe all of those feelings rolled into one.

With quick strides, he closed the distance between us and I felt like we weren’t lost in this sea of a world where neither of us belonged. Yet, I knew we were. His hands on my shoulders sent that familiar energy zapping through my body and I knew that despite everything, he didn’t hate me. “Elle, I need to know the plan.”

My thoughts were humming inside my brain. “Logan, it’s not what you think. I didn’t know. All I knew up until a couple of days ago was that Michael said he’d handle it. I thought he meant legally, or—no that’s not true, I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t this. I had no idea what his actual plan was. If I had, I would have told you.”

“I believe you. I do. Now, please, tell me what he asked you to do.”

My breath was coming fast, but my words came even faster. “He told me that the coke would be delivered tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“From where? From who?” Logan cut in before I could finish.

“I don’t know. He never said and I never asked.”

“Where’s the delivery slip?”

I pointed to the counter.

He darted over to it and picked up the pink piece of paper, and then shook his head. “It was COD?”

I nodded. “Michael told me to pay with one of my company checks.”

He shook his head. “The only portion completed is the ‘ship to’ information. Any idea who sent it?”

Nerves rattled me. “No. The plastic bags were on a pallet and it was wrapped in cellophane. The driver cut open the sealed pallet and carried the bags in.”

Logan’s expression was raw. “What did O’Shea want you to do with them?”

“I was to break the bags down and bring the—” I couldn’t even say the word.

He leaned closer. “Coke,” he said for me.

I nodded. I swallowed. I was finding it hard to breathe. I’d never, ever, done anything like this. “Product home in the Mercedes and park in the garage. He was going to store it in the panic room.”

Logan’s eyes were intense as he stared down at me. “And then what?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Then he’d give it to Patrick and Clementine would be safe from danger, from the kidnapping threats he’d received.”

“Kidnapping threats?” Logan’s brows popped.

“Yes. Michael told me that your father called him a few days ago and threatened that if he didn’t deliver the drugs Lizzy had stolen, there was a very good chance his little girl would be taken and held for ransom.”

That one simple fact brought it all back into perspective. I turned on my heels and headed for the stairs. I had to get the product to Michael.

To keep Clementine safe, I’d do
anything.

Logan captured my hands and held my wrists to keep me from walking away. “That’s not true.”

Frowning, I glared at him. “Do you think I’m lying?”

We were both breathing fast. “No, I think O’Shea is. My father would never do anything like that. He’s lying to you, Elle. Don’t you see? He’s been playing you. It was his plan all along to do this, to include you at the end. It had to be.”

I lifted my chin, defiant, determined. Thoughts were churning in my mind and the more I thought about it, the less my bravado held strong. “No, Logan. He’s doing what he has to in order to protect his daughter.”

“Then where’d the coke come from?”

I looked at him. I’d already told him I didn’t know.

“He had to have had it stashed somewhere. Don’t you see—he’s been putting your life and Clementine’s in harm’s way.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Who the fuck knows? Waiting to see what he could get away with.”

I didn’t want to believe it, but where
did
all the coke come from?

“Listen to me, Elle. I’ve been working with the DEA for more than four months to help bring down the Flannigan family.”

Shock ripped through me. “Working, how? Why?”

“They threatened to arrest my father if I didn’t cooperate, and tonight is the night they are looking to bring it all home. They want the drugs, the location, the people involved, and they want me to furnish it.”

Crippling horror shook my entire body. I stifled my scream. My urgency to run was never greater. How could I take care of Clementine behind bars? How could I leave her? “No, Logan. No,” I cried hysterically.

My wrists were still imprisoned in his grasp, but his grip became loose and his hands spread, searching for my fingers. He was holding my hands. He was leaning his body against mine. He was whispering in my ear. I was an utter mess. Hysterical. Unresponsive. Terrified.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I care about you.”

His words punched the air out of me. They were an echo. They were on repeat. He was saying them over and over until finally I heard him.

My gaze flickered up to his. “You care about me?”

He nodded but didn’t repeat it. “And you have to trust me. I will make this right.”

My world was shattering into a thousand pieces. “How? How can this ever be right?”

He pulled me closer still. His mouth was now hovering over my ear. “I’m going to take the cocaine and plant it at a strip club that Tommy and Patrick own. Then I’m going to call the DEA and tell them you overheard Michael talking on the phone and mentioned an exchange at Lucy’s. While I’m moving the coke, you are going to go to O’Shea and tell him you were mistaken and it wasn’t his shipment that arrived. It was something else for the boutique. Tell him you called the company and it had been subbed out to a third party, and that it is scheduled for delivery first thing in the morning. Don’t mention me. Don’t say anything else. I want you out of this. The DEA are watching the house, so if anything happens, look for the unmarked cars on the street.”

“What if Michael doesn’t believe me?”

“Don’t give him the chance to question you. He knows Peyton was hurt, right?”

I nodded.

“Tell him she called you and she didn’t sound good. Tell him you think you should go stay with her for the night and that you’ll be at work first thing in the morning. Then pack your bag and leave.”

“Can’t I just call him?”

He shook his head. “I want the DEA to see you go there so they can confirm you gave me the information after talking to O’Shea. Call me as soon as you talk to O’Shea. Then I’ll know I can call the DEA. Got it?”

My heart was beating so fast. My pulse was racing. This was beyond lying. This was deception. This was a high-stakes game I had no business being involved in. “Yes,” I managed.

He gave me a knowing nod and then released his grip on me. “Clementine isn’t home, right?”

“No, she’s not—she’s at Erin’s.”

Just then, as if it knew we needed a reminder of how we’d started out, that damn cuckoo clock from Germany started to sing.

In the midst of all the madness, he still gave me a grin.

I wanted to kiss him but wasn’t certain that was anything he’d want.

As if reading my mind, Logan kissed me, hesitantly. Lightly.

“Kiss me harder,” I said against his mouth.

He did.

And we kissed and kissed and kissed.

Rough. Teeth clashing. Chins bumping. Lips biting.

Breathless, we both pulled apart.

“What do I do after I pack a bag?” I asked.

Logan yanked out his wallet and opened it, handing me ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. “You go to the Mandarin on Boylston Street, at the intersection—”

“I know where it is,” I interrupted.

“Check in and use cash under the last name Smith. Leave a key for me. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done. And you said Peyton was coming back to work tomorrow?”

I nodded.

“See if you can get her to open up the boutique. By then the bust should be all over the news and Michael won’t be looking to make any deliveries to Patrick. Still, just in case, I’d rather you be unreachable until I can figure out what’s next.”

I nodded again. “What do I tell him after he learns the cocaine is in Tommy’s possession?”

Logan was silent for a few moments. “Tell him you don’t have a clue. He’ll have to assume the delivery was intercepted.”

I wanted to cry, my eyes desperate, terrified, darting toward the stairs where down below lay my future. If anything went wrong, I could easily be locked away forever.

Oh, God.

Did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean to.

“Elle, it’s going to be okay. You and Clementine will be safe. Now go—I got this. I’ll clean it all up.”

In a daze, I went to the counter to gather my things.

Safe?

Was that ever going to be possible?

I just didn’t think so.

DAY 8

LOGAN

M
y hands were shaking as I pressed the up arrow.

My stomach turning.

It was after midnight.

And I’d just committed a felony.

A Class B felony, punishable by prison time.

A shit-ton of prison time.

I was an attorney who’d sworn to uphold the law and I’d just not only moved one hundred bricks of cocaine, but also interfered with a major DEA investigation.

Also on my mind, I’d moved one hundred of the two hundred and fifty missing kilos.

Was this really a new shipment?

Was it part of the missing deal gone bad?

If so, where was the rest?

I had no fucking clue.

Still, a major bust.

Enough to take down the Flannigan family?

I hoped so.

I’d done just what I told Elle I would. Packed up the coke, cleaned up the salt crystals, and then driven to Lucy’s. I had a stop to make along the way. I needed empty liquor boxes. I called Frank. Told him what I needed. No questions asked. He’d been an informant on the DEA’s payroll since the Tommy incident. He was also a messenger to Blanchet when I needed him to be. I knew I could trust him. The only thing he asked in return was that I stay as far away from Molly as I could. That was the least I could do.

It was well after midnight and the alley behind the strip joint was dark. Perfect. I was just starting to unload the coke into the boxes when that fucking phone call finally came. It seemed to take forever, and I was beginning to think I was going to have to abandon my plan and drive over to O’Shea’s to make sure Elle was in one piece. And more than likely kill O’Shea if he’d touched a hair on her head.

All went well, though, and she was safely on her way to the hotel. Moving quickly, I restacked the boxes outside the back door and took off.

Not the safest plan.

Not the smartest plan.

If anyone came around looking in the trash, I was screwed. But my hope was that the she-devil would make her move quickly. I made the call, kept it short, and hung up on Blanchet while she was yelling at me for not being able to witness the exchange, since the product was already at the drop.

Shaking it off, happy it was almost done but knowing it wasn’t over by a long shot, I used the key Elle had left for her “husband” at the desk and stepped inside.

In that moment, just as the door closed behind me, I felt an overwhelming sense of arousal. The room was small, just a giant bed, a closet, a bathroom that I knew she’d just showered in, and her, safe, and larger than life. The arousal I felt when I laid eyes on her wasn’t the kind of juvenile jolt a Victoria’s Secret catalog or
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit issue would have stirred up when I was fourteen. No, it was . . . I didn’t know . . . like my whole mind, not just my body, was suddenly overcome by everything she was.