Crush(113)

“What the f*ck are you doing?”

He shoved me.

I shoved him back.

With his hands, he took ahold of me. “You are Killian McPherson’s grandson—act like it, for f*ck’s sake. The Killer would be rolling in his grave if he saw the shape you were in over a chick.”

“Fuck you.” I shoved him harder.

He moved toward me and put me in a headlock. “She’s just a chick. Either decide you want to find her or give up, but don’t f*cking waste my time.”

“She’s not just a chick!” I shouted.

His hold got tighter as I struggled to free myself. “Then what is she?”

“The woman I love!” I managed to scream.

He released his hold of me and started back for the car. “Then start acting like it.”

With my hands behind my head, I paced the side of the road, and then with new resolve got back in the car. “Let’s do this. Let’s find her.”

His cell rang. “Murphy here,” he answered.

Silence.

“Organic soil amendments?” he questioned.

“Yeah, okay, thanks for letting me know.”

“What’s going on? I asked.

“Initial lab results have identified either compost or manure in the carpet fibers of the trunk, the backseat, and the driver’s floor mats.”

I looked at him questioningly.

“Fertilizer, like the kind used to grow plants and flowers.”

My mind snapped back to the memory I had the other day of the story my gramps had told me.

“Holy f*ck, that’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“How fast can you get us back to Boston?”

I knew where she was. All we had to do was figure out where the f*cking greenhouse was that Mickey O’Shea had held Punchy Leary captive. Elle had to be there.

Morning faded into afternoon.

Hours passed.

I paced, feeling like a storm growing stronger and ready to lash out.

Miles worked tirelessly on searching county records for greenhouses. There were way more than we had suspected, and none were deeded to Mickey O’Shea.

He was going through the list again, in more detail.

“Fucking A,” he bit out.

I was behind him in an instant. “What?”

“There’s a greenhouse about fifty miles east of Sudbury owned by a Rose Corporation. Do you think it could have any connection to Rose O’Shea?”

“Yes, it has to. Let’s go.”

“It’s a good two hours away, Logan. Let me call the Sudbury Sheriff’s Department and see if they can send someone closer.”

“No, I want to find her.”

He stood and gripped my shoulder. “You did, but you have to let someone else get her. Someone closer. Someone with authority.”

Gearing up, I stared at him, daring him to stop me.

He stepped closer. “Logan, listen to me. I know you’re going crazy right now, but her life could depend on this. We don’t have any backup. We don’t know what we’d be walking into. Let the authorities take care of this.”

“Make the call.” I conceded.

Although I hated to admit it, he was right.





ELLE


My fingernails bit into my own skin.

Digging, gouging, tearing, trying to free myself.

I was an animal being held captive.

No, I was a girl, a good girl.

Wait, I was a woman.



As I rose to consciousness, I wasn’t sure how long I’d been here. I wasn’t sure about anything. The only thing I was certain of was that more than likely I was going to die, and it was going to be sooner rather than later.

Muted voices were incomprehensible, but I didn’t care anymore. I was shrouded in darkness and I couldn’t fight it anymore. It wasn’t my choice. My body was making the decision for me. I hadn’t eaten. I’d been injected with insulin at least three times that I knew of. My confusion was evidence that hypoglycemia was setting in. It was a symptom I knew well. One I’d helped my mother overcome many times. Except, I knew the outcome when untreated. And it wouldn’t be long before my brain shut down.

Far in the distance, I thought I heard sirens. No, I wanted to hear sirens. I wished I heard sirens.

Suddenly, the voices became clearer. “Get the f*ck out of here, now.”

“What about the girl?”

“Leave her.”

Oh, God.

“Don’t leave me,” I tried to scream.

But the sound of a car’s screeching tires and the silence in the room told me they were gone. And that I was all alone.

Logan’s face flashed before me. I spoke to him. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m just not strong enough.

The whistle of sirens seemed to be closer.

Hope rose in my heart.

There was the sound of a door.

More voices.

Talk louder. I can’t hear you.

Then my body slammed against something hard and I heard a thud. I think it was me. I wanted to open my eyes. To see where I was, but I just couldn’t.

I was weak.

More hands were touching me. I wanted to scream. I did scream, but I don’t think anything came out.

Words were echoing all around me.