Crush(2)

But that would be a lie.

And I wasn’t going to lie to her.

Not about this.

“Logan,” she pleaded.

I heard the pain in her voice and my heart stopped. Still, I kept moving. I had to do this—for her. For me. For us. The door closed behind me and the sound of the latch told me she’d be safe—until I returned or . . .

My despair was immediately replaced with rage as my eyes fell on the white jacket of the guy who had delivered the note. He was standing in the hallway with his back to me. Unable to control myself, I rushed for him, but came to an abrupt stop when I got a little closer. He wasn’t alone. He was kissing a girl, also in uniform. I waited. She giggled, smiled, and finally gave him a wave before she walked down the hall. As soon as he entered the waiting elevator, it started to close, and I darted for it.

My hands jammed between the panels and the doors flew open.

There he stood.

Lipstick on his lips.

Smiling.

Like he didn’t have a care in the f*cking world.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

I lunged for him.

Had his lipstick-stained collar in my hands so fast, I could barely see the fear in his eyes. “Who put that note on the food cart?” I hissed.

He was shaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With a tug, my grip tightened. “I’m not going to ask you twice, who put the note on the food cart?”

There was a dripping sound on the elevator floor. I think he pissed his pants. “Some dude paid me fifty bucks to slip it onto your tray. He said it was a joke between you and him.”

I slammed him against the wall. “What did he look like?”

Mumbling, words barely cohesive, he answered, “Short, brown hair, piercings, and he had a limp.”

Tommy.

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is he?” I asked again through gritted teeth.

The guy was crying. “I don’t know.”

I loosened my grip. “Where did you leave him?”

He crumbled against the wall. “Outside the kitchen door.”

I hit the service level. “Scan your card. Show me.”

Shaking, he nodded. “Look, mister, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. He said it was a joke. I believed him.”

My body went rigid.

A joke!

When I slipped my hand in my pocket, he raised his palms. “Don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Ignoring him, I pulled out my wallet and handed him a fifty. “Just show me where you saw him last. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Visibly relaxing, he scanned his card and the elevator glided down toward the service level.

Within minutes we were just outside the kitchen.

With a shaky finger he pointed. “He was standing right there when he approached me but once he gave me the note, he headed for the stairs.”

“Where do they lead?”

“To the lobby.”

I gave him a nod. “Thanks, man. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His laugh was more like a cry. “Na, I wasn’t really worried,” he said.

Now that was a lie.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I pushed open the door and hit the service hallway. Once inside the Mandarin lobby, I scanned it and then swept the lounge. Nothing. No sign of him. I searched the bar. The restrooms. The offices. Nothing. I climbed the grand staircase and then combed the exterior of the building. Nothing. He was nowhere in sight.

That didn’t mean shit.





ELLE STERLING


Emotion rushed through me.

I wasn’t going to cry.

My clothes were scattered and I busied myself dressing.

Seconds passed.

Minutes passed.

Pacing, counting steps, back and forth from the door to the window, I wore a path onto the carpet.

Finally, I couldn’t take the monotony and flopped on the bed. Unsure of what to do, my thoughts started to wander.

My defense mechanisms weakened with each additional tick of the clock and soon I found myself swallowing against the knot that was lodged in my throat, but I could do nothing about the sting of tears behind my closed eyes.

Logan and I had come so far, so fast.

Neither of us had expected to meet in my brother-in-law’s law office just a week ago. Neither had expected to run into each other at Molly’s Pub later that night. And certainly neither of us meant to have this intense connection.

It was all so surreal.

Somehow we’d become entangled in a drug war brewing amid the Boston Irish Mob, and we weren’t the only ones.

There was my missing sister. I had no idea how innocent or guilty she actually was. Then there was Logan’s father, who had been skirting the edges of the law with the Blue Hill Gang for years. There was also Michael, my brother-in-law, who was acting suspiciously. On top of all of that, Logan was working undercover with the DEA but also trying to protect me from everyone.

And me? I just wanted to keep my niece, Clementine, safe. And if things went well, have Logan be a part of my life.

The odds were against us.

Was this a sign? Was everything that was falling apart around us fate telling me I should have known better than to think we could belong to each other?