Blow(52)

What am I not giving you?”

“Besides a son to carry on my name, your attention.”

“You are always at work,” she muttered.

“Yes, Susan, I’m at work and my work is stressful. I can’t afford to be so tightly wound. There are times I need you to help relieve my stress and you just refuse me. If you want me to be able to continue to provide for this family, you have to be available to me more than you are.”

She muttered something.

“Don’t be mad.”

She didn’t respond to his form of apology.

“Don’t be mad, baby.”

Still, no response.

He said it again. Over and over, until I couldn’t stand the sound of his voice.

When I thought I might scream, I ran to the window and held up my bracelet. Blowing on it, all I wished for was that the incessant thumping end.

Something had happened that day. Some kind of switch had turned off for my mother. She was never the same after that. She didn’t cry anymore at night. Sure, I heard the thumping, and my father’s words, “I need to be inside you,” but that was all I ever heard again. Her cries in the night were gone.



Clementine started to cry and jolted me from the space in my head.

Had my sister been in the car, or had the charm been there the entire three months I’d been driving it?

I wasn’t sure, and I wasn’t sure if I would ever know.

Clementine’s cries continued, and I pulled her juice cup from my bag and handed it to her. She smiled. Happy and content once again, she leaned against the seat and drank from her cup.

Locked out of the garage, I backed down the side driveway, rounded the corner, and pulled up to the curb in front of Michael’s regal-looking brick home. There were no front lights on, and that made me nervous. They were on a timer, so they should have been on.

Was I being paranoid?

I contemplated for several seconds what to do before deciding what was best. I’d hurry up the walk to unlock the house and turn the lights on before I brought Clementine in.

She’d be safe. I wouldn’t be far away and I wouldn’t be long. I looked back at Clementine. She was chewing on the cup now. “I’ll be right back, silly girl.”

With a quick turn, I removed the keys from the ignition. My hands were shaking as I took the gun from my purse. Locking the car doors, I hurried up the walk.

That’s when I saw a shadow flicker across the only room in the house that had a light on. It was Michael’s office and he often forgot to turn it off, but the movement was what frightened me.

I gripped the gun tighter.

Logan had said, “Shoot to kill,” and that’s what I planned to do.

Was it my imagination, though?

Tree branches from the wind maybe?

A red light seemed to be blinking in the study.

I stared through the window, trying to figure out what it was. I couldn’t. Was I really seeing something? Was it my imagination? When I saw the same shadow again, I knew what I seeing had to be real.

I scanned the dark street and my entire body started to tremble. Without a doubt, I had seen movement in Michael’s office. I was now certain that someone was inside.

I glanced back at the car and the thought of Clementine being alone terrified me. I started to run to get to her, but I tripped on a step on the pathway, which landed me on my back.

Pain tore through me and I wasn’t certain I hadn’t sprained something, but my fear was greater than the pain. Forcing myself to move, I got up and somehow managed to stumble to the car. When it was within reach, I used it for leverage to help guide me around to my door.

Once inside, I pressed my foot on the gas hard. I had to get out of there. About ten minutes later, when I reached a busy intersection and the adrenaline that had been pumping through my veins slowed, I slumped forward. Feeling the weight of everything going on, the only thing I knew for certain was that I couldn’t take the chance of anything happening to Clementine.

And that’s why I was going where I was going.

It was the only place I could feel safe.





LOGAN


I lifted the lid to my laptop and fired it up.

My fingers hovered over the keys.

I typed two words, four syllables, Michael O’Shea, and then hit the delete key over and over.

I made another attempt, retyping the same words.

There was a knock on my hotel room door and without overthinking it, I pressed send. I shut the lid to my computer and then grabbed my SIG. I approached the door with caution and stood to the side. “Who’s there?”

“Logan, it’s me, Elle.”

My heart thundered in my chest.

I knew her voice before she even said her name.

What was wrong?

What had happened?

I tucked the gun behind my back and swung the door open as fast as I could.

She stood there with one of those folding strollers that cradled a sleeping Clementine in it, a bag on each shoulder and her purse right at her hand.

Good girl.

My heart clenched as I allowed myself a quick look at her before scanning the hall.

She looked terrified. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go. The front desk had my name and sent me up. I hope you don’t mind.”

My eyes came back to her and our gazes collided. Again, I allowed myself just a quick glance. She looked to be physically unharmed. Without hesitation, I quickly stepped into the hall. Holding the door open with my bare foot, I looked to the right and then the left. I didn’t see anyone. “Elle,” I said, taking her bags from her and urging her forward. “It’s fine. But why aren’t you at O’Shea’s?”