It was all so surreal.
Somehow we’d become entangled in a drug war brewing amid the Irish mob here in Boston, 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. And 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 this fate telling me I should have known better than to think I could belong to him?
I refused to let my thoughts go down that road.
Logan was different.
This was going to work out.
Pushing my issues and insecurities aside, I had to believe that with me by his side, Logan would be strong enough to fight his demons. It was just a note. It didn’t scare me. It really didn’t. And I was certain it wouldn’t scare him. Besides, by all accounts, if the news was correct, Tommy was in jail and no longer a threat to us, or me.
I pressed my lips together, keenly aware of the passage of time.
My attention went to the TV, where the Channel 7 news was still on. They were replaying the arrest. I turned the volume up. This time names were flashing across the bottom of the screen.
“More breaking news,” the TV correspondent announced. “Members of the powerful Flannigan crime family are among at least twenty-four people arrested tonight in a major drug raid. Details are sketchy, but a confirmed two million dollars in cocaine has been seized. Among those arrested tonight, the alleged head of the Irish Blue Hill Gang, Patrick Flannigan. Sources confirm some members of the family are still at large but all efforts are being made to bring them in. If you have seen any of these men, call our hotline.”
I crossed my arms, fighting off the chill that had seeped into my bones. There, before my eyes, was a picture of Tommy Flannigan. I hadn’t known his face before now, but I knew I’d never forget it. Those cold brown eyes, the lifeless expression, the evil that was written all over him.
Knock. Knock.
I jumped, startled out of my own skin.
My heart started to race.
My pulse thundered.
Fear set in.
It wasn’t like me to be afraid.
I was strong.
I was resilient.
I’d been through a lot in my life and I’d come out on the other side.
Hardened.
Determined.
Immune.
What had changed?
“Elle, it’s me—open up.” His voice was husky, commanding.
Relief washed through me. “Logan!” I rushed to the door and threw it open.
In a flash, he was inside and locking the door behind him. He slouched against it and his eyes moved over me like he wasn’t certain I was really standing here before him, alive, unharmed, in one piece.
With a determined step, I pressed myself against him and stroked my fingers through his beautiful hair. It was rumpled and sticking up everywhere but still, he was breathtaking. “Did you find him?”
He let out a long sigh. “No, not yet.”
The words not yet made me shiver. I pushed my fingers through his hair again. “His picture is on TV. They said he hasn’t been picked up yet.”
Logan’s eyes closed as if in pain, and then he leaned in and let his forehead rest against mine. “Get your things together—we have to go.”
Pausing, I breathed him in—my friend, my lover, the man I loved. I didn’t argue. I knew we had to leave. I just wished we didn’t. “Give me a minute.”
He nodded.
In the bathroom, my reflection confronted me. My hair was a mess. My eyes were red, my face blotchy. My clothes in disarray. Could Logan see that I was scared?
I hoped not.
With a deep breath, I shook off my own fear.
It was just a note.
It didn’t mean anything.
What really frightened me wasn’t what might happen to me, but what might happen to him.
I heard his voice. He was on the phone. “Fuck you. You said you’d get him. You reassured me he, of all people, would be brought in.”
Silence.
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m going to find him.”
Silence again.
“I can’t guarantee that.”
There was a crash, a thud.
Then silence.
More silence.
I waited to open the door.
He was going to go after Tommy, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
I was scared. I was scared for him. Sure, he was competent, strong, capable, and dauntless even, but Tommy was a part of the Mob, and the Mob wasn’t just one person, not just one set of eyes, or hands, or legs, or barrels of guns ready to hunt him down—it was tens, potentially hundreds.
When I opened the door, Logan was composed and dressed in the same clothes he’d arrived in only hours ago. But it seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Who were you talking to?” I asked.