Crush

Or was my gut right and there something—someone—else also involved?

Obtaining this information was key to keeping Elle safe, on all fronts. It would not only take Tommy and Patrick out of play for the rest of their natural-born lives, but could possibly implicate O’Shea. Fighting fire with fire was my game, and my hope was that Tommy and Patrick were the ones who would get burned. It was also going to help me see just how involved O’Shea was.

Agent Meg Blanchet had gone freezer on me. She hadn’t spoken a word to me since she blew a gasket over the hotel fiasco. Of course, she was still also pissed about my lack of delivery and follow-through in the cocaine bust. I wasn’t certain whether that was good or bad news. Sure, part of the drugs had shown up right in the Blue Hill Gang’s backyard, and as hard as they tried to deny the connection, the evidence was hard to negate, but still the pipeline was unknown. The source a mystery. The kingpin missing.

My cell rang.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Hey, you’re never going to believe this,” Miles said excitedly.

“What is it?”

“One of my guys at the BPD said a gang member has agreed to turn state’s evidence.”

“RICO?”

“Yes, sir.

I slammed the wheel in excitement. “No fucking way.”

“Keep it to yourself but I wanted you to know the charges will be filed soon, and then Blanchet will be able to try Patrick and Tommy for the crimes they ordered other members of the gang to commit. Murder, torture, robbery.”

“Best news I’ve heard in a while.”

The Racketeering Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act allowed the DEA to gather enough circumstantial information on someone for him to be formally charged for crimes not directly committed by him but linked through his assistance. If a gang member spilled Tommy and Patrick’s outlaw behavior, it would be a huge win for the DEA.

“I thought you’d think so.”

“Yeah, thanks again for the heads-up. At least I know for certain they won’t be getting out anytime soon.”

“Right. I think they’ll be locked away for a good, long time. I’ll talk to you later if I hear anything else.”

“Thanks again,” I said. “Miles, wait, what about—” I called, but he had already disconnected. I tried him back and got voicemail. Hopefully Declan had taken care of the Tommy visit arrangements with Miles.

I downshifted the Rover to take a turn. God, I loved this vehicle. Loved to drive it when I had steam to burn. As long as I was moving fast, I wasn’t overthinking everything or doing anything stupid.

Right now, my life felt like it was spinning out of control, and it scared me. Not because I needed to be in control of those around me, but because I wanted to be in charge of my own destiny for once in my life. And that call might have put me one step closer.

Slamming down on the accelerator, I hit the turnpike at high speed. I weaved in and out of the traffic. Faster and faster I took my speed until I was forced to slow down. The exit ramp had a sharp turn and I needed to get to my destination in one piece.

I pulled into the parking lot of the boxing gym around the corner from Declan’s coffee shop, Mulligan’s Cup, and not much farther from Elle’s boutique, The House of Sterling. As I eased my Rover into a spot, I couldn’t believe how helpful Declan Mulligan had been. When we were kids he’d hung with Tommy’s crowd. He was even the driver the night Tommy attacked me. Somehow he managed to turn his life from shit to something decent, and I think helping me was his way to atone for his sins. And that was something I not only got but also respected.

He’d started seeing Peyton, Elle’s employee, and they seemed happy together. Both were artsy and seemed like a good match.

Were Elle and I good match?

For a moment, I just sat there, listening to the engine hum as I tried to pull my thoughts together. I wanted to talk to her. Tell her the news. To atone for my own sins, I guess. But I knew she wouldn’t be able to talk and calling her would only piss me off. It had been a long fucking day, though, between the argument I had with Elle this morning, seeing my grandfather and our more than weird conversation, and then watching Elle with O’Shea. Seeing him take her hand to comfort her. That should have been me.

With a shiver, I gazed out at the brick buildings that surrounded me and took more than one calming breath. When the ill feeling passed, I rolled down the window to let the fresh air whisk away the jealousy I couldn’t shake.

I was in bad shape.

I just wanted this fucking day to be over. Saturday. All day. Who the hell held a funeral from practically dawn to dusk? I knew I sounded like I was whining because I couldn’t be with my girl, but I couldn’t help it.

Right then I told myself to stop being a *.

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