The After Party (A Badboys Boxset) Read online

  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.

  CHAPTER TWO

  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?

  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 we were going to make it. That Logan would be strong enough to fight his demons. That Logan was going to get through this and that I would be by his side to help him.

  After all, it was just a note.

  Words on a paper meant to scare him.

  Meaningless—or so I hoped.

  I was certain that after the initial shock, Logan would see it that way too.

  I had to believe that. I just did.

  Anyway, by all accounts, if the news was correct, Tommy was in jail and no longer a threat to us. To me. To Logan.

  I pressed my lips together, keenly aware of the passage of time.

  My attention went to the TV where 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 acknowledge some high-ranking members 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 what he looked like before now, but I knew I’d never forget it. Those cold, brown eyes, the lifeless look on his face, 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 began to 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. Tall, hard, and imposing, the more-than-competent man locked the door behind him. As soon as he did, 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 wanted to reassure him, so I pressed myself against him and stroked my fingers through his beautiful hair. It was rumpled and sticking up everywhere and 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.”

  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 have to. “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 that 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 dozens, potentially hundreds.

  When I finally 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.

  He rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows as he spoke. “Agent Blanchet of the DEA.”

  Ironically, knowing he was working with the DEA helped soothe my nerves. “What did she say?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. They don’t know where Tommy is. Come on, we have to go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He indicated I should walk toward him. “I’m going to take you to my father’s house. Right now it’s the safest place.”

  “Isn’t he
Patrick’s counsel?”

  “Yeah, but Patrick has a half-dozen attorneys. My father isn’t one he’d use to get him out of jail. Besides, I can’t imagine he’ll even be given bail. He’s too much of a flight risk.”

  My steps were slow. “And what about you?”

  With an extended hand, he urged me to move faster. “I’m going to find Tommy.”

  Hearing him say it again didn’t make the blow any easier. I stopped. “Logan, please don’t do this. The police are looking for him. Let them find him.”

  His headshake was determined. “They’ll never find him. He might not be very bright, but he’s not stupid.”

  My fingertips reached for him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  There, I said it.

  He took my hand and tugged me toward him. He didn’t say anything to me. Didn’t give me false hope. Instead, he kissed me like I was his world. I could feel him, I could taste him, I was him. His hands clutched my face tightly as his lips moved against mine. My hands rested on his chest but then moved up to wrap around his neck. I needed to be closer. He did too. He pulled me even tighter to him and started grabbing fistfuls of my hair. In that moment, he held me as if it were the last time we’d be like this. I wanted to fight for control with him, tell him not to kiss me like this, but our lips and our bodies were moving in such perfect sync, I couldn’t. It was as if our minds were branding this feeling into our souls and I didn’t want the moment to end until the full image was captured.

  When he pulled back, I looked at him. I wanted to beg him to stay with me. Not to go out into the night alone. Yet, I knew there was no arguing with him. He was determined to protect me no matter the cost. Besides, he had already made up his mind, and the way he was staring at me told me what I already feared—if he didn’t succeed in finding and stopping Tommy, he was going to leave me in order to save me.

  And crush my heart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  DAY 9

  LOGAN

  Relying on others for help felt strange.

  I’d been on my own, forging my own way, and dealing with my own shit for so long, asking for assistance didn’t seem right.

  Yet, I didn’t have a choice.

  I couldn’t be in two places at once, and Elle’s safety was at stake.

  The ride to my old man’s was quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts. When we pulled into the driveway, I turned off the ignition and looked at her. I knew she was upset. “Talk to me.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Whatever you have to,” I said. “Whatever you need to. Just get it out.”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t want you to go after Tommy.”

  Trying to comfort her, I reached for her hand. “I have to. Don’t you see? If not I’ll go insane constantly looking behind my back, wondering what’s lurking around every corner, waiting for what’s next.”

  She pulled her hand away. “Then there’s nothing more to say.”

  “Elle,” I sighed.

  Her eyes met mine. “Logan, I’m tired. And I’m worried . . . for you. For Clementine. For Michael. And for me. I just want this to be over.”

  I nodded. “So do I.”

  She turned her head and her eyes were hidden from me, but I had already seen the tears that were glimmering in them, and it killed me.

  “Let’s get inside.” There really wasn’t anything more to say. She’d said it all. The truth was . . . I was worried too.

  It was almost two in the morning and the house was lit up like a Christmas tree.

  I’d called my father as soon as I left the hotel room and given him a very watered-down version of what had happened. Then I’d called Declan Mulligan, a guy from my past who I hadn’t expected to be a friend, and Miles Murphy, who wasn’t ex-military like I thought but ex-BPD, who’d worked in the gang crimes division for years until he was shot in the line of duty sometime last year and subsequently decided to retire. I filled them in and asked for their help. Miles had agreed to call some of his ex-cop friends to come over to my old man’s tonight to look out for Elle. He was coming to keep guard as well, and then if it came to it, he’d help take her home in the morning and get her house and business wired securely. Declan was showing up as well, but not to keep watch; he had the best intel on Tommy.

  “Wait for me to come around,” I told her and then got out. As soon as I did, the kitchen door flung open. My old man stood there, gun at his side, eyes shifting in the night. I gave him a nod and rushed over to Elle’s side. I tried not to show her the fear that was flowing through my veins.

  With my hand on the small of her back, I guided her toward what used to be my gramps’s house and was now my old man’s. She fidgeted. Her fingers combed through her hair and she smoothed it. It was then that I realized she hadn’t formally met my father yet. The run-in at O’Shea’s law office, more than a week ago, wasn’t the impression I wanted her to have of him.

  My old man stood stoic as we hurried through the door. His eyes met mine when I passed him and I could see the disapproval in them over the deal I’d made with the DEA, but he said nothing. Instead he followed us in and secured the door behind him. Once he slid his gun inside his waistband, he surveyed us. The creases around his eyes and lines on his face told me he was worried too.

  We were all standing in my gramps’s kitchen and the ghosts couldn’t have had any larger of a presence. With lingering visions of blood everywhere, I closed my eyes and had to forcibly suppress the memories of the night Tommy attacked me and my then somewhat-girlfriend Kayla in here.

  “Logan,” my father said quietly as if he knew what I was envisioning.

  The sound of his voice made me blink out of the horrific flashback.

  Focusing on Elle, I knew it was time to break the ice and do the formal introductions, as awkward as they seemed in a situation like this. “Pop, this is Elle Sterling. Elle, this is my father, Sean McPherson.”

  She held her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mr. McPherson.”

  To my surprise, Sean McPherson, attorney-at-law, admitted alcoholic, my part-time boss and my old man, stepped forward and hugged her. “Call me Sean.”

  The embrace wasn’t long, but it was enough that I could see the look of relief on her face. Had she been worried about meeting him?

  “Coffee?” my old man asked, stepping back.

  “No, thank you,” Elle replied.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a cup, if you want to make a pot. I’m going to take Elle up to my room. She’s tired.”

  My father nodded and then started for the sink.

  “This way.” I took Elle’s hand and her bag and we headed toward the family room, and then up the stairs to the room I was staying in.

  Once we were in there, Elle looked anywhere but at me.

  My shit was everywhere. I’d only been here a few days since moving out of the Four Seasons and hadn’t bothered to unpack anything. I was living out of duffle bags. I reached inside one and pulled out a pair of track pants and a sweatshirt. “You’ll be safe here. No one but Tommy would ever come to Killian McPherson’s house. And with Miles, his crew, and my father on guard, he’ll never make it past the threshold even if he tries.”

  “I know you wouldn’t take me anywhere that wasn’t safe,” she whispered. I could tell she was scared. I hated that she was.

  Wanting to get out on the street as fast as I could, I quickly stripped out of my dress clothes and changed.

  Elle walked over to the bureau and picked up the picture that was sitting on it. “Is this you?”

  “Yeah, I was around four, and that’s my grandmother and grandfather.”

  “I can see the resemblance.”

  Dressed, I sat on the bed and put my sneakers on. “The bathroom is at the end of the hall. Ask my old man for anything you need.”

  She nodded but didn’t turn around. She just kept staring at the picture.

  “Elle, I have to go,” I said, standing and grabbing my hat. As I headed for
the door I wanted to go over to her, put my arms around her, and kiss her, but it didn’t feel right. Not right now. Not when she was in danger. Not when everything was so fucked up.

  Her voice caught me just before I hit the hallway. “Be careful,” she said quietly.

  I waited a moment, to see if she’d turn around.

  She didn’t.

  Better that way.

  Quickly, I closed the door and my mind to the struggle I was feeling between my head and my heart. I’d told her we were in this together, but that was before. Before the note. Before the one thing I wasn’t sure I could wrap my head around—Tommy hurting Elle. That’s why I had to focus on removing the threat; everything else would have to wait.

  Downstairs, Declan and Miles had already arrived. They were sitting at the kitchen table with my old man. They all looked at me solemnly when I entered the room.

  “Is she all set?” my father asked.

  I nodded and headed to the coffeepot to pour a cup.

  “Who else knows what you did besides Frank and Elle?” He asked this as he walked to the kitchen door. Frank lived next door, but his house was completely dark. He must have been asleep. I doubted he knew anything about the takedown—yet.

  “No one, and Frank doesn’t really know anything. Only that I needed some empty liquor boxes. But I’m sure when he sees the news, he’ll figure it out.”

  My old man turned around and his eyes were filled with pain. “I’ve done everything I could to keep you out of this life, Logan, to protect you from the darkness it brings,” he started.

  I set my cup down and held up my hands. “Not now, okay? Not now.”

  He dropped his head and ran his hands through his hair. I knew what this was doing to him and I hated it.

  Focus. I had to focus on what I had to do. There was no space for feelings in this room, or in this house, or in my life right now for that matter.

  “Come on, Declan, let’s go,” I said, striding toward the door.

  He rose but stayed where he was, peering at both Miles and my father.

  I kept moving.

  I could hear the guys’ voices as I walked out of the kitchen door and into the cool night. They were still talking as I stepped onto the driveway but now I stopped listening. I didn’t need to hear what they had to say.