Blow (10 page)

Still pondering my last thought, I answered quietly, “Thirty-six Melrose Street.”

Logan knew where he was going. He did a U-turn and headed south on Charles, then made a right on Melrose. We were in Bay Village and on the quiet tree-lined street in no time.

“It’s right here on the left.”

He stopped in front of the brick row houses, and I indicated the end unit with the red door and black painted steps.

“That’s mine.” I pointed.

Logan searched the deserted street before he got out and came around to open my door. I stepped out and started walking, assuming he would be coming in.

Again, he stopped and studied the street as if assessing the neighborhood and the building.

When I threw him a curious glance, he simply said, “It’s nice.”

Suddenly very nervous, I fumbled for my keys. “I like it. It’s one of the only original row houses still standing in Boston. The architecture and very cheap price is what sold me. It’s small and needs a lot of work, but it’s more of a home than I’ve had in a long time.”

The way he looked at me, I felt like he was staring through me. “I’d love to see it sometime.”

More than ready to do this, I turned and unlocked the door, pushing it open but not stepping in. “How about now?” I whispered.

Logan focused on my mouth but didn’t answer me.

I was already nervous; I didn’t invite men into my personal space, and his silence was making me uncertain. I rephrased the question. “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t drink. With two alcoholic parents, I quit long ago. Figured it gave me a better chance of not turning out like either of them.”

“Then coffee? I know you drink coffee.” My nerves were showing and I was babbling.

Logan pounced. He caged me within the open door, his arms gripping each side of the jamb as his mouth neared my ear.

Frightened
wasn’t the word to describe what I was feeling.
Aroused
fit much better, as desire shot right to my core.

Warm breath gusted down my neck as he exhaled a string of raspy words. “If I come inside, you and I both know what’s going to happen.”

The hush of the night sky made everything he said seem hotter. Yes, I did know what would happen, and I wanted it. “Logan,” I gasped.

His mouth was practically on my ear when he spoke again. “But you have a big day tomorrow and even though I want to fuck you like I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone, I also respect you enough to know I shouldn’t cross over your threshold. Not tonight.”

Crushed, I felt my body stiffen as rejection wove its way through me. Who said no to sex when it was being offered with no strings?

Logan stepped back and lifted my chin. “Hey, that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. You know I do.” He let his words trail off. “You know it.”

Obviously my disappointment had shown in my body language. Yes, he’d said that, but I couldn’t help but feel unwanted. The night had started out with expectation in his words. And now this. What had happened? Had I shown him too much of the real me?

When I didn’t respond, because frankly I didn’t know what to say, he stepped into me, close again, so close that there was only a breath between us. He stared at me, really stared at me, for the longest time. When I blinked, his hands shifted and he grabbed my face. Crashing his mouth to mine, he forced me to part my lips.

Electricity sparked. I felt dizzy. Even though his mouth was moving in a harsh manner, his lips felt soft, tender even. His tongue met mine and the minute it happened, I felt a tingling travel down my body all the way to my toes.

I couldn’t help the low moan that escaped my throat. Desire was taking me over, but I tried to stop it. He’d just told me he wasn’t coming in.

This was just a kiss.

A good-night kiss.

But oh, what a good-night kiss.

Whether it was on purpose or simply reflex, his hand traveled down my body, sending me all kinds of mixed signals. One signal that was quite clear was that this feeling, whatever it was, had consumed him as well.

Whatever his intention, it felt good, even if it was just the slightest of touches. Unexpectedly, he found my hand and laced his fingers between mine. His lips still moved against mine with a fervor I savored. Somehow, he managed to drag our hands inside my coat and under my blouse. We were skin to skin—his knuckles against my bare stomach.

Yes, I wanted him. I wanted him like I hadn’t wanted anyone before. Enough to let him take me in the doorway of my home, but then I remembered he had already said no. No, just that he wouldn’t come in.

As his kisses grew harder and his grip tighter, I knew if I didn’t pull away he might just try to put his cock inside me right here.

The worst part? I might have just let him. “You have to stop,” I whispered against his lips.

A deep sigh escaped his throat and then he tugged at my lip one last time. My lips felt swollen, but I missed his mouth on them.

“I know, but I don’t want to,” he whispered back.

Masking my disappointment, I gave him a slight smile. “And we already determined I have to get to bed.”

With a drop of his forehead to mine, he breathed heavily. I was doing the same. His hands, though, stayed where they were, still under my blouse. He hadn’t forgotten they were there, either. Purposefully, he swiped his thumb across my abdomen and played with the waistband of my leggings.

With an ache between my legs that was anything but sweet, I gave him one last brush of my lips.

This was the hardest good night.

I craved his touch.

I wanted to feel him skin to skin.

All of him.

But I did have a big day ahead of me and needed to get some rest.

Besides, I was confused. And after that kiss, I knew if he came in, there wouldn’t be any sleep. So I did what I didn’t want to do. I took the one step up and broke his hold of me. “Logan McPherson, I had a really nice time with you tonight.” It was all I could say.

He stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Elle Sterling, the feeling is mutual.”

I smiled at him sweetly.

Logan didn’t return my smile but instead turned and walked toward his Rover, getting in and driving away without ever turning back.

We didn’t exchange numbers or make plans to see each other again. It was when I realized this that I figured it out—we had both known all along that it could never be.

And what I’d thought was a good-night kiss was really a goodbye kiss.

LOGAN

F
uck, fuck, fuck.

I slammed the wheel.

I wanted her. Wanted her more than I had wanted anyone in a very long time. I had tried to turn it off. My emotions were like a chick’s.

Hot.

Cold.

Up.

Down.

Where was my fucking head? I had to stay focused. I knew I needed to get to my father and find out what Patrick had planned for O’Shea, but then after that kiss, I wasn’t able to pull away.

She was doing something to me that I didn’t understand.

Twisting me in a way that I shouldn’t have wanted to be twisted.

Thank God she had come to her senses.

It was late when I opened the door to the house that had once belonged to my grandfather. Killian McPherson had lived here for almost fifty years, and half of those years were with his wife. Sadly, my grandmother died of cancer when I was five. All I remember about her is that she took me to church and taught me how to pray. And that when we went, her white hair was always pulled tightly back and she wore the same blue dress. That woman was the love of his life and he never remarried. In fact, he never brought another woman to this house, and he lived here alone until my father moved in once he and my mother divorced.

All the lights were off. “Pop, you here?”

There wasn’t any answer. I looked in his office. It was empty. I ran up the stairs to his room. He wasn’t there. I came back down and opened the door to the family room. Nothing. He wasn’t back yet.

I flicked on the television and sat on the couch.

I’d wait for him.

A hand on my shoulder woke me. “Logan, what are you doing here?”

I blinked and looked at my watch. It was almost one in the morning. “I came by to talk to you. Why are you home so late?”

He rubbed his hands on his pants and sat on the chair beside me. “Patrick wasn’t at Lucy’s when I arrived, but he told Tommy I was to wait.”

Lucy’s was not only the largest but also the best-known strip club in Boston. It was also the Blue Hill Gang’s headquarters.

It was only one of twenty other strip joints that fronted Patrick’s illegal operations run under the corporation eerily named All My Women.
Sick fuck.
The strip clubs, or gentlemen’s clubs as my pop preferred to call them, were named after women all right, but the women were cartoon characters. There was Betty’s, Veronica’s, Wilma’s, and a slew more I couldn’t recall.

Tommy, the prick, was Patrick’s son and just as big of a douche as his father. He and I never did see eye to eye, and while he had reason to hate me, I had reason to hate him more.

Worried, I clicked on the lamp sitting on the table and studied my father. “Have you been drinking?”

He shook his head. “No, but I wanted to.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did the prick pour you one?”

He nodded. “Left the bottle on the bar in case I changed my mind.”

It wasn’t the first time.

Scowling, I let my anger out. “Son of a fucking bitch. That’s it. You’re not going there without me anymore.”

My father slammed his palm on the table beside him and the lamp shook. “Logan, I can take care of myself. I told you I want you to stay out of this. And besides, you know you can’t set foot inside there or anywhere near that little prick.”

Knowing he was right, and feeling empathetic after my outburst, I said, “Don’t you get it? Now that Gramps is gone he’s trying to break you.”

My father’s jaw clenched. “Let him try. I’m not as weak as he thinks.”

“Pop, you have to get out before you can’t. Things are different now. The stakes are so much higher with Gramps gone. He’s got you doing things you’ve never done and you know you shouldn’t be doing them.”

He sat back in the chair. “You don’t think I know that?”

I grunted, “I’m not so sure.”

His voice rose. “Well, I do. And you also know I can’t get out.”

Frustrated, I stood and went to glance out the window. “It’s been twelve years. I think that’s long enough to be Patrick’s personal counsel, liaison, or whatever the fuck he calls you.”

My father leaned his head back and shut his eyes. “Son, you know it doesn’t work that way.”

Practically growling now, I spat, “Fuck him and fuck the way he thinks things should work.”

My plan had better be successful because if it isn’t, I just might kill the motherfucker. Then where would I be?

“A life for a life,” my father muttered.

Feeling like I might explode, I punched the wall. My hand started to throb instantly. “Fuck.”

Shaking his head, my father went into the kitchen and came back with a bag of frozen peas. “You need to calm down. Put this on your hand and have a seat.”

I took it and sat on the couch. In a much calmer voice, I said, “Tell me exactly why you went to O’Shea’s like a madman today and what he told you when you were there.”

My old man let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Logan. There were a few factors that played into my demeanor today, but mostly I’m just tired of people getting hurt. And if this son of a bitch thinks he’s going to get a pass from Patrick because he’s blaming his wife or because his old man Mickey O’Shea, Patrick, and me grew up together, he needed to know neither means shit to Patrick. I wanted to make that crystal clear right off the bat.”

“Did you get his attention?”

“I don’t know. I hope I made him weigh his options because if he doesn’t stop thinking out of his ass, he might not even get enough time to try to right the wrong he claims his wife caused.”

Sympathy?

I got it.

He didn’t want any undue harm to come to anyone else.

And finally, I was learning something that mattered. “What makes you speculate O’Shea thinks he might get a pass?”

My old man steepled his hands. “It’s just a feeling I got on the phone.”

I treaded lightly. “Tell me more.”

“It’s the way he’s handling this whole situation. He’s not stupid. Either he thinks he can get out of this or he has an ace up his sleeve.”

“What do you think the ace might be?”

“Who knows? His wife, maybe, or the source.”

I gave him a questioning look.

“Some time ago, I was in a meeting with Patrick when Tommy burst in and announced he’d discovered an underground drug operation taking place on Blue Hill turf with a woman as the front man. Patrick didn’t ask questions. Just told Tommy to take care of it, find the source, and squash it.”

“Patrick leaves something like that for Tommy to take care of? Are you kidding me?”

“There’s been so much underground drug activity going on over the last few years, Patrick is tired of dealing with it.”