Текст книги "Blow"
Автор книги: Kim Karr
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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
DAY 8
LOGAN
My hands were shaking as I pressed the up arrow.
My stomach turning.
It was after midnight.
And I’d just committed a felony.
A Class B felony, punishable by prison time.
A shit-ton of prison time.
I was an attorney who’d sworn to uphold the law and I’d just not only moved one hundred bricks of cocaine, but also interfered with a major DEA investigation.
Also on my mind, I’d moved one hundred of the two hundred and fifty missing kilos.
Was this really a new shipment?
Was it part of the missing deal gone bad?
If so, where was the rest?
I had no fucking clue.
Still, a major bust.
Enough to take down the Flannigan family?
I hoped so.
I’d done just what I told Elle I would. Packed up the coke, cleaned up the salt crystals, and then driven to Lucy’s. I had a stop to make along the way. I needed empty liquor boxes. I called Frank. Told him what I needed. No questions asked. He’d been an informant on the DEA’s payroll since the Tommy incident. He was also a messenger to Blanchet when I needed him to be. I knew I could trust him. The only thing he asked in return was that I stay as far away from Molly as I could. That was the least I could do.
It was well after midnight and the alley behind the strip joint was dark. Perfect. I was just starting to unload the coke into the boxes when that fucking phone call finally came. It seemed to take forever, and I was beginning to think I was going to have to abandon my plan and drive over to O’Shea’s to make sure Elle was in one piece. And more than likely kill O’Shea if he’d touched a hair on her head.
All went well, though, and she was safely on her way to the hotel. Moving quickly, I restacked the boxes outside the back door and took off.
Not the safest plan.
Not the smartest plan.
If anyone came around looking in the trash, I was screwed. But my hope was that the she-devil would make her move quickly. I made the call, kept it short, and hung up on Blanchet while she was yelling at me for not being able to witness the exchange, since the product was already at the drop.
Shaking it off, happy it was almost done but knowing it wasn’t over by a long shot, I used the key Elle had left for her “husband” at the desk and stepped inside.
In that moment, just as the door closed behind me, I felt an overwhelming sense of arousal. The room was small, just a giant bed, a closet, a bathroom that I knew she’d just showered in, and her, safe, and larger than life. The arousal I felt when I laid eyes on her wasn’t the kind of juvenile jolt a Victoria’s Secret catalog or Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue would have stirred up when I was fourteen. No, it was . . . I didn’t know . . . like my whole mind, not just my body, was suddenly overcome by everything she was.
She was wearing the hotel’s white robe and she was fidgeting with the terry-cloth belt. “Are you okay?” she breathed with a sigh a relief.
My gaze flickered hot over her.
She stopped her fussing. “I know you’re upset with me. I’m sorry.”
My whole life has felt like I’ve been suppressing my emotions and right now, I just couldn’t do it any longer. I needed a release. I needed something real. I needed . . . I needed her. I stabbed my finger in the air. “Stop that shit right now. I understand why you did what you did, but you should have told me about it first.”
She looked guilty. “I know. I’m not sure what came over me, but I heard that woman’s voice over the phone line and shut down.”
We stared at each other without blinking. “That was the DEA agent. You have to know I don’t want anyone but you. How could you not know that?” My voice was raised, rougher and tougher than I wanted it to be. But there was so much bottled up inside me, I couldn’t contain my anger and frustration. It was just leaking out.
Elle took a step toward me, her own anger now blazing in her eyes. “You should have told me what you were doing all along. You lied to me!”
My strides were quick. “No. I didn’t. I just didn’t tell you. I couldn’t! There was too much at stake.”
We were toe to toe like fighters in a ring. “You didn’t tell me. I didn’t tell you. What a pair!” Her voice was sardonic, laced with bitterness.
I looked into those green eyes. “We are a pair.”
She raised her arms out and gave a sarcastic laugh. “So, as a pair, where does this leave us?”
I gripped her upper arms, bringing them down. “Together!” I shouted.
“Together?” her voice was questioning but still filled with anger.
I licked my lips. I tasted salt. “You’re pissed at me because I was at a bar with a woman I hate?”
“No, I’m not pissed at all.”
My arms slid down her sides to her hips. “Then what are you?”
Her brave façade melted away instantly. “Relieved. Thankful. Grateful.”
“Then show me. Tell me. Or let me show you. Let me tell you how I feel. I need to be able to communicate with you, and conversations aren’t always the best way for me to do that.”
In a flash, she untied her robe and I stepped back so I could watch as she shrugged it off. “Fuck me. Tell me how you feel. Show me,” she whispered.
She was naked and my entire body was on overload. Amped on adrenaline, or love, or fear—I didn’t know which. I didn’t care. I just stepped toward her. “You sure?”
She swallowed, and this time the sound that left her throat was more like a purr. “Yes. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Quickly, very quickly, I dropped to my knees in front of her and buried my face between her legs. “Because I need to taste you,” I told her with my nose at her clit, my tongue jetting in and out of her pussy right off the bat. Her sweetness was just too much. I couldn’t get enough. My hands skimmed the back of her thighs and I brought her closer.
Her hands went to my hair, lightly at first, barely skimming it. She said something. I wasn’t certain what, but it sounded like, “That feels so good.”
“I need to feel how wet I make you.”
She moaned so loud, I felt it down to my core and with that, I began to eat her up. Devour her. All along letting her know just how sweet she tasted.
Her fingers sunk further into my hair, tugging at it. She cried out and it was rough and raw. My hands were on her ass, holding her close, and I licked every inch of her pussy. Her moans were electrifying, and I hooked one of her legs over my shoulder so I could really get inside her. The flicks of my tongue were quick at first and then sliding it down, I buried it deep inside her with alternating sucks, licks, and flicks.
She was close. I could tell. “Come for me, Elle,” I commanded.
As if on cue, she cried out. “Oh, God, Logan, I am. I’m coming. I’m coming. I’m coming for you. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
Words spoken in the heat of the moment . . .
Music to my ears.
I couldn’t deny that this was real anymore.
It was all too real.
Both sated and breathless, I drew in a shuddering breath and then pulled her closer so I could look at her. I swam for a minute in her gaze. She was flushed, her lips and cheeks pink. Beautiful.
She wrapped her arms around me and we held each other, kissed a little more, rolled around on the bed, and ended up a tangle of limbs. She was between my legs, curled against me with her body pressed snug against my chest, and my arms were wrapped around her protectively.
I gazed down at her. Opened my mouth. Closed it. How was I supposed to have a talk with her about us when I couldn’t even bring myself to start the conversation? It’s not as if I didn’t understand the value of talking. I did. Communication, whether in or out of bed, was going to be key if we were going to survive as a couple when the fallout came from what we’d done.
And sure as shit, it was going to come.
When it did, we were going to have to stand strong, and stand together, and hopefully conquer more than just the world we lived in.
Perhaps, if we were lucky, we’d conquer each other.
Her fingers caressed the bare skin of my chest. “So what happens when we don’t have to hide anymore?”
My laughter was loud.
She tipped her head to look at me. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious.”
My fingers wove into her hair and stroked it. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at my lame-ass self. I’ve been lying here trying to figure out the best way to start that very conversation and the words just flow effortlessly out of your mouth. Go figure.”
She breathed in. She breathed out.
It was my cue to talk and my turn to draw in a deep breath. “We said we’d figure this thing out between us together and I think we are. But in all honesty, I’ve never had a relationship with a woman for longer than a month. With you I don’t see an end. I see something between us that could last a long time and I want to give us a chance. I hope after everything, you feel the same way.”
Wow, I’d said it.
Her hand ran up to my face and she caressed my cheek. “Logan McPherson, if you’re asking me to be your Mrs. Robinson, I accept.”
I laughed. “No, definitely not. I’d much rather be the teacher.”
She rolled her eyes.
“But, Elle Sterling, how about you agree to be my girlfriend instead?”
She laughed. “Aren’t we a little old for that?”
I raised a suggestive brow. “Lover sound better?”
She wrinkled her nose. “That makes us sound too old.”
Feeling bold, I countered with, “Master?”
Her laugh was wicked. “I’ll pass on that one.”
Shifting my mouth, I kissed her fingers. “I have a few more, but I don’t think you’ll like them. That takes us back to girlfriend. Besides, there are men at my gramps’s nursing home who have girlfriends.”
She laughed.
Clutching her hand in mind, I asked again, “So, Elle Sterling, would you like to be my girlfriend?”
She stared at me.
“Don’t make me beg because I will.”
Elle grew serious. “I’d like that, Logan. Very much.”
I think I heard her whisper, “My protector,” and my chest puffed in pride. Then I kissed the corner of her mouth and spoke with honesty. “I know we skipped over all the preliminaries, but maybe it was better that way.”
She nodded in agreement. “First everythings are so blasé.”
“Not all first everythings,” I reminded her.
We both laughed and then allowed a comfortable silence to fill the room. We breathed together and for a few short minutes, the only sound beside the rhythm of our breaths was that of our beating hearts. For once, I could hear the outside traffic beeping and blaring but didn’t want to get up and check it out. We were together now, safe, and looking forward to what the future held.
“You hungry?” I asked.
She tipped her head to put her lips on my throat. “Very.”
I was pretty certain it wasn’t food she was referring to, but I was also pretty certain neither of us had eaten. And since I wasn’t anywhere near finished with having her, a shower and some food first would probably be a good idea. “Burgers?” I asked with a grin.
“With fries and ketchup.” She smiled up at me.
“Like there’s any other way.”
Rolling off the bed, I stepped back and looked her over, head to toe. I knew my smile was wicked and I also knew what it did to her. Shivers rocked her body and usually her lids would fall in the most seductive way. I gave her one last knowing glance before I picked up the phone and ordered room service.
She rolled over onto her back with a satisfied sigh. The sheet had slipped and she was naked under it. I thought about taking her again, but first I needed to take a shower. I leaned over to push her hair away from her face. “You’re so gorgeous, you know that?”
She propped herself up on her elbows and blew a wayward strand of hair from her face and then made a self-deprecating sound.
I laughed and pulled her mouth to mine. “You are. Now, I’m going to hop in the shower and come back and show you just how much I think so.”
This time her response was much more enthusiastic.
“I won’t be long,” I promised her and headed for the bathroom.
“Logan,” she called.
I turned.
“I love you,” she whispered.
My body seized up. I hadn’t spoken those words to a woman, ever. I might have said them to Emily when I was trying to get her in the sack, but they hadn’t been real; it wasn’t true love. It wasn’t this burn I felt in my chest when I looked at Elle. It wasn’t the fear I wore beneath my skin that something would happen to her. No, that wasn’t love. This, however, was.
Still, the words stuck in my throat. Burned, settled halfway. I was scared. Scared that if I said them, something bad would happen. And how ridiculous was that? Finally, I sucked in a breath. “I love you too, Elle,” I said, and turned back around with my pulse pounding and my heart beating wildly.
Some kind of bad feeling had rolled over me again. I shook it off and hit the hot water.
A towel around my waist and one at my shoulders, I came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, feeling much better. Elle was sitting on the bed with the robe wrapped around her and the Channel 7 news on.
“Breaking news,” the TV correspondent announced.
My head snapped to the screen. “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. We’ll bring you the latest as it unfolds.”
“It’s over?” Elle asked.
With a grin, I answered, “It’s over.”
Just then there was a knock on the door. “Coming,” I answered, slipping my pants on and pulling out my wallet.
Feeling on top of the world, I opened the door. A man was standing there with the cart of food and a single rose in a vase. I signed the receipt and gave him a fifty. My thoughts were drifting as I closed the door. Feeling like an idiot, I took the rose from the vase and handed it to Elle. “For you,” I said with a bow.
Her smile was wide. “Thank you, my prince.”
“King,” I corrected her with a laugh.
She raised a brow.
I shrugged. “King sounds much more manly.”
She pulled me in for a kiss that I could easily have gotten lost in, but I didn’t want our food to get cold and we had the rest of the night, and who knows, maybe the rest of our lives to do to each other whatever we wanted.
Nipping at her lip, I pulled away and rolled the cart closer to the bed where she sat. Feeling like the king of my own castle, I took her covered plate, presented it to her in a royal fashion, and then removed the lid. “For you, my queen.”
Giggling, she asked, “What’s this?”
My eyes darted to the plate.
She lifted a slip of paper that lay folded on it.
That feeling of fear came back full blown.
With a clunk, I dropped the lid to the ground and quickly swiped the note from her hand.
I didn’t want to alarm her, but something just didn’t feel right.
With trembling fingers, I unfolded the paper.
It read, “That E wasn’t meant for Emily.”
And just like that, my kingdom collapsed.
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To Amy. Thank you for always believing in me.
To all the amazing bloggers that have dedicated their time to reading my books and sharing their experience with reviews. Please know that without your voice, it would be difficult to spread the word and to find new readers.
To all my readers. Thank you for allowing me to tell you my stories. It is truly a gift and an honor to occupy your mind for a few hours. I love your messages, emails, and reviews, so please keep them coming.
To those who have helped me tirelessly with this book. You know who are and thank you!
Much love,
Kim
TOXIC
Meet Jeremy McQueen, a sexy, intense, brooding entrepreneur who goes after what he wants, and Phoebe St. Claire, a socialite-turned-CEO who’s been drifting through life searching for something she thought she’d never find again—the right man to share her future.
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NO CLIFFHANGER. STANDALONE ROMANCE.
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The 27 CLUB
Janis Joplin. Kurt Cobain. Amy Winehouse. Zachary Flowers. I always knew my brilliant brother would one day be listed among the great artistic minds of our time. I just didn’t know he would join the list of exceptional talents who left us too young, too soon.
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Kim Karr is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author.
She grew up in Rochester, New York, and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She’s always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level, but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and recently decided to embrace one of her biggest passions—writing.
Kim wears a lot of hats: writer, book-lover, wife, soccer mom, taxi driver, and the all-around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read. One of her favorite family outings when her kids were little was taking them to the bookstore or the library. Today, Kim’s oldest child is seventeen and no longer goes with her on these now rare and infrequent outings. She finds that she doesn’t need to go on them anymore because she has the greatest device ever invented—a Kindle.
Kim likes to believe in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends, and happily-ever-afters. She loves to drink champagne and listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.
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AND NOW: A First Look Inside Crush
Chapter 1
DAY 8 CONTINUED
LOGAN
Say you wanted someone eliminated . . .
Killed.
It doesn’t matter who—your mother, your lover, your enemy.
There are guys out there who will do it for you.
It’s a fact.
Not someone from the Mob.
Not someone connected to the Mob.
Not anyone you know.
A hit man.
I’ve heard of ways to contact one. Someone who knows someone who knows someone.
Someone from the old neighborhood. Someone with prison tats. Someone who maybe wears a do-rag. Who the fuck cares—he could look like Motely Crue. Hell, on the other hand, he could be a business man wearing a two thousand dollar suit.
I really don’t give a shit.
What he looks like is irrelevant. It’s what he does that matters.
Sure, there’s a steep monetary price attached to the deed. That’s not what worries me.
I’d give every cent I had if it meant she’d be safe.
It’s what it would really cost me—how big a piece of my soul it would take—that keeps me from making that call.
I reread the note, “That E wasn’t meant for Emily.”
One thing was clear . . .
He knows about Elle and me.
Tommy Flannigan, my enemy, my foe, the mob boss’s son, the one I have been forbidden to make contact with, knows I have someone in my life that I care about. He might even know I love her. And she’s not his sister. She’s not Emily. Because I defied him, because I dared to move on, I know he’ll taunt me, try to break me, try to drive me out of my mind.
For over a decade he’s loomed over me.
He threatened me, mutilated a girl I’d dated, and just last week harmed one he thought was Elle. He was into drugs as a user as well as a cutthroat player in the Blue Hill Gang. He was always crazy, but lately he’d been breaking all the rules. Nothing was safe from him anymore—it was like he had nothing left to lose these days.
Breaking the treaty wasn’t a surprise.
The thing he doesn’t get is I’m no longer fearful. As of right this minute, the rules of the street no longer apply to me. There is too much at stake for me to think about what could happen if I went up against the Blue Hill Gang. I have to think about what has to happen in order to keep her safe. And that’s one thing, and one thing only.
Tommy’s threat has to be eliminated.
Somehow.
Someway.
But murder for hire would have to wait.
I looked over into Elle’s eyes.
Paralyzed.
Frozen in place.
Wide.
Scared.
Still beautiful.
I haven’t even known her for two weeks, but she’s a part of me. I can’t—no, I won’t—let anything happen to her.
“Logan,” she whispered quietly.
Escaping from my thoughts, I wanted to say something. Something profound. Something that would make sense. Something that would make everything okay. But there was nothing.
My eyes searched her face. As soon as they did, I saw the once glimmering green in her eyes was now dull, and her lips were quivering.
It made my chest tighten.
But it was when I saw the apprehension in her body language, the hairs on her arm rise, the unsteady rise and fall of her breathing—the fear she didn’t want me to see, the fear she was trying to hide from me—that I knew what I had to do.
I had to find him.
Now.
I was going to settle the score with Tommy Flannigan once and for all.
Whatever the outcome.
The note crumpled in my fist and I let it drop to the floor. Tugging my shirt on, I once again looked over at her. “Stay here, lock the door, and don’t let anyone in. I mean it, not anyone except me. I don’t care who they say they are.”
“Where are you going?” Fear laced her voice.
“To find Tommy.”
“But the news, they said members of the Flannigan family had been arrested. Maybe he’s already in custody.”
I looked down at the note on the floor. I had a gut feeling he wasn’t. This wasn’t something he’d send someone else to do. This was something he’d take too much pleasure in doing himself. “Maybe he is,” I said to help calm her nerves, “But someone arranged to deliver that note to this room, and I’m going to find who it was.”
“Logan, no.” She reached for me as I slid my feet into my shoes.
I had to shrug away from her.
I had to do this.
On my way to the door, I stopped for just a single moment to look at her. In that moment there was nothing more I wanted than to feel her arms around me, press my body to hers, look into her eyes and tell her we were going to be just fine.
But that would be a lie.
And I wasn’t going to lie to her.
Not about this.
“Logan,” she pleaded.
I heard the pain in her voice and my heart stopped. Still, I kept moving. I had to do this—for her. The door closed behind me and I heard the latch.
She’d be safe in there until I returned or . . .
My despair was immediately replaced with rage as my eyes fell on the white jacket of the guy who had delivered the note. Unable to control myself, I rushed for him, but came to an abrupt stop when I got a little closer. He was standing in the hallway with his back to me, kissing a girl, also in uniform. I waited. She giggled, gave him a wave, and then walked down the hall. As soon as he entered the waiting elevator it started to close, and I darted for it.
My hands jammed between the panels and the doors flew open.
There he stood.
Lipstick on his lips.
Smiling.
Like he didn’t have a care in the fucking world.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
I lunged for him.
Had his lipstick-stained collar in my hands so fast, I could barely see the fear in his eyes. “Who put that note on the food cart?” I hissed.
He was shaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
With a tug, my grip tightened. “I’m not going to ask you twice. Who put the note on the food cart?”
There was a dripping sound on the elevator floor. I think he pissed his pants. “Some dude paid me fifty bucks to slip it onto your tray. He said it was a joke between you and him.”
I slammed him against the wall. “What did he look like?”
Mumbling, words barely coherent, he answered, “Short, brown hair, piercings, and he had a limp.”
Tommy.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is he?” I said through gritted teeth.
The guy was crying. “I don’t know.”
I loosened my grip. “Where did you leave him?”
He crumbled against the wall. “Outside the kitchen door.”
I hit the service level. “Scan your card. Show me.”
Shaking, he nodded. “Look, mister, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. He said it was a joke. I believed him.”
My body went rigid.
A joke!
When I slipped my hand in my pocket, he raised his palms. “Don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Ignoring him, I pulled out my money and handed him a fifty. “Just show me where you saw him last. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Visibly relaxing, he scanned his card and the elevator glided down toward the service level.
Within minutes we were just outside the kitchen.
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. “Nah, I wasn’t really worried,” he said.
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 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.
