Текст книги "Crush "

Автор книги: Kim Karr

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

LOGAN

As the crow flies, Beacon Hill was only a hop, skip, and a jump from Dorchester Avenue.

At the most, it was ten miles.

Given Boston traffic, it was going to take me fucking forever to get to her, and in the pit of my stomach I knew I didn’t even have five minutes.

Black rose petals.

They meant dread.

That was all I knew.

A chill ran down my spine, my stomach lurched, and my pulse skyrocketed. I hoped I could reach her in time. But as soon as I stepped out the door, I knew I was fucked.

The sky was dark, black clouds circling overhead, and the rain was pouring down like sheets of ice. It was fucking hailing out and the temperature was dropping by the minute.

Her sharp, agonizing scream echoed in my head and I ran as fast as I could to my vehicle. Just as I started it, the passenger door whipped open.

Fuck!

My gun wasn’t on me. It was locked in my desk drawer back in the office and my other one was in the glove box right in front of where . . . my father was now sitting.

“Pop.” I blinked in surprise.

He pounded the dashboard. “Go, go, go!” he yelled.

My hands gripped the steering wheel. My heart thundered and I pressed on the gas full power. “Call the cops,” I ordered.

“No, we can’t do that, son.”

Of course, he was right. Who knew which cops would be dispersed and whose payroll they were on?

I wove in and out of the traffic, the cars moving at a snail’s pace with their hazard lights on.

“Watch it!” my father yelled.

Suddenly, I skidded to a stop at the traffic light and the burning red circle seared into my brain like a hot poker. I was being way too emotional to think this through tactically. The jerk and skid checked my emotions, though, and focused me on the task at hand—getting to Elle.

In one piece.

“Where are you headed?” my father asked.

“The boutique,” I managed.

The urgency in his voice told me he must have heard me on the phone with Elle. “Take the back way to Ashmont Street and then cut through the small alley to get to Neponset Avenue.”

I nodded. “Call Declan—tell him someone grabbed Elle in her car. She’s in the Mercedes and it was parked . . . fuck,” my throat was tightening, “I don’t fucking know where she was parked.”

My father pulled out his cell.

“And tell him to get a hold of Miles,” I managed to say even though my throat was almost fully constricted now.

“Declan, are you at the coffee shop?” he said. “Okay, we have a problem . . .”

Elle’s cries echoed in my head and I found myself driving blindly through the haze.

“Logan, turn here!” my father yelled.

Fuck. Pay attention, asshole, I told myself. I took a right and then an immediate left and got my head back in the game.

“He’s out looking for her now and Miles is on his way. They’ll both probably beat us there.”

I laid on the horn at the slow traffic in front of me. “Move, move, move.”

“Go up on the sidewalk, get around the cars, and take the next right. That will get us to 93 faster in this traffic.”

My tires climbed the curb and I moved around the cars on the pavement until I got to the turn he’d told me to take. “What are you doing here?” I finally asked as I swerved around the bend in the road and went over the railroad tracks somewhere in Boston I’d never ventured.

He spoke calmly and rationally. Nothing like me. “Logan, I don’t know what you’ve been up to but I know whatever it is, it’s dangerous. I heard the terror in your voice from my office and followed you. Now tell me what’s going on.”

I chanced a single glance toward him. “That’s just it, Pop, I don’t have a fucking clue what just happened. She told me she’d found black rose petals on her back step this morning and a sinking sensation hit me like a ton of bricks. A story Gramps told me.”

“Yeah, they were the calling card of the Savin Hill Gang back in Mickey’s short heyday. Left as a warning.”

Ring. Ring.

It was my cell, and the name Miles flashed across my dash. I pressed the accept button on my steering wheel. “Tell me you’re there. That you’ve found her.”

“No, I’m in Beacon Hill though. Her vehicle isn’t anywhere outside the boutique. Declan’s on foot combing the side streets, I’m almost to the end of Charles, and then I’ll start looking in the parking lots. Listen, Peyton saw Declan and wanted to get him out of the rain. He had to tell her Elle was missing and now she’s near hysteria. What do you want me to tell her?”

“Fuck!” I slammed the steering wheel.

My father’s voice filled the car. “Miles, let’s not say anything right now until we figure everything out, but she shouldn’t be anywhere alone.”

“Yeah, I agree. I’ll tell her to lock up the boutique and go to Mulligan’s Cup. The streets are a ghost town, but Declan said the café was packed. She should be safe there.”

It was odd listening to the conversation, because the one thing about the Irish Mob that had really changed over the years was that they never made a move in public. The days of shootouts in public places were over. Not enough police protection. Not enough men in their pockets. Therefore, Miles’s plan for Peyton was a good one.

“Keep in touch,” my father told him, “And we’ll call when we’re closer.”

“Roger that,” Miles said and hung up.

The familiar blue and red sign for Interstate 93 was just ahead. That meant less than eight miles to get to her, but it could have been the entire two-hundred-mile distance of 93, which ended in St. Johnsbury, Vermont, that I had to travel because the traffic on the highway was at a complete and total standstill.

“Fuck!” I cried out.

The sigh from my father told me he felt the same. “Turn around and go back to Dorchester Avenue.”

“It was worse there.”

“We’ll double back to Washington Street and then over to Blue Hill Avenue.”

“That’s at least ten miles out of the way.”

“Logan, trust me, son, it will get us there faster.”

I threw the car in reverse and looked backwards as I zoomed the wrong way off the on-ramp. I felt raw and nervous inside in a way I never had. Back on the road, I hit the gas, spraying water, speeding to the corner, and turning left so fast that I almost fishtailed up Washington Avenue.

My father gripped the handle above the door but said nothing else.

I kept control of the Rover and when the light ahead turned red, I hit the gas and powered through the intersection.

Nothing was going to stop me from finding Elle.

Not now, not ever.

ELLE

T he sun was shining.

Clementine was chasing me through a field of dandelions as fast as she could.

“Mommy,” she called. “Please slow down, I can’t keep up.”

I was in front of her, trying to get away. I couldn’t slow down. I wanted to be with her but I knew I shouldn’t.

“Please, please, Mommy, don’t leave me.”

My heart stung and I turned around. I couldn’t stand it and I had to comfort her. To explain to her it was safer for her not to be with me. I bent down and picked a dandelion and handed it to her. “Blow, just blow,” I said. “And everything will be okay.”

She took it and blew on it, but still she wouldn’t stop crying. Although I knew better, I reached my hand out for her to take, but instead of feeling her smooth, baby-soft skin, I touched something damp, gritty. Dirt. The ground. Sand. I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that I wasn’t in a field and a hammer was pounding against my brain.

I tried to move but couldn’t. It was as if my arms and legs weren’t attached to my body. Chemical fumes stung my nose. I was aware I was somewhere, I just didn’t know where. I couldn’t see anything but that retched blackness.

With all my might, I concentrated harder. Slowly, my consciousness was coming back.

Something was around my eyes, but it wasn’t thick enough to prevent me from making out shapes. Trees. Flowers, maybe.

The smell of chemicals was everywhere in the air.

I could hear noises. Water running, maybe.

A figure stepped toward me.

I didn’t dare even try to move now.

“I think she’s waking up, Father. What do you want me to do with her?” an unfamiliar voice said.

“I’m not ready for her to begin her repentance yet. Keep her quiet so I can concentrate.”

That was the voice I’d heard in the car. I‘d heard it before. I still couldn’t place it.

“Why don’t you use the same sermons you prepared for her sister?”

“She’s not a drug addict. We don’t have to take her through withdrawal to repent for the unholy sins she committed on her body.”

“What about her adultery? Perhaps you could use the lessons you already designed to atone for the sin of adultery.”

“Enough! She’s not an adulteress—yet. My goal is to prevent her from becoming one. I need some time to think. Her repentance must be unique to her.”

Was I in church? What was going on? I started to squirm. Tried to scream.

“Give her another injection so she doesn’t get away from you like her sister.”

My sister. He had taken my sister?

Frantic and scared, I scraped at the ground beneath me. My hands were tied together, but still I tried to heave myself up. I wasn’t weak. I did know how to defend myself. I could take him . . . if I could just figure out which way was up and which was down.

Before I could distinguish direction, that horrible Band-Aid smell was back in the air and I heard a flick, flick.

“No, please no,” I pleaded.

With a yank of my hair, whoever was beside me sat me up. “Shut the fuck up or you won’t like what I do to you.”

“Leave her alone. I told you I don’t want you to touch her. You’d be mindful yourself to recite your own lessons and repent for your own weaknesses.”

“Yes, Father.” His tone had completely changed to subordination.

“Let me hear it,” that familiar voice ordered.

“Now?”

“Yes, now.” I heard a slam and flinched.

Fingers crept to the back of my neck and I was left hanging there by my hair. “‘To preserve you from the evil woman, from the smooth tongue of the adulteress. Do not desire her beauty in your heart, and do not let her capture you with her eyelashes; for the price of a prostitute is only a loaf of bread, but a married woman hunts down a precious life. Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned? Or can one walk on hot coals and his feet not be scorched?’”

“Very good, now remember that.”

My body slammed against the ground as the one holding me dropped me like I was nothing more than a child’s stuffed animal. “Now, be a good girl and stop moving around,” he hissed low in my ear.

Good girl.

My mother used to say those words to me when my father was on a rampage. It was her coping mechanism. I didn’t understand it then, but in later years I did. It was the only way she knew how to deal with my domineering father. She couldn’t fight him; all she could do was try to make me understand that if I followed the rules I would be better off. “Now, Gabrielle, be a good girl and finish your peas and you won’t have to sit here all night. Now, Gabrielle, be a good girl and be brave; it will be over before you know it. Now, Gabrielle, be a good girl and don’t cry. You know he wants you to be tough.”

I wanted to scream. I hated those two words. I didn’t listen then and I wasn’t going to listen now.

I squirmed and flailed my body. He yanked my shirt up, exposing my bra to the cool air. Vomit got stuck in my throat. His fingers were on my stomach and he was pinching the skin. I didn’t whimper. Instead I tried to fight him off, but I knew it was hopeless.

The more I fought, the more his hands wandered, so I stopped. The feel of his hand drifting down ever so slightly to the waistband of my pants frightened me more than anything else. Please, please, please God, don’t let him rape me. I knew of all the things that had happened in my life, that would be the one thing to send me over the edge.

I hadn’t prayed in years, but I was praying now.

If I was in a church, maybe God would hear me.

As if my prayers were answered, I felt the sharp prick of a needle and liquid started to spread through my body like fire.

“Good job, son. Now, allow me to concentrate. We have to save her because she’s going to be our savior.” The voice was clearer now, not so disguised.

If only I could remember it.

If only the ground wasn’t so cold.

If only the blackness wasn’t sucking me in.

LOGAN

“This is a bad idea,” Miles warned.

I shot him a look.

“Let me go in there alone.”

“No fucking way.”

Elle had been missing for almost eight hours. I’d gone ahead and notified the authorities, but they hadn’t had any luck either. With nothing to go on, there wasn’t much they could do. There was no evidence of a struggle. Nothing to go on. Nowhere for them to look. Miles’s influence got a bulletin out quickly, but even so, there was no sign of her or the Mercedes—anywhere. The fucking rain hadn’t let up and that wasn’t helping. I was desperate, and if confronting O’Shea led me to her, I didn’t really give a fuck what it cost me.

I’d sell my soul to the fucking devil if it meant saving her.

Taking the doorknob in my hand, I wanted to rip it from its socket. The adrenaline rush from my pent-up rage was what was keeping me going. I flung the door open, and Miles put his hand out to stop it from slamming against the wall.

“Hi, can I help you?” A tall blonde with big tits stood from behind her desk.

I breezed by her. “I need to talk to O’Shea.”

“Do you have an appointment with Mr. O’Shea?”

The door to his office was closed and I burst in. “Where is she?”

The prick was sitting there, all pompous with his reading glasses on like he didn’t have a care in the world. At my appearance, he removed his glasses and his brow creased. “Who?”

My body was all taut energy and I was ready to snap. “You know who. Now cut the bullshit and tell me what you want.”

He stood up in his finely tailored suit looking all polished and put together. “It’s Logan McPherson, right?”

“You know who I am. Now tell me where she is,” I barked.

He cocked his head to the side as if confused. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

My nerves were shot. I was running on pure adrenaline. And I had no reason to care about anything but where the fuck Elle was. I stepped toward him. Anger flowed through my veins. “Elle, asshole, now where is she?”

He looked at his watch. “As far as I know, she’d still be at work.”

“Well, she’s not. She’s missing.”

“She was at my house visiting my daughter this morning.”

I stepped even closer, and Miles put a heavy hand on my shoulder. “And shortly after she left, someone attacked her and took her.”

His skin seemed to pale. He was a good actor, I’d give him that. He grabbed his office phone and hit a series of numbers that I could only assume had to be her cell phone. After about a minute, he pressed the receiver and hit some more numbers. “I’m calling the boutique now.”

Silence.

His empty hand clasped the desk.

A moment later he hung up. He tried another number.

What maybe her home phone?

“She’s not going to answer. She’s gone. Now stop fucking around. Where is she?” I said through gritted teeth.

Something darkened in his eyes as he listened to a ring that wasn’t going to be answered. “I don’t know. Did she go home sick?”

“She’s not fucking sick, someone took her. Tell me who.” I lunged toward the desk, but Miles grabbed me.

“Calm down, buddy. Getting physical isn’t going to help.”

I tried to shove him off me. O’Shea was my ticket. He was the one who was going to take me to her. He had to fucking know where she was.

O’Shea ran a hand through his hair. “How do you know Elle?”

I stopped trying to lunge for him. “It doesn’t matter.”

He seemed a little disoriented. “Why do you think she’s missing?”

That’s when I snapped. I flew across the room and pinned him to the bookcase behind his desk. “Because she is. Because I was talking on the phone with her when someone took her. I heard her crying for help and now I can’t find her.”

“I don’t know where she is, I swear.” He was gasping for breath and his words were barely a whisper.

“Fuck,” I cursed and let go of him. I wanted to collapse where I stood because I had no other direction.

O’Shea straightened his tie. “I care about her. I wouldn’t hurt her.”

My chest tightened so much it ached. I wanted to pummel him just for saying that, but I had to think about Clementine, and Elle’s relationship with her. I might have already damaged it and I knew I shouldn’t cause any further destruction.

I turned toward Miles, who was shaking his head at me.

“We’re wasting time here—let’s go.”

Miles gave me a nod and stepped toward O’Shea, who was looking like he was in a fog. He ripped a piece of paper off the legal pad on his desk and wrote something on it. “Here’s my number. I used to be in law enforcement and I’m trying to find Elle. If you think of anything that will help or if you hear from her or anyone concerning her, give me a call.”

With clenched fists, I shook my head and sprinted out of that office.

Maddening futility enveloped me.

I felt crazed.

Wild.

Insane.

Out of control.

My pulse was pounding louder than the rain, drowning out everything but the memory of her scream.

As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I felt it. My world was tilted. I took off with my fists flying and my feet stomping on the bricks of the sidewalk. Faster and faster I went. My legs cramped and my stomach knotted, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t falter. Until I realized I had no destination.

“Logan! Where are you going?” Miles called after me, gaining strides on me with my new slower pace.

The rain was coming harder, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

His hand grabbed my shoulder and jerked me back.

I stared at him, having forgotten the purpose of that visit to begin with until I saw his face. “Did you plant the bug?”

Lightning flashed like a warning to get off the street. “Yeah, I did. Now come on, man, let’s go to your old man’s and see if he makes any calls.”

We were both freezing, shivering even, as we turned around and headed for the car. “Sorry for losing it back there,” I said. “I knew he wouldn’t tell us anything, but I didn’t think he’d be so fucking convincing.”

“I don’t think he was lying.”

Thunder rumbled through the sky. “Are you shitting me?”

He shook his head. “Up until my recent retirement from the force, I’d been grilling suspects for years, and they have a tell about them when they’re lying. O’Shea didn’t have one. In fact, he looked more terrified than he let on. I could see it in his eyes. I honestly don’t think he’s involved, but I’m not so sure he doesn’t know who is.”

I had to give credit where credit was due; Miles was always one to keep a level head. “Okay, so what if you’re right? What’s next?”

“We wait and see what he does. If he knows anything he’ll make a move soon.”

Rain slid down my face and into my mouth. “Yeah, it’s not like we have a choice.”

“What about the sister’s place? Do you want me to go alone?” he asked.

“No, I want to go. Maybe we can find something that will help us.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s make a quick stop there. I can monitor O’Shea with my phone for now.”

I shook my head to get some of the water off it.

We got to the Rover and Miles took the keys from me. “I’ll drive.”

I handed them over without complaint.

Once we were inside, we sat there, in silence, listening for something, anything, to come from O’Shea’s office.

As he started driving, he turned to me. “We’re going to find her.”

“I know,” I said.

There were no other words I could say, because the thought of never seeing her again was too much to even think about.

When we first met, I thought we were better off apart.

But it didn’t take long for me to realize we were so much stronger together.

Now, alone just wasn’t even an option.

ELLE

L ong and lean. Dauntless. Fearless. He was right in front of me. I lunged for him, twining my arms around his neck, feathering kisses across his face, his cheek, his chin, his nose, his scar, his lips—warm, lush, soft, blissful.

Logan. Logan. Logan. I said his name a million times.

My body felt cold, though; even in his arms I couldn’t get warm.

I held him tighter, but the chill was still inside me.

I was so cold.

Awareness started to sink in. He wasn’t with me. I was alone.

My eyes heavy, I wanted to open them.

Curled on my side, a sharp pain radiated though me.

I felt beneath me.

There was a rock there.

I tried to move it.

I tried to move myself.

I could do neither.

My throat was scratchy. My mouth was dry. My skin itched. My body ached all over. The chill I had been feeling had settled in my bones.

I was cold, so cold.

Muted voices were incomprehensible.

My head jerked toward them.

They were too far away for me to see any more than two figures. One dark and looming, the other tall but much thinner, wirier.

It was then I noticed that I was no longer bound or blindfolded.

Okay, where was I?

I glanced around. There were windows everywhere. Plants. Dirt. Sprinklers.

I was in a greenhouse.

Shadows approached me. It was dark and hard to see.

Suddenly, hands gripped me. I wanted to fight them off.

I wanted to be strong.

I just couldn’t.

That smell was back in my nose—the expensive aftershave and foul breath.

My stomach retched.

One of the men pulled me upright and sat me in a chair. His face was covered again with that ski mask. “Good, you’re awake. I’m almost ready for you.”

I opened my mouth and found I could speak. “Ready for what? Why am I here?”

“You’re here so you won’t make the same mistakes your sister made. You need to understand the value of remaining faithful to the one who loves you.”

His voice. It was the same voice from the phone calls. “What are you talking about?”

“Not what, who. Michael,” he snapped. “If you can see the path set forth for you, you won’t have to worry about the wee little one and her future. Walk down that path, and walk toward Michael.”

“Clementine,” I whispered.

He ignored me and went on. “You’re also here to learn you must stop meddling. If you can learn the value of these things through God’s word, then you will live through this,”

My whole body quaked.

My brain was fuzzy.

This man had taken my sister.

“Let me go!” I screamed.

He laughed.

Make him feel something, Logan had told me when he took me to the boxing gym just last week and I showed him my moves.

With all my might, I lifted my leg and kicked my foot right into his groin.

He yelped and leapt back, grabbing himself.

Another set of hands were on me. The wiry one’s, the younger one’s. He got right in my face. I knew him. He was the young man who’d delivered flowers to me last night. Without hesitation, he pulled me up by my blouse and slapped me. “You bitch.”

I thrashed back. Kicking, screaming, hitting.

It did nothing.

“Sit her down, I’ll get the rope,” the man in charge barked.

The younger one manhandled me, groping and touching me in places he didn’t have to before he had me in the chair.

The man in charge wrapped a blindfold around me and then tied my wrists behind my back. “Here, silence her. We’ll try again in the morning.”

Moments later there was that horrible Band-Aid smell back in the air and I heard another flick, flick.

“No,” I pleaded. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I promise.”

My blouse was lifted. Fingers smoothed across my skin. Feeling me. Making me want to scream.

“Watch yourself, son.” The voice came from a distance.

The fingers ceased. He was pinching the skin on my stomach. Then I felt the sharp prick of a needle and liquid started to spread through my body like fire again.

“Not the entire vial, you fucking idiot. We can’t afford to lose her. We need her alive.”

This time I didn’t whimper.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t try to get away.

I wanted to.

But I was too tired.

I was weak.

I’m sorry.