Bedwrecker(99)

Tommy’s threat has to be eliminated.

Somehow.

Some way.

But murder for hire would have to wait.

Paralyzed.

Frozen in place.

I looked over into Elle’s green eyes.

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.

Without hesitation I searched her face. As soon as I did, I saw the once glimmering green in her eyes was now dull, her skin pale, and her lips quivering.

The sight 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 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 out 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. For me. For us. The door closed behind me and the sound of the latch told me she’d be safe—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. He was standing in the hallway with his back to me. Unable to control myself, I rushed for him, but came to an abrupt stop when I got a little closer. He wasn’t alone. He was kissing a girl, also in uniform. I waited. She giggled, smiled, and finally gave him a wave before she 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 cohesive, he answered, “Short, brown hair, piercings, and he had a limp.”

Tommy.

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is he?” I asked again 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.”