“Oh my God, Logan.”

Logan ignored my compassion. He was in a trance, talking with no feeling whatsoever, just citing the facts. “Tommy had a knife and he carved the letter E in the girl’s . . . in Kayla’s stomach. He told me if I was ever seen around town again with any other girl, he’d do the same, or worse.”

Shuddering, I sat here absorbing what he’d told me. “Are you certain he attacked Peyton?”

He ran his hand over his stubble. “I’m sure, Elle. He called me a dog that night. I’m sure. Peyton had me go with her to Mulligan’s Cup yesterday and the guy who works there was with Tommy that night so long ago. He must have told him.”

“Declan?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You know him?”

“Yes, he’s a really nice guy. And he likes Peyton. I can’t believe he’d do anything to hurt her.”

Logan stood. “Stay away from him.”

I nodded. I finally understood what he was worried about. Why he wore the hat, the sunglasses, whenever he went out. Why he looked around everywhere we went as if scouting the area. It was because he was. But I also knew I could take care of myself. “Logan,” I said before he walked into the bedroom.

He stopped.

“I can take care of myself.”

At that he turned around and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He thumbed through the card slots and removed what looked like a tattered newspaper clipping. It was in color; maybe it was a magazine clipping. He handed it to me. On it was a picture of a girl who bore an eerie resemblance to me when I was younger. The headline read, “Young teen kills herself.”

My hand flew to my mouth. The similarity I bore to her initially seemed uncanny, but a closer look showed that while we shared the same ginger-colored hair and a smidgen of freckles across the nose, that’s where the likeness ended.

Logan gave me an intense look. “Tommy’s a sick fuck. I’m not as worried about what he’ll do to you because you’re with me. I’m worried about what he’ll do to you if he sees the resemblance.”

“Logan, we don’t look that much alike.”

“I know that. But from a distance there are similarities.”

My eyes closed in a subconscious effort to block out the fear in his voice. Out of nowhere, a thought struck. My eyes popped open. “Do you think he did something to my sister?”

An audible intake of breath was his response.

Like it was on fire, and burning me, I shoved the newspaper clipping as far away from me as I possibly could. “This isn’t your fault. I’m involved in this because of my sister, not you. This started before we ever met.”

He dropped his gaze.

“Logan,” I said softly.

His eyes surprised me. “I’ll find out where your sister is, Elle. I have a plan.”

Surprised, my brows raised in question. “What’s the plan?”

Not wasting any time, he stood and started back toward the bedroom. “I can’t tell you right now, but you have to trust me. I will keep you and that little girl safe.”

“And Michael?” I asked.

He just stared at me.

“Logan?”

Without another word, without an answer, he closed the door.

LOGAN

Reality slapped me in the face.

Even after a shower, my skin still felt like it was bathed in a cold sweat. My fingers continued to tremble with the disgust I felt for what I’d done all those years ago.

I hated that I’d had to tell Elle about it, but she had to know.

As I walked into my father’s law office, my legs were rods holding me up with each step, but I couldn’t feel them. I was on autopilot. I was gunning first for Declan, and then finally Tommy.

Tommy was close, but I had to believe he didn’t know about Elle because if he did . . . I couldn’t even think what that would mean.

Sure, I had a plan.

One that would protect her.

But my plan was shaky at best.

I had to put the pieces in motion.

Stacks of newspapers were piled on my father’s desk. The lights were dim and the gray clouds outside didn’t make the room any brighter. We’d had one wonderful day before March storms kicked up again. He was at his computer, reading glasses on, studying some documents on the screen.

“Anything?” I asked, not certain he was working on anything to do with Patrick or Tommy.

He slid his glasses down his nose to peer at me. “Actually, yes, I think so.”

Like a bat out of hell, I dashed around his desk and looked over his shoulder at the computer screen. “What?”

He twisted in his chair. “I met with Patrick’s accountant this morning and told him I needed bank statements for All My Women for the past two years.”

Exasperated, I said, “Why would you do that? He’s going to want to know why.”

“Relax, Logan. This isn’t my first rodeo. I fed him a bullshit story that the Financial Action Task Force is cracking down on certain types of wire transfers, looking for terrorist cells. I explained to him that I needed to see for myself exactly where Patrick was moving the money so I could advise him on what he should and shouldn’t be doing to avoid being targeted, or worse, being pinned as a terrorist.”

Chuckling, I shook my head. “You must have had Hal shaking in his shoes.”

His eyebrows popped in amusement. “More like shitting his pants. He emailed me the statements as soon as he got back to his office.”

“Sounds like you found something interesting.”

“I did. And not just the fact that the five million used to make the drug buy that went bad wiped out Patrick’s operating fund.”

“Completely?”

“Just about. That’s why he’s freaking out.”

“What else?”

My father turned back around and used his mouse to highlight something on the screen. “Look at this.”

I leaned closer and twisted my lips. “It’s a withdrawal.”

He highlighted a deposit. Then a withdrawal. Then another one of each. And then another.

“Okay, Pop, so someone is withdrawing a lot of money.”

He zoomed in on the withdrawal slip. “Not just someone. Tommy. The dumb shit has been depositing money and withdrawing more than the deposit on the next day for some time now.”

“Would explain the lack of money in the operating.”

“Yes, it does.”

I shook my head. “What? Is it Tommy’s idea of laundering?”

His brows rose. “Who knows, but he knows it’s forbidden in the organization. These are unsanctioned cash withdrawals and although they occur often during most of the statements I have, they started ramping up even more about six months ago.”

“How do you know Patrick is unaware of this?”

“Trust me, he is. Tommy is going to the bank and making the small deposits and larger withdrawals himself. Patrick would never allow that. Too risky. The dirty money has to be cleaned first—always. That’s Patrick’s rule. Patrick also doesn’t allow cash withdrawals. Funny thing is, Tommy stopped this activity three months ago.”

With a slow shake of my head, I said, “When O’Shea’s wife disappeared?”

My father turned back around. “Yes. But I’m not sure the two are connected.”

“But possibly?”

He shrugged. “The only thing I’m sure of is that something was going on behind Patrick’s back.”

“More drug buys?”

“Could be. Tommy knows Patrick doesn’t want Blue Hill relying on the drug trade to earn.”

“Do you think he’d be that stupid to defy his father?”

“I don’t know, Logan, but I’ve been thinking about this whole situation. Tommy first brought Patrick’s attention to the drug ring for a reason.”

“Because he needed the funds?”

“Yes, but why wait so long after the deal went bad to tell Patrick?”

“He tried to handle it himself?”

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

“I wish I knew. At this point Patrick wants his money back, but I’m almost certain he’s looking to eliminate whoever is running the renegade op. It’s like that person is some kind of threat to him or something.”