The only reason I’d been doing this bullshit for the past four months now was because with Patrick and Tommy behind bars, both my father and I would be free. And now so would Elle and Gramps.

I couldn’t wait.

“Let me see what I can find out. I’ll call when I know anything.”

She tsk-tsked. “I’ll be waiting.”

The line disconnected and my foot slammed down on the gas. At ninety miles an hour, I was back in the limits of Boston by eight forty-five. I tried Elle’s cell but she didn’t pick up.

Taking a chance, I decided to hit up the boutique first. She was still staying with O’Shea, so if she wasn’t there, she had to be at work.

Whether or not she knew anything, I’d already decided I would have to come clean and tell her what was going on. She had to get to O’Shea and find out where the product had been delivered. The drop point was key in the investigation, and the place and people would be used as the link to O’Shea, and in turn to Patrick and Tommy.

O’Shea would be collateral damage.

I knew Elle wouldn’t want anything to happen to him, but if he were smart, he’d make a deal with Blanchet. That wasn’t my concern—my concern was my father, and now Elle.

Where Lizzy fit in, I had no idea.

The pieces were sketchy.

She was somehow involved with Tommy, but whether it was with O’Shea’s knowledge or not, I didn’t know.

My cell rang again when I was about a block from the boutique. It was my old man.

“Yeah, Pop.”

“Hey, I have Declan and Miles with me. Miles did some recon and found out that before Elizabeth Sterling O’Shea got married—less than two years ago, I might add—she had been arrested a slew of times, for drugs, disorderly conduct, and the last time, a prostitution charge. And guess where she was last employed before marrying O’Shea?”

“I don’t know, Pop. Where?” My nerves were shot and I didn’t have time for twenty questions.

“Lucy’s.”

“That’s how she knows Tommy,” I guessed.

“Yeah, and I’m going to go through payroll and see how long she worked there.”

I dragged a hand down my face. “Might help.”

“There’s something else—I pulled up the records and you’re never going to believe who was the pro bono attorney assigned to her case.”

I slammed the steering wheel. “Son of a bitch.”

“Yep. Turns out O’Shea got her off and gave her a job as his secretary. Soon after they married, and seven months after that, she gave birth.”

“Seven months?”

“Yep.”

“So she was pregnant before she got married. That’s not a crime.”

“No, but her priors show years of arrests, usually drug-related charges. Then nothing after the baby. Seems she cleaned up fast.”

Maybe a little too fast.

Or maybe not at all.

“Thanks. I have some things to take care of, but I’ll be in touch.”

“Everything okay, son? I thought you’d be jumping at this information.”

I parked my SUV. “Yeah, it’s fine. I gotta run. I’ll call you later.”

I disconnected and walked toward the boutique. There was so much going on, I was finding it hard to focus on anyone—anyone but her.

The lights were on, but I didn’t see her. After I knocked, I figured she must be downstairs. I still had the key she’d given me on my key chain and decided to use it.

I knew I’d scare the ever-living shit out of her, but I needed to talk to her. I also needed to see her.

It had been three days.

Three days too many.

I hated what had happened when she’d called me the other night, but Blanchet had come into Molly’s and I—well, obviously I’d done a shitty job of covering us up.

Besides, I’d vowed to stay away from Elle until Friday.

But now, Friday was only one day away and if things went according to plan, we could soon be together without worry.

Together forever if we wanted.

Did I want that?

My mind was such a fucked-up mess. Still, I knew wanting her wasn’t some fleeting feeling. It was an ache getting worse with each passing moment that I didn’t have her. I felt like I could love this woman that I’d only just met. Was that even possible?

First the old butler bell chimed, which didn’t alert anyone to shit, and then the alarm started to chime, which at least she’d activated. I typed in the code B-L-O-W.

“Elle,” I called.

She didn’t answer.

Her red felt hat sat behind the counter, and seeing it made me smile.

Feeling oddly happy, I took the stairs two at a time as I descended them. Excitement stirred within me. My world had changed. Not only was it upside down but inside out. I wasn’t the same man who walked the streets of Boston alone. I never wanted to be that man again. Tommy would soon be locked away forever and then Elle would be beside me. Where she belonged.

Random, strange, somewhat foreign thoughts entered my head and unknown feelings swirled within me. She’d gotten under my skin, into my bones, and somehow had become a part of my soul. It could only mean one thing. Yes, I did love Elle and I was going to tell her so—right now.

The steps seemed like way too many. We were so close and still way too far apart. I turned the corner and—

My hands grabbed my head.

No!

No!

No!

My world started spinning on an entirely new axis.

There she was, on the floor, with a number of opened and unopened white plastic bags surrounding her.

Fuck!

I froze.

I couldn’t breathe.

I gasped and choked.

No. No. No.

I looked at her again.

Fuck!

Sometimes you know something’s coming.

You feel it. In the air. In your gut.

You don’t sleep at night. The voice in your head is warning you, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

That’s how I’d felt since the day I met Elle.

The problem was—my warning bells were all wrong.

“Elle?” I’m not even sure how I managed to say her name.

Alarmed, she jumped and realizing someone was downstairs, she scurried to close the bags.

“Elle,” I repeated.

Slowly, she turned. “Logan, what are you doing here?”

My heart stopped. My pulse faded. Shock was all I felt. “You knew?” My words came out in stuttered syllables. “You were part of it all along?” My voice held disbelief.

Elle shook her head. “No. It’s not what you think.”

The small bags of cocaine were all around her and the floor was covered in some kind of white crystals.

What did she mean it wasn’t what I thought?

I wasn’t fucking blind.

The cocaine had been transported in an endless amount of some kind of white crystals—into her boutique, and opened by her hands.

She was so fucked.

Suddenly, my head roared with the pain and anger of her deceit. I looked at her, my heart now as hard as steel.

“Shit!” I yelled. “Fuck!” I yelled louder.

“Logan, let me explain.” She was crying, stepping toward me.

I put my hand out. “Don’t come near me.” The pitch of my voice rose with each word.

There was no way I could stand to have her touch me.

Looking frantic, she kept walking. “You have to listen to me.”

Anger ripped through me. I kicked a chair and it sailed across the basement floor.

She came to a halt.

This was all too much.

I walked up the stairs. I walked back down. I walked back up again before settling on the down. Anger and rage and a terrible fear that I couldn’t help her now consumed me.

She was standing there like a deer in headlights.

Did she have any idea what being here right now meant?

I knew she didn’t. She didn’t know that right now, right this moment, she was in jeopardy of being put away for the rest of her life. And sure as shit, she didn’t know I would be the one to do it.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I couldn’t look at her or those green eyes.

Where was the invisible trail of magic?