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I’m not close with any of my coworkers, but there aren’t that many of us and as we walk further into the group, I’m relieved to see all of their familiar faces.
“Miss Barry!” I exclaim when I notice the madame a few yards away from us. Despite the circumstances, she looks as flawless as always, dressed in her black, tapered lady’s suit, lips painted in a bright red color and her black hair still held in place by a tight up-do. She is standing close to the main entrance, surrounded by a group of distressed girls and two very confused looking security guys.
Without thinking, I run toward them.
“Is everyone alright?” I burst into their conversation.
Miss Barry turns to me, and her face lights up with relief.
“Katherine, there you are!” She yells out, expanding her arms to welcome me. “My God, yes! You were the only one missing! Where were you?”
“I went out the emergency exit at the back,” I say, still surprised that I seem to be the only person who thought of doing that.
“Alone?”she wants to know. “Were you by yourself?”
“No, I went with…”
I pause, realizing that I still don’t know his name. I’ll have to show her.
But when I turn around, the handsome guy with the edgy haircut and the intense stare is nowhere to be seen. I crane my neck searching for him among the scattered crowd, but can’t find him anywhere.
Whoever he was, he’s gone.
Chapter 7
Logan
I didn't waste any time and made arrangements to fly back to Boston the very next morning.
I didn't tell any of them that I was coming. A warning like that would only give them time to come up with a lie. They would reject any blame for what happened at The Velvet Rooms in DC and spin the truth to their favor until they could gaslight me into thinking they weren't involved.
But I know they were. The grenade is as much proof of that as the sloppy execution. The guy who ran awayinthe parking lot didn't look like a professional. No, he looked like a dumb kid, ready to do anything for a small amount of cash—just the type of person they would hire for a job like this. Stupid and amateurish—that’s how my brothers like to operate.
And they wonder why I wanted to get the hell out of this bullshit.
It's almost noon by the time I arrive at their "office" the backroom of a large electronics store at the outskirts of Boston. The owner of the store has been a family friend for a long time and benefits not only from the cash he receives each month,but also the protection the boys grant him—protection he may not have needed if they’d left him and his business alone to begin with.
I park in front of the store, but don’t use the main entrance. Instead, I make my way around the building, scurrying through a narrow alley to get to the back.
“Logan! Didn’t expect to see you here today,” Bill, the current watchdog greets me as I turn around the corner. He’s a sturdy guy, shorter than me but comically broad-shouldered, the strong mid-day sun sparkling on his hairless scalp.
He’s sitting in a lawn chair and doesn’t even bother to get up when he opens the door for me by reaching back over his shoulder.
“They didn’t tell me you’re back in town,” he adds, an inkling of suspicion flashing across his face.
“They’re not expecting me,” I tell him.
My voice is as firm as the look I throw at him as I walk through the door, making it crystal clear that I’m not in the mood for chitchat.
I find myself in complete darkness once the door closes behind my back, and I release a curse at my brothers’ inability to take care of even the most simple tasks, such as exchanging the light bulb thatdied in this narrow corridor years ago. I navigate through the familiar dark until the tips of my fingers touch the cold steel of a closed door in front of me.
When I push it open, I’m met with annoyingly bright light—and the astonished voice of one of my brothers.
“Logan!” Carter exclaims, as he spots me. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He stares at me with the same wide-eyed expression as my other brother Jack who sits right next to him around a dark wooden table in the middle of the room, while Tyler, my youngest brother, barely looks up from his phone. He’s sitting at the other end of the room, slumped in a large upholstered armchair, his unruly hair covering half of his face, while Jack and Carter sport freshly trimmed buzz cuts.
Lucky for me, they are the only ones in here right now, so I don’t have to hold back or ask anyone else to leave before I speak.
