He nodded.

“Then can I ask you a quick question?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Have you ever heard of anyone on the street referred to as the Priest?”

His brow creased. “No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?”

I shook my question off casually. “No reason really, I just heard someone refer to the Priest and had no idea what they were talking about.”

“Church maybe,” my father laughed, rising from the desk and patting my shoulder. “A place you might want to visit once in a while.”

It was then that the thought struck. The call and message Elle received spoke of God. Was the Priest the one contacting Elle?

Holy shit.

No, it couldn’t be, or could the connection be that easy?

“Logan?”

I snapped out of it and gave my old man a shake of my head. “What can I say? I follow the lead of my old man.”

“I probably should have done a better job on that one.”

I laughed. “You know what they say about hindsight.”

“You got me there.” He looked at his watch. “I think I’ll catch dinner with Killian. Give Elle my condolences.”

“I will,” I said, and couldn’t help but notice that his shoulders were slumped. “Hey, is everything cool with you?”

Like a bat out of hell, he averted his gaze. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“No you’re not. Talk to me.”

With a sigh, he turned to look out the window. “It’s nothing I want you involved with and I mean it, Logan, but Patrick has me pulling financials for all his businesses. He’s looking for something and I’m fairly certain it’s what we already found.”

“How? He’s still in jail. I thought his bail was denied?”

“It was. His trial attorney contacted me.”

I should have known. “What’s he looking for?”

“My best guess—to verify his son’s involvement.”

“The Tommy connection to the drugs. The reason they’re in jail,” I commented.

My father nodded. “And the money clearly leads back to Tommy and I knew about it. If I act like I didn’t know Tommy was stealing money, I’m fucked, and if I tell him I knew, I’m even more fucked.”

“Then don’t tell him anything. It’s not your fucking job to look out for his tweaker son.”

He turned back around. “No, but it is my job to make sure the money-laundering process runs efficiently.”

“Patrick is behind bars, and hopefully will stay that way. Can’t you stall? Ride it out and stay clear of him.”

The smile on his face was anything but genuine. “He owns me, Logan, you know that. I do what he says, when he says, regardless of where he is.”

“Maybe it’s time you talk to Gramps. See if he knows anyone that can help get you out of this. With Patrick behind bars, there has to be a way. Someone out there willing to cut a deal.”

Wide steps brought him close to me. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

I wasn’t sure he would. “Call me if you need anything.”

He patted me on the shoulder before he left. “I will.”

Following the impromptu discussion with my father, I felt both better and worse. Better about O’Shea and Elle having to spend the day together, and worse because my old man’s situation should have been getting better with Patrick behind bars, not worse.

When the brief for a client that had to be filed in federal court on Monday was complete, I glanced at my watch. I had a shit-ton of other work to do but decided to spend some time researching scripture to see if what the caller had recited and texted to Elle had any context. After finding nothing that made sense, I concurred with Elle: it was this man’s, whom I’d concurred could possibly be the Priest, own words.

Before closing out, a local advertisement online caught my eye. Taking the bull by the horns, I decided to quit waiting around for Elle to be finished and text her.

Me: Everything go okay today?

I knew Elle felt torn. She hadn’t seen her sister in fifteen years, and all she knew about her was that she had abandoned her family and somehow put them in danger. On the other hand, she was her sister. I didn’t push her to talk about it. I knew if she wanted to she would.

When she didn’t answer, I quickly sent another text.

Me: Can you meet me somewhere?

Then, like a chick, I sat back in my chair and waited. Unable to concentrate on anything, I paced my office, cleared some papers off my desk, then stared at my phone screen. It was just as I was about to head out and go meet up with my old man at the nursing home when my phone buzzed.

Elle: Yes. We just finished eating. Where?

Dinner was out of the question since she’d already eaten, but that was okay because I had something better in mind. I wanted to take her on a real date, but it would be dark if I went to go pick her up first, so I settled on a pseudo date.

Me: At the George Washington Statue in the Public Garden.

Her response came in the way of a smiley face: “:)”

I’d never texted nor written a heart, smiley face, or anything like that in my life. My fingers hovered over the keypad until finally I just did it: “:)”

Lame.

I felt incredibly lame.

I almost looked around and wondered if this was me sitting here. Shaking off what James would surely call the secret Romeo within me, I grabbed my keys and got ready to go.

The Internet had notified me that today was opening day at the Swan Boats, and I’d always seen people riding in them during the spring and summer months but never thought about going on one myself. It was like the carriage rides in Central Park; I’d always seen people taking them but had never actually ridden in one of the carriages myself.

With Elle, I wanted to do things I’d never wanted to do before.

Stupid, dumb things. Things couples did.

Chances were small that anyone would see us together there but just in case, I shoved my hat on my head and slid my sunglasses onto my face. It was still slightly cool outside, so the knit hat didn’t look that out of place. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to worry about being seen with Elle for much longer. I’d put in a request to meet with Tommy and although my request had been denied, Miles was working on a way around that.

The area of the park where the statue was located was under construction, as was almost everything in the Garden this time of year. Winter damage was harsh, but I was certain by the end of April there would be no sign of it.

I leaned back against some of the scaffolding that surrounded the at least forty-foot height of the eerily lifelike bronze George Washington on his horse. With my tie removed and sleeves rolled up, I looked like a resident out for a stroll after work.

A text from Miles told me Elle had arrived and he was off for the night. Miles and a crew of hired security men had been watching out for her since we’d gotten the note from Tommy in the hotel. Surprisingly, she’d never objected.

Scanning the area, I spotted her before she saw me. She was rolling some of that lip balm in a small silver tin that she seemed to have in multiples on her lips. She’d changed since I’d seen her this morning. No longer in a black skirt and blouse, she was wearing black skinny jeans, a gray sweater, her red hat, and a pair of boots.

I was practically frozen in place she was so beautiful.

It was hard to believe there was ever a moment when I thought being apart was the best choice for us.

This stupid fucking situation we were in wasn’t going to be easy to navigate, but I knew if I could just keep my shit together and think clearly, I’d get through it. I had two things to do—eliminate Tommy as a threat for good and figure out what O’Shea had or hadn’t done.

Maybe it was jealousy that had sparked the change of mind.

Maybe it was the fact that no one was safe.

Maybe it was because this wasn’t just about me anymore.