My paternal grandfather, Killian McPherson, had come to my mother’s family estate in Southampton to bring me back to Boston. Good thing, too, because even though I didn’t have my license yet, I knew how to drive, and I was contemplating taking my grandfather Ryan’s Bugatti out for a spin.

Killian McPherson and I had a tradition. September second marked the anniversary of his and my grandmother’s wedding. Ever since my grandmother’s death, my grandfather disconnected from the world on Labor Day weekend, and he just so happened to take me along with him every time.

The bitter argument my parents had over where I was going to start high school sent my mother fleeing from Boston in early July and she had taken me with her. But another one of my parents’ longstanding disagreements wasn’t going to keep my grandfather and me apart, even if Grandpa Ryan was around. The two older men hated each other. Then again, they were so completely different; there was no way they couldn’t.

Whatever.

Exuding a confidence that always left me in awe, he scouted the area. Fully satisfied that we were nowhere, which was where he wanted to be, he twisted around. “Have your parents agreed where you’ll start high school yet?”

I sat up straight, digging my sneakers into the floorboards for traction. “I told my mother I wanted to stay in Boston even if she chose to remain in New York, and like some sort of miracle she agreed to let me attend Boston’s Blackstone Academy. For now, anyway. My father told me later she only agreed because I’d been wait-listed at NYC Prep and Collegiate, so we’ll see what happens.”

“NYC Prep, isn’t that where James goes?”

I nodded. “If I have to leave Boston, I’ll hold out until I get in there.”

“Just stay on the straight and narrow, Logan. That boy seems to sniff out trouble.”

I laughed and said nothing. James and I were way more alike than my grandfather wanted to know.

He maneuvered the boat around one last time and then shut the engine off. The way he drove this boat with such ease left me in awe every time I watched him. He was just a powerhouse. A very tall, well-built man with a strength that was greater than that of anyone I knew. It wasn’t his size, though, that mattered. It was the power that oozed from him that allowed him to command the attention of anyone he came into contact with.

I’d never seen anything like it.

Turning all the way around, he ran a callused hand over the stubble of his white beard. “Well, since you’re staying in town for a while anyway, I want you to come work at the News Parlor a couple of days a week. It will keep you out of trouble and I could use the help.”

My brows popped. The News Parlor was my grandfather’s store. He sold mainly lottery tickets, newspapers, and magazines, but there was a roped-off section that I was dying to get into. I’d been asking to work for him for the past year and he shot me down every time. “Really? You mean it?”

“Do I ever say anything I don’t mean?”

I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Will I be working on Dorchester Avenue or at the track?” I asked. Suffolk Downs was an awesome place and I loved when he took me there.

“Where do you think?”

“Dorchester,” I responded with a sigh. It was worth a try.

He grinned. “I knew you were smart.”

“Did you ever hire that girl who lives next door to you?”

Those dark eyes narrowed on me. “She’s older than you and she’s seeing that boy Tommy Flannigan. I don’t want you getting involved with that shit. He’s nothing but trouble.”

“She says she’s not seeing him, but I don’t care either way.”

It was his turn to raise a brow. “Then why do you want to know if I hired her?”

In my most I don’t really care tone, I answered, “Just curious. She seems pretty smart. I might learn something from her.” That was a lie. She had big tits and I wanted to feel them, along with the rest of her body.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I did. And everything else aside, inter-office romances, for lack of a better word, are never good business.”

I kicked my feet up again against the chair in front of me and crossed my arms. “Who said anything about romance?”

He rose from the captain’s chair he fit so well in and swatted me across the head. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

My grandfather might not have finished high school, but he was the smartest man I knew. With a shrug, I looked at him and answered truthfully. “I’m not. I’m dead serious.” I didn’t elaborate. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, but I knew if I told him that I was just hoping to score, that wouldn’t help me get the job.

The huff of laughter he gave me as he sat down beside me warned me another one of his stories was coming. “Well, there’s something going on in that head of yours and I think its fair time I warned you . . . beware of the power of the dame.”

With a glance in his direction, I rolled my eyes. “Gramps, please, anything but the birds and the bees.”

I’d been jerking off for enough time now that I understood how everything worked. I didn’t need him explaining it to me—again.

He shook his head and kicked his own feet up. “It happens before you know it. A woman can pull you in and get under your skin just like that. We all like to think we’re immune, but before we know it we’re under their spell. And then they own you in a way you never would have thought possible.”

“That won’t happen to me. I’m not interested in dealing with chicks that way. Relationships are way too much work.”

The sky was the perfect shade of black and twinkling with stars as he stared up at it and closed his eyes. “Yes, they are a lot of work, but learning to appreciate the beauty and the beast within women will take you far. It’s something I can’t drum into you enough.”

The laughter bubbled out of me. “Did you just say beast?”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and he looked my way. “Let me tell you a little story.”

I settled in. This could take a while.

“All women are beasts. You just have to know how to tame them or when to let them go.”

“Come on, Gramps, that sounds ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not. Let me tell you a little story about a woman who tore dozens of men apart. If that’s not a beast, I don’t know what is.”

I nodded. “Go on.”

“Many years ago there were these two gangs. Both were up-and-coming, both fighting for the biggest piece of the pie. Punch Leary was the head of the Charlestown Mob and he thought he could annihilate the Savin Hill Gang by distracting Mickey O’Shea.”

“Distract him how?”

Gramps was shaking his head. “By going after his wife.”

“What happened?”

“What happened, my boy, was a full-blown war. That wife of Mickey’s was a dame, a tramp, but it didn’t matter. Mickey O’Shea didn’t react the way Punchy thought. He wasn’t distracted; he was determined. And he went berserk. Kidnapped Leary and held him captive in some greenhouse miles from the city and slowly beat him to death. Kept him alive long enough to kill his entire crew. And he didn’t just annihilate them; he stalked them. Made them aware of what was coming. One by one, he taunted them, black roses showing up everywhere, letting them know they should dread the upcoming day. It went on until every last one of that gang was killed and then finally Punchy.”

Curiosity got me. “How’d those guys let things get so far out of hand?”

His dark eyes blazed with memory. “It was the beast. That woman. Savin Hill wasn’t going to stand for another man trying to take one of their women. After that the Charlestown Mob vanished, but the war incapacitated Savin Hill so much they didn’t survive too much longer, and it was all over some broad. Now, I’m not saying she wasn’t gorgeous, because she was. Regardless, what I’m trying to tell you is that there have been wars waged over taking, or even attempting to take, another man’s dame. Never get involved with a claimed woman, even if she’s Helen of Troy. Come to think of it, especially if she’s Helen of Troy.”