He listened intently. When I finished, he scratched his chin and seemed to think hard for a few moments before he spoke. “Let me get this straight. Someone has been funneling cocaine through the high-society circuit and when Patrick got wind of it, he went ballistic because he doesn’t own a piece of it; and then true to form, he put Tommy on it, who in turn questioned everyone, beat doors down, made threats, but whoever was running the ring remains a ghost on the street.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Makes me think he’s running more than just the small, wealthy circle.”

“I have to agree. This source is bigger than even Patrick thinks.”

I was certain he was right.

“And you think it could be this chick you mentioned?”

“Yeah, O’Shea’s wife. I’m not one hundred percent on that, but that’s what I’m told.”

He harrumphed, since his old-school beliefs meant a chick could never pull something like that off. “I don’t think so.”

“Gramps,” I started to say, but he cut me off.

“And O’Shea, he’s that Black Irish Mickey, the florist’s boy?”

I had to shake my head. No one used that term anymore but him. He had this thing about the Irish having dark hair. Some old wives’ tale that they had a little bit of the devil in them. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s an attorney.”

“Is he anything like his old man?”

“He has dark hair.” I smiled.

“You know what I mean, smart-ass.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know either of them, but in what way do you mean?”

“Devout Catholic. Never misses a Sunday Mass or a confession. Carries a rosary with him too. In fact, if I recall correctly, he had a delinquent son he shipped off to Ireland at a young age to prepare for seminary school years ago. That’s what a fanatic he was.”

“To each his own I guess, but like I said, I don’t know the father or the son. I do, however, think this son is a douche, but a devout Catholic, that I doubt.”

Gramps raised his brows. “You say,” he grinned, “this douche is claiming he isn’t involved with the drug ring at all?”

“That’s what he told Pop, but I’m not so sure.”

Gramps shook his head. “I’m with you. Not sure I’d believe him.”

The tiredness in the back of my eyes faded at the realization I might be right. “Why do you say that?”

Shifting on the bed, he brought his large frame to the head and settled back. “I can’t say, really. It’s a feeling based on what I know of his old man. When Mickey O’Shea was a teenager, he was a small-timer hoping to hit it big. Always doing stupid things. I warned your father to stay away from him in school. And it was a good thing I did. At nineteen, just after he got married, Mickey did a five-year stretch for hijacking a fleet of trucks. His first big job and he gets caught right out of the gate. Fucking idiot. When he got out, he started up his own gang with Patrick Flannigan as his number two. Some shit went down with his wife, and after that the gang folded. Lucky for him, his mother had passed and he took over her flower shop. I have to say, I was surprised that he gave up on making his fortune on the wrong side of the law and settled for domestic life.”

“So he dropped out just like that?”

He shrugged. “As far as I know. Then his wife was killed in some gang-related incident and honestly, I haven’t heard much about him since. But if the young O’Shea is anything like his old man was, he’s a dreamer hoping to hit it big the easy way.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Gramps. O’Shea seems to be doing well on his own. I asked around and he’s thinking of running for District Attorney next year.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t him.”

“He claims it was his wife who set up the drug ring with his friends.”

“Well, talk to her.”

“Can’t. She disappeared three months ago and from what I can piece together, no one knows where she is.”

“And you’re in love with her?”

“No, Gramps. I told you, I haven’t met his wife.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “I’m old, not senile. I’m not talking about the wife and you know it. I’m talking about the one that looks like Emily.”

Cringing, I paced around the room. “Gramps, I only told you that about Emily so you’d understand where my concern was coming from. I’m not in love at all. But last night someone slashed his sister-in-law’s tire and then later tried to break into Elle’s place.”

“And how much longer are you going to pretend that look on your face isn’t what I thought it was when we first started this discussion?”

I shook my head, getting a little aggravated with his misdirected focus. “Give it a rest, old man. I’ve already told you, there’s nothing there.”

He stared at me, his mood contemplative. “I’ll let it go for now, but only because there are more important things to focus on. Was she hurt? Were there any messages left?”

I leaned against the wall. “No, she wasn’t hurt. I’m not sure about any messages.”

His wheels were spinning. “Then it wasn’t Patrick or his prick son, for that matter. The one thing you can count on is that they are lowlife scum. If it had been them, there would have been no doubt it was.”

I sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I think. Which is why I think there’s time to get Elle and her family out of this.”

The hardness was back in his features. “Come over here, sit down, and listen to me.”

By the time I slid the chair over and sat, I was all worked up again.

Gramps leaned forward with that scowl on his face. “I’m going to tell you right now, you give O’Shea that money and you’re opening up a can of worms you won’t be able to crawl out of. First, it means you’re getting involved in the drug ring, and you know as soon as the DEA sees you on that radar, they’ll be up your ass. And second, I know Patrick. He’s not going to let that debt be settled so easily. Even if it was O’Shea’s wife running things, O’Shea obviously knew about it. Patrick will use him until there’s nothing left and once he’s useless, Patrick will dispose of him.”

Harsh words, and I didn’t want to process them. “But he has a little girl. What if she gets hurt?”

My grandfather shrugged coolly. “Collateral damage never bothered Patrick.”

Furious, I stood back up and began pacing. “And the wife’s sister?”

Again with the cool demeanor. “More than likely, she’ll be dead by association, and anyone else who he’s close with.”

I slammed my hand against the wall.

“Admit it, boy. She’s the one?”

Annoyed, I turned to face him. “The one what?” I barked.

His face creased. “The one that has got your insides twisted all up. Whether you want to admit it to me or not, at least admit it to yourself.”

Sighing, I couldn’t believe I was saying this. “So what if she is?”

He drew in a deep worried breath. “Walk away, Logan,” he almost pleaded.

I crossed the room and stood in front of him. “I’m not doing that.”

Silence filled the space and I could see the harshness in his facial expression fading. Finally he spoke. “That’s what I thought. Tell me, what’s your father’s involvement?”

I brought my temper down a notch as well. “Minimal. He’s just the messenger. Even if Patrick wanted to involve him further, he doesn’t trust him enough.”

Gramps nodded. “That’s good. He won’t get hurt that way.”

He knew I was stronger than my father. After all, he made me that way. Not only in the physical sense, but in my fortitude as well. Gramps hadn’t taught my father the ways of the street. My grandmother wanted her boys to have a different life and he’d agreed. But as time passed, he learned that wasn’t always possible and he worried for me, which is why he took me under his wing. He taught me what he’d neglected to teach my father. That’s why my awareness and resolve was more like a soldier’s, whereas my father was like a new recruit, not entirely brought in.

Unfortunately, my father also used booze as a crutch, and that was a dangerous thing. Then again, having your life turned upside down would do that to a guy. And working with Patrick had done just that to my old man. As soon as he started, my mother found out and demanded I stay in New York full-time and attend school there. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. My father made me go. I wanted him to move there too. He couldn’t, though, and I knew it. So instead, he was forced to lead a life he’d never wanted.