The Beast of Boston
J.L. Mac
That’s what mom told my little sister and I once. She led us close enough to look but no further as she spoke of her favorite rosebush that she had affectionately named Beast.
That was a long time ago.
These days I know another Beast. A different kind of wild, untamed thing. He too is dangerous to get too close to. It’s unfortunate that I can’t afford to care, not when he’s the key to finding my sister.
They called him The Beast of Boston when he was a professional boxer. Now he rules over a bunch of criminals—the same criminals I hope will lead to my sister. I won’t stop until she’s found. I’ll get as close to Beast as it takes, gnarly thorns and all.
The problem is I’m so busy worrying for my own physical safety that I never considered how my heart would behave. Mom was right about one thing: I am ruined for all the roses for the rest of my life and it’s much too late to change it now.
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