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“Beau.” He paces over to Danny and toes him with his boot. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Daddy’s tired,” he mumbles. “Please, darling, go to sleep.”
I chuckle, and James smiles, pulling his foot back and booting Danny in the thigh. “Wake up.”
Danny opens one eye. Snarls. “Do you want to die today?”
“Do you?” James counters, making me straighten, focused.
“What’s going on?”
“I had a call from Higham,” James says, and both Danny and I visibly tense. It’s a matter of days before our FBI friend retires. Poor guy can’t stand the heat. “Beau’s digging.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I breathe, resting my elbows on my knees, looking at the screen of my cell, seeing a missed call from Nolan. “Can’t you control that woman?” I thumb the button to call him back.
“Do you want to die too?”
“Death’s probably better than my current torture,” I mumble, ignoring James’s questioning look, lifting my cell to my ear. His big mouth is probably why Beau’s giving me looks like that too. I’ll never fold under the pressure to confirm whatever they think they know. Because they don’t know. “What’s up?” I say when Nolan answers.
“Leon’s here to pick up some beer for the café. How much am I giving him?”
“Wait there,” I say, putting my phone on my shoulder. “Leon’s at the club to pick up. How much?”
“A million. All in twenties.” Danny struggles to sit up, scrubbing his palms down his face. “Tell him to put it in the bunker for now.”
“Did you get that?” I ask, my cell back at my ear.
“I heard.”
“I’ll be in later.” I hang up and stand, stretching. “So what’s Higham said?” I ask, collecting my coffee and downing it, my nose wrinkling. It’s cold. But it’s caffeine.
James opens the door and peeks out before closing it again. Makes sense, since Beau is the gym’s most frequent visitor, and that won’t change now she’s expecting Baby Enigma. “The report in the paper the day after Danny went after Sandy all those months ago detailed the bodies of four men.”
“And?” I ask.
James looks at me tiredly. “Don’t you think Beau would have counted the number of men that were with Sandy when they arrived at the house before Danny chased them down and went all Die Hard on them, Brad?”
“Fuck,” Danny breathes.
“Fuck,” I mimic. That woman is a pain in our fucking asses. She’s also really fucking useful. So she knows one Russian bastard walked away from that particular shootout. “You think she’s suspicious?”
“Beau’s suspicious of everything. It’s innate.” James lowers to a bench. “We all know she won’t stop with Higham. The last thing you need is her finding out Sandy is still alive.”
Because she’ll tell Rose.
“He won’t be alive soon,” Danny growls, the scar on his face glowing, his hand rubbing across his thigh where Sandy and his men buried a bullet in The Brit. Pray for Sandy.
“We’ve turned the city upside down,” I remind him. “And New York is silent.”
“Do you think he’s going to slip away into the night and that will be that? Give me a fucking break.” Danny’s jaw ticks. “He tried to kill Beau when James took his brother out. He turned his back on Volodja and The Bear.”
Danny’s right. And, actually, I don’t think Sandy had any intention of leaving us to rule Miami while he moved in on the Italians in New York. I look at James. “You need to take Beau on your honeymoon.”
He huffs. “Don’t you know my wife at all?”
Admittedly, not as much as James, obviously, but I know her. “Seriously. She needs to concentrate on being married and pregnant.”
James looks as if he could quite easily lay me out. “Don’t you think I know that? Want that? But as long as we have people to kill, Beau will be on high alert. And let’s not forget, Sandy isn’t the only one we’re looking over our shoulders for.”
