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* * *
I’ll call you. Give me five.
* * *
I click send and squeeze my hand around the phone, crushing it so hard it could crack. I was so sure I could do this. So certain I could fix this mess with Danny’s help. But as long as Nox plays his ace card, I can’t fix anything. No one can.
I peer out of the bathroom, seeing Danny still unconscious on the bed. I softly close the door and dial Nox. He doesn’t speak when he answers, leaving me to explain. “It’s been impossible to get in touch,” I say. “There’s always someone watching me, and Black takes me everywhere with him.”
“You’re lying. You’ve betrayed me. You’ve betrayed your son.”
“No,” I sob. “I’ll get you what you want, I swear.”
Nox hesitates for a second, humming. He knows he has me. I hate him with every fiber of my being. Hate him. “You have one chance to redeem yourself. And if you do, I might make sure you’re out of the firing line in future.”
“You knew I was on the balcony?” The drone.
“I want to know when the exchange with the Russians is happening. I want a time and a place. Or the next picture you get will be of your son in a coffin. And then I will kill you and find myself another whore.”
“I’ll get the information.” I assure him. “I promise.”
He hangs up, and a ragged cry escapes, forcing me to cover my mouth to muffle the sound. I’m going to lead Nox directly to his prey. I may as well be loading the gun and pulling the trigger. This is it. I look up to the mirror, seeing my bottom lip trembling terribly. “Shit,” I curse, rubbing at it, sniffing and generally trying to compose myself. I need to be together. I have no fucking clue how I’m going to get the information Nox wants. No clue. But I must.
Hiding the phone, I roll my shoulders and pull the door open. Danny’s starfished, his body stretched and spread far and wide, his face rough, his hair rougher. I creep toward him. I don’t know why, as I don’t think an atomic bomb would wake him. As I near, I stare at his beautiful, scarred face, replays of our time together flipping through my mind—the angry times, the times we looked at each other and understood each other, the times we kissed, made love, comforted each other.
I breathe in some resolution and settle on the edge of the bed. I don’t want to wake him. I don’t want to disturb his slumber and bring him back to a place where his head is likely to feel like it’s falling off. I don’t want to set in motion what will be the end for us. The end of him.
I’m about to gently nudge him when the door knocks, and I shoot up, pulling my robe in. “Come in.”
Brad pokes his head around the door, eyeing up his boss on the bed. “It fucking stinks like a distillery in here.”
I hadn’t noticed. All I can smell is my regret. “Everything okay?”
“Sleeping beauty needs to get his ass up. It’s past twelve, for fuck’s sake.”
My curious mind gets the better of me. “You need to be somewhere?” I ask, striving to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“You could say that.” Brad walks over to Danny and pokes him in the arm, and something deeply protective inside of me rises.
I move in to nudge him away. “I’ll deal with him.”
“I bet you will.”
I ignore his sarcasm and press more, being delicate and casual. “He’s probably still drunk. I doubt he’ll be up for anything today other than recovering.”
“He hasn’t got any choice. It’s important.”
Important. Like an exchange important? God, is it today? Brad moves in to poke Danny again, but I block his path, standing firm. He gives me a curious look. “I’ll wake him. He’s going to need the gentle approach, and you don’t look like you’re in the mood for gentle.”
Brad winks, and it riles me, because I know something obscene and inappropriate is coming.
“Don’t,” I warn, turning away from him. “I’ll tell him you’re waiting for him.” And as soon as Danny’s gone from my room, I’ll be making a call that I so don’t want to make. Guilt is a vise around my heart as my gaze jumps across the sheets of the bed.
“You got it,” Brad replies, almost mocking. “And Rose?”
I lift my eyes and stare at Danny’s sleeping form, unable to look at Brad, worried he’ll see my agony. “What?”
“You ever try to cut yourself again, it won’t just be Danny all over your ass.”
I pivot, a little stunned. His face is straight, as if he means for his blank, emotionless expression to contradict his soft words. “Danny doesn’t give a shit about me,” I say, knowing it’s bullshit. We all know it. Especially after last night. But I go on, nevertheless, maybe hoping that Brad might confirm what I’m wishing. “I’m here out of convenience.”
