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“What are you doing?” Rose hisses, nervously looking over her shoulder.
“I’m taking a picture.” I curse under my breath, the image too grainy. “I need to get closer.”
“Are you insane?” Rose tries to steer me toward the door, but I’m persistent. “Beau, for fuck’s sake, he could be anyone.”
“I just need to get a little closer.”
“Yes, great. Let’s get closer so he sees us, recognizes us, and kills us.”
“Stop being dramatic,” I say, my eyes rooted to the blue-suited man. “What’s he doing?” He’s hovering by the Minute Key kiosk, looking a bit twitchy, a bunch of keys being tossed in his hand.
“Why don’t you go ask him?” Rose mutters, her body pushing into mine as I continue to try and direct us closer, my phone ready to snap a picture. It’s definitely him. Mid-thirties, short, slick black hair, a patchy beard.
“Beau,” Fury calls from behind, and I wince, weighing up the merits of ignoring him.
“Just grabbing something,” I call back, scanning the area for anything I can actually grab.
“Oh my God, we’re going to die,” Rose whispers.
“Rose!” Tank yells.
Jesus, will they stop shouting our fucking names?
“Coming,” she calls. “Beau, for Christ’s sake, James will kick your ass.”
“Rose, fuck knows how long the list of men they need to kill is. The quicker they get it done, the quicker we get out of here and back to St. Lucia.” I stop and look at her. “Don’t you want that?”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times, as my words, all true words, sink in. I see an air of determination creep into her. I see her hand go to her stomach. It’s instinctive. If Rose turns out to be pregnant, she’ll want to leave even sooner and even more. “Do not get too close.”
I nod, quickly linking arms with her, hearing Fury and Tank cursing behind us. I know exactly what I’m doing. This is someone of importance, someone James is looking for, I know it. The cop in me, this instinct, will never die. “Just a bit closer,” I say, trying to focus on my camera and aim, all while being discreet.
And then he looks directly at us, and we both freeze. I feel Rose’s stiffness against me. “What do we do, what do we do?” she hisses, as we’re literally charged from behind by what feels like a massive boulder.
“What the fuck are you two playing at?” Tank grunts.
The man frowns, his eyes darting across all of us, finally resting on me. I quickly break our eye contact, reaching for the first thing I can lay my hands on. I move toward a self-checkout and tug a bag off one of the holders. “Rose’s bag’s broken,” I blurt, words just toppling out of my mouth. The man’s frown deepens, and he becomes twitchier, his already strung body definitely tensing more. Not looking at him, I go back to Rose, taking the bag in her hand and slipping it inside the new one. Her eyes are wide as she looks at me, and I silently plead with her to look normal. “You’d make a terrible cop,” I whisper, as Tank tuts his displeasure beside us. “What’s he doing?”
“Looking through his keys.”
I peek over my shoulder, see he’s distracted, and quickly take the photo I need. “Done,” I say, seizing Rose and plastering a smile on my face for the Viking’s benefit. “Let’s go.” I guide Rose out.
“What’s going on?” Zinnea asks, tottering along beside us.
“Nothing,” we sing in unison, heading for the cars, my back rolling constantly, my skin cold.
“Beau?”
I stutter to an abrupt halt, bringing Rose to a stop too, my skin getting colder. “No,” I whisper.
“What?” Rose says, confused, looking around us.
I see Fury in my side vision reaching for his holster, his face a picture of threat. “My ex-fiancé,” I mutter.
“Ohhhh,” Rose breathes.
“It’s Ollie,” Zinnea sings, and my shoulders drop, exasperated. “Beau, look, it’s Ollie.”
Why does she sound so pleased to see him? Has she forgotten he held James at gunpoint? Oh God. I inhale and face him. He’s frowning down at his watch, undoubtedly wondering what I’m doing in Walmart at this time. I absolutely do not want to do this. So I won’t.
“Get in the car,” Fury grates.
“With pleasure.” I swing the back door open and slide in, leaving the others to put the bags in the trunk. I quickly pull up the photo and text it to James with a question mark, then notice Zinnea swinging her eyes back and forth between me and Ollie, while Rose tries to coax her toward the car. Fury stands silent and threatening to the side, and Tank loads the shopping. I can see by the look of my aunt’s face that whatever Ollie is saying isn’t helping. I can imagine. Talk of bombs and God knows what else. Lawrence knows a lot. More than he probably should and, in fairness, he’s been quietly accepting of my decision to be here. To be with James. I do not need Ollie stirring more shit into the already overflowing well of shit. I start to get worked up, and I’m out of the car before I can stop myself.
