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“She’s fucking fast, Danny,” he says over an exhale, like he’s been holding his breath since Beau escaped him.
“I’ll try to calm him down,” I say, passing them, receiving a curious, interested eye from Tank. It takes everything in me to maintain a straight face. But he’ll soon need to know that my precious wife just became even more precious. I dial Doc, taking the stairs slowly. “She’s pregnant,” I say quietly, lowering to the bottom step.
“Well, congratulations, Mr. Black. I did suspect, but Rose insisted it wasn’t possible.”
“That’s why I’m calling.” I look left and right, watchful. “She had a really rough birth with Daniel. Hemorrhaged. Transfusions. She was told she couldn’t carry again.”
“An examination would be wise. Perhaps a scan to check her womb. A healthy, plump, juicy womb is a good womb.”
Juicy? I grimace. “And if it’s not?”
“One step at a time. No need to worry over something that might require no worry at all. Now, I’m going to need an ultrasound machine.”
“Let me know how much.” I hang up and stand. And sit straight back down when I get a head rush. “Fuck me,” I breathe, rubbing at my forehead. Overcome. I’m overcome.
“Danny?”
I glance up and find Mum looking worried. “I’m fine.” I take the rail and try again, breathing slowly and discreetly. “Where’s Daniel?”
“Here,” he says, his face in his phone as he comes from the TV room.
“All right?” I ask.
“Yeah, good.”
My shoulders drop and I go to him, plucking his mobile out of his grasp. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
He shrugs. “Sorry, Mister.”
I narrow an eye on him. “Did Esther show you your room?”
“Yeah. How long am I staying?”
I bite my bottom lip. “How long do you want to stay?” I ask, testing the water. This whole situation will be a fuck-load harder if Daniel protests being here.
Another shrug. “I don’t mind. Mom and Dad said it’s up to me.”
They did? Sounds like Derek has had to spew some confessions. “Then let’s play it by ear.” I ruffle his hair, return his phone, and head to my office. “Wanna go out on the water soon?”
He’s suddenly chasing my heels, his phone forgotten. “Damn straight I do. When?”
“Maybe after the weekend.”
“Will Mom come?”
I slow to a stop, thoughtful. “Yeah, but she won’t be going out on the water.”
“Why?”
Because she’s carrying precious cargo. “She’s fed up of losing to us.” I flip him a wink and pick up my feet, making it to my office with Daniel still flanking me. So, of course, I hold back letting myself in, eyeing him. “Scram.”
“What’s in there?” he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Business.”
“Jet skis?”
“The paperwork required to run a jet ski business, yes.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, Daniel,” Esther calls from the end of the corridor, saving me. “You’ve still got some unpacking to do and Mom’s got a surprise for you.”
He trudges off, and I push my way into my office, bracing myself for what I might find. Surprisingly, no blood. Not surprisingly, James with a face like a slapped arse. I close the door quietly and join him by my desk, perching on the edge and casting my eyes around the room. Kenny Spittle is silent and sweating in the chair before us, Otto is hammering away at the keys of his laptop, and Ringo and Goldie are keeping a thoughtful silence by the drinks cabinet. Everyone, mute.
I fold my arms over my chest, purse my lips, wondering if anyone is going to talk anytime soon. I have somewhere I want to be.
Two minutes later, still nothing, and I get bored of waiting. “Why isn’t he dead yet?” I ask but keep my eyes on Kenny Spittle.
“I’m just trying to decide how,” James replies quietly, blindly reaching behind him for my letter opener and inspecting it carefully.
“Do you mind if I ask him a few questions first?”
“Be my guest.” James gets up and starts circling the room, and Kenny Spittle’s wary eyes follow him.
“You were blackmailed into getting a safety deposit box or your father would be killed,” I say, feeling James’s eyes land on me. Yes, try talking to your girlfriend, you stubborn fuck. Kenny Spittle nods jerkily. “Where did you deliver it?”
“The beach,” he murmurs, and I frown. “I was asked to put it in a sports bag by a towel and leave.”
“There are thousands of towels on any beach in Miami. How did you know which towel?”
“It was a flag.”
“What flag?”
He swallows. “It was decorated with a bear.”
My shock isn’t containable, and neither is James’s. “What kind of bear?”
“The kind that will maul you if it gets its paws on you.”
I laugh lightly, going to the cabinet and pouring myself a drink. Not because I need one, but because I’m celebrating. I smile at the amber liquid and knock it back. “And what were you doing at Walmart?”
