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“Not a jiffy,” Otto replies, sounding frustrated by that.
“Let me know if anything comes through.” I stride out of the office and make my way down to the club. Zinnea is drinking a cocktail as elaborate and embellished as she is, while Beau is sipping a bottle of water. Esther, wine in hand, spots me and reaches for Zinnea, gaining her attention. They both stand and leave, quiet and pensive.
Placing her bottle down, Beau relaxes and fixes me with an expectant stare as I slowly lower opposite her, too far away. My eyes fall to the flame of the candle in the center of the table, my hand twitching to reach out. To feel the burn. I yank my eyes away and look up. She’s staring at the flame too. This distance between us, both physically and emotionally, is wrong. She is now the reason I am here. I am the reason she is here. We need to fix this.
I lean forward and blow out the candle, holding my position over the table, glancing up at her. “No more torture, Beau,” I say quietly. “This ends now.”
“Will it ever end?”
“Yes,” I answer assertively, because it will. Loose ends are slowly being tied. The finish line is coming into view. Men are talking, things are shifting.
“Do you know who he is?” she asks.
“We’re close.”
“And where is the bank manager?”
“Being held in a container at the boatyard.”
“Did he talk?”
I inhale, backing up in my seat. Always so hungry for information. But I’m not spilling. Not after her last performance. If this plan is going to work out, I need no obstacles, no unexpected glitches, and my beautiful girl is a sure way to a huge fucking glitch. “Why can’t you just trust me?” I ask.
Her inhale is to gather patience, her exhale to find calm. “I do trust you.”
“Then trust me to end this.”
I look up when I see Otto approaching, his laptop laid over his arms. His face tells me all I need to know. My shoulders straighten, and I locate Fury a few feet away, giving him the nod as I stand. He moves in promptly, and Beau’s head swings between us as she rises to her feet. “What’s going on?” she asks, her entire being ready to fight. And she will fight. I know she’ll fight.
I circle the table and take the tops of her arms, forcing her attention to me and me alone. “Let me handle this,” I say firmly but with obvious pleading. “I can’t be out there worrying about you, Beau.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” she says. “I survived just fine before—”
“I restrained and distracted you?” God, how I wish I could tie her up now to keep her controlled. Gag her so she can’t defy me constantly. Blindfold her so she won’t see the carnage I’m about to create.
She draws back, shrugging me off.
“You barely survived, Beau.” My jaw twitches. “You weren’t living.”
“And I’m living now?” she yells, shoving me away. “You call this living?”
“No, this is hell, but I’m fucking trying, Beau. I want a life with you, and it’ll happen a lot fucking sooner if you just let me fix this.” I yank her forward and grab her cheeks. “I fucking love you, I understand you, but I need you to stand down, Beau.”
Her chin trembles. Her eyes well. She doesn’t answer, and I don’t wait for her to. I slam a hard kiss on her lips and turn, stalking out of the club.
“Derek Green just forwarded me an email,” Otto says, flanking me. “I traced the IP address to the café Downtown.”
“What did the email say?”
“It was congratulating him on a job well done.”
I stop at the door and give Otto my attention. I don’t need to ask.
“Roake walked free earlier today.”
I breathe in deeply, my back tingling. “Not guilty,” I murmur, and Otto nods, standing back, as if to get out of the line of fire. I stare at the street outside the club, my veins throbbing, my blood pumping. He’s walking.
So now I can kill him.
A few guys brush past me, one jolting my shoulder, and Goldie’s hand goes straight for her back, ready to draw, preparing for the unleashing of my temper. “It’s fine,” I say, taking deep breaths. There are more pressing matters.
“I’m not drinking with freaks,” one guy mutters. “Since when did this place become a circus?”
I look back into the club, seeing Zinnea at the bar, drenched, her face the picture of shock as Esther tries to dab her down with some napkins. Beau catches my eye. Violence is distorting her features as she watches the men leave, the men who have just barged me at the door. She turns her gaze onto me, and I read her like I always read her. “Hold him,” I growl, prompting Goldie to seize the guy before he makes it outside.
