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“We stay,” I say assertively. God knows, there can’t be many more men to kill. Between James, Danny, and the others, Miami has become the capital of murder. It’s an all-out war.
“We stay,” he says. It’s not a question, not a way of asking if he heard me right because he’s surprised I don’t want to run away from the carnage. He’s simply confirming because he knew what my answer would be. This is just his way of making it clear that if I wanted it, he would walk away, even if he didn’t want it. Things are definitely changing, but I have to ask myself again where this has come from. Surely he’s closer than when we arrived in Miami. Why would he walk away now? Why would I?
James starts to lift me from his lap. “Where’s this come from?” I ask, wriggling to get my dress down as he lifts his ass and pulls his trousers up.
“I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
I laugh, forcing a scowl from James. “I was trapped before I met you, James.” His reason is horseshit, and now I’m suspicious. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.” He fastens his fly.
I study his profile, not liking the sense of uncertainty radiating from him. “Do you have a bad feeling?”
His working hands still, and he takes a few moments to collect his thoughts, which only makes me more concerned. “We owe no one anything,” he says quietly, looking up at me. “Please remember that. This whole fucked-up business is about you and me.”
He’s confusing me so much. And then I lean back, away from him, suddenly realizing his angle. “You mean Danny and Rose?”
“And your ex.” He finds his shirt and slips it on. “And your father.”
“I love Danny Black more than my father,” I say, laughing. “Isn’t that a fuck-up of impressive proportions?”
He’s still for a moment, watching me as my amusement subsides, his expression almost pained. “I forgot how much I love your laugh.” Reaching for me, James drags me onto his lap again. He forgot. So much has been forgotten in the past few weeks. “Your ex has got a real issue with me, as does your father. What can we do about that?”
I’m not laughing now, only smiling, but I’m frowning through it. My head hurts. “You either kill them, or you become a law-abiding citizen. Neither are options.”
His eyebrows are quickly high.
“Neither are options,” I repeat, my head tilted, my lip pursed. “Are they?” It’s no secret that I’m not my father’s biggest fan but, for the sake of clarity, I need to be sure my assassin boyfriend understands that killing him really isn’t an option. The man who played a part in bringing me into this world is a necessary evil. And Ollie? He’ll calm down eventually. I hope. “Answer me.”
“Neither are options,” he says, but it’s halfhearted. “Come on.” He opens the car door and gets out, holding his hand to me, and I accept, still eyeing him. My mind’s filled with questions that I’m incapable of holding back, especially in light of James’s offer to get up and go. “Is this nearly over?” I ask as he walks us to the house. Part of me prays it is, but the reasonable side of me knows that James would never suggest us leaving if he was close to finding The Bear.
“Yes,” he answers simply, with no elaboration. It only heightens my suspicions. I pull him to a stop, looking past his big frame toward the kitchen, laughter and chatter emanating from the room. The eve of the wedding. Tomorrow—or today—just for one day, everything—blood, death, revenge—will be paused to make way for nothing but love and happiness. It feels like it could be the calm before a fatal storm.
I look up at James, who’s waiting patiently for me to speak. “Tell me what’s going on,” I order, standing firm. Shit’s always going down, but the past few days it feels like the tension has heightened. I feel like the end is in sight, but it’s hazy. Uncertain.
He shakes his head slowly, his expression warning, and I take a step back, my mind racing. He’s refusing because he knows I’ll object. He knows I won’t like what I’m told. And that means it’s even more risky than what I’m used to from this man, and I’m used to some pretty risky shit. Jesus, how many men has he wiped out today alone?
“Have you ever once considered the fact that I was a cop? That I might be able to help figure this out?”
“Yes,” he all but laughs. “All the fucking time.”
“Then why won’t you let me?”
“Because I made a promise to myself that you will not be in the firing line, no matter what. Haven’t you suffered enough? Hurt enough?”
