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I blink and look at James, feeling him staring at me. He cocks his head, and I shake mine.
“James,” Black says, reaching the table. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.” He pulls the exotic beauty closer. “This is my wife, Rose. Rose, James and Beau.”
She smiles, but it’s forced, moving around the table. Definitely a lover’s quarrel. “Beau.” She takes my shoulders and hugs me, but only very lightly, no force, no pressure. I smile over her shoulder at James, who’s still holding my hand. I gently tug myself free from his grip, returning Rose’s embrace.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say, letting her break away.
She looks down my front. “You chose the cream one.”
I shift, so uncomfortable. “Thank you. I literally have no dresses here.”
“Good choice,” Danny Black says, and I look past Rose to see him shaking James’s hand. He releases James, coming around the table, and Rose moves aside, giving him access to me. He kisses each of my cheeks. “You’re looking better,” he says quietly. “How have you settled in?”
“Great. Thank you for letting us stay,” I say, although I suspect it’s purely selfish. What does Danny Black care if I was shot? He needs James. James needs him.
“Anytime.” He leaves me, pulling a chair out for Rose. “Darling,” he says, gesturing to it on a slight smirk. She doesn’t thank him, just gives him a knowing, warning, semi-filthy look. And then he dips and kisses the top of her head, lingering for a while before going to her ear and whispering something. You could cut the tension with a knife, and I’m sure it’s not tension of the sexual kind.
I lower to my seat, peeking at James. I shrug when he smiles.
“So we’re surrounded by deadly killers,” Rose says quietly, plucking the bottle of wine from the waiter before he has a chance to set it on the table. “It’s a good job they’re hot, or else why would we be here?”
I can’t help my laugh, and something tells me I should.
Danny Black flashes his wife a look that suggests she’s pushing her luck as Rose holds up the bottle, her head tilting at me. I nod. Yes, give me all the alcohol. I’m going to need it to survive this dinner.
“So what brings you here, Beau?” Rose asks, pouring us both a glass, not bothering to offer the men. She dumps the bottle in the middle of the table, takes her glass, and rests back, looking at me expectantly. “Except for needing my husband’s services.”
I sit back, wary, her bitterness potent. So it’s me she’s got an issue with? I flick my eyes to James and notice his tense frame, his laser stare on Black, as if silently telling him to rein in his wife. Black, lips straight, leans in and collects the bottle, pouring for him and James before setting his icy stare on Rose. “Forgive my wife,” he says, slowly taking a drink, his jaw rolling. “She’s not usually such a bitch.”
I balk, James shifts uncomfortably, seizing my hand on the table, and Rose’s nostrils flare. She throws back the whole glass of wine and slams it on the table, standing. “Excuse me, but I’m not all too excited about discussing the inevitable death of my husband.” She pivots, sending her long hair wafting through the air, and marches back toward the restaurant.
As awkward as I’ve ever felt, I move my eyes across to Danny Black. He’s staring at the table, obviously trying to gather his patience. He’s seriously bristling.
“You weren’t kidding when you said your wife has a stellar right hook, huh?” James says, nodding to Black’s nose, which I now notice is slightly swollen.
Black blinks slowly, reaching for the bridge and pinching it. “Excuse me for a moment,” he says, pushing up from his chair. “My wife and I have some issues to iron out.”
“Take your time.” James squeezes my hand and Black leaves, pulling at his linen suit jacket as he goes. And I’m pretty sure he flexes his fists.
I turn to James. “You don’t think he—”
“Not our business,” he says, not looking at me.
“Excuse me?”
He turns into me, leaning close. “We’re not here to offer marriage counseling.”
“Of course we’re not.” I laugh. “Because we don’t know how to be married.”
“Not for long,” he muses, his eyes running across my face, his thumb drawing a straight line down the index finger of my left hand. I shift in my chair, and he smiles darkly.
“Should I go check on her?” I ask, turning my hand over and gripping his.
He shakes his head, settling back and sipping his wine. “I know many things about Danny Black. Two things with unquestionable certainty.”
“What?”
“He’s a merciless killer,” James says, looking in the direction Black just left. “And he worships the ground his wife walks on.” He turns his expressionless face my way. “We’re more alike than I want us to be.” Releasing my hand, he collects the menu and scans the choices, leaving that statement hanging in the thick, tense air that’s still lingering, even now that Danny and Rose have left the table. I look up at the restaurant doors, contemplating how to approach this when they return. If they return. I’m not looking for a friend, which is probably a good thing. I’m here for James. Period. James and me.
