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I take the call, answering with silence. A few crackles down the line, the sound of an engine in the background. “Black,” someone says, and my spine straightens, wary. This isn’t a voice I want to hear right now.
“Higham,” I say quietly, aware of listening ears, wherever they are. And for that reason, I force myself to relax, working my way through my second smoke. “And what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Do you happen to be missing a jet ski?” he asks.
“No, why?” That machine will be in a million pieces at the bottom of the ocean, along with the body parts of the little fucker sent to rig it, if the sharks haven’t had him. If Higham’s calling me, it’s because some debris has been found. Undoubtedly unidentifiable.
“Some parts washed up on a private beach.”
“There are thousands of jet ski owners in this city. Why’d you assume it’s mine?”
“Might have something to do with the serial number registered in your wife’s name.”
Oh. Well, that’s a shitter. Of all the pieces that could have found their way onto a fucking beach? “Stolen,” I say, and he laughs.
“Black, I think you’re in the wrong business.”
I smile, but it falls when I feel something press into my temple, something cold and hard. I look out the corner of my eye, finding a meaty-looking fucker, arms braced, a face like a slapped arse. “I think you’re right,” I reply to Higham, prompting the fat fuck currently holding me at gunpoint to wedge the barrel in a little farther. I bite down on my teeth and close my eyes, digging deep for some restraint before I murder him slowly. This was expected. It doesn’t make me like it, but it was inevitable. “Anything else?” I ask Higham. “I’m kind of busy right now.”
“Yes, actually. The invite to your wedding next week.”
“What about it?”
“Well, it’s very nice of you and all that, but an FBI agent at the wedding of a known criminal wouldn’t look good, if you know what I mean.”
“I understand,” I say quickly, hanging up to deal with the small matter of a gun pressed into my temple. “I made a deal,” I say quietly, my body tingling with the need to lash out.
“I’ll ease off as soon as we have confirmation.”
No accent. Not Irish, not Russian, not Polish. So he’s just an ape who’s been handed some power? “I’m telling you now, ease off on the pressure and I might think twice about fucking bludgeoning you when you get word The Enigma is dead.”
Only because he knows who I am does he listen, and it’s a wise move. The pressure eases, and I breathe back the red mist threatening to fuck this all up. Rose. Think of Rose. Think of Daniel. Of my baby. Containing myself is paramount if I’m going to walk away.
I look out the corner of my eye again, turning my head a fraction to get him in my sight. “So what do they call you?” I ask, taking another drag of my cigarette. “The Whale? The Elephant?” I smirk, and it’s filthy. “Or haven’t you reached animal status yet?”
“Shut up,” he barks, making my smile widen.
“We’ll go with The Hippo.” I drop my eyes to his round gut bulging over his belted trousers. Fucking hell, I could put a bullet in him and it wouldn’t stand a chance of breaking through the blubber and reaching his internal organs.
So I’ll aim for his head.
Just as soon as The Bear walks out of that container, this prick is dead.
30
ROSE
* * *
I accept Brad’s wrath. I’m too worried to argue, my thoughts circling, going over the same thing again and again. Danny’s smart. But James is smart too. Danny is deadly. I never thought I’d meet a man to match him . . . until James. Danny loves me fiercely. Would die for me. I swallow, looking across to Beau sitting silently beside me in the back of Brad’s car as we race toward the boatyard. I know James feels the same way about my friend. So who will come out on top? And which one of us will be without?
Desolate, I reach for Beau’s hand and squeeze, wondering if she’s thinking what I’m thinking. I know she is when she constricts, but she doesn’t look at me.
Brad pulls off the main road, glancing to his mirror to check the others are close behind. “You will stay in the car,” he says curtly. “Do you hear me, Rose?”
“I hear you,” I say, closing my eyes, knowing what’s good for me. Myself, I would risk all day long. But our baby? Never. And Danny will expect that. Demand that. Kill me with his bare hands if I don’t get myself killed first.
It’s in this moment I begin to understand the level of James’s hatred. How helpless he must feel and the scale of his need to end this. Because it’s the reason Beau miscarried, and it’s the reason Beau nearly lost her life. I can appreciate the mayhem that Danny would create if he were in James’s shoes. And now I can appreciate James’s.
