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“She figured out who he was,” Otto finishes.
“And you,” I point out, nodding at James. “She’d figured out who you were too.”
“Who I am,” James retorts.
“Sorry, yes.” He’s still a murdering bastard. “Except now you’re not a paradox.”
“Beau’s mother held a safety deposit box under an alias,” James says, rootling through his pocket and pulling out a key. He has our attention, and he knows it. There’s only one reason an FBI agent would hold a safety deposit box under a fake name. “It was empty.”
“And what did you think was in there?” Brad asks, as James places the key on the desk. All of our stares root on it. So small. But so significant.
“My real name. Who I am. Who my father was. And the identity of The Bear.”
Brad and Ringo swing shocked looks his way. “Could it have been emptied before we got to it?” Ringo asks what we’re all wondering.
“Find out who heads up that bank,” I say to Brad, who’s eyeing the bottle of Scotch. This is not the time to find comfort in a bottle. We need clear heads because the web is only getting bigger.
“Beau knew something wasn’t adding up when the police closed the inquiry into her mother’s death,” James goes on. “She started digging. I knew she was in danger.”
“So you lured her to your den and fucked her seven ways to Sunday,” Brad says, so casual. Stupid man.
“Do you want to die?” James asks, turning his deadly glare Brad’s way, prompting him to hold up his hands in surrender.
“Beau’s friend and Jaz’s colleague, FBI Agent Nathan Butler,” Otto continues, shaking his head at Brad, “started digging around when he found out Beau was seeing James.”
“He obviously didn’t like me,” James mutters, deadpan.
“No idea why.” Brad laughs. “I mean, you’re one of the friendliest blokes I’ve ever met.”
He definitely wants to die.
James’s jaw starts to twitch, but he holds on to his temper, continuing. “Nathan Butler found CCTV footage from the night of Jaz’s death. I was in the footage. He put two and two together and came up with ten. Assumed it was me who killed Jaz Hayley.”
“Where is he?” Ringo asks.
“Dead. It wasn’t me who killed him.”
“The Bear?”
“Yes. Two officers pulled him over. He had Beau in the car. She got away. They shot him. He died later in hospital. I expect there’s more to it.”
“Like?”
“Like something similar to the Russian nurse I shot in Beau’s room when she was in a coma.”
“I assume she wasn’t actually a nurse,” Brad says, starting to look overwhelmed by the onslaught of facts.
“You assume right.”
“And Beau was in hospital because her uncle’s husband shot her?” he asks.
“Correct,” Otto confirms. “Dexter Haynes. MPD. He carried out the hit on Beau’s mother under instruction from The Bear and got rid of all the evidence, including the CCTV footage from that night showing James trying to save Jaz. Obviously, he recognized James from the footage when he met him with Beau.”
“And in other news, Spittle told The Bear”—I wave a hand dismissively when James glances at me—“whether intentionally or not, that I’m alive. He then realized his fuck-up, panicked, and decided to take Brad out to try and avoid me finding out about his fuck-up.”
“My brain hurts,” Ringo mutters, dropping to the couch, rubbing at his head. “My fucking brain hurts so bad.”
“You mean you have one?” Goldie says, shaking her head in a snarky way only a woman can achieve.
“And now you’re in love with FBI Agent Jaz Hayley’s daughter,” I add, and James’s unimpressed eyes turn onto me. “Women,” I mutter. “My dad would kill me if he wasn’t dead. So who is The Bear?”
“He has three arms,” James says, and I smile. It’s ignored. “First arm, the Irish. They deal in drugs. The Snake, the leader, as Otto said, is dead. The Eagle, his second-in-command, also dead.”
Brad raises an eyebrow. He’s not game to ask.
“The Alligator,” James goes on, “their third-in-command, is inside awaiting trial. His name’s Vince Roake. A bent judge was dealing with his case. He’s also dead.”
Brad looks at me with undeniably wide eyes. I give him a small wry smile. Yes. James has been a very busy boy.
“So what you’re telling me is that we’re dealing with a zoo,” I say, amused, and so is James judging by the lift of his lip. “Funny how they’re all named after animals, and yet I’m the biggest animal of all.” I toast the air. “You come a close second, my friend.”
James humors me, getting us back on track. “The Polish deal in women. The Shark is still out there. His second, The Fox, dead. The Hound, his third, alive.”
Not for long. “And you’ve not located them yet?” I ask.
“I will,” he assures me, and I trust him on that. “My apartment was compromised. All information I held has been wiped from the server.” James digs into his pocket and pulls out a memory stick. “Bet you can’t guess who deals in the firearms.”
