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“A knight in shining armor.”
“A desperate man.” She smiles, and it’s knowing. “He knew Mom knew who he was. He knew that if the police opened an internal investigation, his identity was at risk of being revealed.”
“How?”
“He saved me,” she whispers, turning her glass by the stem. “He tried to warn Mom that she was in danger, but he didn’t get to her in time. He managed to pull me away.” She lifts her arm, biting the corner of her lip, and my heart breaks for her. “Have you seen his back?” she asks, looking at me.
“His back?” I ask, confused.
She just smiles. “He was as broken as I was. And then we were fixed for a time,” she murmurs, looking across the kitchen blankly. My eyes instinctively fall to Beau’s stomach. “And now I feel like we’re more broken than we ever were.”
God help me, I must not cry on her. What do I say? What do I do? I have no idea, so I take the bottle and top up our glasses again. “Drink,” I order, pushing her glass to her lips as I sip some of mine.
“More of a dinosaur shell than a nutshell, huh?”
I’m trying so hard not to look stunned. I know I’m failing. I feel like both of us are completely shrouded in devastation. Darkness. I can’t allow us to just sit here dwelling on every tiny thing there is to dwell on, and there is a lot. “Right.” I place my glass down, feeling all assertive. “Let’s do something.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. Tennis?”
Beau looks at her stomach, and I wince at my stupid suggestion. “I’m sorry,” I breathe, exasperated with myself.
“Please stop apologizing, Rose. I blame no one except one man, and James and Danny are about to kill him.”
“If they find out who he is.”
“They will,” she says, and it’s with one hundred percent certainty. “I definitely wouldn’t want to be him right now.”
I laugh, nervous. I can’t even think about it. And there’s the problem. Hanging around here, scratching around for things to do, it gives us too much time to think. “Okay,” I say, casting my wine aside. Walking into Danny’s office armed with alcohol isn’t going to do my cause any favors. “I’ll be back. Don’t move.” I leave her, repeating a silent, encouraging mantra as I go, and enter his office unannounced. I immediately regret it. I should have knocked. Shown some willingness to be considerate. I cringe. “Sorry,” I murmur, stepping back out and closing the door. I then knock and wait.
“Come in,” Danny calls over a chuckle. Oh good. My gorgeous, chuckling god. He’s more amenable than the growling monster, and I need amenable right now. I let myself back in his office. “What’s up, baby?” he asks from behind his desk, looking all powerful and kingly. I never thought I’d see this Danny again. He looks as if he’s never been away. Like he’s slipped back into the role seamlessly. I shake away my resentment, feeling all eyes in the room on me. James, who’s on the couch, Ringo, who’s next to him. Brad is at the desk, with the young guy beside him, and the woman and guy who came in with James and Beau. Goldie and Otto. All quiet. All watching.
“Could I have a minute?”
With one nod from Danny, everyone starts to leave, and I smile, thanking each and every one of them, feeling like a massive inconvenience. “Make arrangements for me to meet this Leon kid,” Danny says, and Brad nods.
I stop James, taking his arm. “You should stay. It involves you too.”
His face falls, his tall body tensing. “Where’s Beau?”
“She’s in the kitchen. She’s fine.” I’m quick to reassure him, shutting the door, placing my attention on my husband and taking a few discreet confidence-boosting breaths. I’m well aware that I don’t have only one man to get through.
Danny leans back in his chair, his fingers laced, resting against his torso, his face expectant, and James goes to the desk, perching on the edge, crossing his jean-clad legs at the ankles, folding his arms, his face interested. It hits me in this moment, standing here before them, who I’m faced with. Two of the deadliest men to walk the planet. I’m not even exaggerating. It’s fact.
I swallow and push on. “I wondered . . . maybe . . .” I move toward the desk, hoping their faces might soften the closer I get. They don’t. “Maybe you’d . . . if . . .” I can’t find the right words, as my brain’s empty. I look at Danny’s desk, searching my mind as I stare at an image of a man. I don’t know who. Probably someone they’re going to bludgeon. “Would it be . . .” I look up. “Could we—”
“No,” Danny says flatly.
