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“Sure,” he says, distracted by the mansion. “It’s massive, man.”
“Daniel, this is Beau, my friend.”
“Hi, Daniel.”
“Hi,” he says without even looking at her, transfixed.
“Hey.” I poke him in the shoulder. “This is my friend Beau.”
Ripping his attention away from the house, he smiles awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” Beau backs away, keeping her back, where our two guns are tucked away, out of sight. “I’ll catch you later. I’m going to check on my uncle.” She reaches behind her and turns stealthily, keeping the guns concealed.
“Hope he’s okay,” I call as Fury passes us, shadowing Beau.
“There’s a delivery for you,” Esther says, motioning toward the drive.
“For me?” I ask.
She says nothing and makes her way to the house, and I throw my arm over Daniel’s shoulder, starting to walk him back. It’s so good to have him here, so good to see him, but I’m really not sure if it’s a good idea. I push my lips into the side of his head, breathing him into me.
“Where’s Mister?” he asks, tensing slightly at my affection.
“Just dealing with some business.” I glance at the sky, giving it a pained look.
“Jet skis?” he asks, hopeful.
“Yes, jet skis,” I chirp. “He deals in jet skis.”
“Speaking of which.” Esther comes to a stop up ahead, arms up, like ta-dah!
I stop in my tracks, stunned, as I stare at a Jeep tugging a trailer up the long driveway, two jet skis on the back.
“Sick!” Daniel gasps, breaking away and running toward them. “Oh my God, this is sick!”
I take in the two sparkling machines as I kick my legs to life, approaching the trailer as it comes to a gradual stop, while Daniel dances along the side, “oh my goshing” all over the place. Both are black, both Sea-Doos. I round the back and locate what I’m looking for, and my heart squeezes. One has “Mister’” scrolled across the back. The other “Kid.”
Matching jet skis for my man and my boy.
I look at Esther, and she smiles softly, before entering the house. “Surprise,” I murmur, completely shook.
“This is epic!” Daniel continues to leap and jump by the side of the trailer, looking about ready to pee his pants. “When can I take it out? Oh my God, I’m definitely gonna beat Mister now.” He dives at me, throwing his arms around my useless form. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Welcome.” All I can think about is guns. Bloodshed. Murder. I break away. “Go help Esther, okay? I’ll be in soon.”
He prances off as a young lad hops out the driver’s side, his long hair held back by a bandana, his shorts halfway down his ass. “I think he likes it,” he says, running a palm down the side of one of the jet skis.
“Who are you?”
“Leon.” He grins. “You must be Rose.”
“I am. What do you do for my husband?”
“Help run his jet ski business, of course.” He pulls out a smoke and lights up, kicking his dirty Converse back and leaning against the Jeep. Of course. The jet ski business.
I bend down by one of the jet skis and tap the side. It doesn’t sound hollow. It’s a good start. I rise, thinking, feeling eyes on me. I peek to my right and find Tank watching me closely. “What do you think?” I ask, motioning to the machine.
“Sick,” he grunts, and I laugh, then hear the sound of the gates sliding open. A convoy of cars drive through one by one, Danny’s Merc and James’s Range Rover in the middle of the long line.
“Not conspicuous at all,” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest. The cars come to a stop, and Danny emerges, looking like the absolute god he is. Strong. Powerful. Respected. I take him in from top to toe, his beige chinos, his crisp white shirt, as he slips on his shades.
He falters in his movements when he finds me. “Am I in trouble?” he asks, as all the men disperse.
I motion to the trailer. To the house. To Danny standing by enough flashy cars to make up a fleet to escort the president. “Daniel’s here.”
“I know.”
“And you think that’s a good idea?”
“I know it’s a bad idea for you not to see him.” He approaches slowly, perhaps a little wary. “You look off.” His palm lays across my forehead, his face concerned.
“I feel a bit queasy,” I admit. “It might have something to do with endless men wanting my husband dead or . . . dead.”
“I’ve told you before, I’m invincible.” He swings an arm around my shoulders. “You’ve met Leon then.”
I raise my brows at the boho kid. “He looks like he’ll fit right in,” I murmur, and Danny laughs, knowing I’m not talking about the gun side of his business, which is exactly why Leon’s been hired. He slots right into the façade. But my question is, does Leon know what else goes on at the boatyard? Of course he knows. He must have been there today when Danny’s delivery arrived.
