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“I’m injured,” Brad mutters, as James sits, looking too thoughtful for my liking. We know why there was no picture of him. Because The Bear thought he was already dead.
“Well, I think that’s business concluded, for now,” I say on a dazzling smile. “I bet it’s nice for you to finally put a face to the name. We’ll be in touch.” I slide my gun off the desk and leave, Otto, Brad, and James following me. “All this in three fucking years, and no one, not one fucking person, knows who he is?”
“Someone did,” James mutters, hitting the call button of the elevator with the tip of his machine gun.
“Yeah, great. She’s dead. Very useful.”
“Don’t piss me off, Danny.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, actually feeling it. James knows I don’t hand out apologies freely. “Rose mustn’t know about this.” She’ll lose her mind, and I have enough to fucking deal with right now.
We board the lift and the doors close, as James’s phone rings. He answers. Peeks across at me, frowning.
“Where?” he asks, his body visibly tensing. “Watch them.” He hangs up. “Two men just pulled up in a Chevrolet. Two men that don’t look like they belong in this building, if you know what I mean.”
“Men like us?” I say on a laugh.
He looks up at the small screen above the door and then back to the screen of his phone when it pings. “They’re waiting for the elevator. Heading for floor five.”
“Convenient. How do you know that?”
“Goldie asked them.”
I laugh, slipping a cigarette between my lips, lighting it, and lifting my machine gun, aiming it at the door. “Ready?”
They all mirror me on grunts of agreements, and the doors slide open, revealing two men. Their eyes widen in unison, they back up, but they’re not stupid enough to reach for the belts that I can see poorly concealed under their jackets. Not when faced with four men, three of which have machine guns pointed at them. “Turn around,” I say nicely, and they both slowly turn. “And let’s walk ever so calmly out of the building.”
James steps out with me, each of us pushing the tips of our guns into their lower backs.
“Excuse me, sir, this is a no-smoking premises.” I look past the men before us, seeing a security guard approaching, young, built, and probably bored out of his mind for ninety-nine percent of his day. I bet my cigarette is his biggest drama today.
I flick it at his feet and nod to Otto, who wanders over and stuffs a wedge of notes in his jacket pocket, giving it a friendly pat. “Apologies,” he says, smiling through his overgrown beard. “What’s your name, chap?”
“Jerry.”
“Jerry,” Otto muses, pulling a card out and slipping it into his pocket with the cash. “I think you’re grossly underpaid. Give me a call, and I’ll fix that.”
He nods, his hand over his pocket as he steps back. “Have a good day, gentlemen.”
“You too.” Otto swings round. “Let’s go.”
Yes, let’s go. I have something to clear up with my savage wife.
14
ROSE
* * *
“You’ve been staring at that bottle for over an hour,” Tank says.
Over an hour? Is that how long it’s been since Beau left me in Danny’s quiet office to shake off my supposed headache? It wasn’t a lie. I do have a headache. A headache from thinking too much. Worrying.
I slowly move my eyes from the bottle of vodka to Tank. His eyebrows rise but remain a bushy straight line rather than a curious curve. I blink and return my stare to the clear glass. I can only assume he is getting bored of watching me in my silent turmoil. That’s too bad for him. He should have kept his big mouth shut.
“Are you going to drink it or not?” he asks.
The print on the label starts to blur, the reds and blacks blending messily from staring so hard. “Not,” I murmur, slipping it onto the nearby table, feeling a weight lift from simply not having it in my grasp any longer. I inhale and rise from the couch, brushing my front down. “Where did Danny go?”
Tank looks at me in a way that suggests he thinks I think he’s stupid.
I roll my eyes and glance at my cell, desperate to call Hilary and plead for her compassion. But I need to have it together, and I feel anything but at the moment. We’ve always been so cautious. I knew bringing Daniel to the house was a terrible move. God knows what he’s said to Hilary and Derek.
I walk to the door on heavy feet, and Tank pulls it open for me. “Thanks.” I make my way to the kitchen. “Hey,” I say to Esther’s back. “Where’s Beau?”
“She’s with her father in the lounge.” Esther places a dish on the counter and tips a bag of raisins into it. “Doc’s checking him over.” She pushes the dish aside on an exhale of tired breath. “What’s going on, Rose?” she asks, and I frown.
