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“I’m staying at yours.”
He laughs. “You’ve got more chance of digging a hole here on the shore and finding The Bear.” He offers a hand. “I’m not joining you on the wrong side of your wife. Give me your fucking hand, you dick.”
I huff and throw out a disorientated arm, taking a firm hold, and James hauls me up, but this time he doesn’t let me go, supporting me as I stagger up the beach. “How’d Beau take the news?” I ask, hoping James is in the doghouse with me.
“You mean the news that the man who ordered the death of her mum and my entire family is, in fact, alive when we all thought we’d just executed a pretty fucking seamless plan and killed the fucker?”
“No, I mean the news that you’re a sarcastic knob.” I shove him away. I can walk on my own. “Yes, that news,” I grumble. “I was having a lovely evening until he called to let us know we killed the wrong man.”
“Me too,” James muses, and I look at him, albeit through drunken eyes, but I see the lost man who’s still lingering. For a brief moment, he and Beau had their peace. For a brief moment, it was sunshine and smiles. For a brief moment, we all thought that part of the story was over.
But when you’re me and James is James, it’s never really over.
So, yeah, we’re all shook up. Some of us—like my wife—are fuming. Some of us, like Beau, are quietly contemplative. Others, like Brad, Otto, and Ringo, are thirsty for blood again.
And then there’s me.
Drunk.
But the alternative is a bloodbath, and I’ve not quite recovered from my most recent rampage in Miami. I need a rest.
There’s no rest for the wicked, kid.
“Oh fuck off,” I slur, making James recoil. “I’m not talking to you.” I stagger away, willing my dead father to leave me the hell alone. I do not need his input right now. “Call the men,” I order, throwing a hand in the air, as if all of them might see me beckoning them. “We need a mee-ee-ee-ting.” Let’s figure out some shit, make a plan, and kill that fucking bear.
Again.
“For fuck’s sake,” James breathes.
“Fuck.” I trip up nothing and land face first, getting another mouthful of sand. I start to spit and splutter as I get myself back to my feet again, marching on, determined. “I want meetings with . . .” I frown and turn to find James. “Who’s still alive?”
He shakes his head, in despair, I think, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer. Mum appears from nowhere and seizes me. “Where the hell have you b—” Her nose wrinkles. “You’re drunk.”
I roll my eyes. Or try to. “Just trying to numb the pain.”
“You’re hurt?”
“Yes, I’m fucking hurt. Didn’t you see my wife’s fist meet my fucking nose?”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, th—”
“Oh good, you found him,” Otto grunts, and isn’t he like a red fucking flag to an angry bull? I don’t want to see that fucking fuck head. I watch as his hand meets my mother’s arm. “Where the fuck have you been?” he asks.
I look up at his bearded, pierced face. “Plotting your death.” I lunge, Mum cries out, and James yells, tackling me from the side and taking me down. I land with a grunt. “Let me at him,” I demand.
“Fucking hell,” James breathes. “You’ll be telling him toput ’em up, put ’em upsoon. What are you, the fucking lion who found his courage?” James stands and hauls me up, walking me back from my target.
I scowl, fighting his hold. Obviously, I get nowhere. “My mother is off fucking limits,” I yell. “You eventhinkabout touching her again, you’ll havemeto deal with.”
“I’m trembling in my fucking boots, Black,” Otto grumbles, earning a smack from my mother and undoubtedly a plead not to goad me.
“Okay, I think it’s bedtime.” James directs me toward the villa. “We’ll have our m-m-meeting tomorrow.” I’m shoved through the door where I find my wife, my fuckingwife, the woman who is supposed to love me unconditionally, looking at me like she’s about to slap some conditionsonme. I scowl. Or I try to. And then my eyes drop to her tummy. And I smile. I can’t help it. But I quickly remember...
We’re not talking.
“I hate you,” I hiss, jabbing a finger in her face. Her gorgeous,lovelyface. “I hate you so fucking much.” I may be steaming, but I see her shoulders drop, all fight leaving her. She’s calm. I’m plastered. And as if to prove exactly how plastered, I start rocking back on my heels, forcing James to catch me.
