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“How areyou?” he fires back.
“On the edge.”
“I’m with you.” He gets up and goes to the cabinet, pouring a vodka. “There wasn’t much left of Jaz Hayley,” he says, necking his drink. “More than my family, mind you, but still.” His back rolls, a sign of him trying to keep his cool. “He hasn’t stolen a body, he’s stolen a slice of Beau’s peace. I need to get her peace back.” He pours another vodka and faces me. “So where do we start?”
He wants to get this show on the road, as do I, but first I think we need a little of something else. “Ride on the water?” I ask as he necks his second and sets his glass down, ready to pour another. Fuck knows, we both need to chill the fuck out before we wreak havoc. Alcohol isn’t the answer. Getting shitfaced isn’t the answer. Especially now we’re back in Miami.Vulnerable.Look at me being wise. And it occurs to me in this moment, I have never in the time I’ve known James Kelly, and granted it hasn’t been all that long, seen him drunk. Has he ever been drunk? Probably not. He’s too controlled. Even when he’s raging, he seems in control.
He sets the bottle down, not pouring another, and that’s his answer. And I turn to the others and see all hands in the air. We all need a moment.
“Meet you at the boatyard in a few hours,” I say, leaving the office, on my way to try and sort something that will undoubtedly make the need for the sea, the air, the thrill, more acute.
“Danny,” Otto calls after me, and I stop just shy of the stairs, looking back. “Your mum.”
“What about her?” I ask flatly.
“She didn’t come with you.” He states it as a fact rather than asking it as a question.
“No, she didn’t come with me.”And if you question me, I’ll fly off the fucking handle.Mum needed to stay behind with Tank and look after Daniel. It’s one less thing for me to worry about.
I take the stairs and walk the corridor to our room, entering and finding it empty. I inhale, gathering patience, stepping back into the corridor and looking toward the endless doors to various rooms, all rooms taken up by variousguests. “Hotel Casa Black,” I mutter, going to the first and swinging the door open. No Rose. The next. No Rose. I barge into James and Beau’s room carelessly, my patience gone, along with my memory, it seems. I see Beau curled up in bed, Rose spooning her from behind, cuddling her.
Fuck.
I swallow down my intended bellow of her name and meet her blue eyes, seeing a sadness for her friend so potent, it crushes me. Truly crushes me. I’m plain fucking raging. Beau is plain fucking devastated. Two wildly different emotions. They took my father from his resting place to push me into action. It’s low, but taking Beau’s mother to push James into action? That’s just plain fucking cruel, and they will pay for it.
I enter and close the door quietly, unable to reprimand Rose for not being in our room resting like she should be. Walking over to the bed, I crouch down in front of Beau. Her glassy eyes look straight through me. Wisps of her blonde hair are stuck to her cheeks, her lips dry, her usually peachy cream skin sallow. Empty. Fuck me, hasn’t this woman been through enough? Haven’t we all?
I reach for her face and stroke across her skin, dropping to my knees and wrapping my big hand around one of Rose’s that’s clenching onto one of Beau’s. “We’ll get her back for you, Beau, I swear,” I whisper, dipping and kissing her cheek. “Are you hearing me?”
She doesn’t even blink. I can’t even be sure she’s heard my vow. I have my own personal drive, but seeing Beau like this, the hardy former cop, the fierce warrior, so fucking hollow, is driving me harder. I heard of the darkness she was immersed in when she met James. I’ve seen glimmers of it creeping back into her, but she’s always fought it with everything she has. Now? She’s a shell.
I hear the door open behind me, and I look back, seeing James on the threshold. I can’t comprehend how he’s feeling seeing her like this, and I wince at the thought of seeing Rose’s eyes so completely dead. We’ve had our moments over the years, yes, but Beau truly looks like she has departed from this world, despite still breathing.
I stand as Rose starts to unwrap herself from Beau, climbing up off the bed. I take her hand and lead her out, leaving James and Beau alone.
“Fuck,” I breathe as I walk us to our room, running a hand through my hair. I get us inside, close the door, and immediately pick Rose up, ignoring the returned pain on my chest, carrying her to the bed and laying her down. I just need to cuddle her. Be close to her. I can’t imagine feeling as helpless as James does right now, and I hope I never do.Loving Rose has made me weak and vulnerable. Something I swore I’d never be.
“I hate you,” I whisper, feeling her hands all over my back, stroking me everywhere. “I hate you so fucking much. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Rose.” I lift my face. She’s crying. “Don’t cry, baby,” I say softly, wiping away her tears. “It doesn’t suit you.” These tears aren’t for her. For us. These are for her friend, but it hurts me no less. “She’ll be okay,” I say, sure of it. We’re all here for her. “We will find her mum, Rose, I promise.” I wince to myself. There doesn’t sound like there’s much to find.
She smiles through her sadness and strokes my rough cheek, and I nuzzle into her touch. “I know you will,” she says resolutely. “And your pops.”
I nod, swallowing, needing this moment, so I force the rising anger back. “God, how I wish I could be inside you right now.” I need it. Need her. Need to stabilize and reconnect. Remind myself of what I have to fight for. But I can’t. Take it easy, Doc said. Don’t stress out. She didn’t have nearly enough bedrest. I bury my face in her neck and lick her, my tongue not getting the message that sex is off the menu for now.
She moans, doing me no favors, and yet I continue licking, biting, sucking at her flesh. Another moan, and I feel blood rushing to where it should not be rushing. But, fuck, can I stop? I lift my hips, giving my growing cock some space, but... my jeans.
“Rose,” I growl, moving my mouth across her cheek to her lips. “Stop me,” I order. “Before I go too far.”
Her hands find my hair, gripping, her tongue finds my mouth, twirling. We both need this. And we can’t fucking have it.Fuck. I rip my mouth from hers, breathing down on her raggedly, as she pants up at me. I slowly start to shake my head, my hard-on throbbing. “We can’t.” I won’t risk it. Never.
“But...” she says, taking my hand and guiding it to her jean-covered pussy. “Your mouth here. Gentle. Licking. Kissing. Sucking.” She bites her lip, and I’m a goner.
I groan and push myself up, taking her jumper and lifting it over her head, tossing it aside, and then working the fly of her jeans and dragging them down her legs. She kicks her legs, helping me, sitting up and taking the bottom of my T-shirt, pulling it up over my head. I grit my teeth when I stretch the skin on my chest, breathing in deeply, exhaling slowly. My jeans are next, and I roll to my back, lifting my arse, wriggling free of them.
Desperate.
Both of us.
I remove my boxers, pull her knickers down, and ease myself down onto my front, burying my face between her thighs, ravenous. Her yelp of surprised pleasure echoes around the room, as does my groan of satisfaction, my senses getting a hit of her scent, the taste of her, the warmth. “You.”Lick. “Taste.”Suck. “So.”Bite. “Good.”
