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“Oh, Black, can I suggest a vacation?”
“I’ll be in touch.” I hang up and uncross my legs, standing.Fuck it.“We have a second shipment coming.”
“No shit,” Ringo grunts.
I have a weird moment, a flashback, my mind taking me back to that night on the beach after we found out we hadn’t killed The Bear and my wife lost her shit, basically throwing me out. I see myself, slumped on the sand, a bottle in my hand, my mobile at my ear. And I hear part of the conversation.
I want to double the order. You can deliver, can’t you, Chaka?
Otto coughs, knocking me from my thoughts. “And do we know how we’re taking this delivery yet?”
I glare at him, silently telling him to fuck off before I fuck him up.
James heads for the door. “I need to be somewhere.”
“You look like you’re in a rush.”
“I am.”
“We have the delivery to coordinate,” I call. “It was you who had this bright idea to keep the delivery to a Friday when the Coast Guard is training.”
“Just trying to keep all the criminals happy while staying alive,” James mutters, not stopping.
“Where are you going?” I yell.
“None of your business.”
I recoil, throwing a curious look to Otto, who shrugs, and to Goldie, who is still scowling. Am I the only one wondering what the fuck he’s up to?
12
ROSE
“Fuck it all to hell!” I mutter, staring at the bush that now has a hole in it the shape of Dolly’s hood. “Beau, I’m so sorry.” I turn to my friend, praying for forgiveness—fuck the bush. This car is sentimental. A hunk of junk but so sentimental.
Beau’s just staring at the car, and my heart sinks, as I reluctantly turn my eyes onto the paintwork to look at the damage.Oh God. Scratches. Everywhere. “I’ll pay for it to be fixed,” I tell her, ignoring the little part of my brain that’s asking me how the hell I’m going to do that without having to ask my husband for some cash. And I have a horrible realization in this moment. Awful! I have no money, not of my own. Everything has been signed over to me, yes, but I can’t get at it. I didn’t earn any of it. Work for it. God damn it, I’m still a prisoner. He controls me. All of me.
I feel a lump forming in my throat, and I hate myself for it when my best friend is staring at her most precious possession—something her mother gave her—that I have just crashed. I was supposed to be distracting her. I’m so fucking dumb. Beau turns her eyes onto me, and my lip wobbles, my mouth loading with a million apologies to pour. She jerks a little, as if snapping out of a daydream. “I’m so s—”
“Jesus, Rose, are you okay?” Beau dashes over to me and places both hands on my little bump, and I withdraw, taken aback.
“I’m fine,” I say. I hardly moved in my seat, felt no pressure on my tummy. “But Dolly isn’t.”
“Dolly’s fine. Are you sure you’re okay? The baby, does she feel okay?”
I still in front of her, my mouth falling open.
“Can you feel her moving?”
“It’s too early to feel movement,” I say quietly.
“It is?” Beau rubs circles on my tummy, as if trying to stimulate movement. And in answer, a mild flutter of bubbles pop as if telling me she’s okay. As if she knows my friend needs that reassurance.
“Oh my God, I felt her. She’s moving,” I say, laying my hand over Beau’s. She inhales, eyes full of wonder staring at me. She doesn’t even realize what she’s said in her panic. “Sheis fine.”
“Thank God,” Beau breathes smiling mildly. Then it drops, as do her hands from my stomach, and she steps back. “Oh shit.” Her hand slaps over her mouth, and I laugh. It’s too late for that.
“I’m having a girl?”
