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His fingers skim my lips. “Shh. I know now you were saving him but at the time that’s how I felt. I carried the sketches in my journal for months. One of my buddies lost his life, and someone said he had told them earlier that he didn’t have anyone to fight for. He was orphaned and bounced around in foster care. At that moment, I knew I had someone to fight for…you. The next day I took it to a tattoo artist.”
“But you couldn’t look at me every day, so you had the artist put it on your back. Is that right?”
Beau kisses me softly, the opposite of how he took me against the wall. The slight movement of his head is my answer.
“Get up. We’re going to get new tattoos.”
“Now? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Beau Landry, we are twenty-six not seventy-six. Get dressed.” I stand up and throw on the jeans, tank, and cardigan that I’m wearing home tomorrow. I march down the hallway to Beckett’s room and wake him up. He’s not bleeding, and he’s conscious, so all is good.
We end up downtown off of Broadway. Beckett draws the picture of what we want inked on our skin, and when it’s over, we walk out with matching tattoos of an ornate infinity sign with waves, cresting foam, and little doodles that make the water seem like it's moving. It represents life is always changing, and sometimes you have to wait for the water to crest and fall back into place.
All of us had it placed on the front of our hips, to remind us that the bonds we share are forever and can’t be broken.
Daybreak has broken out across the city and the sunrise glimmers across the buildings. Some people are just heading to bed, like us. And some are ready to start their day. As we enter the hotel, Beau receives a call that we need to head to the hospital. Rome is out of surgery, stable and talking.
The good news is Beckett can’t be tried for attempted murder, even though I don’t think it would come to that with all the evidence the police have of Rome and Mr. Fitch’s plan and Beckett has been cleared to leave.
When we arrive at the hospital, there’s a policeman stationed outside Rome’s door. He asks our names, checks a list and lets us in. Beau’s phone keeps pinging with messages. “Mrs. Potts is handling all of the inquiries and notified the insurance company,” Beau says, making sure everything is organized. I love that about him.
I pump my hand in his, letting Beau know how much I appreciate him. “Thank you.”
A woman is standing over Rome, holding his hand. The room is eerily silent, and when Beau’s phone dings again, he reads the message. It startles the woman, and she peers over her shoulder.
My mouth falls open, unable to believe my eyes. “Mom?”
Shocked that I’m looking at an older version of me, except her eyes are hazel. Same curly, blonde hair.
She doesn’t respond. We’re in the same room and she still has nothing to say.
The police walk in, I assume to speak with Rome. Beau bursts out, “Why would you do this to your daughter? Not being a mother is one thing but setting her up is another.”
My eyes deadpan on the person who gave birth to me.
The police get out their handcuffs as they’re talking. “Mrs. Lennox, you’re under arrest for felony arson, conspiracy to commit arson, fraud….”
Mrs. Lennox?
That’s all I hear. My mom had my warehouse set on fire? My mom is Rome’s stepmom?
Beau urges, “Come on, babe. Let’s go.”
“No,” I scream. “Mom, why do you hate me?”
She laughs like I’m the one being arrested. “I don’t hate you. I didn’t want to be trapped in that town.”
“But why would you do this?”
Beau blurts out, “I’m guessing Mr. Lennox is the owner of Devil’s Due Bourbon purchased privately under another name. It was done so general inquiries or searches wouldn’t name him as owner.” Ben’s team did a quick dive into databases that aren’t available to me.
I finished his thought because I’ve done my homework. “Devil’s Due is a luxury brand of bourbon. You were scared that I would take your market share with Barron’s 12.”
The police escort her from the hospital room. “Rome, why would you do this? I never did anything to you. We were friends when we went to college.”
“Because if I didn’t, Dad was going to take my clubs away. He said he would put them in my name if I did this. I’m sorry. I tried to get you to partner with Mr. Fitch, but you had bigger ideas.”
“Where’s my dad?” I scream. “Where is he? Where’s your dad?” My voice waivers. I’m so exhausted, but I need to find my dad.
