“Like?”
“Like hints that The Brit isn’t dead. And when he realized he’d let on you’re alive, he tried to kill Brad to cover his arse and came to me when he failed. So I asked myself, why wouldn’t he just wait for The Bear to kill Brad?”
“Because The Bear won’t kill Brad.” Black shakes his head, his lip close to curling. “Because he wants Brad to lead him to me.”
“And then you’d find out Spittle’s blown your cover and kill him.”
“So he didn’t expose me intentionally.”
“No,” I say, forcing my body into relaxing. “Does that mean you’re not going to kill him?”
“All in good time,” he muses, looking like he’s already plotting Spittle’s demise.
“Like when? He’s stupid, and stupid people can be dangerous.” That’s been proven.
“Are you stupid, James?”
“I’m sitting here. Of course I’m fucking stupid. But I’m owning it.”
He laughs lightly. “I’ve not met many men I’ve liked instantly.”
“I’ve met none,” I reply, and he regards me coolly, nodding. Understanding.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t end you now, turn Spittle inside out, and kill The Bear myself.”
“You don’t know who the Bear is. No one does.”
“And you do?”
“No.” I lean forward, making sure he hears what I’m about to say clearly. “But I have a personal investment.” My head tilts. “He killed my family. He ordered the death of my girlfriend’s mother. So I know you hear me when I say I’d be fucked right off if I don’t get to look that motherfucker in the eye before I end him. For him to see me. To know who I am. To know why he’s dying.” I have to pause to take a breath, my skin sizzling with that unrelenting need again. Danny Black sits quietly, observant, watching me fighting to control my rage. And something deep and potent tells me he gets it. He comprehends. But just in case . . .
I stand and turn, pulling my T-shirt up, exposing my back. “I will burn him alive. Listen to him squeal like a pig. I need vengeance. But more than that, Beau needs it. And I will bring her peace.” Dropping my T-shirt, I turn to face him. “Are we clear?”
His face is poker straight, but I see the respect looking back at me. “Meet me in my office,” he says, his eyes stuck to mine, his mind obviously spinning.
I nod, leaving Danny Black on the balcony, undoubtedly considering his options. He knows he only has one.
Come back to life.
Beau is still looking dazed in bed when I enter the room, and in an attempt to distract myself from the burn inside, I go to her, taking one of her legs and starting her physio routine. I can feel her studying me. Hear her silent questions.
But she says nothing. Nothing except, “I love you.”
My working hands falter, and I look up. Her eyes shine, life in them somewhere. I’ll bring it back to the surface, I swear it, and if I’m going to have to leave her while I hunt, I have to know something . . .
I lower her leg to the bed and round the side, settling on the mattress and taking her hand. “If I asked you to marry me, would you accept?”
“No,” she says, straight up, no fucking about. And she’s smiling.
“Why?”
“I was a cop. I can’t marry an assassin.”
“But you can fuck one? Kill with one?” Have a baby with one?
Her tiny scowl is cute. “We don’t need to get married.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Validation.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t need it.” She laughs lightly, looking over to the French doors. “I can’t believe he’s alive.”
I balk, taking her chin and redirecting her face to mine. “Answer me.”
“I already did.”
“A different answer.”
“No. I’m not marrying you.” Her head tilts, her expression firm, as are her words. “The end.”
“I’m about to go to war, Beau.”
“Then don’t.”
“I—” There’s a knock at the door, and I growl, getting up. “We’re not done,” I call back.
“Incorrect,” she says as I swing it open. Danny Black stands before me, and Goldie and Otto are behind him, looking every bit as stunned as Beau did.
“You should get used to that,” I say, motioning behind him.
He looks over his shoulder, interested. “I was just heading down to my office,” he says, and I nod, thoughtful. He didn’t need much time to weigh up his only option.
“Give me five.” I shut the door and turn around, puffy chested. I’m injured. “I want a valid reason why.”
Her weak body visibly sags. “I don’t have much faith in vows.” Her nose wrinkles, and I’m not sure whether it’s in discomfort or simply speaking of marriage. Both? Her parents. Her father cheated. Betrayed. That’s not me, but I haven’t got time to convince her of that right now. I stride over, drop a kiss on her forehead. “We’re still not done.”
I walk away and swing open the door, finding Goldie and Otto whispering. They quickly stop, and I quickly hedge my bets on who will hit me first with their what the fucks?
“What the fuck?” they say in unison, both of them pointing limp hands down the corridor, where I expect Danny Black has just wandered away.
“I’ll explain.”
“We’re definitely done,” Beau calls. “I’m not marrying you.”
I show the ceiling my palms and Goldie and Otto my despair. “She’s just playing,” I say to their stunned faces, making tracks down the corridor.
“Where are you going?” they ask as I go.
“To make a deal with a dead man,” I murmur, rolling my shoulders, every inch of my back tingling.
The door to his office is open when I get there, and Danny Black is sitting at the helm.
Behind his desk.
In the chair Brad wouldn’t take.
Because it was still his boss’s seat.
He motions to the chair opposite, and I take it while he pours two Scotches. “How is she?”
“Still difficult.” I accept the glass he hands me and hit the side of his.
“Cheers,” he replies, smiling around the rim. “You should take her away,” he suggests, waving a hand indifferently. “Give her some attention.” He quirks an eyebrow. “I have a place, just say the word. Look at it as a welcome gift.”
“A welcome to what?”
“My home,” he says, although I expect there’s more to it than that. “And speaking of gifts . . .” He nods at the door, and I turn, just as it opens.
I slowly lower the glass to the table, the heat rising from my toes to my head.
Dexter falls into the room.
“Where did you find him?” I ask, unbending my body from the chair, taking in the pathetic, disheveled piece of shit.
“One of my men got lucky,” Black says, simple as that. There was no luck. I imagine there was blackmail, threats, but no luck.
He’s crying, snot everywhere, his complexion gray, blood staining his thigh. Fuck, hold me back.