“Thirty?” she blurts. “Fuck me, is that how many men you’ve killed?”
My lips straighten, and she pouts.
“I don’t know about any safety deposit box. Or key.” She looks truly sorry about that. “So what now?”
I pull her in, smoothing her hair from her face. “I find another way.”
“You kill more men,” she says quietly. “Before they kill you.”
Basically, yes. All while keeping Beau safe too.
59
BEAU
I sink my teeth into the toast and chew slowly, staring at the kitchen window. There’s no view today, the glass still frosted, closing me in. Keeping us safe. On one hand, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. On the other, I feel even heavier than before. A key. A box. It’s driving me insane.
And Nath.
I don’t want to believe it’s true, and yet it makes sense. His reluctance to help me. His evasiveness. His weird behavior recently. His dislike for James—a man he’s never even met. I need to know what the hell happened to get him in up to his eyeballs. And, maybe, convince James to let him live. I’m not a monster, after all. But James . . .
My cell starts dancing across the counter. “Oh no,” I mumble around my toast, leaning back.
“Who is it?”
I twirl around and find James coming down the stairs. He’s still in his boxers. I’m still in his T-shirt. All morning, he’s not let me leave his sight, except for just now, when he used the bathroom. But I know he had the cameras up on his phone the whole time.
“My uncle.” I brush my hands off, not only to get rid of the crumbs. “I need to build up to that conversation.”
“What conversation?” James asks, giving my thigh a squeeze as he passes me to the fridge. “That I’m a cold-blooded killer?”
“Stop it.” I roll my eyes and turn on my stool to face him across the island. “You’re not cold-blooded.”
“Hot-blooded?” He gives me high brows, downing some water, and I laugh. Then James stills, the water in midair. “What?” I ask, suddenly worried. Did he hear something? See something? I glance around his apartment.
“I’ve never seen you laugh before,” he says quietly. And it occurs to me. I’ve never seen him laugh either. Nor have I heard him. “Do it again.”
“What, laugh?” I ask, and he nods. “I can’t just laugh on demand.”
He pouts and sets his bottle of water aside, and I see something in James that’s new. Mischief. “Laugh,” he orders, leaning across the island, his eyes glimmering.
“I can’t just laugh.”
He hums, drumming his fingers, his mischief growing.
“Whatever you’re planning on doing,” I say, tilting my head, “don’t do it.”
He tilts his right back, and just as I’m bracing myself to run, his arm shoots across the island at lightning speed and seizes me. I gasp. James grins. “I saw you moving before you thought to move yourself,” he says, far too smugly, staring me down across the island, his hold of my wrist solid. I’m not concerned.
“You’ll have to release me to get around the island to me,” I point out haughtily. “And then I’ll run.”
“Who says I have to release you?”
“Oh.” I nod, looking as sarcastic as could be. “Do they call you Mr. Tickle, as well as The Enigma?”
He can’t restrain his smile. Neither can I. “Tickle,” he muses, and I solidify on my stool. No. No tickling. I can’t stand it. He needs to release me to get to me, and as soon as he does, I’m out of here. I’ll lock myself in his bathroom. Just as I think that, James braces a hand into the counter and launches himself up.
“Oh,” I murmur as he flies across the island. Literally. He didn’t even jolt my arm. One swift swivel and drop has him on the stool next to me, my wrist still in his hold. Fuck it. I lift my cast. “This is a white flag.”
And there it is. A laugh. It’s rich and deep and like a balm to my broken heart. And that’s just the sound. The sight makes me fall a little harder. I sit, admiring him, lost, dazed. Stunning.
Once he’s gathered himself, James stands me up and walks me back to the rug by the window. He silently lowers me to my back and sits over my thighs. Not my stomach, but my thighs.
I’m rigid beneath him, unable to appreciate his gorgeous form or his twinkling eyes. “Please don’t,” I beg.
“Then laugh,” he whispers, and I tilt my head back, clenching my eyes closed.
“I can’t just laugh.”
“Try.”
“Ha!” I blurt like a fool. “Hahahahaha!”
“Lame.” He digs me under my arm, and I burst into a fit of hysterics.
“No!” Oh my Jesus, torture! “Stop,” I splutter over my laugh. “Please, stop.”
He does, and I’m surprised. Then he shoots up, and I’m worried. “What is it?” I ask.
“The sensor on the front entrance,” he says, going to his cell and checking a few things before taking it to his ear. “Visitors? Who?” he asks, coming back to me, his pace faltering. “Oh?” He holds his hand out for me, and I take it and let him pull me to my feet. I’m not grateful I got off lightly. I’m too concerned by these visitors.
He hangs up, his lips straightening. “You have visitors.”
“Oh no,” I breathe, pacing to the kitchen and getting my cell. I find three missed calls and a message threatening to come here. “Shit.” I slam it down. “Time to be roasted.”
“That’s not fucking funny, Beau,” James mutters, collecting me and guiding me to the stairs.
I don’t have the mental capacity to be remorseful of my choice of words. “I think it’s best I see him alone.”
“Forget it,” he snaps.
I grimace at the space before me. “Don’t be so unreasonable.”
James releases me from his hold when we make it to the bedroom and goes into his dressing room, while I scratch around for something to throw on. He comes out moments later in his jeans, dragging a T-shirt over his head. He’s grouchy, and my inappropriate comment isn’t the only reason. He has bigger issues than my family politics.
“Worried I’ll let them convince me to walk away?” I ask, removing my T-shirt.
James laughs under his breath, then falters, his eyes climbing my body to my face. He scowls. “No.”
I sigh. “Can we agree on one thing?”
“Depends what it is.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, what’s got into you? You’re behaving like a petulant school boy.” It’s actually quite hilarious, this heartless killer sulking like a brat. I pull my shirt on and start buttoning it with one hand. “I’m not telling them about this.” I take my index fingers and point them at my stomach. “Not yet.”
James stalks toward me and stops, dropping a kiss on my cheek. “Agreed.” He heads toward the bathroom, leaving me a little shell-shocked in the middle of his room.
“Oh,” I say to myself, going to the bed and sitting on the edge. That was easier than I thought it would be.