“Depends if it’s with you.”
“It’s not.”
“Then no.” She turns her attention to the TV and continues popping grapes in her mouth. “You’re not locking me in your glass bathroom in your glass house so you can go on a killing spree, Mr. Glass.”
I scowl at her profile. If anyone could hear us. “Then I’ll have Goldie watch you,” I mutter, just loud enough for her to hear, going to my mobile. I’m about to have two pissed-off women on my back.
“No,” Beau yells, scrambling up from the couch and making her way to the kitchen.
I ignore her and return to my call when I hear Goldie’s voice. “I need you to watch Beau.”
“No,” she says over a laugh.
Beau’s smug face is perfectly slappable. “See?” she says. “Even Goldie thinks it’s a terrible idea.”
So they’re allies now? Typical. “Fine, I’ll ask Otto.”
“No,” Otto says, stepping off the elevator with Goldie.
I growl, pointing my mobile at them. “One of you is watching her. I’ll give you ten minutes to decide who.” I turn and stalk away. I’ve got shit to do, and here I am arguing with people who are supposed to work for me about who’s going to babysit my girlfriend while I go on a killing spree. Why can’t she be a regular woman? One who wants to stand behind me and be protected.
Because then you wouldn’t have fallen in love with her, you dickhead.
I shake my head and take the stairs fast, going to my dressing room, hearing Beau running after me. “I’m coming with you,” she declares, and I laugh my way into a pair of trousers. “I fucking am,” she says, underpinning her defiance.
I approach her as I zip my fly, bending and getting my face up close to hers. “You’re. Fucking. Not.” I slam a kiss on her lips and feel her body folding, but her arm remains at her side, defiantly refusing to seize me.
“I don’t want you to go,” she murmurs into my mouth, sounding truly worried. I pull back, thrown, and see pure fear. This is new. I study her closely, and she drops her eyes, as if trying to hide her uncertainty. “I think it’s my hormones or something,” she murmurs. “I’m feeling weirdly scared.”
I pull on a shirt and start buttoning it up. “Your boyfriend’s The Enigma.”
“Not anymore, are you?” she retorts. “Because someone knows who you fucking are, so we need to think of another name to scare the shit out of the people you’re going to hunt down.”
“You’re so cute.”
“Fuck off.”
“It’s not safe, Beau.”
“Exactly, which is why you should stay here.”
I fasten a tie and pull on my jacket. For years, I’ve only ever had Otto and Goldie to worry about me. Not that they ever have. They know of my capabilities. My determination. “I’ll be fine.”
“Why are you wearing a suit?” she asks, looking me up and down, her confusion obvious. I go to the safe at the back of my wardrobe, punch in the code, and pull out my Beretta. “A suit and a gun.”
I smile and check it over before slipping it into the back of my trousers. “Would you prefer a suit and no gun?”
With her jaw twitching, she swivels and marches to the bed, dropping to her back, and while I’d love to go and smother her with some reassurance, regrettably, I don’t have time. I back out of the room, and she drops her head to the side, watching me go. Silent. But her hand falls to her stomach to remind me that it’s not just her here waiting for my safe return.
I take two fingers to my lips and kiss them, holding them up. And then I leave her. And it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
I stop by my office to collect a few things, and when I make it to the top of the stairs, Goldie and Otto are in a full-blown row. “It’s because I’m a woman, isn’t it?” Goldie more or less growls, poking Otto in his shoulder. “You think I should stay here and be the babysitter because I’m a woman.”
I fasten the button of my jacket, watching them.
“I’m not sexist,” Otto mutters, stalking to the elevator.
“No? He who’s buying a fucking villa and filling every room with women.”
“I like variety.”
“Good,” Goldie barks, stomping after him. “Then you can stay and watch the pregnant girl.”
“Pregnant?” Otto blurts.
“Oops.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, taking the stairs. “You two done?”
They both turn, silenced for a few moments. “She’s pregnant?” Otto asks. “Then you’re definitely babysitting,” He steps into the lift and pulls his gun, aiming it at Goldie. “I don’t do hormonal women.”
“Bastard,” she seethes.
“Shut up and listen,” I order, loading the security app on my iPad. “I want you in the lobby,” I say, moving my gaze over both of them, since it’s still not confirmed who’s staying to watch the pregnant woman.
“Got it,” Goldie replies. She’s relented.
“I’ll make sure everywhere is clear before we leave.” I step into the elevator with them and hit the button for the ground floor. “Give me a lift.”
Otto cups his hands and holds them out, but before I get a chance to use them as a launch pad, Goldie shoulder barges him out of the way. I laugh to myself and her need to prove a point as I step onto her hands and push through my knee to reach the elevator hatch. I pull my gun, pop the ceiling tile, and slide it across, peeking through. Nothing. “There’s a remote camera in my bag. Pass me it.”
“There’s a good boy, Otto,” Goldie says.
“Fuck off, witch.”
For the love of God. I dip and get them both in my sights. “Shut the fuck up before I shut you the fuck up.” Ironic. They both shut the fuck up. Otto passes me the camera, and I hoist myself up higher. The mechanics of the lift clank and whirl, carrying us down, and I stretch to reach the bare brick wall. I see an iron support bar nearing, and I activate the magnet on the camera. The moment it’s in reach, I stretch farther and slip it onto the edge as the lift passes. Done.
I grunt as I drop back into the lift. “That gives you a three-sixty view of the shaft, up and down. Keep it on the screen.” I tune in the live footage and hand Goldie a phone. “Keep the rest of the block on the screens in the foyer, and I want every room in my apartment on here. I hand her the iPad. “The glass is all clear. Do not let her out of your sight.” I’ve never been concerned about security—my building is like Fort Knox—but since the breach, I’m twitchy, despite all the extra measures that have been put in place.
The doors open, and I stride out, Otto on my heels. “Dare I ask who you’re going to kill?”
I don’t answer.
61
BEAU
If I walk around this apartment one more time, I’m going to fall through the floor from the hole I’ve worn doing laps. I stop at the foot of the glass wall spanning one side of James’s apartment, looking at the barrier between me and the view of Miami. The cars would be dots, if I could see them. The people mere specks.