My arse on the chair is numb, my eyes unmoving from the speck of dirt on the floor a few feet away. I don’t know how much time has passed. It’s an effort to turn my eyes to check. To lift my wrist to see my watch.
Save her. The two words circle my head persistently. I focus on only them, because letting my mind go elsewhere would be dangerous.
Save her. Save her. Save her.
I hear the door open, but my eyes remain locked on the speck of dirt. “I’m sorry, Kel,” Goldie says, softer than I’ve ever heard her speak before. “We lost him. I got his license plate number.”
“BMW?”
“Yeah.”
“Leave me,” I order, not needing to hear anymore. They didn’t chase him down. They didn’t catch the fucker so I could torture him until he passes out. But I’ll find him. I refuse to die until I do. “And make sure Nathan Butler is still being watched.”
The door closes, and I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, taking my head in my hands. God help the world if I lose her.
God. Fucking. Help. It.
I stand abruptly, starting to circle the room, forcing my breathing into steadiness, shaking the burn out of my twitching hands. Calm. Give me calm.
No calm.
I roar and upend a table, picking it up and launching it out of the window. It shatters, and glass sprays the room, pelting me with shards.
Still no calm.
The chairs follow the table.
My fist sinks into the wall.
I kick and punch anything is sight, completely unhinged, finding no peace in this fucked-up world.
“Mr. Kelly!”
I spin, heaving like a raging bull, the red mist thick.
“For fuck’s sake, Kel.” Otto appears next to the doctor by the door. I can just make them out through the fogginess of my vision, both of them taking in the carnage. “I’ll ensure this is all taken care of,” Otto assures the doctor. “My apologies.”
“Miss Hayley is out of surgery,” the doctor says, tentative and wary.
The fog clears. Hope has arrived.
I’m almost too scared to ask. “And . . .”
“We removed the bullet from Beau’s abdomen. She’s stable.”
I fall back against the wall, my knees giving way. Stable. She’s stable. I slide down the wall, the relief too much, but the doctor doesn’t look as relieved as I feel. He doesn’t look like a man delivering good news. I hold his eyes, once again scared to ask. “The baby?”
He swallows, backing out of the room. Getting out of my line of fire. “I’m afraid there was nothing we could do to save your baby, Mr. Kelly. I’m very sorry. The blood loss, the trauma. I’m afraid the pregnancy ended while Beau was in surgery.”
I stare blankly at the doctor, my head bobbing mildly, nodding, agreeing.
Accepting?
Never.
“She’s in recovery now,” he goes on. “You can see her.” He casts his eyes across the room, assessing the damage. There’s nothing else for me to destroy in here. But out there?
“Kel,” Otto says quietly, and I look at him blankly. “You should go to her.”
“Worried what else I might do?” I ask, slowly dragging myself to my feet. “Because you should be.” I pass him, heading for Beau, trying not to plot every move I’m going to make until I can make it. Until Beau is well. “I have some things I need you to do,” I call back. There’s nothing to stop me preparing.
I turn at the end of the corridor and see Lawrence and Beau’s ex up ahead, both still looking like they’ve seen ghosts. “She’s out of surgery,” I say as I pass them. Lawrence, naturally, is on my tail, though Ollie, wisely, remains where he is, waiting for an invitation to visit her. He’ll never get that invitation. “Are you okay?” I ask Lawrence over my shoulder as I walk, trying to be sensitive. The man looks like death warmed up, his face puffy, his eyes red.
“Don’t worry about me,” he says, his voice wobbly. “Beau is my priority right now.”
“We’ve lost the baby.” The words come from nowhere, and I slow at the door to Beau’s room, staring at the wood.
“I’m very sorry.” Lawrence has given up trying to keep his emotions in check, but I’m under no illusion that his sorrow is for me.
“I’m going to kill your husband,” I vow, taking the handle, bracing myself, breathing deeply. “For what he’s done to Beau, to her mother, to me. I’m going to kill him.” Lawrence needs to know this isn’t over. He needs to be prepared.
“Who are you, James?” he asks on a snivel. “Really, who are you? You tried to save Jaz. You turn up in her daughter’s life years later. Tell me who you are.”
I turn to face him, taking no pleasure from the mess of a man he is. “Just see me as the man who saves your niece, Lawrence. That’s all you need to know.”
He swallows and nods. “May I?” he asks, nodding to the door past me.
“Give me five minutes,” I say, though he knows it’s not a question. I’m simply maintaining some civility for the sake of Beau. He accepts without fuss, and I turn to the door, spending a good few minutes bracing myself again. Tamping down the threatening rage before I look at her. Look at her and see the damage that’s been done because of me.
Pushing my way in, I stall when I see a nurse by her bed adjusting the line into Beau’s arm. She looks up and smiles in that way I expect they do to all loved ones whose closest are so desperately ill. “You must be James,” she says, taking a syringe to the cannula. “I’m Vera. I’ll be looking after Beau while she’s here in recovery.”
I close the door and focus on the liquid in the syringe getting lower, hearing the constant, consistent beeps from the machinery. I can’t bring myself to look at Beau, truly petrified of the further anger I will feel. “What’s that?” I ask, standing motionless on the other side of the room, scared to even get closer.
“Morphine.” She finishes up and drops the needle in a clinical waste bin. “It’ll keep her comfortable.” Pulling off her gloves, she makes a few notes before offering me a small smile. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Thanks,” I say, my eyes now on my boots. I hear the door close gently, and I will myself to man the fuck up and look at her. Or even just get closer to her. It takes more mental preparation than anything has taken me before, and when I finally lift my burning eyes and see her, the heat inside rises to a full-blown inferno. It doesn’t look like Beau. The woman on the bed, pasty in complexion, her skin gray and lifeless, does not look like the woman I’ve fallen in love with. And that just makes me angrier. I swallow down the fireball in my throat and lift my heavy feet, feeling like I’m trudging through thick mud as I cross the room and lower into the chair beside her bed. I gingerly reach for her hand. She’s warm. It’s the only thing I recognize. Her warmth. But there’s no sizzling when our skin touches. She doesn’t tense. Her eyes won’t shimmer and her lips won’t part with want.
Calm down, Kel.
“I won’t rest until justice is served, baby,” I promise quietly. “Justice our way.” And it’s going to be my bloodiest death yet. Lifting her hand to my mouth, I kiss the back, breathing her into me. But all I can smell is antibacterial liquid. Not Beau’s light, sweet, fruity scent. As if I need anything more to increase my motivation to kill.