I jump and look back when the door closes, finding a nurse in the room. She raises her hand in apology for waking me. “Time for some pain meds.” She moves to the other side of the bed and starts fiddling with Beau’s cannula as I look down at my watch. I’ve been out for only ten minutes.
“Russian?” I ask, detecting the remnants of an accent.
She smiles. “I’ve been in the States for twenty years, and I still can’t hide it.”
I watch as she tries to unscrew the cap, fiddling terribly, her hands shaking. I rewind back only half an hour, to when the other nurse pumped some morphine into Beau’s veins. I look up at the nurse. “Where’s Vera?”
She falters in her moves and doesn’t look at me to answer. “On her break.”
My eyes fall to her working hands again. “You okay there?”
She laughs. “Yes, they’re so fiddly.”
“Probably because you have no fucking idea what you’re doing.” I drop Beau’s hand and stand fast, pulling my gun and aiming it across the bed. “Put the syringe down.”
She drops it fast, eyes round, and backs up against the wall, her hands in the air. “Sir, please,” she cries, alarmed, shaking more now than before.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m a nurse.” She points to her name badge and quickly raises her hands again. “Please, sir, I’m just here to do my job.”
The door behind me bursts open, and Otto and Goldie appear, taking in the scene, both stunned. “What the fuck, Kel?” Otto says, his hand twitching, like he’s unsure whether he needs to draw or not. Truth be told, I don’t know either. My head is fucked, my eye off the ball, exhaustion still clouding my brain.
“I’ll show you my papers,” the nurse nods jerkily.
I blink, swallowing, trying to straighten out my mind. “Show me.”
“Okay, yes, I’ll show you.” She reaches for her pocket, and I start to relax. But then I see something turn in her eyes, and her stance changes, her hand going to her back rather than her trousers.
“Kel!” Otto bellows.
I close one eye, getting my aim straight, and squeeze the trigger, and she flies back into the wall before falling to the floor in a heap, wailing and crying, speaking a load of Russian shit I don’t understand.
“What the fuck?” I breathe, rounding the bed and going to her, grabbing the front of her uniform and yanking her up close to my face. “Who the fuck sent you?”
She snarls and spits in my face.
So I put a bullet between her eyes, and the echo seems to drag on forever. I slowly rise and look across to Goldie, who’s up against the door, stopping anyone from coming in. And Otto is staring. Just staring at the dead woman on the floor. “Place your bets on who sent her,” I say quietly. So maybe Sandy wasn’t in that factory when I popped off half a dozen Russians.
“I let her in,” Otto murmurs. “I fucking let her in.” His hands go into his hair. “Fuck!”
That’s it.
My time thinking is up. I get my mobile out and dial.
“What are you doing, Kel?” Goldie asks.
“I’m getting Beau out of here.” I go to her bed and gaze at her unconscious, oblivious face. And I realize now why the woman in this bed is unrecognizable to me. It’s not only because she looks sallow. It’s because she looks peaceful. I would do anything to maintain this look on her, but through my turmoil, my agony, I appreciate one thing. I can’t do that. I can’t take care of her and kill the enemy. I can’t even do it with Otto and Goldie by my side. It’s too much of a risk.
For the first time, I need to do things differently.
Which means revealing who I am.
The call connects, and Spittle gives me a wary hello. “Find me a doctor. The best,” I order.
“And what do I get in return?” he asks, sending my jaw into spasm. But . . . Beau.
“What do you want?”
He’s silent for a time, telling me that whatever he wants is pretty fucking colossal.
“Talk, Spittle.”
He inhales, building himself up to say it.
“I want you to kill Brad Black.”
65
BEAU
Rainbows and sunshine, smiles and contentment. I don’t know where I am, but I never want to leave.
No pain, no darkness, no fear, and no anger.
But also . . . no James.
That alone is enough for me to back away from the enticing light. And as I do, the pain starts to build deep in my tummy. The darkness begins to shroud the light. My smile starts to fall.
My eyes snap open, and I inhale, the air hitting my lungs and burning them. I can’t see. Can’t focus. Can’t breathe. Can’t move. Nothing will move.
“Beau?” My name is being spoken repeatedly, over and over. “Beau. Beau. Beau.”
My cheeks are suddenly encased. My wild, darting eyes still.
“Beau, baby, look at me. See me.”
I blink the blurriness from my vision, trying so fucking hard to do that. To see him. But where is he? I can hear him. I can feel him. But I can’t see him. “James?” I croak, willing life into my muscles. “I can’t move. I can’t see you.” Panic takes hold, my body not listening to me, not taking the instruction.
“I’m here.”
“Where?” I yell, my throat raw. “Where are you?” Take me back to the light. Take me back to rainbows and sunshine. The pain and darkness are only worth bearing if he’s here, and he’s not here. “James!”
I jolt on the bed, and I still, a tidal wave of pain ripping through me. I cry out, trying desperately to curb the agony by making myself small, by curling into a ball. But I can’t move. “I can’t fucking move!”
“Hey, hey, hey.”
There he is again. Speaking but not showing himself.
Enigma.
66
JAMES
I give the doctor a nod, and he moves in, putting more meds in her arm to calm her. I don’t know how many times I can let him do that. Knock her out. Stall her waking. Delay having to tell her we’ve lost our baby. That Dexter disappeared without a trace. That the man responsible for her mother’s death is still out there. That Nathan Butler is dead.
Beau settles immediately, and I rest her hand by her side, tucking in the sheets around her. I go back to the message on my screen.
Ready when you are.
“You cool?” I ask Goldie, and she nods her agreement, resting back in the chair, her eyes lasers on Beau’s sleeping form. “Call me if anything changes.”
“She’s perfectly stable, Mr. Kelly,” the doctor says, a refined looking fellow who happily came out of retirement to help. “Keeping her still and peaceful will only aid her recovery.”
“Thanks, Doc.” I breathe in and turn, making my way to the door of the hotel room. A fucking hotel room. I meet Otto outside.
“Kel,” he says, grumpy as hell, falling into stride next to me. “Why the fuck are you being so cagey?”
If Otto knew what we’re doing, where we’re going, I’d be staring down the barrel of his Glock before I got to the finer details. “Because you won’t like it,” I answer, staring forward, my pace determined.