“Speaking of which.” Esther comes to a stop up ahead, arms up, like ta-dah!
I stop in my tracks, stunned, as I stare at a Jeep tugging a trailer up the long driveway, two jet skis on the back.
“Sick!” Daniel gasps, breaking away and running toward them. “Oh my God, this is sick!”
I take in the two sparkling machines as I kick my legs to life, approaching the trailer as it comes to a gradual stop, while Daniel dances along the side, “oh my goshing” all over the place. Both are black, both Sea-Doos. I round the back and locate what I’m looking for, and my heart squeezes. One has “Mister’” scrolled across the back. The other “Kid.”
Matching jet skis for my man and my boy.
I look at Esther, and she smiles softly, before entering the house. “Surprise,” I murmur, completely shook.
“This is epic!” Daniel continues to leap and jump by the side of the trailer, looking about ready to pee his pants. “When can I take it out? Oh my God, I’m definitely gonna beat Mister now.” He dives at me, throwing his arms around my useless form. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Welcome.” All I can think about is guns. Bloodshed. Murder. I break away. “Go help Esther, okay? I’ll be in soon.”
He prances off as a young lad hops out the driver’s side, his long hair held back by a bandana, his shorts halfway down his ass. “I think he likes it,” he says, running a palm down the side of one of the jet skis.
“Who are you?”
“Leon.” He grins. “You must be Rose.”
“I am. What do you do for my husband?”
“Help run his jet ski business, of course.” He pulls out a smoke and lights up, kicking his dirty Converse back and leaning against the Jeep. Of course. The jet ski business.
I bend down by one of the jet skis and tap the side. It doesn’t sound hollow. It’s a good start. I rise, thinking, feeling eyes on me. I peek to my right and find Tank watching me closely. “What do you think?” I ask, motioning to the machine.
“Sick,” he grunts, and I laugh, then hear the sound of the gates sliding open. A convoy of cars drive through one by one, Danny’s Merc and James’s Range Rover in the middle of the long line.
“Not conspicuous at all,” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest. The cars come to a stop, and Danny emerges, looking like the absolute god he is. Strong. Powerful. Respected. I take him in from top to toe, his beige chinos, his crisp white shirt, as he slips on his shades.
He falters in his movements when he finds me. “Am I in trouble?” he asks, as all the men disperse.
I motion to the trailer. To the house. To Danny standing by enough flashy cars to make up a fleet to escort the president. “Daniel’s here.”
“I know.”
“And you think that’s a good idea?”
“I know it’s a bad idea for you not to see him.” He approaches slowly, perhaps a little wary. “You look off.” His palm lays across my forehead, his face concerned.
“I feel a bit queasy,” I admit. “It might have something to do with endless men wanting my husband dead or . . . dead.”
“I’ve told you before, I’m invincible.” He swings an arm around my shoulders. “You’ve met Leon then.”
I raise my brows at the boho kid. “He looks like he’ll fit right in,” I murmur, and Danny laughs, knowing I’m not talking about the gun side of his business, which is exactly why Leon’s been hired. He slots right into the façade. But my question is, does Leon know what else goes on at the boatyard? Of course he knows. He must have been there today when Danny’s delivery arrived.
“I’ll get these back to the yard, D-boss,” Leon says, turning another cheeky smile my way, bowing. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Black.”
“You too, Leon,” I say, watching him, full of beans, hop back into the truck and pull away.
Danny starts walking us into the mansion, Tank on our heels. “What have you been doing this morning?”
“What have you been doing?” I counter, holding his hand where it dangles over my shoulder.
“You know what I’ve been doing.” He pulls his glasses off and looks down at me with high, warning brows. “Now answer my question.”
I pout. “Beau’s been giving me a master class in shooting.”
“Oh?”
“I’m still quite shit.”
He laughs, and it’s my favorite laugh from him. Pure. Real. We enter the kitchen and find Daniel with his sleeves up, ready to plunge his hands into a bowl of ground beef. “Hey, Mister,” he chirps, his eyes lighting up when he sees Danny.
“Hey, kid.” Danny pulls a stool out and pushes me onto it, going to the fridge and fetching a bottle of water. He ruffles Daniel’s hair as he passes and drops a kiss onto Esther’s cheek as she chops onions. “What did you think of the skis?” Danny settles on a stool opposite my boy, holding my thigh with one hand and drinking his water with the other.
“It’s so sick, man.” Daniel’s hands plunge into the meat and start mixing in the onions as Esther scrapes them into the bowl off the chopping board. “Thanks, Mister.”
“Welcome. Maiden voyage soon?”
“When?” he asks, as keen as I knew he’d be. “Now?”
Danny laughs, while I break out in a sweat. Daniel at the boatyard? “Maybe next week,” I say, appeasing him, feeling Danny’s amused stare rooted on my profile. I’m glad he’s finding this funny. “Danny’s busy.” Plotting death.
I peek at Esther. She’s smiling at her onions. This was a terrible idea. Why am I the only person around here who seems to realize that? And what the hell did Hilary and Derek think about my mother-in-law showing up to collect Daniel? They must have been full of questions. Unless . . .
I look at Danny next to me, my eyes narrowing. He looks out the corner of his eye as he slugs back more water. Obviously gun smuggling and murder is thirsty work. “What?” he asks.
“You didn’t kidnap him, did you?” I whisper.
He rolls his eyes. “No, I didn’t kidnap our boy.”
Our boy. The circumstances of Daniel’s arrival is suddenly forgotten. He’s our boy. My heart squeezes, happy and sad. I want him here, of course. All the fucking time, I want him here, and yet I know that’s impossible.
My cell rings, and Danny looks down at the screen. “The gate?” he asks.
“It’ll be the tent company.” I answer and instruct Bud to direct them to the main house. “I’ll meet them on the drive.” Hanging up, I set my eyes on my husband. “I’m glad you’re back,” I say, and he peeks at me with a little fear.
“Why?”
“I need help deciding where the tent will be.” I definitely detect a miniscule drop of his shoulders. “Come on,” I say quickly before he can object, getting up and heading for the kitchen door. I’m met by Ringo and Otto, their frames filling the doorway, halting my escape. They look straight past me to Danny, and I glance over my shoulder, seeing him nod mildly and get up. “You said you’d help,” I whine dejectedly, deflating.