My head goes into my hands, my brain about to explode. That’s it. I can kiss goodbye to any kind of happy families I might have secretly hoped for. It was one thing Dad suspecting James was physical with me. I could have proved otherwise. But there is nothing I can do to erase the past five minutes of weapons being flaunted and deadly threats being thrown.
“Beau,” Ollie says quietly. “Beau, I—”
“Just go, Ollie.” I exhale, begging him with all I have. “Go before they kill you.”
I back up toward the ladies’ restroom and disappear through the door, going to the mirror and roughly wiping my eyes. I have around two seconds alone before James charges in. “Don’t,” I warn, furious, unable to appreciate the immense ball of rage burning wildly before me. He’s caused me untold stress by barging in on my dinner. And himself, for that matter. As well as Danny. My father might have been shitting himself while Danny held him at gunpoint, but once he’s out of reach, his ego will kick in and he will be moving mountains and using his influence to get James and Danny thrown in jail. I would like to think he’d be doing that for me too, and he’ll no doubt play that card, but I know my father. It’ll be for his image more than anything, because God forbid anyone finds out that his ex-cop daughter is wrapped up in the criminal underworld of Miami.
“You’ve made this even more hard fucking work than it already was, James.” I move past him fast. Obviously, he makes a grab for me, but this time I don’t let him win, stealthily twisting and locking his arms, sending his gun to the floor. I rush up the stairs.
“Beau!”
I ignore him, marching through the restaurant, seeing all the tables are now without diners. There’s no staff either. Empty. But then, seeing two men like James and Danny charging through with guns would explain that.
“Beau!”
“Fuck off, James,” I yell, pushing my way out of the door, looking for Dad. I see Ollie pulling away and Dad getting into his car up the street. “Dad!” I can’t leave things like this. I can’t let him think I’m a doormat or even a victim. “Dad, wait.” He stalls at his car, watching me hurrying toward me. “Dad, please,” I say, coming to a stop, a little breathless.
“Beau, my darling, come home with me,” he pleads, his face soft, his worry real as he massages his chest.
“I can’t do that, Dad.”
“You can,” he insists, constantly looking past me to the restaurant, wary of what’s going to come charging out of the doors at any moment, gunning for him. “I’ll take care of you.”
I smile, but it’s sad. It’s like he’s brandishing words he thinks I need to hear. Problem is, even if they were the right words, it’s too little too late.
His phone rings, and he curses, taking the call, grimacing as he continues to rub circles on his chest.
“Dad, are you okay?” He looks ashen.
“Beau, for fuck’s sake,” James bellows, and I look back, seeing him and Danny piling out of the restaurant, still fucking armed.
“God damn it,” I mutter, torn between holding them back and seeing to my father.
“Just give me a minute,” I say to Dad, heading back toward James, set on calming him the hell down. Why the fuck are they here? Especially together.
I walk with intent, like no woman should walk toward two deadly men.
“Beau,” Dad calls, holding the side of his car, his body hunched.
I stop, worried. “Dad?”
“I’m fine,” he wheezes, trying to straighten himself and failing.
“Jesus.” Has my boyfriend given my dad a heart attack?
“Beau!” James yells, winning my attention.
Boom!
The front of the restaurant seems to swell, the sky lights up, windows shatter, glass sprays, and the sound pierces my eardrums. I scream, bringing my hands over my head to protect me from the flying debris. I stagger toward a nearby wall to lean on, my hands holding my ears with force, suppressing the exposure to the never-ending roar of noise. The flashbacks. The screams. The burning, unbearable heat. I see Mom’s car. I see her face the second before it blew up. “No!”
I look up, spinning on the spot, disorientated. The ringing in my ears is unbearable, my vision foggy. It’s all too familiar, but I can’t feel the blackness setting in. I can’t feel the pain. “James?” I yell, frantically searching the street. Panic pushes my shock aside. He was closer to the restaurant. Oh my God. “James!” I scream. The smoke is thick, car alarms wail, people scream. “James!”
“Beau.”
I gasp and move toward his voice, cutting the plumes of dense air with my body, coughing into my hand. The heat. God, the heat. “James?”
“Here,” he says. “I’m here.” He emerges from behind one of Danny’s Mercs, holding the side to hold himself up. All the windows have been blown out, the hood littered with broken bricks and glass. James’s face is smudged with soot, and he has a horrible hacking cough.
“Fuck me,” Danny splutters, getting up from the ground, his hands braced on his knees as he coughs his guts up.
“Fury,” I murmur, scanning the area. “Where’s Fury?”
Both James and Danny look to what remains of the restaurant, the flames billowing inside.
“Oh no,” I whisper, my hand coming up to my mouth. “No, no, no.”
“Beau, we need to get out of here,” James barks, seizing me.
“But Fury!” I wriggle and squirm in his hold, trying to pry his hands from around my waist as he drags me away.
“He’s here,” Danny yells, disappearing behind a mountain of rubble and emerging a few moments later with Fury staggering along beside him, hacking and choking. “Get in the car!”
My relief gets the better of me, emotion catching up, and I let out a wracked sob. It’s short-lived. “Dad,” I blurt, starting to fight James’s hold again. “My dad.” I’m suddenly facing the other direction, James having swung around, and I see my father holding on to the side of his car, looking completely stunned. He’s in shock. I break away, running toward him. “Dad,” I pant, making it to him, holding his suit-covered arms. “Dad, are you okay?”
“Beau, we need to go,” James barks.
“I can’t just leave him!” He’s a zombie, completely out of it.
“Fuck,” James curses, taking my father’s arm and guiding him to the passenger side of his car. “Where are your keys?”
Dad blinks rapidly, patting at his pockets absentmindedly. “I don’t know. I had them.”
I scan the sidewalk where he was standing and spot them in the gutter. “I’ve got them.” I dip, collecting them and throwing them across the roof of the car to James.
“Get in,” he orders me.
I do as I’m told and watch as James rounds Dad’s car, signaling to Danny up front, and as soon as he’s behind the wheel, he screeches off, throwing me back in my seat.
“Get your belt on, Beau,” he demands harshly, catching up to Danny as I slowly pull my belt across, shaken to my core, my ears ringing, my attention split between my raging boyfriend and my traumatized father.