She seems to snap out of a daydream and whirls around, a smile appearing like she could have just pulled it off the shelf and slapped it on her face. “Oh, hey.”
Oh, hey? I’ve been running around this store like a jerk for over ten minutes, and all she’s got to say is oh hey? “Tank’s losing his shit.”
“I forgot something.”
“What?” I ask, scanning the shelf of ladies’ cosmetics. No kids’ cleats in sight.
She quickly snatches some shaving cream down and holds it up, but it starts to lower slowly, her smile falling. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? No, I’m not fucking okay, but not because I’m up to my eyeballs in frantic shoppers. “I’m fine. I thought . . .” I don’t know what I thought. “I was worried.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to screw my head back on.
“Well, I’m fine.” Rose marches past me, and I frown, following her path, just as Tank comes charging around the corner like a rhino. “I’m here, I’m alive,” she sings sarcastically. “Call off the search party.”
Tank looks about ready to rip her head off as I follow them, wary, until we make it back to Zinnea. “There you are!” she screeches, rushing over and checking me from head to toe. “What happened?”
“Drama over nothing.” Rose claims her cart and heads to the checkouts. “I forgot my shaving cream, that’s all.”
“Sorry,” I say to Fury as I pass him before he has a chance to lay into me, my eyes never leaving Rose’s back. She starts loading her things onto the belt as Tank moves to the other end, and Zinnea reluctantly heads to the next checkout. “Will you help my aunt?” I ask Fury, who proceeds to mentally gage the distance between Zinnea and me.
He eventually plods off, and I move in on Rose. “Here, let me help.” I dip into her cart and collect the shaving cream. “Just what a woman needs when her husband’s confiscated all blades within a ten-mile radius,” I say just loud enough for her to hear. Lips pursed, she avoids my eyes, so I continue, dipping back into the cart, my hand landing on a box.
Rose seizes my wrist, and I still, looking up. Her focus is set firmly on me. She smiles. “I’ve got it.”
I shake off her hold, moving a soccer ball, revealing a . . . “What the fuck, Rose?” I whisper, snapping my eyes to hers.
“Shhhh,” she hisses, grabbing the pregnancy test and putting it on the belt under a bunch of sport socks. “I need you to go to the other end and make sure Tank doesn’t see this.”
I stare at her, a million questions parading through my mind, none of which I can ask now. So I do as she’s asked and go to the other end, making sure I’m in front of Tank. As soon as the cashier scans the box, I snatch it from her hand and stuff it in a bag, smiling awkwardly at her alarm. “Thanks.” I peek cautiously out the corner of my eye to Tank. He’s oblivious, his attention split between the mundane task of packing and Rose at the other end of the checkout. Peeking the other way, I find Zinnea chatting happily to her packing partner, Fury. I don’t know how I’m going to keep my mouth shut until we get home.
Rose pays, then claims the bag containing the test, and smiles meekly, stuffing it in her purse. “Thank you.”
“Rose, what—”
“Ready, darlings?” Zinnea sings, pulling the cart as Fury pushes.
I bite my tongue, giving Rose a look to suggest we’re not done. “Ready,” I breathe as she bowls past me. I rush to catch up. “Rose, you have to tell Danny,” I whisper, keeping close to her side, peeking back to make sure the Vikings and Zinnea are out of range.
“I’m sure I’m worried over nothing. I didn’t want to say anything to you.”
“Why?” I ask, injured. “I’m your friend.”
“You’ve been through so much.” She shakes her head mildly, and I fold with guilt, hating that she’s shouldered this bombshell on her own.
“This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” She smiles mildly. It’s a bit of an insult. “I can’t be pregnant.”
I return my attention forward, trying so hard to look casual. Normal. It’s hard when my head’s reeling. “Then why—” I snap my mouth shut when something catches my eye across the store, just entering. Or someone. “Shit,” I murmur, fighting to maintain my pace.
“What?”
“That man,” I say, not pointing. “The one in the royal blue suit by the entrance.”
Rose does a stellar job of appearing uninterested. “What about him?”
“There was a photo of him on Danny’s desk.” I keep us walking, trying to split my attention between the Vikings and Zinnea behind us, and the man I recognize up ahead.
“I saw a photo on Danny’s desk,” Rose says quietly. “That’s not him.”
“They probably have a drawerful of photos, Rose.” All men on their list. It’s not like James can keep them on the screens in his apartment anymore. I reach into my purse and feel around for my cell, pulling up the camera when I find it.
“What are you doing?” Rose hisses, nervously looking over her shoulder.
“I’m taking a picture.” I curse under my breath, the image too grainy. “I need to get closer.”
“Are you insane?” Rose tries to steer me toward the door, but I’m persistent. “Beau, for fuck’s sake, he could be anyone.”
“I just need to get a little closer.”
“Yes, great. Let’s get closer so he sees us, recognizes us, and kills us.”
“Stop being dramatic,” I say, my eyes rooted to the blue-suited man. “What’s he doing?” He’s hovering by the Minute Key kiosk, looking a bit twitchy, a bunch of keys being tossed in his hand.
“Why don’t you go ask him?” Rose mutters, her body pushing into mine as I continue to try and direct us closer, my phone ready to snap a picture. It’s definitely him. Mid-thirties, short, slick black hair, a patchy beard.
“Beau,” Fury calls from behind, and I wince, weighing up the merits of ignoring him.
“Just grabbing something,” I call back, scanning the area for anything I can actually grab.
“Oh my God, we’re going to die,” Rose whispers.
“Rose!” Tank yells.
Jesus, will they stop shouting our fucking names?
“Coming,” she calls. “Beau, for Christ’s sake, James will kick your ass.”
“Rose, fuck knows how long the list of men they need to kill is. The quicker they get it done, the quicker we get out of here and back to St. Lucia.” I stop and look at her. “Don’t you want that?”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times, as my words, all true words, sink in. I see an air of determination creep into her. I see her hand go to her stomach. It’s instinctive. If Rose turns out to be pregnant, she’ll want to leave even sooner and even more. “Do not get too close.”
I nod, quickly linking arms with her, hearing Fury and Tank cursing behind us. I know exactly what I’m doing. This is someone of importance, someone James is looking for, I know it. The cop in me, this instinct, will never die. “Just a bit closer,” I say, trying to focus on my camera and aim, all while being discreet.