And then he looks directly at us, and we both freeze. I feel Rose’s stiffness against me. “What do we do, what do we do?” she hisses, as we’re literally charged from behind by what feels like a massive boulder.
“What the fuck are you two playing at?” Tank grunts.
The man frowns, his eyes darting across all of us, finally resting on me. I quickly break our eye contact, reaching for the first thing I can lay my hands on. I move toward a self-checkout and tug a bag off one of the holders. “Rose’s bag’s broken,” I blurt, words just toppling out of my mouth. The man’s frown deepens, and he becomes twitchier, his already strung body definitely tensing more. Not looking at him, I go back to Rose, taking the bag in her hand and slipping it inside the new one. Her eyes are wide as she looks at me, and I silently plead with her to look normal. “You’d make a terrible cop,” I whisper, as Tank tuts his displeasure beside us. “What’s he doing?”
“Looking through his keys.”
I peek over my shoulder, see he’s distracted, and quickly take the photo I need. “Done,” I say, seizing Rose and plastering a smile on my face for the Viking’s benefit. “Let’s go.” I guide Rose out.
“What’s going on?” Zinnea asks, tottering along beside us.
“Nothing,” we sing in unison, heading for the cars, my back rolling constantly, my skin cold.
“Beau?”
I stutter to an abrupt halt, bringing Rose to a stop too, my skin getting colder. “No,” I whisper.
“What?” Rose says, confused, looking around us.
I see Fury in my side vision reaching for his holster, his face a picture of threat. “My ex-fiancé,” I mutter.
“Ohhhh,” Rose breathes.
“It’s Ollie,” Zinnea sings, and my shoulders drop, exasperated. “Beau, look, it’s Ollie.”
Why does she sound so pleased to see him? Has she forgotten he held James at gunpoint? Oh God. I inhale and face him. He’s frowning down at his watch, undoubtedly wondering what I’m doing in Walmart at this time. I absolutely do not want to do this. So I won’t.
“Get in the car,” Fury grates.
“With pleasure.” I swing the back door open and slide in, leaving the others to put the bags in the trunk. I quickly pull up the photo and text it to James with a question mark, then notice Zinnea swinging her eyes back and forth between me and Ollie, while Rose tries to coax her toward the car. Fury stands silent and threatening to the side, and Tank loads the shopping. I can see by the look of my aunt’s face that whatever Ollie is saying isn’t helping. I can imagine. Talk of bombs and God knows what else. Lawrence knows a lot. More than he probably should and, in fairness, he’s been quietly accepting of my decision to be here. To be with James. I do not need Ollie stirring more shit into the already overflowing well of shit. I start to get worked up, and I’m out of the car before I can stop myself.
“In the car, Beau,” Fury barks, moving his big body to shield me. I muscle my way past him, determined.
“Back off, Ollie,” I warn.
“Do we have a problem?” A man, suited, an FBI agent if ever I’ve seen one, joins Ollie, giving everyone a tactical flash of his gun by casually pulling one side of his jacket back.
“I don’t know,” Ollie murmurs, turning his narrowed eyes onto Fury. “Do we?”
I can see it now. Ollie’s revenge on the horizon. His ego set to be restored. “We don’t have a problem,” I grate, taking Fury’s arm and trying to move the unmovable man. Of course, he doesn’t move.
“Do you have a license for that firearm?” Ollie asks, now refusing to look at me.
I close my eyes and inhale some patience. Ollie knows what he’s doing, and a second later, his partner has drawn and aimed at Fury. “Get your hands on the roof of the vehicle,” he bellows. “Do it now.”
I turn my condemning stare onto Ollie’s sneering face. “Don’t do this, Ollie.”
“Why? Will your boyfriend and his friends attack me again?”
“Hands on the car!”
“Fuck this,” Fury mutters, drawing and aiming too, prompting Ollie to quickly arm himself as well, followed by Tank.
“Oh shit,” Rose whispers.
“Stay where you are, Zinnea,” I order, feeling her meltdown brewing, her gasps constant. “It’s okay.” I glance past Ollie and his partner, seeing the man I recognize from the picture exiting the store. “Fuck,” I hiss, just as my phone starts ringing. “I need to answer that,” I say calmly.
“Don’t move,” Ollie’s partner yells, his forehead glistening with sweat. “Do not move.”
“I really need to take the call.” I hold up my cell, showing them, before slowly lifting it to my ear. “James.”
“Where are you?” he asks, his breathing strained.
“Walmart. We have a situation.”
“Put the phone down, Beau,” Ollie orders, his nostrils flaring.
“Is that Burrows?” James asks.
“Yes.”
“The guy in the picture?”
“Leaving the store.” I just get my words out before Ollie lunges forward and snatches my cell from my hand. “You do not want to make enemies of them, Ollie,” I say quietly, and because I know him, I recognize the hesitation in his eyes. I divert my stare to the exit doors of the store again, scanning, searching, as my cell rings persistently in Ollie’s hand. I see the blue-suited guy getting into a silver Audi. God damn it.
I could draw my own gun and add another to the mix. Or . . .
I move fast, throwing my arm out and disarming Ollie, ignoring the shooting pain that flies up my arm. I spin the gun and aim it at his chest, and he staggers back, stunned. “Not lost my touch, huh?” I say through my teeth. “Now there are four guns, and three of those are aimed at you two. Be wise,” I warn, and Ollie’s partner sensibly lowers his to the ground by his feet. I dip and pick it up, tucking it in my purse. “And your car keys.”
“Beau, come on,” Ollie yells.
“Do it!”
Nostrils flaring, his chest expanding from his inhale, he dips into his pocket and pulls out his keys, tossing them at my feet. “Rose, Zinnea, get in the car.” I collect them up and move toward the Range Rover, opening the passenger side door as they both scuttle toward me and slip into the back. Fury and Tank, guns still aimed, get in the front. “My phone,” I say, holding out my hand, eyes on Ollie, daring him to refuse.
His chest puffing, his jaw tight, he lays it in my palm. I get in the car. “Let’s go,” I order, relaxing slightly as I sit forward, putting myself between Tank and Fury upfront. “Follow that silver Audi.”
“What?”
“Do it,” I order, answering James’s call.
“What the fuck is going on?” he barks.
I don’t know where to start. “I think I might be a wanted woman,” I say, prompting a huff of sardonic laughter from the Vikings. “So if we could go back to St. Lucia sooner rather than later, that would work for me.”
“Beau,” he retorts, full of warning. “Talk.”
“I didn’t know what to do,” I say, going into defense mode. “The guy in the picture was leaving and Ollie and his partner pulled their guns on the twins.”