It comes at me like a bulldozer, no avoiding it, crashing through my body ruthlessly. My hands shoot to the seat behind his head, bracing against the leather, my body jacking as my climax takes me out. I choke on nothing, trembling, hissing, clenching my eyes shut, doing anything to deal with the sensitivity. I hear his yell through my distorted hearing, feel the hard pound of his hips upward. I ride the wave, everything out of control, my body, my mind, my breathing.
I fall forward, my forehead resting on his throat, my palms sliding down to his bare chest, feeling him. Stroking him. My hands ball, my face turning, my eyes opening. The window is a perfect film of mist. Hazy. Glass but not clear. His heavy breathing is loud, and his arms round my back, holding me tightly.
“I’m going to ask you a question, Beau,” he says, his voice hoarse. “And your answer is final.”
I try hard not to tense and fail miserably. “What?”
“Do you want to leave?”
“What?”
“Tonight. We pack, we go. The game ends now.”
I naturally withdraw, scanning his face for any signs of him taking those words back. There’re no signs at all, his expression fixed. He’s serious. “What are you talking about?” What’s changed? Where’s his grit gone?
“I’m asking you if you want to leave, because if you tell me yes, we’ll go. Now.” His fingertip meets the bridge of my nose and draws a perfect line down the length.
“I don’t understand,” I admit, caught off guard. Is The Bear dead and no one’s told me? Is it over?
“That’s not a yes.” His smile is faint, my confusion amusing him.
“It’s also not a no.”
“So is that a yes?”
“Yes. No.” I growl to myself, clenching at my hair. “I need to understand what’s happening here.” I wrestled with the notion of staying in St. Lucia. I loved the brief normality we’d found, but I didn’t truly let myself settle on it, because I knew there were forces far greater than my need for peace at work. Ironically, it was James’s and my combined need for revenge. But what if that need kills us? What good is finding what you’re looking for if you don’t get to actually have it? And on the other hand, what if this follows us forever, no matter where we go, no matter who we try to be? It could always find us. The only true, safe way out is to kill everything that poses a risk to our future. And yet none of those options are guaranteed. Each carries risk. Leave and we may only delay the inevitable. Stay and deal with it, we might never leave Miami at all. Not alive. “Oh God,” I breathe, so torn. It’s not just James and me now either. There’s Danny and Rose. If we go, Danny will be left to deal with Miami alone, and that would mean while I might find peace, Rose could lose hers. I could never sacrifice someone else’s happiness, a friend’s happiness, for my own. My conscience would never allow it.
“We stay,” I say assertively. God knows, there can’t be many more men to kill. Between James, Danny, and the others, Miami has become the capital of murder. It’s an all-out war.
“We stay,” he says. It’s not a question, not a way of asking if he heard me right because he’s surprised I don’t want to run away from the carnage. He’s simply confirming because he knew what my answer would be. This is just his way of making it clear that if I wanted it, he would walk away, even if he didn’t want it. Things are definitely changing, but I have to ask myself again where this has come from. Surely he’s closer than when we arrived in Miami. Why would he walk away now? Why would I?
James starts to lift me from his lap. “Where’s this come from?” I ask, wriggling to get my dress down as he lifts his ass and pulls his trousers up.
“I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
I laugh, forcing a scowl from James. “I was trapped before I met you, James.” His reason is horseshit, and now I’m suspicious. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.” He fastens his fly.
I study his profile, not liking the sense of uncertainty radiating from him. “Do you have a bad feeling?”
His working hands still, and he takes a few moments to collect his thoughts, which only makes me more concerned. “We owe no one anything,” he says quietly, looking up at me. “Please remember that. This whole fucked-up business is about you and me.”
He’s confusing me so much. And then I lean back, away from him, suddenly realizing his angle. “You mean Danny and Rose?”
“And your ex.” He finds his shirt and slips it on. “And your father.”
“I love Danny Black more than my father,” I say, laughing. “Isn’t that a fuck-up of impressive proportions?”
He’s still for a moment, watching me as my amusement subsides, his expression almost pained. “I forgot how much I love your laugh.” Reaching for me, James drags me onto his lap again. He forgot. So much has been forgotten in the past few weeks. “Your ex has got a real issue with me, as does your father. What can we do about that?”
I’m not laughing now, only smiling, but I’m frowning through it. My head hurts. “You either kill them, or you become a law-abiding citizen. Neither are options.”
His eyebrows are quickly high.
“Neither are options,” I repeat, my head tilted, my lip pursed. “Are they?” It’s no secret that I’m not my father’s biggest fan but, for the sake of clarity, I need to be sure my assassin boyfriend understands that killing him really isn’t an option. The man who played a part in bringing me into this world is a necessary evil. And Ollie? He’ll calm down eventually. I hope. “Answer me.”
“Neither are options,” he says, but it’s halfhearted. “Come on.” He opens the car door and gets out, holding his hand to me, and I accept, still eyeing him. My mind’s filled with questions that I’m incapable of holding back, especially in light of James’s offer to get up and go. “Is this nearly over?” I ask as he walks us to the house. Part of me prays it is, but the reasonable side of me knows that James would never suggest us leaving if he was close to finding The Bear.
“Yes,” he answers simply, with no elaboration. It only heightens my suspicions. I pull him to a stop, looking past his big frame toward the kitchen, laughter and chatter emanating from the room. The eve of the wedding. Tomorrow—or today—just for one day, everything—blood, death, revenge—will be paused to make way for nothing but love and happiness. It feels like it could be the calm before a fatal storm.
I look up at James, who’s waiting patiently for me to speak. “Tell me what’s going on,” I order, standing firm. Shit’s always going down, but the past few days it feels like the tension has heightened. I feel like the end is in sight, but it’s hazy. Uncertain.
He shakes his head slowly, his expression warning, and I take a step back, my mind racing. He’s refusing because he knows I’ll object. He knows I won’t like what I’m told. And that means it’s even more risky than what I’m used to from this man, and I’m used to some pretty risky shit. Jesus, how many men has he wiped out today alone?
“Have you ever once considered the fact that I was a cop? That I might be able to help figure this out?”