All questions for another day.
“So, a recap?” I ask the room.
“Sure, why not.” Ringo sets his phone aside, ready for a rundown on the day’s events, and fuck, it’s been quite a day.
Understatement. “We have Luis, Sandy, Volodya, and before Beau killed him, The Shark, all wanting our guns.”
“It’s a good job you drunk ordered more then, huh?” Otto says without looking up from his laptop. He’s pushing it. I hope Mum made him feel as shitty as she made me feel. And I hope that fat lip he’s sporting means it hurts like a bitch if he kisses her. Have they kissed?
“Volodya?” James questions, distracting me from socking Otto one in the face.
“Yes. He called earlier.”
“When are we meeting Sandy?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“I told you to arrange something.”
He told me? “I’m sorry, I’ve been kinda busy trying to not fucking die.” I stand and shrug off the coat I’ve been wearing all fucking day. “And maybe now, in light of Volodya calling, I might not be agreeable to meeting Sandy.”
“Does Volodya know anything?” James asks. “Did he promise anything?”
I laugh. “You think Sandy knows who The Bear is? Oh, come on.” For fuck’s sake. “No one knows a fucking thing! The Bear’s had everyone under him, tore through Miami with guns and bombs, and now he’s got no one under him and he’s doing the fucking same!”
“Okay then, who are we calling?” Brad pipes in, happy to poke us both. “Sandy or Volodya, because both of you have a beef with both of them, so who’s winning this one?” He smiles. “Draw straws?”
I should have moved that gun an inch to the left. “Fuck off to Hiatus.”
“Not until I know what the fuck’s going on.”
“Good luck with that.” Ringo sneers at nothing. “None of us know what the fuck is going on. We might not need Sandy or Volodya if Amber Kendrick really does have information. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Glorious,” I say quietly. What the fuck does she know? I look at my mobile, willing it to ring. “We need to talk about the delivery we’re expecting tomorrow.” Beau was supposed to be tugging those jet skis with Leon because, simply, Beau and Leon are the least criminal-looking members of this fucked-up family, aside from my wife, mother, and kid, of course. “So who’s towing the skis back now?”
“You and me,” James says, his attention still on his phone. He’s dialing Beau. Repeatedly. He looks back at Otto who shakes his head at the screen of his new laptop, and James curses, going back to his mobile.
“Are you sure?” I ask, thinking James’s head is not in the right space for playing it cool while we smuggle endless weapons through endless Coast Guards.
“Sure.”
I won’t argue with him. “Collins is watching Hiatus,” Otto says out of nowhere, pointing at his screen as if all of us in the room can see it.
“Lovely. Invite her in for a drink when you get there,” I say to Brad. Speaking of drink. I get up and help myself, pouring James a vodka as I do.
“And Higham? What do we make of his little rendezvous with Natalia Potter?”
“Dodgy as fuck.”
I hum, rolling it all over, placing a tumbler on the desk before James. Higham. Definitely bent.
“Can we hurry this along?” Brad scowls at me, the irritable fucker. He should have fucked a few more whores and laid off the Florida Snow. And speaking of Florida Snow. “Where the fuck did you get that shit from?”
Brad opens his mouth and snaps it shut again, his lips pursing, as if it’s just occurred to him that he should have wondered this before. He was probably too drunk on both alcohol and lust. “Jeeves,” he says slowly, a frown creasing his brow. I don’t need to ask anymore. Brad’s also wondering where Jeeves would have got it from, now that we’ve taken the Irish out. I make a mental note to find out but, again, not a priority.
“What about Potter?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Otto confirms. “But she did report that Metcalfe is set to take the title of mayor.”
I laugh. Of course he fucking is. He has no competition now. Then I pout, falling into thought.
No competition.
I lower to my chair and sip my drink, considering that. No competition. He’s going to walk straight into the Mayor’s office. Maybe he needs some competition.
“Danny!”
I startle, looking for the source of the voice. Otto’s frowning at me, wondering what I was thinking so intently about. I won’t share. I’m quite sure he already thinks I’ve lost the plot. “What?”
“I can’t find Amber Kendrick anywhere.”
“Typical,” I say on a laugh, closing my eyes and resting my head back. Breathe. Just breathe. She has to show up sooner or later. I just hope she’s not dead.
I open my eyes.
James has got his arm extended over my desk, his fist balled, and in the middle . . .
Two straws.
26
ROSE
I lay nestled between his thighs with my back on his chest. The water falls just shy of my nipples, leaving them exposed to the cooler air. Hard. Dark. Danny’s big, capable hands are splayed across my tummy, my legs touching the inside of his from thigh to ankle, and with every deep inhale he takes, a little bit more of my boobs are exposed. It’s quiet and still, just the calm sound of water rippling keeping us company.
Neither of us could sleep. I’m so worried about Beau, spent all night listening to see if I could hear her coming home, and Danny knew it. By the time the sun was rising, I gave up chasing sleep and ran a bath. He silently wandered in and joined me, abandoning our bed too. He dozed off within a few minutes of submerging himself in the water and positioning me on top of him, his heart beating into my back sending me off too.
Now, I don’t know what time it is, but the water is tepid. Only our touching skin is keeping the chills away. “Are you awake?” I ask, and he hums, starting to circle his palms across my stomach. “She didn’t come home.”
His arms move up to my shoulders and circle, hugging me, and I cling to them, but he says nothing. We’re all worried. God damn her. I peel Danny’s arms away and stand, water pouring from my body, goosebumps finding every inch of my skin, my wet hair sticking to my back. “Wait,” he says, reaching for my wrist. I turn in the bath as he gets to his knees and pulls me down to mine, slipping his hand onto my nape and pulling my mouth onto his. The scorching hot heat contrasting with the chills of my skin is divine, and when my breasts press into his chest, the chills vanish immediately.
“Your cuts.” I hold on to his wrists, clench hard, ready to pull away.
“Are fine,” he replies, hypnotizing me with the swirls of his tongue, his nibbles, the sucks, while he holds my neck firmly. “Just kiss me.” The roughness of his voice added to the already intoxicating ingredients takes me to the next level of pleasure, a need overcoming me to just . . . kiss. I tilt my head, open wider, swirl softly, suck gently. It’s the slowest kiss we’ve ever shared. The softest. “Beautiful,” he whispers again, pushing his body closer, urging me on, his hands slipping up onto my head, his thumbs on my cheeks.