“Everything okay?” Lawrence asks.
“Everything’s fine.” So, so fine. I smile and place my purse on the stool next to Pearl, pulling my cell out and slipping it into my back pocket. “Will someone order me a lemonade, please? I’m just going to the restroom.” I leave my purse on the stool and walk away calmly, and as soon as I round the corner, I break into a jog, cursing Beau to hell and back for putting my neck on the line like this. But I will be damned if I am letting her disappear on her own again. I will check in with the men. I will let them know we’re okay. They must appreciate that.
I burst through the door and work my way down the cubicles until I find Beau's petite body squirming to get through the small window above the fourth toilet. She grunts as her body dislodges, and her legs disappear through the small gap. “Well, if she struggled, I’m fucked,” I scoff, getting up on the toilet seat.
I peek out and see Beau jogging down the alleyway and curse her to hell again as I pull myself up and clamber through. But I completely misjudge the drop to the ground, which looks farther away now that I’m hanging out of the window. “Beau!” I whisper yell, clinging to the frame. “Fuck.” I turn my head and see her stop and look back.
“What are you doing?” she shouts, running back to save me, reaching to help.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Oh, no, you’re not.” She retracts her helping hands, just as I lose my grip. “Shit!” She catches me, breaking my fall.
“For fuck’s sake, Rose.”
I get to my feet. “For fuck’s sake, Beau.” I retort. She has nothing to say to that. “And how are you getting to Amber’s anyway?” I ask.
“I’ll get a cab.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out Fury’s keys. “Okay. You get a cab, I’ll drive.”
The keys are quickly swiped from my hand and Beau is heading to the side of the club to collect Fury’s car. “That’s a sure-fire way to kill us both,” she says, and I gasp, outraged, going after her.
“I’m not that bad at driving.”
“Get in,” she snaps, slipping in behind the wheel.
I do as I’m told and get my seatbelt on. “We are both going to die when the boys find out we’re not in the club, so who drives is a moot fucking point.” Beau ignores me and pulls off rather calmly, though I see the storm in her eyes. “What are you going to do, Beau?” I ask.
“I’m going to get some answers.”
“Great,” I say, settling in for the ride. “And good luck.” Not just finding the answers that nobody seems to be able to find, but good luck when James gets hold of her. We’re both dead.
Beau gives me an impatient look. I give her a begging one.
Please don’t get us killed.
I keep quiet as Beau drives us around town, drumming my lovely pink-polished nails on my thigh, watching the screen of my cell like a hawk, just waiting for the call. Waiting for the signal that will suggest all hell breaking loose. The moment they realize we’re gone. It’s been twenty minutes. We’re doing well, although God only knows what Esther and the others think I’m doing in the restrooms.
“She’s not at his place, or hers,” Beau suddenly says out of the blue, pulling my eyes from my cell.
“What?”
“Amber. She’s not at Dad’s place, and she’s not at her apartment.”
“So where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Beau muses, taking a right, heading toward Miami Beach. A small inhale of breath tells me she may have just had an idea. “The penthouse.” The car is abruptly going significantly faster, her lightbulb moment injecting some urgency into her. “Dad told me he would give me the penthouse of the new development he was investing in.”
“You think she’s there?”
“I’m out of other ideas.” She looks across to me. “I’m really mad you’re here.”
“You won’t be the only one,” I mutter. “If he calls, I’m answering.”
“I know,” she says, holding up her phone. It’s on. Therefore, trackable. It still won’t lessen the wrath we’re about to face, though. But it offers me a mild comfort that Beau doesn’t see this latest mission of hers as long-term. James will fly off the handle when he knows she’s missing again. Then he’ll wonder what the hell is going on when Otto can track her. And as if they’ve heard us discussing how mad they will be and how they might handle us, my phone starts ringing on my lap.
“Oh God,” I whisper, pushing my back into the seat, trying to escape it. “Even the rings sound angry.” I gingerly pick it up, cringing as I answer. I don’t even have the opportunity to talk before he’s yelling down the line at me.
“Where the fuck are you?”
I look across to Beau, whose cell is flashing in her hand. James. “Track Beau’s phone,” I say, hanging up and then texting him a million apologies and kisses. This is both our faults. Mine and Danny’s. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped. Beau wouldn’t have heard, and I wouldn’t currently be riding shotgun on a vigilante hunt for Danny’s and Beau’s dad’s ex-lover. My lip curls just thinking about her. Granted, Beau’s got more to hate, but . . . ughhhh I hate her. “Answer,” I say to Beau, seeing she’s thinking twice about it. “You can’t avoid him forever, Beau.”
“We made love this morning.” She looks at me. “I’m not avoiding him.” She answers and drops her phone into her lap, and her shoulders lift, defying her stone façade. “Amber knows something about The Bear,” she says with a strong voice.
“How do you know that?” James asks, sounding cooler than I expected.
“I heard Danny in the office.”
I silently thank her for not dropping me in the shit as my phone rings again. I reject the call and text him.
We’re okay.
His reply is quick.
You won’t be.
I reach for my forehead and rub away the wrinkles. I’m in now. And I’m not leaving Beau, so we will face their wrath together.
“Where are you going, Beau?” James asks.
“To find Amber. As always, if you’d just let me in where you feel I don’t belong, we might be out of this mess a lot faster.” She hangs up and takes the wheel with both hands, dipping and looking up to an apartment block in the distance.
She looks so determined.
And my nerves go through the roof.
The silence is screaming by the time we pull into the parking garage. I have a dozen missed calls from Danny and as many texts, all quite angry, which means I’m definitely not answering his calls. Beau’s cell, however, hasn’t rung once. Beeped once. Lit up once. James will be tracking her. My husband knows that. He just wants me to know how pissed off he is.
Someone needs to tell him I know. I really, really know.
Beau parks and we both get out. She wanders around the back of the car and opens the trunk, pulling up the lining, revealing a pistol and a vest. Beau takes the pistol and hands over the vest, her jaw tight, waiting for me to argue. I don’t. I can’t. I accept and slip it on. “I left my purse on the stool.” Why would I be so stupid? Remember my phone but forget my gun?