“Here.” She pulls hers from the back of her jeans and hands it over. “Be careful.”
I look down at my hand holding the pistol, not knowing what to do with it, I have no purse. So I tuck it into the back of my pants as we wander to the elevators on the other side of the garage. There are three. Two serve all floors. One serves only the penthouse. I look at the keypad and then to Beau as she goes to a door to the stairwell and tugs. It doesn’t budge. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking the stairs would be painful anyway.” She steps toward the elevator and punches in six digits into the panel. A red light flashes and Beau curses. “I thought it would be his birthday.” She punches in six more. Another flashing red light. “Damn it.” She proceeds to enter various combinations, and all refuse her entry.
“Beau, you don’t even know if your dad bought this place.” We could be trying to break into a perfect stranger’s home.
Her shoulders drop and she exhales, turning to head back to the car. Thank God. She’s seen sense. But she stops and stills for a moment before looking at it again. “What?” I ask, my eyes batting back and forth between Beau and the keypad. “What is it?”
She approaches and bends, looking at it from every angle before getting her phone out and shining the torch on the shiny metal buttons. “I don’t believe it.” She stands and stares, so hard she might burn a hole through the metal plate. I don’t ask what she doesn’t believe because I know I won’t get an answer, so I wait for her to make her move. Reaching forward, she slowly pushes one button after the other.
A green light blinks and the elevator starts moving. “Oh my God,” I blurt, jumping when Beau releases the safety on her gun. “Oh my God, Beau!” My hands find my head and she moves to the side of the elevator, looking at me like I should do the same, so I do, my heart racing. The doors slide open, and Beau checks if it’s empty.
“Put your phone on silent,” she orders, stepping inside the cart. “In fact, why don’t you just wait in the car for me?”
I laugh and hurry in with her and, of course, she doesn’t fight me. I want to think this arming herself business is all unnecessary. I can’t. I’ve been on the receiving end of Amber’s resentment. That woman has no scruples or boundaries. “What was the code?” I ask.
“The date of my mom’s memorial.”
I swing a stunned expression her way. “What?”
“Fucked up, eh?” She stares forward, a million flecks of hate in her eyes. Just when I thought her dad could not be more of an asshole.
The doors close and we both look up at the dial above the door, watching as it ticks up through the floors at an epically slow rate. And when it dings to announce our arrival to the penthouse, we both inhale and step to the side. I stare into Beau’s dark eyes as the doors slide open, waiting, tense and shaky. It’s quiet, only the drone of electrical appliances breaking the silence. The soft glow of the apartment is a stark contrast to the artificial, blinding lights of the elevator.
Beau swallows and edges to the front and pulls her phone out, getting the camera screen up and turning the image as if she’s about to take a selfie. Then she angles it out, checking the space. She looks like she knows exactly what she’s doing. I hate that she does. I hate that she used to be a cop. But I also appreciate it.
“Nothing,” she finally says, moving out but keeping her gun poised. I follow on a held breath, taking in the uber-modern penthouse as Beau scopes the place.
“Anything?” I whisper, putting my vibrating phone into my back pocket.
She opens a door and looks inside, where a bank of screens displays live footage of the parking garage and the stairwell. “Was your dad security conscious?” I ask.
“I hardly knew my father,” she replies, leaving the door open and wandering deeper into the open space. A kitchen spans the back, and a staircase sweeps up to a mezzanine floor where I can see the top of a headboard.
And then I hear it. A voice.
“I’m here,” it says.
I look at Beau, just as she aims her gun to the stairs, and she starts moving toward them, quietly but efficiently. I inhale when I see a figure at the top, and Beau pauses from taking the first step, her foot hovering in mid-air. “Beau?” Amber sounds shocked, coming out of the dusk and into the light. “And Rose?” She comes down two steps and looks between us. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Beau retorts, her gun unmoving, aimed.
“How did you find me?” Amber comes down the stairs, her face a map of confusion. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Who?” Beau backs up, maintaining her distance, and I stick to her side like glue.
Amber reaches the bottom and glances around, nervous and twitchy. She looks bedraggled and tired, the usual power suit replaced with a tracksuit and some Uggs. Her hair is piled high. No makeup. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know who it is.”
I don’t like this at all. She looks fucking shifty, edgy. Who was she expecting?
“How did you know I was here?” she asks Beau, going to the window and looking down onto Miami.
“My dad offered to buy me this place.”
She laughs, but it’s not in humor. “He bought me this place.” Amber faces us, noticing for the first time the vest I’m wearing. She tilts her head, moving closer, her eyes on my stomach. “Are you . . .”
I keep my mouth firmly shut, which is probably the worst thing I could do.
“You’re pregnant?” Amber looks plain disgusted. It doesn’t bode well.
“We’re not here about me.”
“Oh, well, it’s all very cozy between you two, isn’t it? My stepdaughter and my ex’s new wife.”
“Stepdaughter?” Beau splutters.
“Ex?” I ask. She was never Danny’s in the first place to become an ex.
“Yes, ex.” Amber’s edginess is suddenly gone for dust, and supremacy is back. Oh no. She is underestimating Beau. Silly woman. She casts a looks Beau’s way. “Didn’t you know Tom had proposed? Obviously I accepted. It’s why he wanted to meet you for dinner, Beau. To tell you.”
“I thought you’d split up.”
“Well, we had, no thanks to you.” Amber’s eyes turn onto me. “Thank you for pouring poison into Tom’s ear.”
“Poison?” I blurt. “You mean the truth, don’t you?”
Her hand lands on her chest. “I loved Tom dearly. Is that why you’re here, Beau? To stake a claim on everything that’s now . . . well, mine?”
Fucking hell, she’s a beast of a woman. “I think we should be leaving,” I declare, tugging on Beau’s arm. “Beau, come on.”
“Yes, run along. And enjoy the BMW.” Amber smiles, and it is slap worthy. “You’re welcome.”
“Shut up,” I snap, furious on my friend’s behalf.
“Oh.” She laughs. “Danny’s latest whore has something to say, does she? Like your fucking opinion counts?”
I’m not standing here and listening to this bitter, twisted piece of shit devalue my marriage. I look at Beau and hate the raw fury I see. The deep breaths she’s pulling to contain the monster that’s trying to break free. Because, apparently, Amber knows something about The Bear. “Beau, remember why we’re h—” The screens in the office catch my eye. Or rather, someone on them. I move in closer, seeing someone in the parking garage. A man. He goes to the elevator, reaches for the panel, and the doors behind us start closing.