Her eyes scan mine, and she lowers her lips, kissing me softly. Delicately. It’s the lightest kiss we’ve ever shared. “Come on,” she says around my lips. “Before something else rises.”
I jerk with my burst of laughter, hissing, wincing. “Jesus.” Every muscle feels like it could snap, they’re so tight. “It’s too late, anyway.” I take her hand and lead it to my groin, and her eyes widen.
“That definitely isn’t happening.”
I won’t argue. The last thing I want to do is have sex like an old man. And that thought alone makes me determined to recover. I stand from the bed.
“Take it easy,” Beau snaps, staggering back.
“I need to brush my teeth.” I take one step. Another. “Good God,” I hiss with each move, my muscles protesting, but they’re never going to loosen up if I stay in bed rotting away. Break through the pain. It’s another pain on top of my endless injuries.
But nothing compared to the agony of Beau’s despair.
She walks me to the bathroom, insists on brushing my teeth, helps me into some sweats—no suit—and the whole time I watch her, fascinated by how light her dark eyes appear.
I strain to lift my arms when she helps me into my T-shirt. “You’re too thin,” she muses, pulling the material down my torso. She pauses at the bandages covering two new bullet wounds.
“I can put on weight,” I point out, forcing her to look up at me. We stare for a long, long time. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Signs that she’s not okay? Because how the fuck could she be after everything that’s happened? Her mum, for fuck’s sake. All this time, her mum. If there’s one thing I’ve given a lot of thought to during my time of forced convalescence, it’s her mum.
“It was the payday we needed toward our retirements. I really wasn’t expecting backlash of such monumental proportions. No one on the estate was supposed to be left alive. It was easy money.” Slaughtering my family had been for easy money. She played the game well. I’ve always known Jaz Hayley knew who I was. Where I’d come from. What I’ve done. After she ‘died’ in the explosion the night I saved Beau, she as The Bear could never reveal that she knew who The Enigma was. Because only Jaz Hayley knew who The Enigma was. She had to move her pieces with precision and care if she was going to keep her true identity secret. Hence the safety deposit box. She devised a plan to have the box compromised so my identity would be exposed without risking her own being discovered.
Every time I’ve thought about it, I’ve wanted to scream. I’ve wanted to kill her. Slowly. I hate that Beau mourned her mother’s death for so long. Hate that she will forever have killing her own mother on her conscience. It should have been me. But then I consider what revenge did to my soul, and how black it became. Because of Beau, hatred no longer rules me. She set me free. Allowed me to rise.
So, really, it had to be Beau to end The Bear.
Besides, I got to end The Snake and endless other Irish fuckers, so I guess it’s an even playing field.
Beau feels my chest, her cheeks brightening. I take her hand, bringing it to my mouth, and kiss her ring. “I’m okay,” she whispers, feeling my chest, the color in her cheeks seeming to increase by the minute.
She’s okay.
Finally.
Beau leads me to the bed, sits me down, and puts my trainers on. I get an even more potent hit of the peace radiating through the house once I’m in the corridor.
Our walk down to the office is slow, but with every step, my muscles give a little more and the effort lessens. “Okay?” she asks, as we take the stairs, looking up at me.
“Okay,” I reply, loving attentive Beau. Looking after me. It was never something I considered could be. Could accept. It’ll be a while before I’m back in the gym, but I’m prepared to take small steps, take my time and use it wisely with Beau.
When we make it to Danny’s office, she pushes the door open, and everyone looks my way. I gesture to my casual attire. “It’s as good as it gets right now.”
Beau helps me to the couch and eases me down. I’m a lot looser. I could have done it myself, but I’m humoring her. Mothering me suits her, and that thought alone makes me smile.
“Be gentle with him,” she quips, bending over and dropping a kiss on my lips. “Behave.”
“Yes, ma’am.” It’s also sexy as fuck. She needs to leave before I abandon this meeting and take her back upstairs. Old man be damned. “Go,” I order.
She smiles and saunters out, and my eyes follow her arse until the wood comes between us. I pout, smiling to myself, planning all of the making-up sex I have to look forward to. More. She’ll beg me for more again.
“Hello?”
I blink and look around the room. Everyone’s watching me. “Get me a drink,” I breathe, motioning to the full bottle of vodka on the cabinet. Goldie obliges and swiftly gets a tumbler in my hand. That first sip. Fucking heaven. I shake my head on a grimace when Brad offers me a cigarette. “What’s the plan?” A newspaper lands in front of me, the front-page news quite something. I pick it up and read the article by Natalia Potter detailing the tragic death of Detective Collins at the hands of Russian ex-KGB mobster Marek Zielińska. Another newspaper lands on top of it. Another compelling front-page story. Oliver Burrows. A hero, killed in service by a bent FBI agent who was assumed dead. Beau’s mother’s face is next to Burrows’s. “Has Beau seen this?” I ask, looking up at the date. Two weeks ago.
“Yes, she’s seen it,” Danny says. “In fact, she met with Natalia Potter and made sure all of the details were accurate.”
I raise my brows, reading the damning report into her mother. Closure. Okay, so apparently I haven’t known where Beau’s been twenty-four/seven.
“I’ve managed to stall the second delivery from Chaka,” Danny says, pulling my attention up as he pulls a pack of Marlboros from his pocket and lights up. “The Mexicans aren’t happy with us.”
I wince, knowing what that means. We might have lost a bear and a zoo, but there’s always another enemy to replace the last. “And Sandy wants guns.”
“Thank fuck,” Brad says. “The bunker’s bursting at the seams.”
I smile, relishing another sip of vodka as Danny’s phone rings and he looks down at it. “Let’s see how many he wants.” He answers and gives Bud instructions to bring Sandy to the office before hanging up and taking his seat at his desk, relaxing back. And the office falls silent until there’s a knock at the door.
I brace myself for the murderous feelings about to descend as it swings open, but when he steps into the office, I feel . . . nothing.
“Afternoon,” he says, giving everyone a moment of his eyes. “You are all here for me?”
“We’re famous for our hospitality.” Danny smiles around his cigarette. “Why don’t you take a seat?” He motions to the chair opposite him. “Drink?”
I smile around the rim of my glass, feeling everyone else’s amusement too. The Brit being all hospitable? It’s a novelty.
Sandy takes a seat and nods to me. I nod back, a silent acceptance of his olive branch. “My business is out of state,” he says, getting to the point.