Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
“We’ve turned the city upside down,” I remind him. “And New York is silent.”
“Do you think he’s going to slip away into the night and that will be that? Give me a fucking break.” Danny’s jaw ticks. “He tried to kill Beau when James took his brother out. He turned his back on Volodja and The Bear.”
Danny’s right. And, actually, I don’t think Sandy had any intention of leaving us to rule Miami while he moved in on the Italians in New York. I look at James. “You need to take Beau on your honeymoon.”
He huffs. “Don’t you know my wife at all?”
Admittedly, not as much as James, obviously, but I know her. “Seriously. She needs to concentrate on being married and pregnant.”
James looks as if he could quite easily lay me out. “Don’t you think I know that? Want that? But as long as we have people to kill, Beau will be on high alert. And let’s not forget, Sandy isn’t the only one we’re looking over our shoulders for.”
“The Mexicans,” Danny grunts, falling to his back again. “Fuck, I don’t have the brain power for this right now.”
The Mexicans. That’ll teach us for recanting on the deal with them, but we didn’t really have much choice at the time when we had endless shit flying at us. “I’ve got to get to the club.” I head for the door. “We’re hiring.”
“Hiring?” James asks. “You just took on Pearl and Anya.”
I stop and look back, a sarcastic smile on my face. Don’t I fucking know it. “We hired them as bartenders. I don’t think it would be in good taste to ask the girls we saved from sex slavery if they’d like to strip in our money-laundering joint.”
Danny chuckles on the floor, his eyes still closed, ending his amused fit with a sigh.
I curl a lip at him, even though he can’t appreciate it. “When the fuck will the salon be ready?” I ask, irritated.
“It’s a beauty spa,” James reminds us, failing to hide his smile.
“Who the fuck knows,” Danny says, eyes still closed, fingers now laced and resting on his chest. “I just handed over another five hundred grand.”
To be honest, I don’t care how much it’s costing. I need it to be finished so Pearl can work for Rose ASAP. Because it’s awkward. “Are you purposely stalling the completion?” I ask, suspicious.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.”
“Sure you don’t.” Rose will kick his fucking ass if she cottons on. I pull the door open, and James follows me out, leaving Danny to grab a few more winks. “What are you doing today?” I ask as we walk side by side down the corridor.
“Taking Beau to the condo I bought and hoping I can convince her that the second bedroom will make an amazing nursery.”
I laugh. “You’re tempting her with a renovation project?”
“I need to keep her busy.”
I hear him perfectly well. Beau asking questions about the roadside shootout six months ago with Sandy isn’t the only fuck-fest we need to distract our resident ex-cop from. Her mother’s death is playing on everyone’s mind. Or, less her mother’s death, but how she died.
A gunshot wound to the head.
And Beau pulled the trigger.
It was James or her mother.
She didn’t need to think about it too much. I don’t suppose a man could ask for better proof of commitment. The fact that Jaz Hayley was The Bear—the person responsible for the deaths of James’s family’s, Beau’s ex-fiancé, and her father—knocked us all sideways. But Beau?
Destroyed.
She was distracted for five months arranging their wedding. Now I know James is hoping the pregnancy will distract her for another five months. I also know he’s hoping in vain. The mystery was solved. Beau’s demons were supposed to be put to bed.
But this is Beau. She will never be able to let go of her need to question . . . everything. It’s what made her a brilliant cop.
“Good luck with that,” I say as we cross the foyer. I look up the stairs and see Tank and Fury descending, both fastening their ties, ready to take the kid to school. Then Ringo and Goldie appear, both stoic, but as relaxed as I’ve ever seen them. Then from the garden, Otto and Esther walk in, laughing. So fucking busy.
I walk into the kitchen and stop on the threshold when I find Lawrence brewing coffee, telling Anya and Pearl, who are at the breakfast bar, about his act last night. Pearl looks over her shoulder at me, both hands wrapped around a mug, the cuffs of her hoodie pulled down, covering her palms, protecting her from the hot china. Her smile falters.
Red.
I look away and head upstairs, passing through the middle of every-fucking one. I need to get out of here.
3
PEARL
* * *
I return my attention to the breakfast bar, feeling Anya’s eyes on me. “What?” I whisper, as Lawrence grinds some beans, apparently blissfully unaware of the dramatic change in temperature. Ice. As always when Brad and I are in the same room. Same house. Same club. Same bloody planet. And yet . . .