Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as I wait in the carpark outside Best Buy, my thoughts twisted, my brain hurting, and not because it’s had a belter of a whack. There’s just so fucking much to unravel, the web thick, dense, and fucking massive. Yet all that remains of The Bear’s network is Sandy and Volodya. Two Russians, one of which wants to work with us. I pout at the windscreen, my eyes narrowing. If Burrows was taking leave from work to eliminate the risk of Collins thinking he’s working for us, he could also be taking leave because we suspect him of being The Bear’s inside man. He could be out of the game. Or trying to be. Washing his hands of The Bear. Hence, the animals, or what’s left of them, scattering. But if he did that, surely he would be dead by now because not in any criminal lord’s world would they let their mole crawl away. Perhaps that’s why he’s been in hiding. Fuck me. I text James my contemplations, not that I expect them to sink into his brain right now. My conclusions also won’t improve his mood but, let’s face it, it couldn’t get any fucking worse.
I’m typing away but lose my screen when Rose tries calling me. “Forgive me,” I murmur, rejecting her call and carrying on with my message. She calls again. “Not now, Rose,” I say quietly, hitting the red, forbidden button and continuing with my message. It rings again. “I’ll call you back, I promise,” I say, rejecting her once again and getting back to my message to James.
Ring!
“For fuck’s sake!” I answer. “I’m trying to write a long-arse fucking message, Rose, and you keep interrupting me.” I hang up, my thumbs working at an epic speed to get done before she calls me again. Because she will. I finish, click send, and exhale, relaxing back in my seat, exhausted, feeling like I’ve just run a grueling army assault course. I dial Rose. “Baby,” I say when she answers.
“Baby to you too,” she replies sweetly, definitely through gritted teeth. “A little tip if you wish to remain married.”
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“Answer my fucking calls.”
“I was dealing with something important.” I cringe the moment the words fall out of my mouth and catch Ringo, Fury, and Goldie in the rearview mirror shaking their heads at their phones. If the situation wasn’t so dire, the sight of them would be laughable, their bodies wedged in the back, their shoulders all up by their ears. “I didn’t mean more important than you.” Fucking hell. “Rose, baby, you won’t believe the day I’ve had.”
“What’s happened?” she asks, her voice softening.
“Beau’s dad’s attorney showed up at the funeral, along with many other friendly faces.”
“Like who?”
“Her ex. He’s moved a new woman in.”
“Into their apartment? That’s a bit insensitive.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. She shared that place with Ollie. Imagine if you and I split up and I kept the house. How would you feel if I moved another man in?”
I look at the roof of the car. Why? Why does she say shit like that? I bite my tongue because it won’t do me any favors biting her head off. “It’s not Beau’s apartment anymore. She has an apartment with James.” Oh fuck. My eyes widen at the mirror and the three sets in the back shoot to me.
“What?” Rose asks.
“Or they had an apartment before it was blown up.” I cringe.
“No, James had an apartment. It wasn’t Beau’s. She wanted to buy an apartment on her own and James showed up at the viewing and basically told her it wasn’t happening.”
Why doesn’t that surprise me? “Any—”
“That’s not all he did either,” she continues. I can hear the smile in her voice. “So are you telling me James has bought an apartment?”
Fuck it. “No, stop putting words in my mouth.” My sore head bangs harder. “The lawyer told Beau her dad left everything to Amber.”
“What?” Rose screeches.
“Everything except a car.”
“A BMW?”
“Yeah.”
“The asshole. He only left her the car he bought for her birthday? She didn’t want it back then!” I won’t ask how she knows about the car. Or the apartment Beau was looking at. Or what happened when James showed up at the viewing. “And he left everything else to that gold-digging whore?”
I hum my confirmation.
“Well, one out of two isn’t bad, is it?” she asks with light humor.
“What?”
“Amber. When she didn’t get anything out of you, she moved on quite quickly and got her claws into another man.”
Is she comparing me to a middle-aged, overweight, graying, egotistical prick? “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” Do not kill her.
She laughs. “Oh, baby, did you think Amber was with you for love?”
Yes, actually. Because she was, among other things, of course. Don’t kill her, Danny. “Rose, I—” It lands in my brain like a bomb. Why Amber’s been calling me. What she wants. Fuck! Okay, I considered love, but she knows that ship’s sailed. I considered money, but that boat’s gone now too, loaded with Beau’s inheritance. Amber would have known she was set to cop it all. So why the fuck has she been persistently calling me?