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)
“D-Boss!” Liam sings, appearing at the top of the steps to the cabin. His hair is longer. Wilder. And I’m quite sure his board shorts haven’t been washed since the last time I saw him some weeks ago. His eyes fall to my chest and nearly fall out of his head, and I look down, confused. Then not when I see the mess I’ve made of myself. Fuck me.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I snap, trudging toward him. “We had to get our own fucking jet skis ready because Jerry was dealing with clients and the girls in the café were busy serving.”
“I don’t think you had a long enough vacation,” he murmurs as I storm past.
“You’d be right.”
“Get our skis in,” James says, pulling his wetsuit down too. “Then come join us.”
“Sure, J-Boss.”
I laugh sardonically. “Your back, my front. It’s a fucking horror show around here.” I help myself to a water from the fridge and cast my eyes around the busy café as I swig. My stare lands on a man in the corner, who is watching us both standing by the fridge. My stomach turns and questions run amok through my mind. Has he found Pops? Beau’s mum?
“Come,” James says, encouraging me toward Higham. “And keep your fucking cool, okay?”
Keep my cool. I look around the café again, wishing everyone gone so I don’t have to bother keeping my cool. “Everyone’s looking at us.”
“My back, your front,” James says. “And since when do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Then shut the fuck up.”
Higham’s eyes are nailed to my chest as I approach, and one look warns him not to ask. Pulling out a chair, I lower to the seat, setting my water on the table as James gets comfortable beside me, folding his arms over his impressive chest. I don’t fold mine. Can’t. For fuck’s sake.
Higham takes a sip of his coffee and pulls his jacket in, resting back in his seat. “I’m sorry about your father,” he says flatly. “And your girlfriend’s mother. Jaz Hayley was a respected agent.”
“I don’t want your condolences,” James says quietly, a lethal edge to his tone.
“What do you want from me then?”
“Nothing.” he replies. That’s not true. “Or maybe a pardon when I find out who it was and butcher the fucker.”
“Let us have this one,” Higham says, coming in closer.
“You don’t know who this one is,” James points out.
“No, but I know two pretty fucking determined men who can find out.” He looks between us, and I raise my eyebrows. “This is personal for us now too,” he goes on. “Like I said, Jaz was a respected agent.”
James laughs, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Higham,” he says lowly, getting closer. “If I go home and tell Beau that the bureau suddenly cares enough about her dead mother to find what was left of her after she was blown to smithereens, she will, and I am not joking you when I tell you this, tear every last FBI agent limb from limb.”
“Beau is a former cop.”
“Who knew her mother’s death was not an accident but wasn’t allowed to prove it, despite the evidence.” James sits back, and I take over. He’s going to blow. The simmering anger seems to be alternating between the two of us.
“There are so many bent cops on the force and bureau, Higham,” I say, taking more water. “I don’t even know if I want to be talking to you right now.”
“I’m not bent.”
“That’s what they all say. Any news on my father’s missing body?”
“We all know you and your friend The Enigma have more chance of finding your father’s body than the FBI.”
“So that’s why you’re here? For our help?”
“Would you rather me be here to arrest you?”
I sigh, falling back in my chair heavily to demonstrate just how fucking tired I am of his egotistical shit. “Higham, if you could arrest either of us, we’d already be in cuffs.”
“You’d be a big catch for me.”
“Are we back talking about sharks again, Higham?” James asks, making me frown.
“What about sharks?” I ask.
“Higham likes to fry big fish.”
“You don’t get much bigger than us.” I smile at an exasperated Agent Higham.
“Indeed you don’t, but as I have explained to James before you arrived back in Miami, as much as I know you two have more murders to your names than the inmates of Florida State Prison put together, there are either no bodies or no evidence.”
“Oh, I see.” I look at James. “Do you see?”
“I see.”
“We see,” I confirm, facing Higham, who looks like he’s about ready to bash our heads together. I chuckle to myself, peeking out the corner of my eye to James. His face is dead straight, but I can see he’s getting a bit of light relief with me. “So, for the avoidance of doubt,” I go on. “Are you saying that in order to cuff us, you need some dead bodies or evidence to prove James and I may or may not have killed a few men?”