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)
“And still,” James says, looking across the carnage. “Nowhere near as messy as when Nolan lived in here.”
I look at him, bemused. “Seriously?”
“Mate, there was shit growing on shit.”
“True story,” Brad sighs, slapping the man himself on the shoulder.
Nolan shows the ceiling his palms. “Should I get this cleared up?”
“You should,” I grumble, dropping the gun. “And now I’m taking my wife home.” I open the door. “Don’t ask me if I’m going to fuck her or kill her, because I haven’t made my mind up.”
“Jesus,” I hear Brad breathe. “I guess I’m going too, in case he opts for option two.” He faces Nolan, pointing at him. “Be-fucking-have.”
I stop outside the office and have another drag, finding Rose at the bar, still facing this way, waiting. I point my cigarette to the door, and she gets up quickly, kissing Beau’s cheek and heading out of the club. Brad passes me to accompany her, and I make my way over to Beau. “The way I see it,” I say, prompting her to look up at me. “You’ve got two choices.”
“And what are they, Danny?”
“Live or die,” I answer, raising my brows. “I know which one I want you to take.”
“Are you saying you’ll kill me if I don’t stand down?”
“No, Beau, I’m saying you will kill you if you don’t stand down. And you’ll kill James too, because he and I share the same ethos when it comes to living.” Her head tilts in question. “We can’t do it without our hearts, as black and damaged and fucked up as they fucking are.” She knows I’m not talking about our internal organs. “Get some sleep,” I order. “You look like fucking shit.” Exhausted. Drained. Angry.
“Thanks,” she mutters as I walk away.
“That’s what friends are for,” I call back. “And for the record, I’m sorry about your father.”
I find Rose by the doors, and she launches the moment she has me within reach. “What happened?” she asks, scanning me up and down, looking for signs of damage.
“So now you’re talking to me?” I take her elbow and lead her to the car, putting her in the back as Brad slips into the front, aware of Tank’s absence.
“I’m not talking to you. I just want to know what happened.”
“What happened?” What happened today is I learned never to think that things can’t get any worse or more personal. What a fucking day.
16
ROSE
He went straight to his office when we arrived home. Alone. An hour later, he came to our room, undressed in silence, and showered alone, and he didn’t give me the opportunity to reject him in bed, turning over and going to sleep in minutes, obviously exhausted. Me? I laid awake in an unbearable state of insomnia, staring at the bandages covering Danny’s chest, begging my mind to shut down and rest. It was having none of it. Neither was the baby, who seemed hell-bent on making me feel her presence, either with heartburn or nausea. In a sense, it was reassuring, but with the relief came worry and guilt. Is my restlessness affecting her? My recklessness?
As soon as dawn breaks, I leave Danny in bed, slip on a robe, and go down to the kitchen, and the moment I enter, it feels so empty. No Esther puttering around, baking, cooking, making tea.
Tea. I need a cup of English tea.
I make myself one and take a seat on a stool at the island, taking my first sip. My nose wrinkles. It’s drinkable, but certainly not in Esther’s league. I miss her. Not just her tea, but her ability to reason with me. With everyone. What would she tell me right now? Other than threaten to slap my face, she would remind me of who I’m married to and why I am married to him. It’s so easy to forget, to lose sight of forever and happiness, when I am immersed in the violence and trials that being with The Brit brings.
For over an hour, I tussle and argue with myself, often looking down at my tummy, coming back to the same conclusion.
I shouldn’t be here.
I serve no purpose but to rile him daily. I am incapable of handling my emotions, even more so now, but more than anything, I should go for all our safeties. Danny can focus, I can be with Daniel, and the baby and I will be out of harm’s way. Or, more like out of Danny’s way. Neither of us can do right for doing wrong, so it’s for the best.
I nod to myself and turn on my stool when I hear dainty footsteps coming down the marble steps. With Esther still in St. Lucia, it can be only one person.
I get up and go to the door, seeing Beau nearing the bottom, her slight, toned body adorned in gym clothes, her hands in her hair tying it. She looks like she got about as much sleep as I did, dark circles around her eyes. I don’t need to ask how she and James are. The fact she’s up at six o’clock heading for the gym tells me. This tragedy definitely hasn’t brought them together, and after listening to Beau last night and watching her monitor her cell like a hawk, waiting for a call from her ex-fiancé—God help us—I know it’s not likely to either. She wants to get out there and get all the details. She wants to find out what happened, the circumstances, the perpetrator. She wants to be the cop she once was, and that’s going to go down as well as a missile hitting the mansion.