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)
Lightness entices lightness.
And I feel like I’m floating right now. “Yes?” I ask, needing, wanting, to hear it again. I pull her off the horse, her legs around my waist, and stand, indulging in our kiss, moaning my contentment. Bliss.
“Yes,” she says around my lips, tightening every muscle around me. A sign. She’ll never let me go. “Yes.” She bites my lip. “Yes.” Swirls her tongue through my mouth. “Yes.” Dots kisses all over my face.
I groan and pull back, looking at her. Taking in every exquisite piece of her. “I might not show it on the outside, Beau Hayley, but you make me an extremely happy—”
“Assassin?”
I smile, kissing her again. “We will be okay.”
“I—”
The gym door flies open and Brad appears, looking a little ruffled. “Jesus, do you two ever put each other down?” He waves a hand at us, exasperated. “I’m glad you’ve made up. We have a development. Danny’s office now.” He turns and leaves, and I feel Beau stiffen in my arms. And here we have our first challenge.
“Development on what?” she calls after him. I place her down and look at her seriously. “We’re yet to discuss boundaries,” she says, kind of nervous, kind of cocky. “And part of the crazy I’m feeling is not knowing what the hell is going on.”
Of course, because her craving information, scratching around for the truth, is what made her an incredible cop. It’s as essential as breathing to Beau . . . and I’ve denied her that. Fuck. “And there I was thinking you putting that ring on the correct finger was a sign.”
She looks at me like I’m stupid, because, obviously, I am. “You know who I am, James.” She tucks herself into my side and lets me walk her out of the gym. “As I know who you are.”
A cop.
A criminal.
I don’t release her when we reach the lobby. I don’t order her away or send her to our room. No. She’ll always be by my side. Even when I’m walking into fucking battle. Fuck my life, I lead her into Danny’s office, and when every eye in the house turns our way, I silently dare any of them to challenge me.
Of course, Danny doesn’t heed the warning. “Are you fucking joking?” he asks from his chair behind his desk.
I don’t answer. He knows as well as me that we need to flex, so here I am, flexing. I release Beau, and she goes to the couch and lowers in between Goldie and Ringo, her lips pressed together.
Shaking his head, Danny stands and rounds his desk, approaching her.
She looks up at him, not speaking a word, but I know she’s got plenty to say. Yet in this moment, Beau knows what’s good for her, and showing willingness is what’s good for her. Like putting that ring on the correct finger. A ploy?
Danny’s eyes narrow, and I stand back, letting this play out. “This isn’t a place for a wom—”
“Don’t do it,” Ringo warns, as Goldie’s body visibly straightens on the couch. “Please, Danny, I beg you, do not do it.”
Danny turns his eyes onto Goldie, while Beau fights her smirk. “If you smile, I will kill you,” Danny hisses, making Beau get her lips quickly in check. But not mine. Or Brad’s and Ringo’s and Otto’s and Goldie’s. We’re all fighting smiles. Except Danny. He takes a patience-gathering breath. “I’m letting this slide for now.”
I look at Beau, whose face tells a different story.
“I’ve had a call from The Shark,” Danny goes on.
All amusement leaves us.
“The fuck?” Brad blurts. “Do people google ‘The Brit’ now and find your height, wealth, and fucking cell phone number?”
“Interesting after The Ox showed up at the club last night,” I muse. What the fuck’s going on?
Danny looks at me, his face as thoughtful as I guess mine is.
“Wait, The Ox was at the club?” Goldie asks, throwing a frown around the office. “When?”
“When Ringo took you for dinner,” Danny mutters, eyes never leaving mine.
“He didn’t take me for fucking dinner. He took me for food. So The Ox showed up and—”
“I killed him,” Danny says, blasé, still looking thoughtful. “After he politely requested we stopped supplying the Mexicans.”
“And what did The Shark want?” I ask.
“Guns,” Danny says quietly, his fingers forming a steeple, resting against his top lip, thoughtful.
“Are you really considering arming our enemies?” Brad asks, looking as concerned as everyone else in the room.
“Yes,” I answer for Danny. “Sounds like the Polish and the Russians are no longer working in harmony,” I muse, perching on the edge of Danny’s desk. “Looks like word is getting round that The Brit is offering a cracking discount on weaponry.”
“And what about The Bear?” Brad asks. “I don’t want it to be taken as gospel, but I’m pretty fucking sure he wouldn’t want his minions doing business with The Brit and The Enigma, since both want his identity so they can fucking kill him.”