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)
“Ah, no need,” Lennox says, hands up again.
“You don’t mind if my men join you?” Danny says, motioning to Tank and Fury as he passes them some cash.
Lennox laughs a little, but he’s frowning. “Not at all. What time do you want him”—he eyes the Vikings—“them home?”
Rose moves in front of Danny, smiling. “I can pick him up if it helps?”
“She wants to die,” James mutters, shaking his head.
I agree. Tank and/or Fury will bring Daniel home. They’ll take him now too. That kid goes nowhere without them. Christ knows what Barney’s dad is thinking.
Danny smiles darkly at the back of Rose’s head. “Yes, we’ll collect him.” His hand rests on her nape and massages as the Vikings look on, plain confused. “One of the weird pregnancy things Rose has going on at the moment is a craving for pickles around ten at night, so we’ll be out picking some up anyway.”
“Oh, congratulations,” Lennox says, looking at Rose’s stomach. “You’d never know.”
“But now you do.” Danny smiles. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Sure.” Lennox holds up his hand to the table. “Nice meeting you all,” he says, getting a collection of murmurs in return.
“I’ll come,” Rose says.
“No, baby, your ankles are all puffy.” Danny turns her by the shoulders back toward the table. “Sit. I insist.” His lips move to her ear and kisses it sweetly, and he whispers something before he strolls off to see Lennox Benson out.
“A death threat?” James asks quietly.
“Yep.” I take my wine to my mouth, but it doesn’t make it there, soon being replaced with water again.
“One domestic is enough for tonight, don’t you think?” he says gruffly.
I start stirring my rice into my curry as Rose, looking contemplative, lowers to a chair, but my fork stops halfway to my mouth when I catch Brad’s face, and it lowers when he starts coughing, dropping his fork.
“Fuck me,” he wheezes, thumping his chest, his eyes darting across the table. “Pass me the fucking water.”
Esther is up in a beat, rushing to fill his glass, but Brad doesn’t hang around, grabbing the jug from her and virtually tipping it down his throat. His face turns an alarming shade of red, his eyes wide and watery, his brow wet. I look down at the curry on my fork.
“You fucking pussy,” Ringo grunts, shoveling a huge forkful into his mouth, and two seconds later, he joins Brad, coughing and spluttering all over the table, wrestling him for the water jug.
I lower my fork to the plate, looking around as everyone starts poking at their untouched curry, all of them probably worrying about upsetting Rose even more. Not Danny, though. He returns to the table, takes a seat, and pushes his plate away. I look at my friend. She’s happily working her way through the goat dish, unperturbed and unaffected by the level of heat.
“What the fuck did you put in that thing?” Brad gasps, reclaiming the water from Ringo as Esther disappears into the kitchen to get more.
Rose shrugs, forking at a piece of meat drenched in sauce and chewing through it. “Everything the recipe said to put in it.” She taps her phone on the table and brings up a screen, pointing to the list. “I added a couple more Habaneros. One seemed a bit stingy.”
“And the seeds?” Ringo asks, flapping a hand in front of his face. “What about the seeds?”
Rose looks down at her fork. “It said the whole chili.”
“So you put three in?” Brad pushes his plate away, dabbing at his top lip with his napkin. “Fucking hell, I think my tongue’s gonna fall off.”
“Well,” Rose muses, almost happily. “At least no one will ever be able to cut it out.”
I peek at Danny, cautious, seeing him shifting in his chair, looking wired. Charged. Ready to snap. And our saving grace, Daniel, has just left the building.
Everyone else? They want to laugh. They want to laugh so hard, but they obviously value their lives more than the need to restrain their untimely amusement.
“I just have to know.” Rose pops another forkful of curry into her mouth and chews, absolutely immune to the fact that it’s loaded with enough chilies to literally blow someone’s head off. Brad and Ringo are proof, their faces glowing and wet. She laughs, and I brace myself for the explosion of Danny, my hand falling to James’s leg and squeezing, a silent message to get ready to hold him back. Rose drops her fork and dabs her lips. “What made you think Perry Adams was The Bear?” Her eyes are focused solely on Danny at the other end of the table. No one else. Just him.
“Here we go,” Otto sighs, peeking out the corner of his eye to Esther, who’s looking nervously at her son.
“I assume you’re talking to me?” Danny asks flatly.