I hear Goldie sigh from behind me and Beau’s eyes dart to her too. “I’ll wait downstairs,” she says, backing out of my bedroom. “Don’t be long.”
“I won’t.” I’ll be right along just as soon as I’ve pacified a woman who looks nowhere near close to being pacified.
“What’s going on?” Beau asks, awkwardly pulling in her towel tighter with one hand, trying to hold one side by clamping her arm to her hip. I can’t watch her struggle like that.
“Here.” I go to her, pulling it open and evening up each side before wrapping her up neatly and securely. Her eyes burn holes in me the entire time.
“What’s Goldie doing here?”
“Delivering the details of my next kill,” I quip, buying myself some time, quickly walking through my options. I have only one.
I grab a robe, help her into it, and take her hand, leading her out of my bedroom, down the stairs, unwilling to leave her alone, even in my own apartment. I place her on the couch, drape a throw over her, and hand her the remote control for the TV. “Give me five minutes.” I kiss her and leave her still looking stunned.
When I make it to Goldie at the island, she gives me a nod to confirm she’s scoped the place. I take my phone from my pocket and load my security app multi-view screen, placing it down before us, my eyes darting across each camera view. Nothing. No one here except us.
“Otto’s watching the rest of the cameras,” Goldie says quietly as I turn all the frosted glass inside my apartment to clear glass with one click of a button on my mobile, and make sure all the external glass is opaque so no one can see in. “There’s no one in the building.”
“How the fuck?” I whisper, perching on a stool, trying to keep my concern from my face, knowing Beau’s not too far away and she’s riddled with curiosity.
“You missed this picture.” Goldie spreads the photos and pushes one toward me, and I inhale when my twisted mind computes what I’m looking at.
Me.
A rifle in one hand, my balaclava hanging from the other, stalking out of a factory with murder etched all over my face. Not because I’d just committed it. But because Beau was missing.
“You fucked up,” Goldie murmurs, as I stare at the condemning image, wondering how I could have been so fucking stupid. I look over my shoulder to Beau, to the woman who’s made me stupid. She’s watching us closely. I don’t force a reassuring smile. It would be insulting her.
“I know,” I whisper, returning my attention forward. “I fucking know.”
“So what now?”
“Now I wait.” I get up and get two beers from the fridge, twisting the caps off each in turn before taking one to Beau. She looks up at me as she accepts, her expression screaming questions. Questions I can’t answer, because the truths will have her running. I tear my eyes away from hers and return to Goldie.
“Wait for what?” she asks.
“His call.” I take a slurp of my beer, wondering where he is. Plotting. Planning my demise. Because now he knows where to find me. What I look like. He’s played the game, and he’s played it well. “Be ready,” I tell her. “And I need you to pick some things up from Beau’s place.”
“Like what?”
“Her passport.”
“How the hell will I know where to find her passport.”
“Because Beau’s going to tell me.” I look to my side and find confusion that doesn’t suit Goldie plastered all over her face.
“She’s just going to jump on a private plane with you and go wherever the hell you say, is she?”
“Yes,” I answer surely, even if I feel anything but. “She knows who I am.”
“What?”
I smile on the inside. “She figured it out.”
Goldie laughs, and it’s one hundred percent sarcastic. “Did she figure out you were involved in her mother’s murder?”
My secret smile falls.
“Didn’t think so. What the fuck, Kel? Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Without question.”
“Then let me help you find it,” she hisses. “On your couch is a woman who is a sure-fire way to get yourself killed.” Her arm shoots toward the table where the photos lay. “I give you exhibit C.”
“What’s exhibit A and B?”
“Your dick and your fucking heart, my friend.” She stomps away, and my teeth naturally clench. But she won’t go far. Never will. Because Goldie couldn’t repay me in a thousand lifetimes for finding her and giving her a new purpose.
“James?” Beau calls from the couch, pulling my attention her way. Just tell her. Spill it all.
And then what?
She leaves.
And if she leaves, she’s dead.
And if Beau’s dead, I may as well be too.
My foot lifts from the floor to take the first step to her, but I’m halted by the sound of my phone vibrating behind me. I look back. “I’ve got to take that,” I say, swapping my beer for my phone and wandering away, feeling Beau’s eyes on my back as I go. As soon as I’m out of earshot, I answer. And as always, I remain silent, unwilling to kick off the conversation or the threats. Him, though? He’s straight in.