The Resurrection (Unlawful Men)

I push my back off the wall and take the stairs fast but silently, breaking out into the daylight and breathing heavily. Instinct is trying to stop me, trying to send me back in that building to end the bitch’s life. Sensibility won’t allow it. I call Otto.

“The car’s registered to—”

“Shannon Pike. Get me her address. Get me everything.”

I make it to my car and throw my baseball cap on the seat. Brace my arms against the wheel. Breathe deeply. I’m about to make the biggest mess in Miami.

18

ROSE

* * *

By eight o’clock, he still wasn’t home, and I was exhausted from worrying. I couldn’t listen to Esther tell me that her son knows what he’s doing anymore. She’s as crazy as her boy. Daniel was occupied in his room playing on his PlayStation, and Beau seemed dead set on working out until she could no longer breathe, and then had dinner plans with her aunt so I took myself to bed and carried on being exhausted there.

I heard him come into our room at two a.m. I kept quiet and still when he crawled into bed. What I wanted to do was get up and go sleep elsewhere, if only to demonstrate how pissed off with him I am. But I didn’t. He would have only put me back in our bed.

I eventually dozed off around four after endless hours of wondering what the hell is going on that meant he ventured into the city on his own, and then kept him up until the early hours. A debrief with the men, no doubt. But what about? I get the feeling that to make it to paradise again, I need to go through hell. I have little confidence in myself to make the journey. Especially now when I’m feeling so drained. Mentally. Physically. I’m plain wiped out.

I wake up at noon. Danny’s side of the bed is empty, cold, telling me he’s been up for a while. And I hate it. For three years, if the bedsheets were cool, it didn’t mean that Danny could be in danger. It didn’t mean that he was plotting someone’s death, trying to ensure our questionable safety, or fighting for equilibrium. This daily aching pressure and emptiness didn’t exist, and I miss that . . . peace. That ease. His presence. Mentally and physically.

I shuffle to the edge and stretch, exhaling heavily, my arms slumping down to the mattress with a thud. Tomorrow, we get married. Right now, I feel about as enthusiastic about that as I know Danny is.

Unable to shake my despondency, my mind weighed down with troubling thoughts, my body heavy, I flop back to the bed on a sigh.

“Mom?” The sound of Daniel calling me soon gets my ass into gear, and I sit up quickly, pulling my hair into a ponytail. “Mom, you awake yet?”

“I’ve been awake for ages,” I call, standing as he pushes his way in. “Oh my.” My hands go to my mouth, a lump jumping into my throat. “Look at you!” His suit is sublime, his sporty body carrying it well, his hair all floppy and his face cheeky.

He grins and pulls his jacket in. “Esther told me to get your approval before the seam . . . seams . . . se—”

“Seamstress.”

“That’s it. Before she leaves.” He pivots slowly. “So? Do you approve?”

How could I not? Just look at him. My baby. He looks so handsome. So grown up. Emotion comes over me, and I fight my hand from my stomach. What will Daniel make of a new baby? Will he be happy? Resentful? “I approve,” I confirm, going to him and brushing at his shoulders, generally pulling and straightening his perfect suit, my need to be close overtaking. He won’t be up for cuddles. It sucks, frankly.

“Great.” He spins and dashes out. “I’m playing tennis with Goldie.”

“What?” I call, going to the door and watching him rush down the corridor to the stairs.

“She used to play for her school back in England. She’s challenged me.”

“Take the suit off first.” I jog after him. “Daniel!”

“Yeah, I heard you.”

“Then answer me,” I say quietly, leaning over the gold balustrade. Esther comes out of the kitchen, looking up at me. “Where is he?” I ask, not needing to state who he is.

She shakes her head mildly. “I don’t know. He left with Brad, James, and the men a few hours ago.”

I swallow. It’s lumpy. “Okay.” I look over my shoulder when I hear my cell ringing in the distance from the bedroom.

“I’ll make a pot of tea,” Esther says, and I nod, going back to our room.

I find my phone on the bed and my heart misses a beat when I see who’s calling. I can’t ignore her. “Hilary,” I say in answer, lowering to the bed. “How are you?” I cringe. What a dumb question to ask. This woman didn’t do things right, her desperation to be a mom getting the better of her, but I know she loves Daniel with everything she has.