“What?”
“Peace and freedom for me and my family. I leave Miami, you will never hear from me again, and I don’t ever want to hear from you.”
“Done.”
“And I want to know who you are,” I add. “If I’m giving you The Enigma, you give me your identity. That’s my only way of guaranteeing my freedom.” I cannot leave Miami not knowing who this bastard is. “That’s my only way of ensuring my family’s safety.”
He inhales, the distorter muffling. “Okay.”
He’s weighed up his options, and it didn’t take long. My offer is the best he’ll get. He knows that, and I can’t keep dodging death, because there will come a time when it won’t be dodged. “There’s a green container at my boatyard. I’m sure you know where it is. He’ll be in there at seven tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Why the change of heart?”
I look at the door where my family is beyond. I see Daniel. See my wife sleeping peacefully in our bed in St. Lucia. She hasn’t slept like that since we got here. Uninterrupted. All through the night. And I see the image in my mind of my baby on the monitor. But I don’t need my enemies knowing I have another Achilles heel on the way.
I don’t answer, hanging up and staring at the painting hanging over my safe. I walk across and pull it down, turning the dial until it clicks open. I reach in and pull out a VP9, checking the magazine before replacing it, getting the painting back on the wall just as Daniel bursts into my office. “It’s time, Mister.”
“On my way, kid.”
22
ROSE
* * *
The dress is my taste, and it’s what I like. Just enough flesh revealed and off the shoulder. My tall body feels comfortable in the floor-sweeping, figure-hugging silk gown, and the shade of red is not whore red. It’s classy red. It’s not tarty.
Because I’m not a tart anymore.
I love it. Danny will love it, and, more than that, he will love what me in this dress symbolizes.
Freedom.
It represents control, but not being controlled. Ironic, really, since my love for Danny absolutely rules me. But not him. He will never control me. And to pay homage to the fact that no man will ever control me again, I’m standing outside the tent alone, just as Danny said I would. In my long red gown. That I chose all by myself.
I smile, brushing my bare hands down the silk. No flowers. Empty hands because I don’t need to cling to anything anymore. Clinging suggests a fear of it being taken away. Nothing will be taken from me. Not this day. Not my beautiful son, who I saw walking back down the aisle once he’d seen me and blown me a kiss. God, I love that kid.
Not my beloved, death-dealing groom, who texted me a picture of the queen of hearts half hour ago.
I approach the pergola arching the entrance on steady legs. The smell of honeysuckle is potent. The entire inside space comes into my sights, but I see nothing except him, his back to me, his tall, dangerous body adorned in the finest black suit, his dark hair still on the longer side, small locks flicking out here and there. My masterpiece. Deadly in every sense of the word.
Only when Nina Simone’s I put a Spell on You starts does he look over his shoulder, a wry smile on his insanely handsome face. A small laugh escapes me as everyone else turns to see me.
“I’ll ask this only once,” Danny calls, his face full of expectancy as his whole body turns leisurely to face me. “Do you want to be mine?”
My heart constricts but feels like it bursts all at the same time. Could I love him more? “I want to be yours.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing just standing there, woman?” he asks, making Father McMahon balk a little and everyone else laugh. And so he sets the tone for our wedding, lifting his hand for me to go to him, which I do. There’s no lazy, lengthened wander down the aisle. No taking my time for people to take me in. If I wasn’t in heels, I’d probably sprint to him, but I am, so I take a safer walk, reaching him in no time, with still virtually the whole track to play. He takes my hand and tugs me into his body, putting his mouth to my ear. “You. Are. Exquisite,” he whispers, starting to sway us, turning us in circles, pulling back to get me in his sights. And so is he. Trimmed, even stubble, his scar prominent, his eyes bright with happiness rather than coldness. I’m one of only three people in this world who gets this side of Danny Black. Soon, it will be four people.