The Brit

Just like all those men in Vegas. “Get Brad into wherever he’s being held.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

Spittle regards me across the desk. “Since we’re on the subject of explosions, your jet ski was found off the coast burnt to a cinder. What happened?”

“It was stolen.”

“Then why didn’t you report it?”

I shrug. “You know me, Spittle. Bigger fish to fry. Have it dropped off at the boatyard.”

He visibly deflates, exhausted by the brick walls he keeps hitting. “It’s beyond repair.”

“I’m rather attached to it.”

“Fine. And I have someone working on the phone.”

“Forget about it.” I strain the words. “Like I said, bigger fish to fry.” I stand, my way of ending our impromptu meeting. “If that’s all?”

“That’s all. As ever, thank you for your time, Mr. Black.” He bows, the sarcastic wanker. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. My father’s funeral. Amid the rolling madness, I almost forgot. “He told me to shoot any FBI who show up.”

Spittle laughs his way out of my office. “I’ll be sure to wear my vest.” Stopping at the door, he turns back, something close to concern marring his rugged face. “Someone is clearly determined to put an end to you, Danny.”

“Is that your way of telling me to be careful?” What a joke. Me winding up dead would relieve Spittle of endless stress. “I’m touched.”

He waves his hand flippantly. “I’m just pointing out that the whole of Miami, hell, the whole of America, knows you’re burying your father tomorrow.”

“I’ve got it covered,” I assure him, pouring more Scotch. “See you there.”

I’m left in peace for all of two seconds before my phone rings. I’m grateful. Silence leaves too much space to think, and I’m not thinking about shit I should be thinking about. I look down at the screen and smile. “Adams,” I answer. “Called to tell me you’re declining my invitation to visit me?”

“You tried to kill the kid.”

My teeth grind impatiently. “I didn’t try to kill the fucking kid. I got him out the firing line.”

Adams is silent on the end of the line. I hope he’s thinking carefully about his next move. He clearly is, but given his lack of a reply, I’m assuming he doesn’t know what it is. “Perry, let me make this easy for you.” I sit forward and rest my elbows on the table. “I have your girlfriend. I’m going to cut off her pretty face and send it to you in a pretty box if you don’t tell me who the fuck wants my marina and why.”

“I’m being blackmailed,” he whispers.

“By who?”

“I don’t know. They have pictures of me and Rose. God, I was so careful, but one of my staff . . .” He sighs. “I obviously wasn’t paying him enough. It’ll ruin me if they get out. My campaign will be obliterated.”

Pictures of him and Rose? Ignore the anger, Danny. Ignore it. Bigger fish to fry. “Are you telling me that you’re trying to turn me over because you don’t want America to know that you’ve been shagging behind your wife’s back?”

“God, no.”

“Who got the pictures? The member of your staff, I want his name.” Let’s start connecting some fucking dots.

“He’s dead.”

“What?”

“They sent me his head, Danny. They sent me his fucking head!” His voice is shaking terribly. His head. Fuck me, Adams probably vomited all over it.

“Yeah, well, I might be sending you a whole fucking body.”

He’s silent for a few moments, the gravity of his situation sinking in. “They’ve promised money. Said I could pay you back with it, but then you upped it to thirty-five million, for Christ’s sake. They’re not coughing up. I’m fucking cornered.” Finally, the man gives in to his helplessness and crumbles down the line. “I walk away from you, you kill me. I walk away from them, they expose me and probably kill me too.”

“I just threatened to cut off your girlfriend’s face, you dick,” I spit, disgusted by his lack of thought for Rose. “Does she feature at all in your dilemma?” I want to cut off his face now.

“You won’t do it,” he replies, too matter-of-factly for my liking. “There aren’t just pictures of me and Rose.”

“What?”

“Today I was sent some of you and Rose. Looking rather cozy on the shore at that boatyard of yours. And at an Italian restaurant downtown. For a man making threats on her well-being, you looked pretty smitten to me.”

I stare blankly forward, my mind empty, leaving Adams to go on.

“My contact sent them and told me not to worry about my girlfriend. Told me she’s safe, and I think she is, isn’t she, Danny? She’s bewitched you too. But I know she means nothing to my contact. I know he’d rip her apart. You have to help me protect her.”

Rip her apart? I’d like to see him fucking try. “She means nothing to me,” I grate, so fucking angry with myself, seeing my dad shaking his head at me in disappointment.