“Just taking it all in,” he muses, thoughtful. “But you forgot someone.”
“Who?”
“Spittle.”
Spittle. The name makes my skin crawl. “What about him?”
“He ordered Brad’s death. He knows you’re still alive. He was taking orders from The Bear, and he now knows who I am. He’ll be reporting back to someone.”
Brad laughs, and James glances across to him. “Spittle won’t breathe a word.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Brad grins, pulling up the screen of his phone and placing it on the desk. Both James and I lean forward to see the picture displayed.
“Well, that’s one way to stop a man talking,” I muse, staring down at the image of Spittle with his dick resting on a commercial meat slicer.
“You should just cut his fucking tongue out,” James spits, unimpressed.
I nod, thoughtful, giving Ringo, Goldie, and Otto a moment of my eyes. They all get the message without the need to ask, getting up and leaving my office.
“How well do you trust your men?” I ask James the moment the door closes.
His eyebrow quirks, and I roll my eyes.
“Your people,” I correct myself. Although the woman, Goldie, certainly has animal traits in her eyes. I’ve seen it in endless men.
“I trust them with my life. Otto was my father’s first for fifteen years. He saved my life. Protected me while I pulled my head out of my arse and found my calling.”
“Killing.” I state it as the fact I know it is.
“Justice,” James corrects me coldly.
I nod. Same thing. “And the woman?”
“Honorable. Loyal. She’ll never leave my side. Trust me on that one.” He goes back to his pocket and pulls out something else.
“You got Mary Poppins pockets?” Brads asks dryly, as both our eyes fall to the photograph James places down.
“I don’t know, have I?” He’s back at his pocket again, and this time he pulls out a gun.
“I’m disappointed,” Brad mutters, unfazed. “I was expecting a bazooka.” He waves a finger flippantly at the picture. “Who’s the dude?”
“Brendon Brunelli. I want him alive or alive. Last known location: London after being released from Wormwood Scrubs. I asked Spittle to look into it, but he’s sidetracked at the moment having his dick shaved.”
I chuckle, and it’s unstoppable. “What did he do?” I ask, but I get nothing from James, just a look that’s warning me to not push him on that. “Ring any bells?” I ask Brad, dragging the picture toward me.
“I’ll ask around.”
“Start with Eugene Connor in London,” I say. “If anyone knows, he will.”
“Thanks.” James turns his eyes onto the photo of Pops on my desk, reaching forward and spinning it to face him. “I can see the resemblance.”
Both Brad and I break out in uncontainable laughter, and James looks at us both like we’ve lost our minds. “He’s not my biological father,” I say, relishing the usually unmoving face of James recoiling. “Maybe I’ll tell you the story one day after a Scotch or twenty.” Because that’s how many I’ll need to retell that tale. It would make a fucking brilliant novel.
“So, the plan,” James says, getting us back to business.
“We buy Byron’s Reach. Chaka gets us our guns. We kill The Bear.” Once we find out who the fuck he is.
“All while keeping a wife and a girlfriend happy?” Brad asks seriously. “Good luck with that.”
James sinks further into his chair, and I follow suit, both of us shrinking at the thought. Brad’s right. I hate that he’s always right. Now’s probably not the right time to tell the boys that I’ve negotiated a deal with Rose that will give her the elaborate wedding she always dreamed of. Not when Miami is about to be ripped apart at the seams.
God help us.
6
ROSE
* * *
I’m not crying, but I’m close. I’m in my suite, the room he put me in after taking me from the Aria over three years ago as collateral. I wanted to hate him. Did to an extent. Then I started to chip through the lethal exterior and what I found scared me more than the man who bought me as a girl and controlled me for ten years. I found hope. I found hope in a notorious killer. And then I found love.
He’s given me freedom, killed my demons, found my son, and he’s going to take it all away. I love him. I hate him. I’m back to square one. Powerless.
I rest my hands on the terrace railings and look to my right. To his terrace. The room next to mine. That woman, the resilient, strong, impenetrable woman, survived being Danny Black’s prisoner. And then married him. I love him with every fiber of my fucked-up being. I know he’s stressed. I know he wouldn’t choose this. I know I shouldn’t be causing him more problems. And yet my deep, deep resentment for a world I’ve always hated won’t let me lay back and accept the inevitable.