Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
“Hello?”
I blink and look around the room. Everyone’s watching me. “Get me a drink,” I breathe, motioning to the full bottle of vodka on the cabinet. Goldie obliges and swiftly gets a tumbler in my hand. That first sip. Fucking heaven. I shake my head on a grimace when Brad offers me a cigarette. “What’s the plan?” A newspaper lands in front of me, the front-page news quite something. I pick it up and read the article by Natalia Potter detailing the tragic death of Detective Collins at the hands of Russian ex-KGB mobster Marek Zielińska. Another newspaper lands on top of it. Another compelling front-page story. Oliver Burrows. A hero, killed in service by a bent FBI agent who was assumed dead. Beau’s mother’s face is next to Burrows’s. “Has Beau seen this?” I ask, looking up at the date. Two weeks ago.
“Yes, she’s seen it,” Danny says. “In fact, she met with Natalia Potter and made sure all of the details were accurate.”
I raise my brows, reading the damning report into her mother. Closure. Okay, so apparently I haven’t known where Beau’s been twenty-four/seven.
“I’ve managed to stall the second delivery from Chaka,” Danny says, pulling my attention up as he pulls a pack of Marlboros from his pocket and lights up. “The Mexicans aren’t happy with us.”
I wince, knowing what that means. We might have lost a bear and a zoo, but there’s always another enemy to replace the last. “And Sandy wants guns.”
“Thank fuck,” Brad says. “The bunker’s bursting at the seams.”
I smile, relishing another sip of vodka as Danny’s phone rings and he looks down at it. “Let’s see how many he wants.” He answers and gives Bud instructions to bring Sandy to the office before hanging up and taking his seat at his desk, relaxing back. And the office falls silent until there’s a knock at the door.
I brace myself for the murderous feelings about to descend as it swings open, but when he steps into the office, I feel . . . nothing.
“Afternoon,” he says, giving everyone a moment of his eyes. “You are all here for me?”
“We’re famous for our hospitality.” Danny smiles around his cigarette. “Why don’t you take a seat?” He motions to the chair opposite him. “Drink?”
I smile around the rim of my glass, feeling everyone else’s amusement too. The Brit being all hospitable? It’s a novelty.
Sandy takes a seat and nods to me. I nod back, a silent acceptance of his olive branch. “My business is out of state,” he says, getting to the point.
“Are you saying you’re leaving Miami?” Danny follows Sandy’s lead.
He smiles. “I don’t think this town is big enough for the two of us.” He looks at me. “Or three.”
“Four,” Brad growls from the couch, making Goldie chuckle.
“It’s not,” Danny confirms. “So you’ll be taking the guns you buy from us to . . . where?”
“Many will be sent home. Some will remain with me in New York.”
“New York?” Danny muses. “The Italians have New York.”
“I’m favoring the Italians over The Brit.” His eyebrows rise. “Also, the Mexicans owe me. I can ensure they do not trouble you.” Interesting. “Are we talking or not?”
Danny looks at me.
I knock back my drink. New York is far enough away from me, which means Miami is ours and ours alone.
Normality is looking more and more likely. I nod to Danny as the office door opens and Rose wanders in, looking up. She freezes. “Shit, I’m sorry,” she blurts, backing out. “It can wait.”
“Everything okay, baby?” Danny asks, standing from his chair.
“Yes, I forgot you had a meeting. It’s about—” She pauses, her eyes drop, and she seems to pale.
“Rose?”
She smiles. It’s forced. “It can wait. I’m sorry for disturbing you.” The door is quickly closed, and I look at Danny. His frown is as big as mine.
“I’ll be in touch,” he says to Sandy, his eyes not leaving the door. “Len will see you out.”
45
DANNY
I let Len take over at the door and run up the stairs two at a time. I saw her face. Everyone in that office saw her face. What the fuck’s going on? I steam down the corridor, my walk fast and determined, and push my way into our bedroom. “Rose?” I call, listening.
I hear a noise in the bathroom. I try the handle. Locked. My chest starts to pump. “Rose,” I call through the wood, my ear pressed against it, listening.
“Coming,” she squeaks.
I look at the door incredulously. “Open the fucking door.”
“I’m fine.”
“Open the fucking door, Rose,” I bellow, stress taking over. She’s fucking insulting me. I look over my shoulder when I hear movement, seeing Brad and James in the room with me. “She’s locked herself in the fucking bathroom,” I tell them, banging my fist into the wood. “Open the fucking door!”