The Rising, page 4
part #1 of Unlawful Men Book 4 Series
“Salt water will do it good.” My chin hits my chest as I peek down, and Beau starts picking at the edge and peeling away the soggy dressing. She reveals a tidy round wound. Doc did a good job. I pluck the bandage from her fingers, toss it aside, and get us back to business, claiming her mouth again, ready to reload and go again.
“James? Beau?”
I withdraw, startled. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” she asks, trying to pull me back onto her mouth. Of course, I oblige, kissing her again, but my ears are listening. Yet all I can hear are Beau’s indulgent moans.
Bang!
The sound of the door flying open and hitting the wall makes me jump and Beau squeal.
“Oh, shit,” Brad says, as I look over my shoulder, finding him standing in the doorway. “Sorry.” But he doesn’t move, just fucking stands there like a plum, while I ensure every part of me is covering every part of Beau. “Nice ass.”
“You better be talking about mine,” I warn, trying to gage exactly what of Beau’s is on display. She laughs, wrapping her arms and legs around me as I drag down a sheet from the bed and work on covering her. “I hope for your sake this is an emergency, Brad.” I fight back the blood flowing into my dick and leave Beau with all the covers, standing, bollock naked. Brad’s eyes fall to my semi-erect cock, and I lay a hand over it protectively as I walk across to the chair, grabbing some boxers.
“It is an emergency.” He turns and leaves the room. “Something’s wrong with Danny.”
My head drops back, my face pained, part discomfort—my dick aching—part exasperation. I yank on my boxers and go to Beau, pulling her up from the floor and kissing her hard on the lips. “Get a shower.”
“No, thanks.” She slips past me, tucking the sheet in. “I want to know what’s up with Danny too.”
I’d like to tell everyone that he’s simply got a bastard hangover, that they’re all worrying over nothing, but I know as well as anyone that there’s more to it. I follow and find Beau pouring juice out of the blender into glasses. Her mobile rings, and she looks at the screen. I see a shift in her stance.
“Who is it?” I ask, trying not to sound accusing.
“My dad. I’ll call him back.” She refuses to look at me. Her fucking father. Prick. He’s the only bit of Beau I don’t like.
“Have you seen Danny?” Brad asks me, getting comfortable on a stool.
“Yes, I’ve seen him. I was with him this afternoon.” I take the stool next to him and accept the glass Beau slides across to me.
“I just left their place.”
“And?” I ask.
“Let’s just say, the Antarctic is looking pretty fucking appealing for a summer vacation right now.” Brad grimaces at me as I down the juice. “What is that shit?”
“Try some,” Beau says, pushing a glass toward him. “It’ll make you big, strong, and healthy.”
“I’m already big, strong, and healthy. And”—he strokes across his stubble—“good-looking too.”
Beau rolls her eyes. “You need more in your life than the gym and a strip club.”
“Like what?”
“A woman,” she says, splitting her attention between Brad and her juice, her eyebrow arched. “Or a long-standing one, at least.”
“What the fuck?” Brad murmurs, looking at me. I can only shrug. He returns his attention to Beau, smiling, like she just doesn’t get it. “Beau, sweethe—”
“Do not call me sweetheart, Brad. Not if you want to keep your balls.”
I laugh into my glass. “That told you.”
“Beau,” he begins again. “My beautiful, ninja friend.” He raises a brow and Beau nods agreeably, going back to her juice. “Why the fuck would I want to do that?” He laughs. “Jesus, we’re becoming outnumbered.”
“We’re?” Beau asks, her glass paused at her lips.
“The men,” he confirms, as if she needed it. The poor, clueless twat. “We’re supposed to be mafia, and soon there will be more women in this mafia family than men. We can’t have that.”
“No, no, we can’t have that,” Beau breathes, setting down her glass. “Now, if you don’t mind, we were kind of in the middle of something,” she says, motioning down her sheet-covered body and to my naked chest.
Brad looks wholly unimpressed as he turns away from Beau to me. “Want a beer?”
I recoil. “Do I want a beer?” I parrot. “Now?” He is one brave man.
“Yes, we need to talk about Danny.”
Beau snorts and rounds the island, grabbing Brad by the ear, literally, and dragging him up from his seat. “Out,” she demands, switching her hold to his arm and twisting it, getting it up his back in one swift, effective move.
“Arhhhh!”
She ignores him, pushing his helpless body toward the door as I watch on, amused.
“Jesus, fuck, Beau!” Brad bends back awkwardly, trying to lessen the pain. “That fucking hurts.”
She shoves him outside and slams the door.
“That’s why I won’t get a woman,” he yells from beyond the wood. “You’re all fucking pussy-whipped, you pathetic fuckers.”
Beau hauls the door open again, growls, and Brad, quite wisely, backs away. “I can’t watch?” He just can’t help himself, and I laugh as Beau grabs the nearest thing to her—which happens to be a shoe—and chucks it at his head.
I’m in a full-on laughing fit by the time she’s scared Brad off, and, fuck, it feels good to laugh. I wipe at my eyes and find her.
The sheet is pooling her feet.
I look down and watch as my dick stands and tents my boxers.
Magic.
4
BEAU
James brushes his nose across the skin of my stomach as I recover. “We’d better get ready for dinner,” he eventually says.
“Rose canceled.”
“Danny never mentioned it, so we’re going.” He rests his chin on my stomach and gazes up at me, his eyes soft as I sink my fingers into his hair. “What are you thinking, Beau?” He’s worried about me going back to dark places.
“I’m thinking . . .” I fade off and push some hair from his eyes. “You need a trim.” But just a trim. I’m loving his longer hair. And the fact the sun has kissed it, making it lighter and his skin tan.
He peeks up at his mop. “What can I do to make this easier?”
I smirk. “Kill him. Like, really kill him.” I know James was braced for a total shitstorm amid the other shitstorm. Killing The Bear is a given. Problem is, no one knows how long that’ll take.
“And in the meantime?” he asks, sounding as surprised as he looks.
“In the meantime, you worry about me,” I answer. It’s simple. “Why are we discussing this, when we all know what’s going to happen?”
“Are you being smart?”
“Always.” I slip down the bed and kiss him. “I accept it. You thought The Bear was Perry Adams and killed him. The Bear wasn’t Adams, so now it is back to the drawing board. What else can I do?” The moment I looked at him last night, as he watched me dancing, I knew something had happened. And I feared I knew what. Because, like Rose, I’d silently questioned Perry Adams’s capabilities. I didn’t know him like Rose did, of course, but he was mayor of Miami. A bit of a dick, to be honest, but The Bear? No.
I’ve chosen to be with James, and I’ve been at peace with that decision for a long time. Okay, so sometimes I slip below the surface into the darkness. Some days I don’t feel so sure I can look toward the light. Some days, I’m fighting to keep my head above water. But never since finding out who James is, namely, The Enigma, the cold-blooded, silent killer, have I questioned my love for him. Not once. Never have I thought about leaving him. We just take each day as it comes and deal with it as it does. Bottom line, I’m no longer alone. I don’t need to fight my darkness in solitary.
I have James.
“I love you, Beau Hayley,” he whispers, blinking, his lashes so close I feel them tickle mine.
“Broken, fixed,” I murmur. “Happy, sad. I will always remember that.”
He smiles mildly and kisses me deeply. “Pregnant, not pregnant,” he says, and I pull back in surprise, regarding him. I don’t need to ask him what he means by that. I know.
“Are you saying we have to stop trying?” I ask.
“Did you hear those words come out of my mouth?”
“Not exactly.”
“I don’t want you to be sad if it doesn’t happen.”
“Are you shooting blanks all of a sudden?”
He rolls his eyes and kisses me chastely. “Are you a comedian all of a sudden?”
“You want to wait, don’t you?”
“I want to do what’s best for us.” He stands and pulls me up, walking me to the bathroom. “Come on, we’ll be late.”
“I told you, Rose canceled.”
“And I told you, Danny hasn’t so we’re going to Antarctica.”
I laugh and let him put me in the shower, standing still while he washes me all over with a soapy sponge. I don’t know what’s best for us. Less for James to worry about would be best, I suppose, and another life, me having a baby, will be more for him to worry about. But for me?
I look down at my tummy, wondering.
Hoping.
Praying.
* * *
We walk down the beach to Danny and Rose’s hand in hand, James carrying the wine and my shoes, me carrying my purse. “I haven’t seen Goldie today,” I say, looking up to the bar where Zinnea sings. It’s her night off so the beach and half of St. Lucia are spared the sound of her dulcet tones so she can enjoy dinner with her family.
“Me neither,” James says, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping his thumb across the screen before slipping it back in and reclaiming me.
“She didn’t say anything last night?” I ask.
“Oh, she said plenty, and none of it suited the dress she was wearing.”
I laugh, even if it’s misplaced. “I like girlie Goldie.”
“I think she’s going to be gone for a while.” He drops my hand and puts his arm around me, kissing my hair, and I hum my agreement, knowing the news we got last night will likely put Goldie back a few paces on her path to freedom. Brunelli, the man who raped her and turned her into the cold-hearted, emotionless female we all know and love, is dead, and she thought James had exorcised his demons, so a softer, more feminine woman—one who let her guard down, was starting to emerge. One who wore dresses and drank wine. I imagine she’ll be feeling quite crestfallen right now. But she won’t walk away. Not until she knows James can.
Because when The Bear dies, so does the merciless assassin that James became after his family was murdered. When The Bear dies, so does The Enigma. I’m not deluded enough to believe it stops there entirely, though. Like Danny, you don’t make a name for yourself and walk away as if you never tortured and murdered dozens of men, even if they deserved to die. Expect the unexpected. I have to live by that motto if I am to live with James, and I cannot live without him, so that is that.
“There’s Otto and Esther,” I say, motioning to the path that leads down from Esther’s place to the beach. “They’re surely not arriving together?” I saw Danny earlier. Today would not be a good day to piss him off. I find my pace increasing, wanting to get to them before they make it to Danny and Rose’s villa, to warn them about what they’re walking into. “Esther!” I yell, waving. “Wait up.” I grab James’s hand and start jogging through the sand.
“You need to stay out of it, Beau,” James mumbles. “Not our problem.”
“Do you want Otto to die?”
“Danny won’t kill Otto.”
I snort. I may not have known Danny Black for long, but I know him well. He’s unpredictable. Shoots from the hip. And today, he’s in a bad mood. “I’d rather not chance it,” I say, reaching them.
“Chance what?” Otto asks, looking between us. “What’s going on?”
“Danny.”
“What about him?” Esther asks, her voice high and worried. “Did something happen?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I went shopping with Rose earlier. She was weirdly cagey, and James said Danny hardly murmured a word while they were out on the jet skis earlier.”
“I imagine that’s because he drank enough Scotch last night to sink a fucking cruise liner,” Otto mumbles. “Understandable, given the circumstances.”
“You shouldn’t have told us,” Esther says, looking between James and Otto accusingly.
James laughs, and Otto rubs at his forehead. I won’t join them in openly expressing their thoughts on that, but I have to agree, it’s a crazy suggestion. Esther is basically saying we women are gullible. That we don’t know our men. That they could disappear for fuck knows how long to find and kill someone and we wouldn’t suspect a thing. For God’s sake.
“I mean it,” she affirms, pointing toward Danny and Rose’s villa. “If that bloody bear doesn’t kill my son, his wife will.”
“The Bear won’t kill him,” Otto says, and I smile at his gruff voice being all soft and pacifying. “I promise you that, Boo.”
“Boo?” James blurts, earning a scowl from Otto.
“Say a fucking word . . .”
James’s hands come up in defense. “Wouldn’t dream of it”—he backs up as Otto stomps off and Esther follows—“Boo,” he adds. I smack his arm, and he laughs again, as Otto slows to a stop.
“You clearly want to die too,” I sigh, willing Otto to pick up his feet, which he eventually does. I tug James along, watching as Esther catches up to Otto and nudges him with her shoulder. He nudges her right back. But no touching. No handholding. I know Esther’s history. I know she deserves happiness and freedom from her guilt. I just question whether Otto—a man renowned for being a frequent visitor of strip clubs—is the man to give her that.
“Do you think they’re . . .” I pout. “You know.”
“Fucking?”
I flinch on Danny’s behalf. “Esther doesn’t look like the kind of woman to fuck.”
“And that’s all Otto does, so if you’re asking me if they’re going to work out, the answer is no.”
Another flinch, but this time for Esther. “Perhaps you should have a bit more faith.” I look at him. “I bet a million people would vote against us working out.”
His scowl is instant as he looks down at me. “I couldn’t give a fuck what a million people think. Only you.” He stops us walking, takes my purse, and sets it on the wall with the bottle of wine and my shoes. He turns into me. “So, what do you think, Beau Hayley?” His eyes scan mine as I half smile, his palms cupping my cheeks.
“I think,” I say, scanning his glorious face, “I love you.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
He nods, the pad of his thumb dragging across my bottom lip, wiping away the gloss. And he lowers his face to mine slowly, making me wait for his kiss. I inhale, bracing myself, taking hold of his wrists, my eyes closing. I feel when his mouth is level with mine, his breath warming my skin, and I whimper, begging him to indulge me, and yet he makes me wait some more. Makes me burn more. Makes my heart boom more.
And suddenly, the heat dies.
His hands fall away from my cheeks.
I lose my hold of his wrists.
And I stumble forward a fraction from the loss of support before he quickly catches and steadies me.
I open my eyes and find him on his knees. His gaze soft. His mouth straight. His eyes glowing.
His hand held up.
And on his pinky finger, halfway down, sits a diamond ring.
I breathe out and find his eyes. “James,” I whisper. “I—”
“I’ll always catch you, Beau.”
I melt at my very own hard assassin being so romantic and soft, and lower to my knees, joining him. “That’s all I need.”
“Are you saying no again?”
My eyes pass between James and the ring. “Why do you want to get married?” I ask.
He considers that for a few moments as he regards me closely. “My mother was my father’s light,” he says quietly, an edge of sadness in his deep voice. “And he always followed the light.” His eyes become glazed, and my heart splits. “You are my light, Beau. And I would follow you to the ends of the earth.” He takes my right hand and slips the ring onto my finger. “It can stay there until you see the light,” he says, smiling down at my hand.
“Was this your mother’s ring, James?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He just takes my nape and pulls me onto his mouth, kissing me hard and meaningfully. His sentiment is beautiful. Except I don’t think darkness is avoidable in our world. And as we’ve both learned, and how we were both drawn to each other, darkness entices darkness. “Stay in the light with me, Beau,” he begs, kissing my lids, my nose, my cheeks, my forehead. “It’s all I ask.”
I can only try. “We’ll be late,” I whisper, pulling away and running my fingers through his hair. James nods and stands, pulling me up with him. He gets my purse and hands it to me, and my cell inside starts ringing. I know who it’ll be, and I can’t avoid him forever, but I’ve done a good job since that painfully uncomfortable day Dad got caught up in our world. The explosion. His funny turn. His girlfriend, Amber, showing up at the mansion. I’ll never forget Rose’s face when we walked into the TV room and found her on my father’s arm. Or my dad’s face when he finally comprehended not only my unwavering decision to be with James, but also the fact that his girlfriend was a gold-digging whore who used to service Danny and his men. I flinch on my friend’s behalf. And, oddly, my father’s.
I answer as James collects my shoes. “Dad,” I say on an exhale I’m sure he will detect.
“Beau, it’s been weeks.”
Weeks. There was a time when months would pass without seeing or hearing from my father. James crouches before me and puts one of my sandals at my feet, and I hold his shoulder as he brushes the sand off before letting me slip my foot in. “How are you?” I ask. I took no pleasure in how embarrassed he was. How foolish he had been. I love my father, but he’s hardly God’s gift. A little overweight, a lot arrogant, but he’s loaded and that appeals to women of a certain variety. He was always going to be a target. A part of me wonders if he regrets betraying Mom. If he wished he’d never been so blinkered and left her for a younger model. I hope he does. I fear my hope is in vain.
