The Rising, page 52
part #1 of Unlawful Men Book 4 Series
“What color did you go for?” I ask.
She blinks and peeks down at her feet, reminding herself. “Nude.” But of course. “You?”
I don’t look down. “Red.” But I do look at the ruby on my finger. This is the only red I want to see on you. I frown, seeing the red, slutty dress I was wearing the night Danny took me. The slutty red lipstick he rubbed off my lips when I wore it simply to piss him off. “Excuse me,” I say to the therapist working on my toes. “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like pink, please. Or maybe coral.”
Beau goes back to her cell, and I make sure she hears my exasperation. “What?” she says, dropping it in to her lap heavily.
“You’ve not spoken a word since we arrived. This is supposed to be a girlie pamper day.”
“Oh, please. You are my best friend. You know me, and this”—she points at her toes and then around the lovely spa—“is not my bag.”
“I know,” I grate.
“So why am I here?”
I feel like she’s goading me, pushing me into a corner, pressuring me to confess. “I already told you, I’m buying it.”
She laughs, prompting Esther to look back at us. She knows shit’s going down too. In fact, we’re all here doing a terrible job of pretending we’re blissfully unaware that our men are murderers who are quite possibly murdering someone right now. Just meetings. I snort to myself.
I turn to Beau. “What’s going on?” I ask. She’s not mentioned a word since her meltdown in the kitchen when she thought James had left. Nothing.
Her attention remains on her cell, and it’s beginning to piss me off, like I’m not worthy of an explanation. “Rose—”
“And last night? Danny said James was trashed. He never gets drunk, Beau. Ever.” She’s disappeared before. They’ve argued before. It’s a constant challenge not to become a bag of nerves in this life. Beau’s an integral part of what keeps me sane, and I know I am for her too. But she’s distancing herself. It’s not helping with my nerves. “Are you and Ja—”
“He found my birth control pills.”
I shoot back in my chair like I’ve been hit with an arrow, and Beau closes her eyes, hiding from my reaction.
“What?” is all I can muster. “I thought you—”
“I don’t.” She won’t look at me. Face me. Face the truth.
Self-preservation. She’s trying to control what she can’t control, and she doesn’t even know if it needs controlling. “So that’s it?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“You’re a dick.” I sit back in my chair and open my magazine, roughly turning the pages, not reading the words, but staring at the pages briefly. Then I slam it shut and face her startled face again. “Is this why you’re playing cop again?”
“What?”
“Running off around town telling yourself your dad’s been murdered so you have something to do? A mystery to solve? Something to focus on instead of you and James and the…”
Her lip quivers. “Amber’s inherited it all. You don’t think that’s suspicious? And Dad’s friend, Cartwright. He washed up on the beach. Not suspicious?”
Okay, very suspicious. But . . . “You’re not a cop anymore, Beau.”
She withdraws, looking stung. “I know, Rose. Everyone keeps reminding me.” She removes her toes from the lamp and gets up, walking off toward the changing rooms, and I look down at the young girl who’s tapping my toenail to check it’s dry.
“You have a massage,” I call, desperate, jumping up and going after her, feeling everyone watching us. I push into the changing rooms and find Beau getting her Converses on. “Beau, come on,” I beg, not because I’ve been told to keep her busy, but because I hate this. Us fighting. I hate it.
“I’m okay,” she assures me, swinging a shirt on over her tank and fastening one button.
“You are not okay,” I say through my teeth as she bends and turns up the bottom of her frayed jeans. She can’t leave. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens. “Beau.” I grab her arm as she tries to pass me, and she freezes. “You’ll never know if you can have a baby if you don’t allow your body to tell you.”
Biting her lip, she stares at the floor, the silence roaring. Short of tackling her and tying her up, I’m fucked. “James doesn’t want one, so this is a pointless conversation.”
“He doesn’t?”
She looks back. “No, he doesn’t, so actually this is all for the best, right?”
I laugh. Anyone who has to end a confident statement with a right? is either not confident at all, or totally full of shit. Beau is both. “Right.” I cannot believe what I’m hearing. “You’re maddening.” I retie my robe, with a lack of anything else to do with my hands other than strangle my best friend, and I can’t do that because I fucking love her. Everyone in this family knows James was mad for a baby. Everyone knows it broke him. Everyone knows he’d do anything to help Beau stay in the light. He was simply worried about her. “So fucking maddening,” I mutter, wrenching on the tie. I suddenly don’t feel like being pampered anymore. “So where are you going now?” I ask, my voice strong. She knows I can’t stop her. “To chase around in circles some more? Put yourself in danger? Leave us all here worrying about whether we might see you alive again?” I disregard the wideness of her eyes. The hurt on her face. Or I try. Goddammit, guilt flares within, and I quickly leave the changing rooms before Beau detects it. She needs to be told.
I close the door and growl, catching Esther’s questioning eye. I shake my head and have a quiet, stern word with myself. I walked into this place filled with excitement. A girlie day. It didn’t matter that my husband engineered it to help his cause. It was something normal in a world where we can’t do normal. I knew I wasn’t getting Beau here for a pedicure or massage unless I made my cause believable. So I told her Danny was buying me a business and I needed help on the interior design. It escalated from there. I listened to Pearl tell me how she studied hairdressing at college. And Anya, apparently, is a super talented nail artist. It was like the fates were talking to me. Hope. I had hope. It’s probably going to cost my husband a few million, but . . . we need something.
I let my head rest back on the door, half expecting it to swing open at any moment. But a few minutes later, I’m still standing here, and Beau hasn’t appeared. Naturally, I scan my mind for whether I saw any means of escape in there. “Shit.” I push my way back in.
Beau’s on the bench in the center of the room.
Sobbing.
That guilt? It flares.
I hurry over and sit beside her, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be. You’re so right.” She snivels and wipes at her face. “I can’t bear the waiting game, Rose. Every month, holding my breath, waiting to see if I’m broken there too.”
My eyes instinctively drop to my tummy. More guilt. I hug her tighter.
“Having to face James.” She looks at me. “I never knew I needed it. I was so stunned when I found out I was pregnant.” She laughs quietly, looking down at her feet. “And then I looked at James and saw what he saw. Hope. He saw hope for both of us. One more reason to love and not hate. Constant light to chase away the darkness.”
I can hardly breathe through the ball of grief wedged in my throat. “You have to believe it can be yours again.”
She looks at me, her dark eyes welling. “What if it can’t be?”
And it occurs to me. “Are you worried James wouldn’t want you anymore?”
“Maybe.” She looks away.
“He loves you.”
“I know. But I can see him giving up.”
“That’s because you’re hiding, Beau. You’re hiding from facing this, telling yourself you want to be a cop again when you should be asking yourself something else.”
“What?”
“Ask yourself if you can exist without James.”
Her bottom lip wobbles. I don’t know why we’re going the long way round to the point when, really, that’s the crux. They are now one, and without each other, merely empty vessels with a heartbeat.
“Let’s go home,” I say, done with pampering for today. Beau nods, making me breathe a little easier, and I call Danny to let him know. “Hey,” I say, hoping he’s calmer than when we spoke before.
“Hey,” he breathes, sounding exhausted. “Good day?”
Small talk. I’m not game. “We’re leaving now.”
“What?” he blurts, making me still, pausing for thought. “Already? Aren’t you having fun?”
Fun? Fun pretending to relax and have fun? No, I can’t say I am. “We’ve been here for—”
“Did you negotiate? Get her down to four?”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
I look at Beau, who’s looking too interested for my liking. And probably James’s and Danny’s. “Where are you?” I ask.
“The club. Why don’t you go home? We’ll meet you there.”
“Okay,” I say quietly, thoughtfully, hanging up. “They’re at the club.”
“And?”
“And that’s where we’re going.” I pivot and take myself back out to the spa floor, finding Fury. “Danny said to take us to the club.” Please don’t call and check.
“Fine.” He goes back to the copy of Hello! that he’s been reading since we arrived.
What the hell is going on?
* * *
Fury drives like Miss Daisy from the spa to the club. “Anytime today,” I quip, getting a tired look in the rearview mirror.
When we pull up, I see Ringo up ahead hopping out of a Mercedes and running across the road. I slip out and walk into the club, gazing around. Could be me, but the atmosphere feels a bit . . . tense. Mason is stacking the top shelf, and a few other staff are sweeping the floor and mopping. “Where are they?” I ask, making Mason look over his shoulder.
“Oh, Rose, Beau, ladies, what a surprise.”
“Yeah, I bet,” I say, heading for the office as the others go to the bar. I wander in without knocking and find Ringo looking out of breath. I eye him. He looks away.
“Where’s Beau?” James says, standing.
“At the bar.” He settles, but the worry and stress etched all over his face doesn’t lift.
“Hey, baby.” Danny smiles. “I thought you were heading home.”
Fucking dickhead. I should slap him for treating me like I’m stupid. “Well, I thought I would surprise you.” This is ridiculous. I go to my husband, hand him a card with the details of the spa owner, and reach up to kiss his cheek. “When is Daniel home?”
“I spoke to Tank an hour ago. They’re bowling.”
“Oh, lovely.”
“Mum here?” he asks.
“Having a glass of wine with the girls.”
“Oh, lovely.”
“Isn’t it?”
I give him another kiss. “I’ve had the best day, thank you.”
He smiles and seizes me, indulging me. “You’re welcome, baby. You can thank me properly when we get home.”
I smile coyly, detach myself from my conniving husband, and saunter out, my alarm bells going wild. I close the door.
“You dick, Ringo,” Danny hisses.
“I thought you told Fury to hold back?”
“I did.”
“Well,” Ringo pants, “he clearly didn’t hold back enough. I’m fucking sweating here.”
I stand on the outside of the office staring at the wood, my eyes narrowed. “What are—”
I swing around and hush Beau.
“You’re eavesdropping?”
“Yes, I am.” I go back to the door, and the next minute, Beau is pushed up next to me. “Did you see Ringo arrive?” I ask Beau, making sure I’m not completely losing my mind.
“Yes, I saw.”
We both listen hard.
“Well, I couldn’t very well have them go back to the fucking mansion,” Danny whispers. “If I had told them to come to the club, she would have gone home. If I told her to go home, she’d come here. I know how my wife thinks.”
I balk at the door incredulously. He wanted me to come here? Why?
“What if Amber shows up there?” Danny rants on.
I still. Shocked. Amber?
“So instead,” Ringo snaps, “you had them come to the club where a few hours ago it looked like Hannibal Lecter got jaw ache and opted for the more humane approach to killing his prey.”
“It was a stupid idea telling Amber to go to the house,” Brad chimes in. “Really fucking stupid.”
“She’s got information on The Bear,” Danny growls, and Beau steps back, her eyes going back to the wood. Oh no. “Not that it matters because she’s missing in fucking action.”
“Beau,” I say, stepping toward her. “Beau, please.” She shakes her head, turns, and heads for the ladies’. “Beau!” I whisper shout, swinging my head back and forth between my fleeing friend and the door to the office. “Fuck it.” I turn the other way and go back to the club, finding Fury. “Would you take us home in an hour? Esther’s finishing her wine.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” I smile and brush past him, going to the others at the bar, looking back to see Fury going to the office. To check with the boss if he can indeed take me home in an hour.
“Everything okay?” Lawrence asks.
“Everything’s fine.” So, so fine. I smile and place my purse on the stool next to Pearl, pulling my cell out and slipping it into my back pocket. “Will someone order me a lemonade, please? I’m just going to the restroom.” I leave my purse on the stool and walk away calmly, and as soon as I round the corner, I break into a jog, cursing Beau to hell and back for putting my neck on the line like this. But I will be damned if I am letting her disappear on her own again. I will check in with the men. I will let them know we’re okay. They must appreciate that.
I burst through the door and work my way down the cubicles until I find Beau's petite body squirming to get through the small window above the fourth toilet. She grunts as her body dislodges, and her legs disappear through the small gap. “Well, if she struggled, I’m fucked,” I scoff, getting up on the toilet seat.
I peek out and see Beau jogging down the alleyway and curse her to hell again as I pull myself up and clamber through. But I completely misjudge the drop to the ground, which looks farther away now that I’m hanging out of the window. “Beau!” I whisper yell, clinging to the frame. “Fuck.” I turn my head and see her stop and look back.
“What are you doing?” she shouts, running back to save me, reaching to help.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Oh, no, you’re not.” She retracts her helping hands, just as I lose my grip. “Shit!” She catches me, breaking my fall.
“For fuck’s sake, Rose.”
I get to my feet. “For fuck’s sake, Beau.” I retort. She has nothing to say to that. “And how are you getting to Amber’s anyway?” I ask.
“I’ll get a cab.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out Fury’s keys. “Okay. You get a cab, I’ll drive.”
The keys are quickly swiped from my hand and Beau is heading to the side of the club to collect Fury’s car. “That’s a sure-fire way to kill us both,” she says, and I gasp, outraged, going after her.
“I’m not that bad at driving.”
“Get in,” she snaps, slipping in behind the wheel.
I do as I’m told and get my seatbelt on. “We are both going to die when the boys find out we’re not in the club, so who drives is a moot fucking point.” Beau ignores me and pulls off rather calmly, though I see the storm in her eyes. “What are you going to do, Beau?” I ask.
“I’m going to get some answers.”
“Great,” I say, settling in for the ride. “And good luck.” Not just finding the answers that nobody seems to be able to find, but good luck when James gets hold of her. We’re both dead.
Beau gives me an impatient look. I give her a begging one.
Please don’t get us killed.
* * *
I keep quiet as Beau drives us around town, drumming my lovely pink-polished nails on my thigh, watching the screen of my cell like a hawk, just waiting for the call. Waiting for the signal that will suggest all hell breaking loose. The moment they realize we’re gone. It’s been twenty minutes. We’re doing well, although God only knows what Esther and the others think I’m doing in the restrooms.
“She’s not at his place, or hers,” Beau suddenly says out of the blue, pulling my eyes from my cell.
“What?”
“Amber. She’s not at Dad’s place, and she’s not at her apartment.”
“So where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Beau muses, taking a right, heading toward Miami Beach. A small inhale of breath tells me she may have just had an idea. “The penthouse.” The car is abruptly going significantly faster, her lightbulb moment injecting some urgency into her. “Dad told me he would give me the penthouse of the new development he was investing in.”
“You think she’s there?”
“I’m out of other ideas.” She looks across to me. “I’m really mad you’re here.”
“You won’t be the only one,” I mutter. “If he calls, I’m answering.”
“I know,” she says, holding up her phone. It’s on. Therefore, trackable. It still won’t lessen the wrath we’re about to face, though. But it offers me a mild comfort that Beau doesn’t see this latest mission of hers as long-term. James will fly off the handle when he knows she’s missing again. Then he’ll wonder what the hell is going on when Otto can track her. And as if they’ve heard us discussing how mad they will be and how they might handle us, my phone starts ringing on my lap.
“Oh God,” I whisper, pushing my back into the seat, trying to escape it. “Even the rings sound angry.” I gingerly pick it up, cringing as I answer. I don’t even have the opportunity to talk before he’s yelling down the line at me.
