The Rising, page 58
part #1 of Unlawful Men Book 4 Series
“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!”
“Danny,” Brad says, pacifying, coming to me, leaving James to follow at a slower pace, as a horrible feeling creeps into my bones.
“What’s going on?” Beau bursts into the room, looking between us all. “Where’s Rose?”
“She’s in there.” I smack the door again. “You saw, didn’t you?” I look at Brad. “Her face. You saw it, didn’t you?”
“She looked . . .” Brad glances at James for help. He can’t help him. James saw her face too. It was haunted.
“Is it the baby?” Beau asks, her hand over her mouth. My stress skyrockets as Beau comes to the door too, knocking a little more gently than me. “Rose, come on,” she pleads. “Open the door.”
I’m quickly picking Beau up and placing her to the side, and then I shoulder barge the wood. It pings open on a brief scream of protest and reveals Rose. Sitting in the corner, curled up, her face in her knees. Oh Jesus. My eyes naturally fall to the tile, searching for blood. Not from cuts, but from—
I can’t say it. I rush over and crouch, trying to pull her hands from her face. She’s rocking back and forth, her back hitting the wall constantly. “Rose, baby, please.” I force her hands away. There are no tears. There’s . . . nothing, actually. No expression. Nothing.
It throws me. It throws us all, the room silent as I hold her hands away from her face, searching for something. Anything to tell me what I’m dealing with. “Rose, baby, please talk to me.”
She inhales, so calmly. “That man,” she says quietly, pushing the tension in the room up to unbearable levels, as well as the stress already boiling over. Her eyes are empty as she stares at her knees. Her face expressionless. Her body hard, like a barrier has come up. Then she looks at me, and I recoil. “He raped me when I was fourteen.”
I fall to my arse as everyone’s inhales of shock seems to suck all the air from the bathroom, making it impossible to breathe. “No,” I whisper, scrambling back, trying to put distance between us.
Beau fills that space where I’m not capable, falling to her knees and taking Rose’s hands. Rose looks at her blankly. “He did, Beau,” she says, on autopilot. “He came to my room.” Her eyes close tightly. She’s trying to hold off the flashbacks. I scramble to my feet, sweat pouring from my brow.
“Danny,” Brad says calmly, holding my arm. I shrug him off, looking at my wife on the floor fighting back her past. I have to know. I have to know. I go to her, crouching, but I don’t touch her. I can’t. My hands are only capable of murder right now. Not softness.
“Could he be Daniel’s father?” I ask, cold.
Beau swings a stunned look my way as Rose opens her eyes and gazes at me. She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to.
I slowly stand, every muscle involuntarily flexing, the monster inside rising. She doesn’t even bother telling me to not go. I turn and walk away, burning from the inside out, my vision hazy with the rage consuming me. And Rose doesn’t try to stop me.
“Danny.” James reaches for me. Pointless. A cyclone couldn’t stop me, let alone The Enigma at half fucking strength.
“James,” Beau says, warning him.
I know he won’t listen.
I march through the house feeling like my head could pop off my shoulders with the pressure, Brad and James yelling after me, pulling everyone from whatever they’re doing around the house. Mum comes out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a tea towel. Those fucking tea towels. I wrench the door open and stomp down the steps. “Which one?” I shout, getting no answer to my question. I turn by the cars. “Which fucking car?” I bellow, my lungs draining, my body quaking.
“First,” Ringo says, tossing a set of keys at me. I catch them and go straight to the trunk, opening and pulling out the first gun I can lay my hands on.
“Fuck, Danny, wait!” Brad yells.
I jump in and skid off, looking up at my rearview mirror. Brad’s going apeshit, up in Ringo’s face, fisting his suit. James is walking calmly to the next Mercedes.
I flash my lights as I approach the gates, and Bud opens them. I pass through. Slow at the entrance. Look both ways.
It doesn’t take me long to decide which direction I’m going in. I spin the steering wheel to the right and floor the gas, heading toward town. I flick the stereo on. Laugh when Frankie starts singing Relax to me. Light up a cigarette. Focus on the road, overtaking car after car, my driving smooth and calm but really fucking fast.
I see his Bentley up ahead. Take one more, long drag of my cigarette, flicking it out of the open window collecting my gun from the passenger seat, resting it in my lap. I overtake one last car and pull in behind Sandy, flashing my lights. He starts to slow. Signal.
He pulls over at the side of the road and gets out, looking back at me. I slip out calmly, gun in hand, and walk toward him, lifting my arm, watching as his face falls into confusion.
I squeeze the trigger, but the car that screeches up behind catches me off guard, and I swing around, my finger loosening. It’s not Brad or James or any of my men.
Russians.
For the first time since I left Rose in the bathroom, the fog clears. I look back and forth between Sandy and the other men, surrounded.
Outnumbered.
They all lift their guns at the same time, like Sandy’s pressed the start button on his men. I inhale. Time slowing, my brain slowing with it.
The first shot catches me on my arm, knocking me back onto the bonnet of my car. The second in my thigh. The third in my shoulder. I lay on my back on the hood of the Mercedes, looking up at the blue sky, wondering . . . is this it?
Has my lack of control killed me?
I feel the tip of a gun pushing into my forehead.
I breathe in.
Close my eyes.
Bang!
“You stupid, stupid fuck!” James growls.
My eyes ping open, just in time to see his raging face before I’m yanked to the ground. “Fuck,” I choke.
“You hurting?” James asks, his own face screwing up as he lifts and looks over the roof, firing.
“A bit.” A fucking lot.
“Good.”
A plume of dust blows up, and Brad skids down the side of the car, joining us. “You stupid, stupid fuck.” He rises, fires, and drops back down to his arse next to me. “If we get out of this alive, you’re dead.”
“Otto flies around the back of the car, landing at my feet. I wait for what words of kindness he might throw my way. He doesn’t need words; his look says enough, but he speaks anyway. “If you die, I die.”
“That’s very honorable of you,” I wheeze, trying to lift my gun. I can’t. My arm is dead.
“Not honorable, son. Just a very real threat from your mother.”
“Good old Mum,” I quip, my feet slipping all over the stone as I try to get up. “Where the fuck is he?” I soon drop back to my arse when bullets start hitting the side of the car.
“Driving off into the sunset.” James rests back, looking up at the sky, exhausted. In pain. I’m with him.
“He got away?” I whisper, dropping my gun as Otto rises and pops off the last few men. “Why the fuck did you let him get away?” I yell, crawling to my feet and standing, watching his Bentley getting farther and farther away. “He needs to die.” And I need to be the one who kills him. I snatch Brad’s gun and stagger into the road, firing as I go, bullet after bullet, yelling as I do.
“The fuck, Danny?” Brad smacks the gun from my hand and gets up in my face, seething mad. “Do we all need to die too?”
I shove him away, and go back to my car, ready to go in pursuit. Fuck this shit. I am not going back to my wife until that rapist is dead.
I drop into the seat. And am quickly ejected, being hauled out and thrown to the ground. I look up at James.
Correction.
I look up at The Enigma.
And he looks far from at half strength. His finger comes up, his lips twisting. “Don’t make me kick your injured arse all over this freeway, Black,” he warns. “We deal with this another time. Like when we stand a fucking chance of coming out the other side alive. Now get in the fucking car.”
“You dick. I got in the fucking car. You just pulled me out of the fucking car.”
“Get in the fucking car!”
I do as I’m told.
Not because I’m scared.
But because he’s right.
And what fucking use are we to our women if we’re dead?
* * *
“You need to see Doc,” Goldie says as I drag myself up the steps.
I snort. “I need to see my wife.”
“You’re fucking bleeding all over the place.”
“No shit.” And the pain. Fuck me, the pain. “Where is she?”
“In your office.”
Beau comes flying out of the kitchen, her face like thunder, until she sees me virtually dragging myself along. “Shit, Danny.”
“I’m fine.”
“Someone get Doc,” she yells, running to the door. “For fuck’s sake!” She steps out, slipping her body under James’s arm as he struggles along. “I’m so fucking livid,” she seethes, giving me her eyes, making sure I know I’m on her shit list too.
I look down the corridor to the office. Then down my bloody body. “Fucking hell,” I wheeze, clenching my side as I limp there, feeling Brad two paces behind, ready to catch me when I collapse. I really fucked myself over this time. I won’t collapse. Not until I get to Rose. I take the handle, leaving blood all over the shiny knob, and push the door open.
She looks up from the couch. Takes me in. Swallows. She knew the outcome of this.
Except she doesn’t.
Getting up, she comes to me, taking in my broken body, the blood, the bullet holes. Her lip quivers. “Don’t cry, baby,” I say hoarsely, staggering forward a little, feeling a bit light-headed. She catches me and eases me down to the couch, feeling over my jacket and shirt, looking for the bullet holes. “Doc’s on his way,” I assure her.
She nods, slowly lifting her eyes to mine. “Is he dead?”
I stall. Swallow. Take a deep fucking breath and use my last piece of energy before I pass out. “Yeah.”
Epilogue
Miami — Five months later
* * *
JAMES
* * *
I’m suffocating. In this suit, in this room. “Stop fidgeting,” Danny breathes from beside me pulling in his own tux. “You look like you’re having second thoughts.”
“I am,” I admit.
“What the fuck?” Brad moves in, putting his ear closer to me. “Did you say what I think you just said?”
“Yeah, he said it,” Otto confirms, throwing me a filthy look. “What the hell do you mean, you’re having second thoughts?”
“We’re happy as we are.” I feel like such a chump, especially since it was me who pushed for this all along. But back then, I needed reassurance. I don’t need it now. I needed a light to follow. I don’t need to follow the light anymore. It’s just . . . there.
“Suck it up.” Danny smiles, his blue eyes beaming. “It’s thrilling dicing with death every day.”
“Speaking of dicing with death,” Otto says.
“What?” Danny asks, quickly searching for his mother.
“I’m not happy about your mother doing everything around the house.”
Danny bursts out laughing, offering his hand to Otto. “If you can convince her we should have a housekeeper, I might start accepting this shit between you two.”
Otto snorts. “Like you have a fucking choice.” He ignores Danny’s hand and takes up position beside me.
I face forward, crazy nervous, and come face to face with Lawrence. I shake my head, taking in his holy man garbs. He really has taken this ordaining shit seriously. “Are you ready?” he asks.
“Nope.”
His nose wrinkles. “The big scary assassin scared of a few wedding vows?”
The boys chuckle, and my stressed sweat increases. I’m pathetic. “How did you do this twice?” I ask Danny seriously.
“Lots of Scotch.” He pulls out a hip flask and hands it over to me, before pulling out another for himself and swigging. “Drink up.”
I do, and it’s fucking glorious, the others all pulling flasks as well. I feel a tap on my shoulder and look back.
Pearl is holding up a white rose. “You forgot your buttonhole.” She forces me to turn and starts fiddling with my suit jacket.
“You look lovely,” I say, not just for something to say, but because she really does.
She smiles as she works. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, lovely,” Danny chimes in, nodding at her emerald-green satin gown. “Doesn’t she, Brad?”
All eyes turn onto Brad. He’s scowling. Standard when Pearl is around. “Lovely,” he grunts, turning his back on her. What the fuck went down between these two? They fucking hate each other. But . . . don’t.
“There.” She pats my pocket and fixes the jeweled hair comb keeping one side of her red hair off her face. “You’re ready.”
“Am I?” I laugh, facing Lawrence again, just as he gasps, loud and dramatic, very Lawrence-esque.
“Oh, here she comes.”
“Fuck,” I breathe, unable to look back.
“Music, please!”
My mouth falls open when London Grammar’s Strong starts playing, and I’m turning before I know it, searching for her. “Oh, Jesus.” She floats. She fucking floats. That’s how light she is. I swallow the lump in my throat, roughly wipe at my eyes, overcome by . . . everything. Her, me, this, the feelings overwhelming me.
I don’t take my eyes off her. Can’t.
I also can’t wait for Goldie to get her to me, so I push through the men, going to her, meeting her halfway up the aisle. Her head tilts in question as I bend and pick her up. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“Taking you into the light.” I move in, ready to kiss my bride already, humming when my lips brush hers.
That’s as far as our kiss gets.
“Oh shit,” Rose cries, winning the attention of everyone in the room. Her silver gown is taut over her bump, her long hair resting on top of it. Danny’s head bats back and forth between his pregnant wife and us. “It’s fine,” she declares, waving a hand flippantly. “I’m fine.”
Esther, looking incredible in a scarlet gown, moves into Rose’s side, whispering something in her ear. Rose smiles tightly, her body definitely folding over a little. “She’s in bloody labor,” I breathe, setting Beau on her feet.
“No, I’m not.” Rose laughs. “Braxton Hicks.”
“Mom, please.” Daniel passes her, going straight to Danny. “Her water broke in the bathroom this morning.” He looks at his mum. “She made me promise not to tell.”
Beau breaks away from me and goes to Rose, who flaps her away. “Get married,” she orders.
“Where’s Doc?” Danny asks, going to Rose, picking her up.
“No! I’m not leaving here until Beau’s Mrs. Enigma.” She virtually growls in Danny’s face. “Make it happen.”
“Get married now,” Danny orders, jerking his head toward Lawrence. Then he smiles, big and cheesy and fake. “Please.”
“I can’t believe she’s coming now,” Beau says, pulling me toward her uncle. “I can tell she’s going to be awkward like her father.”
I stare down at Beau, flummoxed, feeling Danny and everyone else doing the same. “She?”
Beau’s eyes widen. “I didn’t say that.”
“Yes,” Danny says, walking forward, Rose draped over his arms. “You definitely said she.” He looks at a timid Rose. “Do you two know what we’re having?”
Silence. Rose looks at Beau with straight lips. Beau looks sorry.
“Well?” Danny presses.
A girl? Fuck me, as if this family needs a little girl.
“We truly will be outnumbered at this rate,” Brad mutters, looking at Pearl but quickly looking away when she catches his eye.
“Answer me, Rose,” Danny demands.
“Well, you see . . .” She nibbles her lip. Then screams in his face, making him stagger back into Ringo, who quickly steadies him. “Oh, shit, Danny!” she bellows, puffing and panting. “Hurry up!”
Lawrence starts babbling, and I don’t hear a thing.
See nothing.
Only light.
It’s suddenly only us.
“It’s not too late,” Beau whispers.
I smile. It is way past too late. Following Lawrence line for line, I recite his every word as instructed, never taking my eyes off Beau, and then listen intently, full of wonder, as she does the same, a small, knowing smile curving her lips.
“You may kiss your bride.”
I swoop in, making the most of her mouth, eating her alive, lifting her from her feet, indulging in her. Until another scream from Rose kills the passion.
