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)
Fuck.
I wander over to the drinks cabinet and pour a vodka.
“All right?” Brad asks tentatively as I neck the lot, hoping the liquid will cool the fury brewing. It’s been a while since I’ve felt the rage that used to rule me.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and look down at my mobile when it rings again. “Higham,” I say quietly, looking up at Brad.
“What the fuck does that FBI prick want?”
Good fucking question. The last time I saw him, he let me walk free after Beau’s ex-boyfriend cop, Oliver Burrows, arrested me for the murder of Agent Frank Spittle. It didn’t go down very well with Burrows, and it didn’t go down all too well with me to find out I was being followed by The Hound after Higham let me walk free. I smile, remembering that Polish fucker’s tattooed face the moment before the grenade I’d bowled under his vehicle blew up. He thought he’d got The Enigma. Idiot.
I answer my mobile and hit the loudspeaker icon. “Black’s not answering.” Higham says, getting straight to the point.
“He’s busy.”
“So you’re back.” he muses, and Brad rolls his eyes. News sure does travel fast.
“Danny did warn you we would be.”
“You’ve hardly given me time to prepare for your return.”
“How can I help you, Agent Higham?”
He laughs lightly. “You could help me by disappearing off the face of the earth and taking The Brit with you, but we all know that’s not going to happen, is it?”
“Nope.”
“Thought not. So let’s start with why you’re back in town.”
“We’ve missed you.”
“And why are things going to kick off?”
“Oh, the anticipation must be killing you.”
“Don’t fuck with me, James. I’m standing here looking at Carlo Black’s empty grave.”
I recoil, and Brad flies up from his chair. “Excuse me?”
“You heard.”
“I think I heard.”
There’s silence for a few uncomfortable moments, until Higham breaks it. “This wasn’t Danny’s doing?”
“Danny’s not in town. And why the fuck would he dig up his dead father, Higham?”
“To stop some other fucked-up psycho digging him up, I assumed.” A car door slams in the background. “Danny’s not in Miami?”
“No, he’s not in fucking Miami.”
“You’d better get over here.”
I head to the door, Brad on my tail. “On my way.”
“The fuck?” Brad says as I race down the stairs to the club. “Someone could have moved him, right?”
“Like who?” I snap, jogging through the club.
“I don’t know. The fucking grave keepers. Fuck me, I am not putting that call in.”
“One of us has to,” I say quietly, breaking out into the sunshine. “We’ll draw straws.”
“Jesus Christ,” Brad breathes, looking a bit pale.
We pull up to the small churchyard on the edge of town, seeing it swimming with cop cars, blue lights on full whack, the peaceful place far from peaceful. Brad’s had his mobile in his hand the whole journey, spinning it, tapping it on the wheel, constantly locking and loading his thumb ready to push down on Danny’s number but thinking better of it each time.
I seriously do not envy him.
Brad pulls over, and we slowly get out, taking in the scene as we do before meeting at the front of the car, bracing ourselves. We walk side by side over to Higham, passing through a dozen or so cops, all of whom eye us warily or with looks of derision. We ignore them all. I bet their hands are twitching to reach for their cuffs. Even their guns.
With that thought, I stand taller, knowing a slight slump will have the Heckler tucked into the waist of my jeans protruding. I look out the corner of my eye seeing Brad is obviously having the same thoughts I am. Any one of these arseholes could cause us the greatest of inconvenience if they decide they’d like to go on a power trip. And any one of them could be bent. I cast my eye over each and every one. We know for a fact The Bear had men on the inside. Beau’s uncle Dexter being one, the two cops that stopped Nathan Butler by the side of the road being two others. Spittle. All now dead. But are there more?
“Gentlemen,” Higham says, his arm held out to the empty hole in the ground. His tone is grave. He understands the ramifications of this situation. A very angry Brit on the loose.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brad breathes on the edge of the grave, looking down at the dirt. I join him, feeling his grief. I didn’t know Brad’s uncle and Danny’s father, he died three years before I dragged Danny from the dead to fight this war with me, but I know Danny loved the barbaric fucker with everything he had. Carlo Black took Danny in off the streets. Raised him as his own. Taught him everything he knows, which is why Danny Black has the deadly reputation he has. This is not going to end well.