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)
“Tom Hayley is dead,” he says to the glass, flat and emotionlessly.
I still, my drink hanging in midair. “What?”
“He’s dead.”
I look across to the bar and see Rose with her hands over her mouth, looking at a very still and quiet Beau facing the bar nursing a bottle of red. And Fury’s face says it all too, as he looks at me, as if to check he’s heard right. What? How? When? Who? Why? I shake my head, trying to straighten out my thoughts. “He’s dead?”
“I don’t have many details. Frazer Cartwright called Beau.”
“The journalist?”
“Yes, the journalist.”
“He’s a man in the know, isn’t he?” I quip. “Perhaps we need to talk to him.”
“Agreed.”
“And it’s confirmed?”
“Agent Burrows confirmed it.” James looks at me through hollow eyes. “He was on his way to the scene.”
“Fuck. All this transpired just now?”
“Yes, while Beau and I were”—he cricks his neck, his hand wrapping around his tumbler—“ironing out a few differences.”
“Well, you’re a shit ironer if that shiner on your cheek is anything to go by.” I toast the red mark as James feels at it, then have another sensible sip of my Scotch, wanting to, or needing to, down the lot and get a solid hit of alcohol. But I can’t do that. I can never do that. In fact, I shouldn’t be fucking drinking at all. And yet . . . I take another sip. “Dead?”
“Gunshot reported.”
I nod, thinking. If I’m brutally honest, the world won’t be so hard done by with no Tom Hayley in it and, being even more brutally honest, it’s one less thing for James and me to worry about, because that man was gunning for us. But . . . Beau. I look at the girls at the bar again, seeing Rose now rubbing Beau’s back, her stool closer, but Beau hasn’t moved. “Who sent her that picture of you with Beth?” I ask, going back to the initial problem.
James looks up at me as he plays with his glass. “Burrows.”
“But he was on his way to the scene. From here? And why the fuck would he come here, anyway? To make peace?” I laugh. I doubt it. Or . . . I frown and look up at James. “Or he’s got someone in our club.” I glance around the expansive space, up the stairs to the mezzanine floor. Staff? A client? It could be anyone.
“I think it’s simpler than that, but I’m gonna have Nolan look into it to be sure.” He goes to his phone and taps out a message.
“Wise.” Now, back to the matter at hand. “Do you think this will knock Beau back more?” I ask, topping up James’s drink. She wasn’t exactly head over heels in love with her father. “Her mum, now this?”
“No,” James says. “I think it’ll be worse than that.” He turns his glass slowly on the table, oblivious to my questioning expression.
“What could be worse than her returning full tilt to that darkness?” I ask, and James looks up at me. I hate the answer before he’s even spoken it, his face so impassive. It’s truly worrying.
“Taking me with her,” he whispers, turning his eyes to Beau at the bar.
Fuck, yes, that would be pretty fucking horrific. There’s no denying James is on the upper end of the fucked-up spectrum, even now, but at least he’s got a purpose beyond revenge. “How do we stop that?”
“I’d have to let her do what she’s planning on doing.”
“What is she planning on doing?”
“Becoming a cop again.”
I shoot back in my chair like I’ve been shot. “What the fuck?”
“I saw it,” he says quietly, still turning the glass, as if clinging to it to keep himself rooted. To stop himself going on a killing spree here and now. “She loved her father but hated him. Her thoughts of him mirrored ours. Narcissistic prick. But the orphan in her will feel guilt, and the only way to ease that guilt would be to end their relationship by serving his honor.”
She can’t find her mother’s killer, so perhaps she can find her father’s. “Shit,” I hiss, taking more than a sip of my drink. So what James is saying, basically, is either way, he’ll lose her. Fuck. I know Beau’s relationship with her father was strained to say the least, but if there’s anyone in this world who can relate to being orphaned, it’s me. Before Carlo Black found me, filthy and hungry in a London alley, I often felt alone. My mother was terrified of my stepfather, unable to protect me.
There’s nothing better to build some resilience like needing to be vulnerable but not being able to be. By being forced into being strong. I forgave Esther for abandoning me. It brought me some peace. Beau thinks she’ll find peace if she does this. Never. There’s always something to fuck that up for us. She let her defenses down when she met James. She became vulnerable, and so did he. Not dissimilar to Rose and me, really, but still so very different. Now? Now the world that brought them together, the darkness that they shared is pushing them apart. Because if Beau picks up her badge, she’s no longer a part of this family.