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)
“Well work fucking faster. Chaka’s turning up a week this Friday with our guns.”
“Do you want to change your tone?”
“No.”
I stand, wedging my fists into the desk, leaning in. “I highly recommend you do.”
“Oh fuck,” Otto moans from the couch as Danny mirrors my pose on the other side of the desk.
“Or else?”
I move fast, grabbing his jacket and fisting the material, pulling him closer, and he does the same, pulling me in so we’re snarling in each other’s faces. I do not need his ego or his frustration aimed this way. “I said I would deal with it.”
“Then fucking deal with it.”
“I’ll do it,” Beau says quietly from beyond.
I frown. Danny frowns. We both look out the corner of our eyes toward the couch. Beau is now standing, and everyone’s eyes are on her. “Do what?” Danny asks.
“Take the delivery.” She looks at me, appearing confident, but I can see her nerves. She thinks I’ll refuse to even entertain listening to whatever nonsense she’s thinking. She’s right.
I shove Danny away. “Time for you to go,” I say, claiming Beau by the elbow and walking her to the door.
“What? No, James, I—”
“It was good while it lasted,” Danny calls, forcing me to turn a dark look back at him. Why does he have to goad her? He yanks his suit jacket into place, his eyes narrowed, the scar that decorates his face deep and bright. Then, quite suddenly, Danny’s blue eyes widen and a collection of inhales sound.
And something connects with my ankles, taking my legs from under me. I land on my back with a lung-draining thwack. “Fuck,” I cough, looking up at the ceiling.
Then, sniggers. They all clearly want to die.
Enraged, I lift my head and find Beau in the chair I was sitting in not a moment ago.
“Well, that told you,” Danny muses, hands braced on the top of his desk, stretching to look at me on the floor. “Need a hand?”
Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it.
I slowly get to my feet and visibly draw some long deep breaths, wanting Beau to know it’s taking everything in me not to fly off the handle. “Talk,” I order, willing to listen, if only to appease her in this moment. Whatever she has to say, whatever bright idea she’s got, it’s a no.
“I’ll meet Chaka and accept the delivery,” she says, nibbling on her bottom lip.
God love her. “That simple?”
“Nothing about being with you is simple, James,” she says, taking the atmosphere in the room one step closer to thick. Multiple sets of eyes swing back and forth between us.
“So what do you propose?” I ask. Let’s hear it. Because, actually, I’m really fucking curious.
Beau pulls her hair over one shoulder and combs through with her fingers. She looks so feminine doing that. So . . . lovely. “We tow empty jet skis across the bay, fill them with guns, and tow them back.”
I blink, withdrawing, and feel all eyes land on me, like, what do you think of that, James? “What?” is all that comes, and the peanut gallery all turn their attention back to Beau.
“There’s nothing odd about moving jet skis from storage.”
And back to me. “Absolutely not.”
Back to Beau. “Why?”
Heads swing, facing me again. “Because I said so.” The end. “Now it’s time to go.” I take one step and stop when Danny clears his throat. Oh no. Don’t do it, Danny. I glare at him, for what it’s worth.
“It’s not a bad shout,” he says quietly.
Is he hell-bent on getting his nose broken today? “Come again?”
“A couple of young surfer sorts on the ocean pulling a load of skis behind them? Nothing unusual about that,” Brad adds. I turn my deadly glare slowly onto him.
“And who do you propose those surfer sorts are?” I ask like a prick. Every fucker in here knows the answer to that.
“Leon and—”
“Me,” Beau pipes in.
“No.” I laugh. Brad’s suggestion to have Beau working at Hiatus suddenly seems very fucking appealing.
Beau regards me, almost disappointed. “Jame—”
The door swings open and Rose appears, and the moment she finds Beau at the desk, her mouth falls open. “What are you doing in here?” she asks, indignant.
“Oh fuck,” Danny breathes.
“Busted.” Brad laughs. “I’m out of here. Let me know if we’re doing business with the The Shark and his Polish army anytime soon.”
Not likely. The Polish traffic women, but they aren’t my priority right now. So her period starts and all of a sudden she’s spouting off crazy ideas that either have her running around Miami chasing killers or gunrunning. What kind of fucked-up crazy am I in?
A mobile starts ringing, and everyone looks at each other as Beau stands. She glances down at the screen and does a fine fucking job of being cool. “Excuse me,” she says, avoiding my eyes as she leaves.