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)
“What’s going on?” Ringo asks.
“Cartwright is dead and Agent Higham’s lunching with Natalia Potter.”
He sneers. “The journalist who wrote the—”
“Are you about to state the obvious?” Brad asks, claiming the cup of tea on a flinch.
“No, I’m asking a question to confirm where I think this is leading.” Ringo looks at me, and I nod. It’s leading to Beau going full force into cop mode.
“No one breathes a word of this to Beau,” I say, hating the disgusted look on Brad’s face. Couldn’t give a fuck. I’m protecting her.
My phone rings in my hand, and everything inside sinks when I look at the screen. The tension I’m suddenly feeling must be palpable, because when I look up, everyone is staring at my phone. I know I don’t want to take this call. I know it. Cartwright turning up dead doesn’t only mean Beau’s about to get the extra shove she doesn’t need, it also means that small part of me that hoped The Bear had disappeared will be disappointed.
I inhale, push my fingertip into the screen, then click it straight to speaker, swallowing down the anger crawling up my throat.
Silence.
And with each second that passes, my heart booms that little bit harder.
“Did you miss me?” he finally asks. The sound of his voice, the distorter, makes me close my eyes and force my breathing to steady before I explode.
“As it happens, yes,” I say quietly. “I thought I’d been robbed of the opportunity to tear you apart.”
“So you’re pleased to hear from me?”
“Thrilled.”
“Good. Then I’ll make my next move.” The line goes dead, and the tension in the room goes through the roof, everyone still, quiet, looking at each other.
Waiting.
For what? An explosion? A bullet? A fire? A missile through the fucking window?
Fuck!
“Someone get Danny up here,” I say as I dial Fury, going to the window and looking out onto the grounds. For what, I don’t fucking know. “Now!” I yell. Fury answers. “Get the girls home now,” I order.
“Boss,” he confirms, hanging up, getting straight on it.
“Call Goldie. Get them back from the boatyard.” I pace, cursing under my breath. “Get Leon on the phone. Tell him to clear the cabin.”
“The club,” Brad says from the bed. “Nolan, the girls. Someone pass me my phone.” I take it off charge on the nightstand and hand it to him, and he strains to sit up, dialing and taking it to his ear.
Otto has the CCTV stream for the club up on his screen before I have the chance to ask, and I watch the shot of the front of the building, holding my breath, as if waiting for it to blow up there on the screen.
“He’s not answering,” Brad says, frustrated, immediately dialing again.
“Can you activate the fire alarm from the system?” I ask Otto.
He lifts a finger and pushes it down meticulously. “Done.” Everyone on the screen seems to still for a moment—bartenders pausing cleaning, dancers pausing mid-practice—before the place clears and we all wait, watching, Ringo with Leon on the other line.
I can hear the beats of everyone’s hearts, and the silence is only broken when Danny steams through the door at one hundred miles an hour, his face a dried bloody mess. “What’s going on?” he asks, taking in the scene and wandering over, looking at the screen of Otto’s laptop.
I can’t tell him that we’re waiting for something or someone to blow up. “Call Sandy,” I say. “Tell him you’ll meet him.” Just because we now know The Bear is still in the game doesn’t mean he still has control of the Russians, or anyone. I can get past the fact Sandy tried to kill Beau if it means I get The Bear.
“Why?” Danny asks.
“Just do it.”
“So you can kill him?”
I look at him, and I don’t answer because I can’t promise I won’t. “An old friend just called.”
“Fuck,” Danny breathes, raking a hand through his hair. “The girls? Mum? The kid?”
“All being brought back.” I’ve got to face Beau. Tell her the man she desperately needs to talk to in relation to her father’s death is dead. Another blow. Another setback amid the endless fucking setbacks.
Danny nods, his eyes dropping to the carpet. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or stressed.” I think he’s speaking for us all.
“He’s definitely been lying low. Waiting for something.”
“But what?”
“I don’t know.” I look out of the window, returning my eyes to the outside world, scanning, watching. Come on, what’s your next move?
“Pick up, Nolan,” Brad hisses, his lips pursing, part impatience, part pain. “Fuck it.” He dials again. “Someone call Mason.”
Danny pulls his T-shirt up and wipes the drying blood on his face as he dials him. “Tell Nolan to check his phone,” he orders shortly. Then he frowns, looking at Brad. “Nolan’s not there.”
“What?”
“Called earlier and said he’d be in at lunchtime.”