“Fine,” he agrees, sitting up, the effort it takes him painful to watch. He clasps both of Beau’s hands. “You must go.”
“I don’t want to.”
I inhale some patience, but I keep my mouth shut, hoping Lawrence can solve this without me throwing demands around. It’s no secret that I think Tom Hayley is a prick. But once again, I’m willing to overlook that for the sake of Beau. It’s another demon of hers that needs crushing.
“For me?” Lawrence pleads, and I slowly sit back, my focus shifting to Beau, watchful. It’s below the belt, but I’m not about to call him out on it. Right now, Beau will do anything to help Lawrence, and if that means he manipulates his position for the sake of Beau’s peace, I’m all in. “It would make me so happy for you to reconcile with your father. I know my brother is . . . challenging, to say the least, but he does love you, Beau, even if he has a hard time showing it.” He offers a weak smile. “It’s not his fault he’s an emotional defect.”
I laugh to myself. Well played, Lawrence. Well played. You’d refuse to believe Lawrence and Tom Hayley were brothers if you didn’t know them. Chalk and cheese.
I see the subtle lowering of Beau’s shoulders. “Fine,” she relents. “But if any journalists show up, I’m leaving.”
Tom Hayley better not disappoint me. “Go get ready,” I order gently, not giving her time to overthink this. “I’m going for a workout.”
She’s suddenly acutely aware, running a scrutinizing gaze up and down my form as I stand. She’s searching for evidence of a kill. “Not me,” I confirm, my eyebrows high and knowing. “He’s waiting for me.”
She nods slowly, contemplatively, but she doesn’t ask questions, leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing a kiss on my cheek. I push into it, swallowing. She’s checking if I smell of murder too. “Don’t you trust me?”
Her mouth moves to my ear, and it forces my body to lock up. “I trust you to do whatever it takes, and that might mean lying to me,” she whispers, discreetly reaching for my groin and cupping my balls. My eyes shoot to Lawrence, who’s looking at Beau fondly. She squeezes, and I suppress a low, pained growl. “You won’t lie to me, will you?”
There’s my girl. “I believe you have me by the balls, baby,” I murmur.
“Don’t forget it.” She clenches down harder, and I cough. Fuck me, what is she doing?
“Beau,” I warn, spiking a coy, satisfied smile as she releases me and steps back. Fuck. I turn and leave before Lawrence catches sight of my groin area, exhaling as I go. “She’s having dinner with her father,” I say to Fury after I’ve pulled the door closed. “He’s a megalomaniac, so expect hostility.”
“You got it.”
“And no matter how many dummies he throws out of his pram, do not take your eyes off Beau.”
He nods, and I slip into our room to throw on some workout shorts before making my way to the gym.
I walk in and find Danny raining holy hell on a punchbag, battering the ever-loving shit out of it. When the door closes behind me, he stops, virtually hugging the bag, panting. “I work out alone,” he heaves, and we both smile as I lower to a mat and get my arms in position, ready to find my balance and, hopefully, a clear head. I slowly bring my feet from the mat, my knees to my chest, and start extending my legs until I’m as straight as a pole, the rush of blood to my head familiar and needed.
I zone out, my mind clears, and I float in a bubble of quiet nothingness. I walk my way through my kills, reassess their purpose, mentally cross them off the web that sprouts from The Bear. The Irish, the Polish, the Russians. Drugs, women, guns. Animals. The Snake, The Shark, The Ox, all leaders of their division but foot soldiers of The Bear.
My eyes snap open.
“Seventy minutes, James.” Danny’s distant voice is muffled and grainy. “Your head must be fucking throbbing.”
I lower my feet to the floor and blink, feeling the blood rush back into my body. “His son.” I turn my eyes onto Danny.
“What?”
“Spittle’s son. Why haven’t they found him?”
“Otto said he’s not been at work and no one at the bank will talk. I’ve pushed the search wider.”
I start to pace, circling the mat, thinking.
“You’re making me fucking dizzy.” Danny grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and swigs ravenously. “Tell me what the fuck you’re thinking before I beat it out of you.”
“I’m thinking The Bear has his son. It’s the only explanation for Spittle doing something so fucking stupid.”
“You mean taking money, shoving mobile phones up his arse, or crossing us?”