I stare at a picture of a washed-up dead body. “Well, it’s a nice day for sunbathing,” I muse, just as Ringo strolls through the door with a Starbucks in one hand and a cup of Esther’s tea in the other.
“That’s not all.” Otto delights me with another image that makes me laugh under my breath. “Yeah,” he says, studying it as well, turning the ring in his slightly swollen, very purple lip. “Natalia Potter sure does have some interesting friends.”
“Hello,” Brad calls, having us both look up. Otto turns the screen and he recoils. “Think I’ll take a Scotch instead.”
“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. Iknowit. 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.