“Oh, you’re back.” Pearl looks straight toward my office. “Any news on Brad?”
Oh?My feet slow to a stop, my body turning toward them. Anya has a nearly undetectable smile on her face as she looks at Pearl out the corner of her eye. What’s this then? “He’s back,” I say, watching her closely.
Her face. It’s shocked, pleased, nervous.Oh fuck.“He is?” she squeaks. “How is he?”
“Grumpy.”
“Standard,” Pearl says over a laugh. “So where’s he been?”
Now... do I tell her? This girl is twenty-one. Brad is thirty-four. He was twenty-one when Pops dragged him out of a hotel and gave him a lesson in acceptable levels of indulgence. Pearl was eight when Brad was twenty-one.Jesus. So, yes, I do tell her. She’s young. Delusional. The best thing Pearl could do is hate Brad, so let’s make that happen. “He locked himself in a suite at The Four Seasons and fucked his way through hooker after hooker.”
Her face. Disappointment, hurt, sadness. I take no pleasure from it. But... I also know Brad. He values women about as much as the devil values confession. “Esther needs some help in the kitchen.” I get on my way and enter my office to find everyone still and silent. James has his back to me, quietly seething in the chair, Brad’s on the couch, looking a fucking wreck, Otto’s setting up his shiny new laptop, and Ringo and Goldie are on their phones. “Glad to see the party didn’t start without me.” I close the door and go to my desk, assessing James. He really is green. Probably sick with worry. “Where’s Nolan?”
“Gone back to Hiatus,” Brad says. “I’m here for the lowdown, then I’m going.” Escaping. Running away.Because of Pearl. Fucking hell, he can’t stay here because of her. Is she coming on to him? Does he find the redhead attractive? Doesn’t he trust himself?
All questions for another day.
“So, a recap?” I ask the room.
“Sure, why not.” Ringo sets his phone aside, ready for a rundown on the day’s events, and fuck, it’s been quite a day.
Understatement. “We have Luis, Sandy, Volodya, and before Beau killed him, The Shark, all wanting our guns.”
“It’s a good job you drunk ordered more then, huh?” Otto says without looking up from his laptop. He’s pushing it. I hope Mum made him feel as shitty as she made me feel. And I hope that fat lip he’s sporting means it hurts like a bitch if he kisses her.Have they kissed?
“Volodya?” James questions, distracting me from socking Otto one in the face.
“Yes. He called earlier.”
“When are we meeting Sandy?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
“I told you to arrange something.”
Hetoldme? “I’m sorry, I’ve been kinda busy trying tonotfucking die.” I stand and shrug off the coat I’ve been wearing all fucking day. “And maybe now, in light of Volodya calling, I might not be agreeable to meeting Sandy.”
“Does Volodya know anything?” James asks. “Did he promise anything?”
I laugh. “You think Sandy knows who The Bear is? Oh, come on.”For fuck’s sake.“No one knows a fucking thing! The Bear’s had everyone under him, tore through Miami with guns and bombs, and now he’s gotno oneunder him and he’s doing the fucking same!”
“Okay then, who are we calling?” Brad pipes in, happy to poke us both. “Sandy or Volodya, because both of you have a beef with both of them, so who’s winning this one?” He smiles. “Draw straws?”
I should have moved that gun an inch to the left. “Fuck off to Hiatus.”
“Not until I know what the fuck’s going on.”
“Good luck with that.” Ringo sneers at nothing. “None of us know what the fuck is going on. We might not need Sandy or Volodya if Amber Kendrick really does have information. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Glorious,” I say quietly.What the fuck does she know?I look at my mobile, willing it to ring. “We need to talk about the delivery we’re expecting tomorrow.” Beau was supposed to be tugging those jet skis with Leon because, simply, Beau and Leon are the least criminal-looking members of this fucked-up family, aside from my wife, mother, and kid, of course. “So who’s towing the skis back now?”
“You and me,” James says, his attention still on his phone. He’s dialing Beau. Repeatedly. He looks back at Otto who shakes his head at the screen of his new laptop, and James curses, going back to his mobile.
“Are you sure?” I ask, thinking James’s head is not in the right space for playing it cool while we smuggle endless weapons through endless Coast Guards.
“Sure.”
I won’t argue with him. “Collins is watching Hiatus,” Otto says out of nowhere, pointing at his screen as if all of us in the room can see it.