I feel a lump forming in my throat, and I hate myself for it when my best friend is staring at her most precious possession—something her mother gave her—that I have just crashed. I was supposed to be distracting her. I’m so fucking dumb. Beau turns her eyes onto me, and my lip wobbles, my mouth loading with a million apologies to pour. She jerks a little, as if snapping out of a daydream. “I’m so s—”

  “Jesus, Rose, are you okay?” Beau dashes over to me and places both hands on my little bump, and I withdraw, taken aback.

  “I’m fine,” I say. I hardly moved in my seat, felt no pressure on my tummy. “But Dolly isn’t.”

  “Dolly’s fine. Are you sure you’re okay? The baby, does she feel okay?”

  I still in front of her, my mouth falling open.

  “Can you feel her moving?”

  “It’s too early to feel movement,” I say quietly.

  “It is?” Beau rubs circles on my tummy, as if trying to stimulate movement. And in answer, a mild flutter of bubbles pop as if telling me she’s okay. As if she knows my friend needs that reassurance.

  “Oh my God, I felt her. She’s moving,” I say, laying my hand over Beau’s. She inhales, eyes full of wonder staring at me. She doesn’t even realize what she’s said in her panic. “She is fine.”

  “Thank God,” Beau breathes smiling mildly. Then it drops, as do her hands from my stomach, and she steps back. “Oh shit.” Her hand slaps over her mouth, and I laugh. It’s too late for that.

  “I’m having a girl?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “Nope, nay, noh, nein.”

  “I’m having a girl!”

  “God damn it!”

  “I’m having a girl,” I say, bracing my hands on my knees to hold me up, starting to laugh hysterically. “My God, he’s going to have a fucking fit.” Another girl to worry about? He’ll be sectioned.

  “You can’t tell him I told you,” Beau says, as I lower myself to the ground, feeling weak, and very worried I could pee my panties at any moment. “Rose, for Christ’s sake, will you promise me you won’t tell him?”

  “I promise.” I chuckle, on my back, looking up at the clouds.

  “I’m so stupid,” Beau moans, joining me on the ground, lying next to me and taking my hand. I turn my face to hers, wiping my eyes, my body still sporadically jolting with the aftermath of my laughing fit. And Beau smiles. It’s a true smile, the kind of smile that lights her face and dampens the darkness that shrouds her life. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispers, her voice ragged.

  I exhale and settle. She wouldn’t know what to do without James either, but that goes without saying. And I guess girls need girls sometimes when men just do not know what to do. “They’ll fix this,” I say.

  “I know they will. I just wish more stuff for them to fix would stop turning up. And I wish more that I could maintain a consistent, calm, accepting aura.”

  I smile, wishing the same for myself too. But we should cut ourselves some slack. “You’re allowed to wobble, Beau. So am I.”

  “You’re pregnant, you have a valid excuse for your unreasonable behavior.”

  I can’t even challenge her. I know I’m unreasonable. Danny knows it. Everyone knows it. God, I hope she will be pregnant one day too. A glimmer of light to grow and chase away the demons forever. James needs that too. “It’s not unreasonable, really. Not when you consider who we’re married to.”

  She swallows and nods, looking up at the sky. “He thinks I hate him,” she whispers. “I don’t. I love him more fiercely than I’ve ever hated anyone. Even the man who ordered my mother’s death.”

  “I know you do.” I squeeze her hand. “Maybe he needs to hear that.”

  She nods. “My period was due yesterday. It didn’t come.”

  I inhale subtly. “Do you think . . .”

  “I don’t know. But James definitely needs to hear that I love him.” Looking at me, she flashes a small, unsure smile. “Where are they?”

  “At Hiatus. I’ll call and check.”

  “Okay.” Jumping up, she looks down her body. “I’m going to wear a dress.”

  I accept her hands when she offers them, and she pulls me to my feet. Beau in a dress is as rare as James smiling. “Have you ever worn a dress?” I ask, as we walk back to the house. “Except for my bachelorette party?” Which was an epic fail. I shudder, remembering Danny smashing an admiring man’s face into the table just before he ordered me down off the stage in Hiatus in the calmest, deadliest voice. “Oh, and at dinner in St. Lucia. My cream dress.”

  “Yeah, one time when James took me to the opera to assassinate a judge.” She says it so casually, so coolly, and I look at her, not surprised. I’ve heard the story before, and even if I hadn’t? Well, our world. “James had a dress delivered to Lawrence and Dexter’s,” she goes on, smiling, although it’s sad. I’ve not heard this part. “Before we knew it was Dexter who killed my mother under order.” I squeeze her hand, and she laughs lightly. “The thought of going to the opera filled me with dread, but at the same time I really wanted to.” She shrugs. “It was when I was particularly bad at being in crowded places.” Beau isn’t all too great now, but I know of the panic attacks that ruled her back then. “I went to Walmart on a Saturday afternoon to try and prepare.”

  “Why would anyone go to Walmart on a Saturday?”

  “Exactly.” She laughs. “Anyway, it didn’t work out too well and I was on the cusp of falling apart when guess who shows up?” She looks at me, and I smile. I don’t need to answer that. He’d been following her for some time, trying to find the man we all know as The Bear, the man who ordered the deaths of both James’s family and Beau’s mother. James knew he would go after Beau too if she didn’t give up her relentless need to prove her mother’s death wasn’t an accident. James just didn’t expect to fall in love with her. And I must admit, neither did I expect to fall for her. To be honest, when James dragged Danny from the dead, I hated Beau before I had met her. Then the four of us had dinner and after a spikey start, I was soon head over heels.

  And here we are.

  A pair of molls.

  “He helped me do my shopping and picked me up later. He wore a black suit,” she says over a sigh. “And he looked so fucking handsome.”

  “And the dress he bought you?” I ask.

  “He said I looked out of this world.”

  Truth is, Beau looks out of this world in ripped jeans and a tank. She’s naturally stunning—casual or glam. “We’ve never gotten ready together,” I point out. “Like girls do.”

  “We should do it. Get ready together.” She turns a smile onto me, and I love the sparkle I see in her eyes. “I’ll take a shower and head over to your place.” She releases me and jogs off, and I laugh. My place is down the corridor from her place.

  I head to the kitchen to get some water and make the first of a few calls to Esther. “Before you ask, he’s not here,” she says when she answers. “He and Barney have become quite pally. He’s back and forth between here and there like a yo-yo.”

  I can’t be anything but pleased about that. He’s got a friend, and it’s so important he has those, especially in this life. This life that’s so different from his previous life with Hilary and Derek, even if we’re trying to keep it relatively normal. We’re deluded. I know Esther’s also been on his back to keep in contact with Hilary. She had every day with Daniel since he was a baby, so I can only imagine how hard this change has been for her. “He’s keeping up with his studies though, right?”

  She laughs. “Yes, powering through them, getting top grades in everything, making extra effort so he can dash out the door to see Barney.”

  “I’ll call Barney’s dad,” I say, taking the stairs. “And you? Are you okay?”

  “How’s Danny?’ she asks, swerving my question, which basically gives me my answer.

  “He’s fine. Esther, how are you?” This isn’t sitting right with me. Danny can’t dictate how his mother lives her life, and neither can I. I should never have allowed Danny to call the shots. I need to be with my husband, of course. But I also need to be with my son. Danny brought me here, and he wouldn’t if he truly thought I was at risk. So why can’t I have my boy with me? “I want to come back,” I blurt. It’s probably best for everyone.

  “No,” she snaps, adamant. “Without you around to stabilize him, Christ knows where Danny will be.”

  I let myself into my room and drop to the bed, my head in my hands. “I don’t think I stabilize him, Esther. If anything, I’m tipping him further over the edge.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  “I miss Daniel.”

  She laughs. “Why? If you were here, you would hardly see him anyway. Now, I’ve got to go. My pasta’s boiling over. I’ll text you Barney’s dad’s number so you can reach Daniel.” She hangs up, and I stare at my cell, waiting for the number to drop. Barney’s dad didn’t ask for this. He must feel like he’s got two kids given Daniel’s spending so much time there.

  My phone pings, I save the number, and then I call Barney’s dad’s. “Mr. Benson?” I say when a deep, gruff voice answers. “It’s Rose, Daniel’s mom. I hope you don’t mind, Esther gave me your number.”

  “Oh, Rose, I don’t mind at all. How are you?”

  “I’m good, thank you. And you?”

  “Very well. Daniel’s grandmother said you’re on vacation with his dad.”

  I smile tightly as I look around our luxurious suite at Danny’s Miami mansion. “That’s right. I was just checking in. Esther said Daniel’s with you again.”

  “Oh? Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all,” I rush to explain. “I just wondered if it’s too much. It doesn’t sound like you get much of a break from him.”

  He laughs lightly. “Honestly, it’s fine. It’s nice for Barney to have the distraction.”

  “Oh?” I can’t contain the curiosity in my voice.

  “Well, I’m working most of the time, from home, of course, and his mother has gone back to Sri Lanka.”

  “Oh, he misses her?” I open the French doors and step out onto the terrace, pouting to myself. He misses his mother. How sweet. Miss me, Daniel! And answer your damn cell or at least my messages.

  “No, we’re going through a messy divorce. She left the country to be with her new boyfriend. Barney wanted to stay with me.”

  My eyes widen. Shit. What the fuck do I say to that? “I’m sorry.” I sound as awkward as I feel.

  “Everyone is,” he says over a laugh. “Anyway, Daniel is fine, Barney is fine, the big unit following them around is fine, and in case you’re now worried about me, I am fine too.”

  How cute. “Well, I’m glad everyone is fine.” I smile like an idiot. “You have my number now, so just call if you need me. I mean, need anything Daniel related.”

  “I’ll call you, Rose,” he says, laughter in his tone. “Enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

  I hang up and look across the grounds of the mansion. “I will,” I say to myself. Oh, please. Lennox saw us all sitting around the table. He met my friendly husband. He’s got a seven-foot Viking trailing Daniel and Barney. He knows we’re not on vacation. I wish we were.

  “All right?”

  I look toward Beau’s voice and find her on the terrace of their room. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

  “I have no dresses.”

  “Then you’d better get that sweet, slim ass over to my place.” I go back inside and a few seconds later, Beau’s next to me by the closet rummaging through my clothes. “Take your pick,” I mutter, looking at all the dresses solemnly. “None of them fit me anymore.”

  She pulls out a white dress, looking it up and down. “This is the dress you wore the night we met.”

  “And this is the one you wore,” I say, reaching for the cream piece I also wore the night Danny took me to a lovely Italian place and murdered two men.

  “I think I need to go shopping,” Beau says quietly.

  “Yes!” I hang the dresses back up. “I’m getting fatter by the day, and you need some dresses. I’ll plan a shopping trip.” Somehow.

  “And until then?” she asks, looking across the rails of dresses.

  “You should wear this one,” I say, pulling out a lovely Boho chic tiered piece that falls just below the knee. “I’ve not worn it yet, which means no one has died in the presence of this dress.”

  She laughs and takes it from me. “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. It suits your free spirit better, anyway.” I start looking for something to wear myself. Something stretchy.

  Beau’s cell rings, and every inch of her tenses, telling me exactly who is trying to reach her. “Miami’s next mayor?” I ask as I pull out a gold slinky dress that’s got some give.

  “What the hell am I going to say to him?” She toys with her phone, torn between answering and ignoring. “Actually, I’m more worried about what he might say to me.” She takes a deep breath and connects the call. “Dad.” She starts pacing, her eyes low, the dress in her hold, and I pray this call won’t have her returning to her room and bed. “I’m sure they’re doing everything they can,” she says, looking at me, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Dad.” She lays the dress on the bed and starts walking again, watching her feet. “Tonight? I’m sorry, I have arrangements with a friend.” She’s cringing. But I also sense her conflict. She feels sorry for him too. So do I, the old fool, being hoodwinked by a gold digger, but I still don’t like him. I also don’t care if he lost every penny he has, but I do because that’s Beau’s inheritance, and I can think of no one I’d rather have Beau’s egomaniac’s father’s money less than Amber. I shudder. Amber who was the in-house whore when I arrived at Casa Black. Amber who Danny has fucked. And suddenly, I can hear them, her screams, the bangs on the wall. Because he wanted me to hear, right after I’d practically offered myself on a plate and he rejected me.

  Stop!

  “They’re my friends, Dad,” Beau goes on, bringing me back to the present. “I know you’re running for mayor.” The heel of her palm meets her forehead. “Then I won’t come on campaigns with you. Simple.” She pulls the phone away from her ear and covers the speaker. “I can’t even deal with him right now,” she whispers to me. “He’s at a hotel downtown. Wants me to meet him for dinner in the lobby bar. Is it bad I’d rather eat razor blades?”

  I shake my head.

  “I’ve got to go, Dad. I’m late. We’ll do dinner next week, okay?” She hangs up, ties her hair, and pulls her robe in. “Where’s your makeup?”

  13

  JAMES

  I walk out of the lobby bar of the hotel and immediately slip a cigarette between my lips, my body tense. I frown at the flame of the lighter as I hold it on the end. It’s not only flickering, it’s shaking, and I move my eyes down to my hand. My trembling hand. “What the fuck?” I mutter, inhaling and slipping the lighter into my back pocket, looking up and down the street as I cross the road, forcing my body into relaxing and failing miserably, struggling to understand this extreme reaction. I slip into my Range Rover and let the window down to let the smoke out, taking a moment to calm my pounding heart. Unshakable.

  I’m stumped.

  I don’t know why the fuck I’m shaking. I’ve done the right thing. I only pray Beau thinks so too. When she starts talking to me again.

  I start the engine and pull off, having one last pull on my cigarette before flicking it out of the window, heading back to Hiatus. I turn on the stereo. Music. Music will calm me. Pulling up at a red, I smile at the irony when Paradise Circle joins me, and signal to turn right.

  But I don’t turn right.

  I look over the crossroad, seeing a pink neon light glowing my way. Enticing me. Tempting me. Telling me more relief can be found through those doors. I turn off the signal and put my foot down, passing the club. The chances of him being there? Slim. But it doesn’t hurt to check. I park around the back and go to the trunk, pulling the base up and collecting a Glock, tucking it into the back of my jeans with its friend before taking the rucksack. Then I google The Pink Flamingo to check who owns the place. Elsa Dove. I nod to myself, checking her out, finding an uptight looking middle-aged blonde in a trouser suit. Divorced. Previous socialite. Wealthy parents. Then I check out who manages the place. Des Stanton. Single. History of drugs. Parents dead. It tells me all I need to know.

  My strides are long and purposeful as I walk to the front, getting eyed by the men on the door. They both look me up and down, then to each other. “We gotta search ya, man,” one says, the brave one.

  “You don’t gotta search me,” I assure them, turning and lifting my T-shirt. “I just want to see if there’s someone in there, then I’ll be gone.”

  They throw each other wary glances. “And if that someone is in there?”

  “I’ll remove him, because I’m pretty sure the owner won’t want him frequenting her establishment, even if the man running the place for her does.”

  “Yeah, okay, cool, man,” the other says, hands up. “We’re not paid enough to deal with this kinda trouble, man.”

  Wise men. I brush past them, then push my way through the double doors, scoping the joint from one side to the other. The shit music. The tacky décor. The cheap furniture. I have to squint to protect my eyes from the glare of the sickly pink neon lighting assaulting the place.

  I drop the rucksack by the door and start a slow circuit, eyeing every table, every patron, the staff, the people on the dance floor. There’s not one camera in the place. It speaks volumes. I come to a slow stop when I see a VIP area in the corner, a crowd of young women swarming the edge. Desperate young women. Desperate young women wanting attention, money, drugs, a sugar daddy. All disingenuous, but all blameless.

  I wander over, a head and shoulders above them, and see him. A bottle of champagne in one hand, a woman in the other. An innocent woman. He has the same shades on as he does in the photograph Higham handed us. Who fucking hires these imbeciles? Jesus Christ, his nose is powered with white stuff, his body visibly buzzing, and I bet if I could see his eyes, they’d be like fucking saucers.