“Collins,” James says, reminding everyone. “What about her?”

  “Hungry,” Otto replies. “Very fucking hungry.”

  “Something to prove,” I say, resting back in my chair and kicking an ankle up onto my knee. “Why? Apart from being a woman in a man’s world?” I look out the corner of my eye to Goldie when I feel a pissed-off glower pointing my way. “Did you have highlights too?” I ask, making her swipe up a bottle of water, unscrew the cap, and throw it in my face. I laugh, wiping at my eyes.

  “You asked for that,” James says, looking at me with a shake of his head.

  “I’m playing.” I stand and round the back of Goldie’s chair, taking her shoulders, feeling her tense beneath my hands. I dip and kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Get the fuck off me before I—”

  “Before you what?” I ask, interested and sounding a little bit ominous. Something tells me I might regret it.

  “You sure you want to have this conversation?” she asks.

  “You started it,” I snap like a child.

  “I’m giving you an opportunity to back down.”

  I laugh. “Never.”

  “Fine. Before I tell your wife that you told your mother that your wife wants Daniel to stay in St. Lucia.”

  What the fuck? I stare at Goldie as she tucks her freshly highlighted, freshly cut hair behind her ear again. She didn’t need to. It was already perfectly tucked; she was merely making a point. How the fuck does she know that?

  She must see the question in my stunned eyes. “Esther called me,” she goes on. “Told me she understands why Rose would want that and, actually, Rose should be here if only to stop you from self-destructing. Or getting locked up. Or killed.”

  Fuck. We all know Goldie wouldn’t dare tell Rose that, but what Goldie has succeeded in doing is reminding me that Rose will go nuclear on me if she finds out that I’m playing her and Mum against each other.

  Brad snorts as I get back in my cage, visibly shrinking before everyone’s eyes. But I do give one last look at Otto, who is blatantly occupying himself on his laptop to avoid my threatening stare. There’s only one reason my mum would want to come back to Miami, and I’m staring at the fucker, so intently, I hope he bursts into flames and turns to ashes. Otto is causing me a headache I do not need.

  I look at James like he can help me, and he looks at me like, what do I expect? What do I want for my mother? I don’t know, but it isn’t Otto. “Back to Collins?” he asks, tilting his head.

  “Back to Collins,” I mutter, slumping down in my chair, moody. “So she’s hungry. Hungry for a bit of British meat or hungry for some Polish, Russian, or Irish animals?”

  “Yet to be determined,” Otto says, infinitely poised over his laptop. “But I’m gonna use my initiative and say she’ll take whatever she can get. She’s smart. Graduated from Yale with a law degree before she followed in her mother’s footsteps and joined the LAPD. She moved to the East Coast a few months ago. Higham confirmed she’s causing a stir.”

  Followed in her mum’s footsteps? I look at James. He’s blank. Probably thinking what I’m thinking. Jaz Hayley. Beau Hayley. Beau was definitely following in her mother’s footsteps . . . before The Bear blew her mother up. “Who is her mother?”

  “Sharon Collins. FBI. San Francisco.”

  “And causing a stir for them or us?” I ask.

  “For everyone.”

  “And she was pressing Beau on Dexter,” I muse. “Building a picture?”

  “Oh, for sure.” Otto laughs. “She’s been checking out files from the archives left and right.”

  “How’d you know th—”

  “Higham,” he grunts, tapping away at the keys. “And I have a name on The Shark.” Otto sits back, twirling the ring in his lip, comfortable, whereas everyone else at the table sits forward, intrigued. He remains mute as we all wait. I look at James, exasperated, after seconds of no enlightenment.

  “Well?” Brad asks, just before I’m about to. Otto takes his laptop and turns it to face us, revealing a face. His nose is absolutely colossal, his forehead larger than my desk, his eyes close together, his ears, I’m sure, making it impossible for him to pass through a door without brushing them on the frame. His buzzcut only reveals how fucking huge his head is. “Fuck me, he’s even uglier than you, Ringo,” Brad says on a laugh as we all take in the man dominating the screen. Or less of a man, more of a fat head. Goldie chuckles, it’s girlie, and she appreciates that because she soon clears her throat in time to apologize to Ringo when he turns a curled lip her way.

  “Who is he?” Brad asks what we all want to know.

  “Former polish military,” Otto says. “Marek Zielińska. And since you told him where to swivel for his guns last week, he’s been on a little spending spree around Florida with a fake gun license.”

  “Oh?” I say, impressed. “And what’s Marek Zielińska, AKA Mr. Shark buying?”

  “Everything from grenades to M249s from any store he can find.”

  “So he’s desperate if he’s stretching to buying with the commoners,” I muse out loud.

  “And what of Beau’s thoughts?” Ringo asks, making us all look toward the end of the wharf. Rose now has her cropped T-shirt on, and Fury is holding out her bag to her. Beau is still face up to the sun.

  “I think she might be on the right track,” I say, as James nods. “They’re all jumping ship and scrambling to protect themselves.”

  “So where is The Bear?” Goldie asks, looking agitated. She knows if he’s disappeared off the face of the earth, the chances of us finding him are slim, which means James and Beau’s peace will elude them, which also means Goldie’s freedom will elude her. “His last move was ordering the exhumation of Danny’s father and Beau’s mother. No one’s heard anything from him since?”

  “Not a peep,” James says quietly, sinking farther into his chair, thoughtful. “And Frazer Cartwright?”

  “There’s a camera opposite his apartment. He’s not there, nor has he been there. Not since he called Beau. He seems to have disappeared along with The Bear. It’s Tom Hayley’s funeral tomorrow. He might be there.”

  “He might not,” I say quietly.

  James looks at me. Just me. “Tom’s funeral can’t be anything but a funeral.”

  “Understood. The delivery on Friday.”

  “Beau understands the assignment.”

  “I can’t believe we’ve agreed to this,” I mutter. “I definitely can’t believe you have.” But I get it. If James doesn’t keep Beau close, keep her mind as occupied as possible, she’ll be gone.

  “You got any other suggestions?”

  I blow out my cheeks in answer as Otto’s laptop pings, and all attention is soon rediverted from me to the screen. I join the masses, looking at the small pop-up that’s appeared in the bottom righthand corner. It’s not small enough. My mum’s name glows at me.

  There are a few oh fucks as Otto speedily drags his laptop back and turns it. “You,” I say, pushing my hands into the table and rising.

  “Danny,” James warns.

  “You . . . you . . . you . . .”

  “Calm the fuck down.”

  “Fucker,” I hiss, my temperature going through the roof.

  “I think a lot of your mother, Danny,” Otto says, standing. “A lot.” Everyone else at the table shrinks into their chairs, while I twitch like I’ve been tasered. A lot? What does that mean? Love? Sex? I inhale. Has he got her into bed? “You won’t control her anymore.” Otto goes on, obviously not done. “You won’t hold her to ransom and use her past against her.”

  What? I do no such thing. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I only want what’s best for her, and a man with a history of fucking and indulging in strippers isn’t it.

  “I’m talking about her well-being being in my hands, not yours,” Otto goes on. “And I’m not about to stand by and watch you throw your toys out your pram. Get fucking used to it.”

  “Fucking hell,” Brad breathes.

  “Sit, Danny,” James says, grabbing my arm and fighting to pull me down. I’m unmoving.

  “You’ve brainwashed her,” I seethe. “Shown her a bit of attention and taken advantage of her naivety.”

  Otto laughs. It’s the worst thing he could do. I’m across that table like a bullet, rugby tackling him to the floor and delivering a brutal right hook, sending blood from his nose spraying. “You keep your filthy hands to yourself,” I yell, falling to my back when Otto shoves me off him.

  “I’m nothing but respectful around your mother. You’re lucky you’re her son or you’d be dead,” he growls, wiping his nose of blood as I scramble up, ready to charge. But someone’s between us before I’m out of the docks.

  “Move, Rose,” I order.

  “Fuck off.” She takes my arm and manhandles me outside, and I don’t fight because . . .

  Rose.

  “What the hell are you playing at?” She shoves me down the steps, gaining the attention of many. “You’re a fucking child.”

  And because she’s right, I retaliate. And maybe because I’ve concluded that I’m already in her bad books so I may as well spill a few secrets. “Esther’s not coming back to Miami,” I snarl.

  “Wrong.” She smiles, and it’s one hundred percent smug. “And Daniel’s coming too.”

  “What?”

  “Lennox has business in Montenegro to see to before he brings Barney to Miami to see his parents, so he can no longer babysit while my husband shoots his way through the city and holds me against my will because he’s worried I’ll have my head turned by a dashing, single banker.”

  Good Lord, save me before I kill her. I have no words. Am incapable of talking. She’s one step ahead. Seems like everyone is. “I . . . it’s . . . why the—” I throw my arm out toward the cabin. “He said he thinks a lot of my mother.”

  “Good.” She pokes me in my naked shoulder. “You will stay out of it.”

  I snort. Never. “Get your arse home,” I snap, barging past her, set on going to finish what I started with Otto. I get precisely two paces before something connects with the back of my head with force, immediately putting stars in my vision. “Fuck!” I hit the deck, my head instantly throbbing, and roll on to my back, dazed.

  Rose appears standing over me. “I’m going shopping,” she says. “So I can make my son and his grandmother something nice for dinner when they arrive.”

  “They’re really coming?”

  “Yes.” She sneers. “Your dinner will be in the dogs.” She pulls her hair free of the band, shakes it out, flicks it over her shoulder, and saunters off. “I’m taking Fury,” she yells back. “And I’ve text you your mom’s flight details so you can pick them up from the airport when you’ve seen to business for the day.”

  I lift my head, watching her go, her arse cheeks very nearly poking out the bottom of her denim shorts. “Those shorts are too short!”

  Two middle fingers appear and, sick fuck that I am, I smile, rubbing at my head as I stand.

  “She’s a handful,” someone says.

  “Higham.” I don’t look his way just in case he’s looking Rose’s way—to those peachy cheeks poking out—and I’m forced to kill him. But I do look to the cabin, seeing everyone on the steps. I throw the traitors a dirty look and trudge to the shore where it’s quieter, Higham following, along with everyone else. “What do you want?”

  “Peace, Danny. You know that. I trust my intel was of use to you.”

  “You mean the identities of The Leprechaun and The Chameleon?” I ask, seeing Jerry coming out of the container where The Leprechaun is being held. A week he’s been in there. For a week James has had his fun with him, and he’s not spat one word of any use, only pleas for mercy. He’s either very loyal or he really doesn’t know a thing about The Bear. I expect it’s the latter. Just a jumped-up kid who’s been offered a scrap of power and brandished it. Or tried to, until The Enigma found him. “It was fuck-all use to us,” I say, facing Higham, just catching his frown. “And we skipped The Chameleon and hit straight in on The Ox.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve also just discovered the identity of The Shark, so tell me, Higham,”—I tilt my head—“we need you, why?”

  James wanders casually over, standing just shy of the shore now he’s fully dressed. “I’d ask if there’s any news on the whereabouts of Jaz Hayley and Carlo Black, but I expect that would be a wasted question.”

  “Probably,” Higham mutters. “We all know you’re not finding those remains.” A hand rakes through his hair. “Believe it or not, I am sorry about that.”

  “And Agent Burrows?” James presses, piquing my interest too. “Heard from him?”

  “He took annual leave.” Higham looks between us. “He has taken annual leave, right?”

  I feel James look out the corner of his eye to me, wary. “Your guess is as good as ours,” I say. Has James killed him and not told me?

  “No,” he says, reading my mind.

  I’ve had enough of today. “Are we done?” I ask as Brad, Ringo, Goldie, and Otto join us, circling, imposing.

  “It’s getting harder to deflect attention from you, Danny,” Higham says. “Collins is like a dog with a bone and she’s expressing a real interest in The Brit and The Enigma.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. “She wants the ultimate trophies?” I ask, feeling James’s mood dip further.

  “She wants recognition.”

  “Put her on a fucking leash,” I say, getting up in his face. “You want peace in this city, you need to stand down and let me run it. If you want crime figures down, you need to let me eliminate the fuckers that are shipping in women and drugs and hiring the down-and-outs to do their dirty work.”

  “I need them alive, Danny,” Higham hisses. “Otherwise, you make the figures fucking worse.”

  “With no bodies, there’s no evidence. The population merely drops. I make sure there are no bodies.”

  He inhales, closing his eyes. “Collins has a woman in custody,” he says on an exhale. “She was found at a rest stop on the freeway. Disorientated, dirty, foreign.”

  “And?” James asks, moving in closer, risking getting his boots wet.

  “She was taken from her home in Serbia. Trafficked. She escaped.” He opens his eyes. “She talked about where she was held, the languages being spoken by the men, what they looked like.”

  “Polish?” James asks.

  “Yes.”

  “And where was she held?”

  “It sounds like an airport. A factory or hangar.” Higham looks at me. “I’m just saying, Danny.” He casts his eyes over to James and the others. “If Collins brings in the Polish or the Russians, she plans on making a deal with them.”

  “A deal?” Goldie says.

  “Yes, a deal. Their—”

  “Freedom in exchange for us,” James finishes. “She wants them to lead her to us.”

  “She knows where to find us,” I say. “Every fucking copper in Florida state knows where to find us.”

  “But they don’t have the evidence they need to put us in cuffs.” James laughs under his breath.

  “She thinks they can help her get that evidence.” Higham looks embarrassed. He should.

  “Who is this fucking woman? She swans into Miami, reads a few files, and thinks she has the answer to eternal peace in the city?” I’m fucking fuming. “Does she fucking know who she’s dealing w—” I cast my eyes across the bay, my mind going into overdrive. “A hangar.”

  “What?” Brad asks, dipping his toes in the water to join me.

  “Higham, you said the woman in custody mentioned she was held in a hangar.”

  “Yes.”

  I inhale, facing the others. Fuck! “Otto, I want every detail you can find on the purchase of Winstable Boatyard three years ago.”

  Without a word, he goes back to the cabin, and I follow, our recent brawl forgotten. “Leon!” I yell, and a second later he appears from one of the containers. “Get the skis ready.”

  “Sure thing, D-Boss.”

  I look at him, nodding, holding up one finger, and he acknowledges me, running off toward the container that houses a few loaded jet skis.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Brad asks as James overtakes me, pulling his T-shirt up over his head, revealing his mammoth scar. The sight still makes me flinch.

  “I know where the Polish are holding the women.” Fuck, how did I miss this?

  “Where?”

  I can hardly say it without wanting to throw up. “The boatyard Pops built.”

  “No.” Brad wants to laugh but worry is stopping him. “That was sold to be developed as an educational facility for disadvantaged kids.”

  It’s been over three years since I stepped aside to let that happen. Of course, I wasn’t willing to at first. Was prepared to break a few legs to keep the land. Then the disadvantaged kids’ card was brandished. It’s as if whoever needed Winstable knew I’d soften to that. Fuckers! “Do you see an educational facility over there?”

  Brad looks across the water, not that Winstable is visible. Just a dot in the distance. “Jesus.”

  “Yeah.” I take the steps fast as I pull my wetsuit up and when I enter the changing room, James is ready to get back on the water. “I want you two and Otto to take the road,” I say to Goldie and Ringo. “We’ll go in from the water. Distract them. Get them all out front.”

  “And do what?” Ringo says. “Ask for directions? For fuck’s sake, Danny. Think about this. They’ll know our faces.”

  “I can help.”

  We all whirl around and find Higham in the doorway. His face is serious. His stance unmoving. “A routine stop by. A few questions about a local robbery. Ain’t nothing as distracting as the Feds at your door.”

  We all look at each other, none of us willing to admit it’s the solution we need.

  “You don’t kill anyone,” Higham goes on. “Not on my watch. But you scope the place, find out what you need to find out, and go back at nightfall when I am not there.”

  “Deal,” I say, and James looks at me incredulously.

  “You want to discuss that with me?”