“That’s what we agreed.”

  “I agreed. I never said I liked it. And part of my reasoning was to give her a little of what she wants, to get what I want. Clearly it hasn’t worked, since I’ve been scouring the fucking city searching for her for the past twenty-four hours.” It’s give-and-take. She wants to be included, I want her to trust me. “I’ve changed my mind.” Fuck this shit. I was going against every instinct I have letting Beau be involved in the delivery from Chaka. But I agreed. I agreed and hoped it would help her. I failed. She’s more distant than ever.

  “You know it’s for the best.” Danny holds a hand up, as if readying himself for my imminent charge. “She’s come back. Beau knows if you or I go out there on the water while it’s swarming with Coast Guards, we’ll be pulled.”

  I’m incapable of reasoning with myself. Powerless to stop my hurt. She came back, but only to collect the delivery? What about me? What about us? I just have to sit here and wait for her to return whenever she disappears? Alive? In cuffs? Fuck! For the first time, I get a small glimpse of how Beau feels every time I leave her. I’m fucking livid, but her hurt, her utter frustration at how much control she has lost in her life hits me. In protecting her, I’ve been taking away even more control. She was a fucking amazing cop, her life on a trajectory to achieve much and do good. And now? Now she’s relegated to the side-line against her will. But it’s to protect her. To love her. To keep her safe.

  I hold my hand out and Danny’s Marlboros land in my palm. I quickly light one and drag in the nicotine. “This is a no-smoking area.”

  “Fuck off.” I exhale my smoke all over him and fall back against the wall. “Leon ready?”

  “Yep.”

  “Jet skis on the water?”

  “Yep.”

  “Beau’s on mine, right? She prefers mine.” It’s slightly bigger. More comfortable.

  “She’s on The Enigma.”

  I nod and take more nicotine. “Good.”

  Danny wanders over to the bench and lowers, lighting up too. “So, John Theodore Little.”

  “Your old boatyard was another sweetener for the scumbags,” I say what we’ve both been considering. The Bear properly screwed Danny over on that front. Bought himself the perfect storage facility in the perfect location to entice the criminal fuckers who are now all abandoning him.

  “Yeah,” he says calmly, though I know he won’t be feeling it. It’s just another reason for us all to want the bastard. The question is, who gets the honors when we find him? “You should know,” he goes on, “Tank and Fury lost their mother this afternoon. I’ve given them some time off.”

  I join him, thankful for the distraction. “The kid told me. And you should know Daniel’s struggling.”

  “I know,” he says quietly. “I’m trying to fix that.”

  “How?”

  “School. We’re looking at one next week. Popular with security-conscious parents, if you know what I mean.”

  “Criminals?”

  “Celebrities.”

  I laugh under my breath and look at the door, smoking my way through my cigarette. Is she out on the water now? Does she know what she’s doing? Where to head? The signals? “Ringo’s out there, right?”

  “Shark fishing.”

  “And Goldie?”

  “Paddleboarding.”

  “I didn’t know she could paddleboard.”

  “She can’t,” Danny says over a laugh, but I don’t join him, too stressed. Worried. I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy wait, but the fact we’re not on talking terms is making it worse. “Hey.” Danny nudges my knee with his, knocking my attention away from the door. “The challenges we’re facing now won’t be around forever.” Something tells me he’s not just talking about business. “Work, family, wives, kids.” Danny pulls on his cigarette and pouts, looking up at the ceiling and exhaling. “This is the rising, mate.” He blows smoke up into the air, and it rolls and swirls above us. “There’s only one thing that will stop us from staying on top once we’ve killed all the fuckers in our way.” He drops his eyes but not his head. “Hell hath no fury like my wife.” He smiles, and it’s sick. “She terrifies me more than anyone. Including you and Beau.”

  “Beau terrifies you?” I ask over a laugh. I get it. She petrifies me. My laughter fades off, and Danny nods.

  “If we didn’t have them, we wouldn’t need to be doing this. But we can’t play dead. And we can’t live a normal life.”

  “And we can’t be without them,” I finish.

  “Precisely.” He stands, pointing at me with his cigarette. “So let’s get the fuck on with rising and make sure we never fall, because that, my friend, is the closest we’re ever getting to normal.”

  I get up and head to the door.

  “She’ll be fine, James.”

  “I know,” I say to myself. We both know Beau’s trained and capable in keeping her cool in the face of danger. We both also know she’s incapable of keeping emotion out of it since her mother died. She’s pissed off with me. She may not be showing it, but she’s hating on me—for constantly treating her like she’s glass. It’s in my nature where she’s concerned, and I can’t promise I will ever change, so we need to compromise. She’s more delicate than she allows the world to see, but I know her now. To her core, I know her.

  She needs me.

  And I sure as shit need her.

  If not for each other, why the fuck are we going through this hell?

  30

  BEAU

  I’m pretty sure Leon is stoned, because he won’t shut the hell up, rabbiting on at a guy who’s dressed in traditional tribal garb, popping question after question—where’s he from, does he like Caribbean food, has he been to Zambia, Congo, the Sahara?

  Eventually, he lifts his shades, revealing eyes as black as his skin, and Leon pipes down. “Friendly,” he mutters as the guns are transferred from the boat to the empty skis.

  “They’re not here to be friendly.” I wade toward the first ski, pull down the handlebars and press into the padded seat, putting my weight behind it until I hear the catch click into place. I take the rope that connects the first dummy jet ski to James’s jet ski and feel my way to the next. “A bit of help?”

  Leon flashes the friendly black guy a smile and comes over to assist helping me to get all the skis closed again. The water is busy, boats crisscrossing constantly, but Chaka’s catamaran is concealing us from the open water while we move the goods. I can’t lie, my heart is going crazy in my chest, my eyes constantly scanning the space, both water and land.

  “Are we done?” Leon asks as the final catch on the final ski at the end of the rope attached to his clicks into place.

  “Done.” I face the five guys on the small speed boat. “Thanks.” I inwardly frown, wondering how I went from upcoming FBI agent to gun smuggler. The Enigma. That’s how. Him and a whole heap of corruption.

  Mr. Friendly moves his shades back over his eyes. “Tell Black the next shipment will be ready next week.”

  Great. We don’t have enough guns? “Aye, aye, captain,” I say quietly, retying my hair as I head back to my jet ski and Leon gets on his.

  “Take it easy, okay?” he says, squeezing the throttle in demonstration. “Don’t jerk. We have a bit more weight going back.”

  I nod and follow his instructions, my heartbeats starting to gain momentum as we chug farther out onto the water. “Have you had a joint today?” I ask.

  “Yes, I’ve had a fucking joint today.” He reaches for his bandana and pushes it back into his wild hair. “Not just because I’m nervous as fucking shit, man.”

  “Why else?” I ask. Keep talking. We look more casual if we’re chatting.

  “Because, Beau, babe, if we get pulled by the Coast Guard, they’re smelling my weed before they’re seeing the guns.”

  “Are you saying you’d go to prison to save Danny and James?”

  He laughs hysterically, looking back at me. “I wouldn’t be saving the bosses. I’d be saving myself, because I’m a dead man if we don’t make it back to the boatyard with these guns.” He takes one hand off the handlebars, relaxed. Good for him. I should have asked him for a puff of his joint. “It’s all right for you,” he says. “They won’t kill you, will they?”

  Don’t be so sure. “They won’t kill you either. They like you.”

  “They do?”

  “They only have people they like work for them.” We stick to the coastline, moving at a reasonable speed. I can see the curve in the cove that’ll take us back into the bay. As soon as we’re around it, we’ll be able to see the boatyard. My heart slows for the first time, my muscles softening, and I sink into the padded seat of James’s ski. The water twinkles at me, the sun seeping through the rubber of my suit, warming me. It’s peaceful out here, despite the busy water today. But the Coast Guard seems to be keeping their distance, getting on with their training, because no one in their right mind would smuggle a small arsenal into the country in plain sight.

  Not for the first time, I wonder why I’m doing this. And not for the first time, I can’t say with my hand on my heart that I’m not trying to prove to James that I’m not made of glass.

  Beep, beep!

  I startle and look back, seeing a boat tailing us. A Coast Guard boat. “Fuck,” Leon hisses, reaching into his suit and pulling out a small bag.

  “What are you doing?” My galloping heart is back.

  “I told you.” He pulls out a joint and a lighter.

  “Leon, no!” I look back at the boat, waving an arm in the air, acknowledging them. “Hey!” I call, easy-breezy, my mind racing, trying to think of another way out of this. I will not let him go down for possession. “Can I help you?”

  “You mind telling me what you’re doing, ma’am?”

  I look at Leon. “I’m warning you,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ll kill you myself if you light that joint.”

  “What the hell else do you suggest?” He looks back, worried.

  “Just give me a minute.” I stand in the seat, shading my eyes with my hand as I turn my shoulders and look back. “Just towing the new skis from storage for the boss, sir.”

  He rests his palms on the metal railing along the side of the boat, looking up and down the skis. “Were you aware we’re training out on the water today? If people want to use the water, they’ve been asked to keep within the boundaries.”

  “Oh?” I frown, playing dumb. It physically hurts. “I’m sorry, sir, we’re just doing what our boss asked.” And now I’m going to give him some crocodile tears and pray for the fucking best. I look at Leon, hoping he realizes this isn’t only for Danny and James. “Are we in trouble, sir?” I ask, forcing tears into my eyes.

  His lips straighten, but I can see he’s thinking he hasn’t got time for this. “Make it back around the cove quickly before someone else stops you.” He takes off his cap and waves it, like run along now.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Leon whispers, eyes wide as he returns them forward, tucking his stock away. “Beau, babe, you just saved my life.”

  “Stop calling me babe.” I start moving, slowly but surely, my heart not relenting. I make sure I keep my stare forward, not looking back, because I was always suspicious of anyone who looked back at me after I’d let them walk when I was a cop. Always.

  But then I hear the building sound of an engine getting closer, and I look around instinctively, searching for the source. Nothing.

  Then…something.

  The loudest roar penetrates the air, and a jet ski comes from nowhere, zooming across the front of us, so fast, it’s a blur. “Shit!” I yell, frightened out of my skin, the spray hitting me, forcing my arm up in defense. I follow the white, foamy trail with my eyes, my ski rolling atop the waves that have been created, and stand in my seat, looking back, seeing the jet ski circle the Coast Guard, performing a few donuts, kicking up enough water to making it impossible to see the rider.

  “Hey!” the guard yells, running to the other side of the boat, signaling to his colleagues.

  Anger finds my veins and starts to burn them as I catch sight of the scroll down the side of the ski. But I’m not stupid enough to think it’s Danny on it. James couldn’t use his own because I’m on it.

  He circles, switching direction abruptly, maintaining the constant roar and spray, before thrashing the throttle and speeding off across the open water, away from the shore. Away from me. Away from the boatyard.

  And the Coast Guard is soon in pursuit.

  “Beau, come on,” Leon yells, as I watch James get farther away, lowering into my seat.

  I squeeze down on the throttle and head back to the boatyard, and I am seething the entire way, hoping to cool down.

  Danny is in the water when we arrive, and he directs us to the shore rather than the jetty, where Jerry’s got the trailer waiting, attached to the jeep. The moment he looks at me, I make sure he knows I’m not happy. I get off and help get each ski wedged into the seabed on the shore, holding my tongue.

  For now.

  Jerry starts getting the skis on the trailer as Ringo returns with Goldie and a paddleboard onboard his boat. “Beau,” Rose calls, coming down the steps of the cabin. I look up and shake my head, warning her away. I don’t want my friend to get caught up in the shrapnel that’s about to fly.

  I take myself fifty yards down the beach and start pacing up and down in the water, my hands on my hips, my face pointing toward the sun, my eyes closed, praying for calm. Bring me calm before you bring me James!

  My prayers aren’t answered. I look out to the ocean when I hear the distant roar of a jet ski hitting the waves and see him. I hold my breath, waiting for the Coast Guard to follow him. No boats appear. It’s just James coming at us at full speed, standing in the seat.

  He slows as he gets to the shore and the moment he can, he jumps off, landing in the water up to his waist and wading through. “Jerry, get this in the bunker,” he yells, pushing it into the bed and running a hand through his hair before yanking down his zip and struggling out of the top half of his wetsuit. An angry bruise on his pec has me looking away from his chest to his face.

  James’s eyes find mine, inviting me to give him all I have because he’s fully expecting it. “What the hell were you doing?” I yell. There’s no build up to a shout. No warmup. I’m right in there, exploding, giving him my all.

  “The Coast Guard was on you, Beau.”

  “I handled it!” I throw my arms up into the air. “What are you, a white knight, saving me when I didn’t need fucking saving?”

  He breathes out on a small laugh, turning away from me. “Of course. Beau Hayley doesn’t need saving, does she? Because she’s Lara fucking Croft. Former cop. Upcoming, talented FBI agent.” He swings around, his face red. “Except she’s fucking broken and as fucked-up as this fucked-up white murdering fucking knight.”

  I recoil, injured, and James’s lip curls, his disgust a slap in the face that I probably deserve.

  “I’m done with this shit, Beau. I don’t know what you want. What you don’t want.” He stalks off, throwing an arm up. “You’re clearly hell-bent on doing what the fuck you please, and I’m fucking exhausted trying to stop you. I don’t understand you anymore.”

  I stand on the shore watching him walk away, his brutalized back a beacon of ruin. He’s never walked away from me before. Never. I look around me, circling on the spot, finding many eyes on me. Sympathetic eyes. “I . . .” What am I going to say to them? Try to make them understand my grievance? Will they? “Fuck!” I hiss, spinning around and walking down the shore, my hands in my hair, gripping tightly, punishing myself. I see James’s scared back. My scared arm. His gunshot wound, mine too. I look to the sky and yell, deranged, and walk on, breathing heavily, my heart thundering.

  I hope this means you’ve finally found what’s saving you.

  I need to stop trying to prove that I’m not glass. Because I am glass. I have shattered time and again, and James hasn’t fixed me. He’s broken with me, and sometimes having someone who understands you is all you need. Someone to take you away. Someone to escape with. I don’t understand you anymore. Those words hurt. I drop to my ass on the sand and look out at the ocean through my teary eyes, feeling so fucking lost, and my mind wanders to months ago. To his glass apartment. To the time we both folded under the pressure to stay away.

  The pleasure. The pain. The complete and utter exhilaration.

  I was numb to a world that had tortured me for years. And my senses were heightened to a man who would be a constant in my life. “God damn it,” I whisper, propping my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands. It’s true. I do have more demons now than I did when I saw Dr. Fletcher. But I don’t feel any worse. In fact, I feel more stable than ever. Low every now and then, maybe even depressed, completely mad sometimes, but the panic attacks are few and far between, the dark thoughts gone, and I am no longer a zombie, staggering aimlessly through the darkness, trying to find my way out. I no longer consider death better than living.

  James.

  He is my therapy.

  My cure.

  My peace amid the chaos.

  And I keep pushing him away. Keep allowing the ghosts to take me.

  Why am I living for ghosts when I have James?

  I hear the door of his Range Rover slam shut and shortly after wheels spinning on the stones. I look back and see the rear end fishtailing, kicking up a thick smog of dust, and everyone is watching. And once James is out of sight, they all turn their attention to me sitting on the shore.

  Rose comes and lowers beside me, motioning down the wetsuit she’s sporting. “Sexy, huh?”

  I smile. “He let you out on the water?”

  “No. I was watching Daniel close to the bay with Danny.”

  While I collected their guns. A silence falls between us, and I focus on the soft slap of the water around my feet.

  “Okay?” Rose asks.

  “No,” I answer honestly.

  “He’s right, you know, Beau.” She leans into me, attempting to lighten her hard truths. “You can’t do as you please to that extent. It’s not fair.” I can feel her eyes on me, and like the coward I am, I don’t look at her, keeping my welling eyes on the calm, crystal waters. They’re a stark contrast to the murky chaos of my mind.