The Enigma: Unlawful Men Book 2

by Malpas, Jodi Ellen

  “We removed the bullet from Beau’s abdomen. She’s stable.”

  I fall back against the wall, my knees giving way. Stable. She’s stable. I slide down the wall, the relief too much, but the doctor doesn’t look as relieved as I feel. He doesn’t look like a man delivering good news. I hold his eyes, once again scared to ask. “The baby?”

  He swallows, backing out of the room. Getting out of my line of fire. “I’m afraid there was nothing we could do to save your baby, Mr. Kelly. I’m very sorry. The blood loss, the trauma. I’m afraid the pregnancy ended while Beau was in surgery.”

  I stare blankly at the doctor, my head bobbing mildly, nodding, agreeing.

  Accepting?

  Never.

  “She’s in recovery now,” he goes on. “You can see her.” He casts his eyes across the room, assessing the damage. There’s nothing else for me to destroy in here. But out there?

  “Kel,” Otto says quietly, and I look at him blankly. “You should go to her.”

  “Worried what else I might do?” I ask, slowly dragging myself to my feet. “Because you should be.” I pass him, heading for Beau, trying not to plot every move I’m going to make until I can make it. Until Beau is well. “I have some things I need you to do,” I call back. There’s nothing to stop me preparing.

  I turn at the end of the corridor and see Lawrence and Beau’s ex up ahead, both still looking like they’ve seen ghosts. “She’s out of surgery,” I say as I pass them. Lawrence, naturally, is on my tail, though Ollie, wisely, remains where he is, waiting for an invitation to visit her. He’ll never get that invitation. “Are you okay?” I ask Lawrence over my shoulder as I walk, trying to be sensitive. The man looks like death warmed up, his face puffy, his eyes red.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he says, his voice wobbly. “Beau is my priority right now.”

  “We’ve lost the baby.” The words come from nowhere, and I slow at the door to Beau’s room, staring at the wood.

  “I’m very sorry.” Lawrence has given up trying to keep his emotions in check, but I’m under no illusion that his sorrow is for me.

  “I’m going to kill your husband,” I vow, taking the handle, bracing myself, breathing deeply. “For what he’s done to Beau, to her mother, to me. I’m going to kill him.” Lawrence needs to know this isn’t over. He needs to be prepared.

  “Who are you, James?” he asks on a snivel. “Really, who are you? You tried to save Jaz. You turn up in her daughter’s life years later. Tell me who you are.”

  I turn to face him, taking no pleasure from the mess of a man he is. “Just see me as the man who saves your niece, Lawrence. That’s all you need to know.”

  He swallows and nods. “May I?” he asks, nodding to the door past me.

  “Give me five minutes,” I say, though he knows it’s not a question. I’m simply maintaining some civility for the sake of Beau. He accepts without fuss, and I turn to the door, spending a good few minutes bracing myself again. Tamping down the threatening rage before I look at her. Look at her and see the damage that’s been done because of me.

  Pushing my way in, I stall when I see a nurse by her bed adjusting the line into Beau’s arm. She looks up and smiles in that way I expect they do to all loved ones whose closest are so desperately ill. “You must be James,” she says, taking a syringe to the cannula. “I’m Vera. I’ll be looking after Beau while she’s here in recovery.”

  I close the door and focus on the liquid in the syringe getting lower, hearing the constant, consistent beeps from the machinery. I can’t bring myself to look at Beau, truly petrified of the further anger I will feel. “What’s that?” I ask, standing motionless on the other side of the room, scared to even get closer.

  “Morphine.” She finishes up and drops the needle in a clinical waste bin. “It’ll keep her comfortable.” Pulling off her gloves, she makes a few notes before offering me a small smile. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

  “Thanks,” I say, my eyes now on my boots. I hear the door close gently, and I will myself to man the fuck up and look at her. Or even just get closer to her. It takes more mental preparation than anything has taken me before, and when I finally lift my burning eyes and see her, the heat inside rises to a full-blown inferno. It doesn’t look like Beau. The woman on the bed, pasty in complexion, her skin gray and lifeless, does not look like the woman I’ve fallen in love with. And that just makes me angrier. I swallow down the fireball in my throat and lift my heavy feet, feeling like I’m trudging through thick mud as I cross the room and lower into the chair beside her bed. I gingerly reach for her hand. She’s warm. It’s the only thing I recognize. Her warmth. But there’s no sizzling when our skin touches. She doesn’t tense. Her eyes won’t shimmer and her lips won’t part with want.

  Calm down, Kel.

  “I won’t rest until justice is served, baby,” I promise quietly. “Justice our way.” And it’s going to be my bloodiest death yet. Lifting her hand to my mouth, I kiss the back, breathing her into me. But all I can smell is antibacterial liquid. Not Beau’s light, sweet, fruity scent. As if I need anything more to increase my motivation to kill.

  The sound of a throat clearing pulls my attention over my shoulder, and I find Goldie’s at the door. She closes it softly and joins me by the bed. “Nathan Butler passed away ten minutes ago.”

  I exhale, closing my eyes. It’s one more thing for Beau to be devastated about.

  “And I found this.” She lifts her hand without looking at me. Held between her thumb and index finger is a key. “Taped to the inside of the box.” She tucks it into her inside pocket. “What do you want me to do?”

  “For now, wait,” I say quietly, my thoughts all over the place. It’s silent for a while, but I can hear Goldie’s mind turning as fast as mine. “Whatever you’re thinking, just say it.” I look up at her, and she peeks out the corner of her eye at me.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to do something stupid?”

  “What gives you that feeling?”

  “The look in your eyes. The unrestrained rage.”

  “Killing the man who did this to Beau would be stupid?” I ask, reining in my temper. “The man who killed my unborn child?”

  “I don’t mean that.”

  “Then what the fuck do you mean?” I ask. “And choose your words wisely, Goldie.”

  “No one knows who you are.”

  “The Bear does.”

  “He knows what you look like. Where you live. He doesn’t know who you are.”

  “And?”

  “And, again, why do I get a bad feeling that soon every fucker in this town will know who you are?”

  So what if they do? I can’t deal with this right now. I place Beau’s hand gently on the bed and stand. “I need a piss.” And to splash my burning face. “Watch her.” I open the door and locate Lawrence on the chair down the hall, giving him a gesture to suggest he’s now welcome. He’s in the room fast, probably worried I’ll change my mind. Oliver Burrows, however, wisely stays back. “You can leave.” I say to him, cold and brittle.

  “Over my dead body.”

  I step toward him. “It can be arranged.”

  “Who are you? Where’s Dexter?”

  “Are you here as Beau’s concerned ex, or an FBI agent?” I advance, getting threateningly close to him. “Forget about who I am or what I do. Dexter killed Jaz Hayley. Fuck off and investigate that.” I turn to Goldie. “Do not leave this room.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Otto says, pushing his back from the wall.

  “No, you’ll watch the door.”

  “Fuck you, James. I’m coming with you.”

  My jaw goes into spasm. “Am I not making myself fucking clear? Watch the motherfucking door, Otto.”

  He’s up in my face in a heartbeat and, fuck me, I’m caught off guard, which means he gets me against the wall with ease, his pierced face close to mine. “I’ve not spent years protecting your arse so you can go to the fucking toilet i
n a fucking hospital and be taken the fuck out. You hearing me? Goldie’s in there. The girl is safe. I’m coming to the God damn toilet with you, and if I say I want to hold your fucking dick while you take a piss because it’s safer that way, you will God damn let me. Am I making myself clear?”

  Well, fuck me. “Crystal,” I say quietly, and he shoves me as he releases me, straightening himself out. He’s stressed. I’ve never been on the receiving end of Otto’s temper, and I know I’ll avoid it in future.

  “Good.” He nods. “Let’s go.”

  “Who the hell are you people?” Beau’s ex backs up the corridor, his eyes wide as he makes his escape.

  “Fools,” Otto grunts, striding away, leaving me to follow. I tail him a few paces behind, giving him space. “Hurry the fuck up,” he mutters, edgy.

  Opening the door for me, he ushers me inside and loiters while I take a piss. I pull my dick out, my body heavy with stress. “Want to hold it?” I ask, my eyebrows high. He stops pacing and throws a scowl at me, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m amused.

  I finish up, wash my hands, and we head back, silent, our boots creating rhythmic thumps as we walk the corridor. I feel the tension leave me the closer I get back to Beau, but before I get to her door, my mobile rings. I pull it out of my pocket, looking down at the screen. “I need to take this,” I say, taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside her room. “Spittle.”

  “Beau Hayley.”

  “What about her?”

  “She was seen driving away from the scene of Agent Nathan Butler’s and two cops’ murders in Butler’s car. It’s been found burnt out. Care to enlighten me?”

  “You’re rather close to the latest police news considering you’re retired, Spittle.”

  He laughs. “Fuck my life. Did you get my message?”

  “The one involving me meeting you?” I find my fists clenching. “What part of enigma don’t you understand?” What’s his goal here? I don’t know, but one thing I’ve learned about Spittle is that he can’t be trusted. But he’s still useful. Until I kill him.

  I hang up and push my hands into my knees, using energy I shouldn’t be wasting to stand, and push my way into the room, coming to a screaming halt when I see a man by Beau’s bedside. Tom Hayley.

  “How the hell did this happen?” Beau’s father directs his question at me and me alone, his chest puffy. He’s lucky I’m conserving energy, or I’d put his head through the nearest window. Getting no answer from me, he looks at Lawrence, who only shakes his head, losing control of his lip again. “I want answers,” he bellows, yanking out his phone and dialing. He paces up and down a few times before cursing and hanging up. “What’s the fucking use having a cop in the family if you can’t get hold of them in an emergency? Where the hell is Dexter?”

  I laugh out loud. I don’t mean to, but the prick is comical. “I suggest you get yourself a coffee and calm the fuck down,” I warn, and he recoils.

  “Excuse me?”

  I pace forward slowly, and he starts to back up. I need an outlet for this unrestrained wrath, and it looks like it’s just arrived. Goldie steps in front of me. She doesn’t need to say anything. Her look says it all. Not here. Not now.

  “Get a coffee,” I order again, as I look into Goldie’s eyes.

  “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

  I turn my death stare his way. “Get a fucking coffee, Mr. Hayley.”

  He withdraws, obviously seeing the murder etched on my face, casting his eyes across Goldie and Otto too. “I’ll be back,” he declares, his chest swelling in fake confidence before he exits, slamming the door behind him.

  “Don’t let him back in or I’ll kill him.”

  Goldie nods, flicking her eyes to Otto behind me, who swiftly leaves to keep my prey at a safe distance. I move toward the bed and sit down, reclaiming Beau’s hand. “Leave me,” I murmur quietly, lowering my head to the mattress and closing my eyes. I’m beat. Exhausted. I just need quiet for a moment. Quiet and calm.

  I doze off to the hypnotic sound of Beau’s heart monitor.

  And vivid images of death and blood.

  I jump and look back when the door closes, finding a nurse in the room. She raises her hand in apology for waking me. “Time for some pain meds.” She moves to the other side of the bed and starts fiddling with Beau’s cannula as I look down at my watch. I’ve been out for only ten minutes.

  “Russian?” I ask, detecting the remnants of an accent.

  She smiles. “I’ve been in the States for twenty years, and I still can’t hide it.”

  I watch as she tries to unscrew the cap, fiddling terribly, her hands shaking. I rewind back only half an hour, to when the other nurse pumped some morphine into Beau’s veins. I look up at the nurse. “Where’s Vera?”

  She falters in her moves and doesn’t look at me to answer. “On her break.”

  My eyes fall to her working hands again. “You okay there?”

  She laughs. “Yes, they’re so fiddly.”

  “Probably because you have no fucking idea what you’re doing.” I drop Beau’s hand and stand fast, pulling my gun and aiming it across the bed. “Put the syringe down.”

  She drops it fast, eyes round, and backs up against the wall, her hands in the air. “Sir, please,” she cries, alarmed, shaking more now than before.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “I’m a nurse.” She points to her name badge and quickly raises her hands again. “Please, sir, I’m just here to do my job.”

  The door behind me bursts open, and Otto and Goldie appear, taking in the scene, both stunned. “What the fuck, Kel?” Otto says, his hand twitching, like he’s unsure whether he needs to draw or not. Truth be told, I don’t know either. My head is fucked, my eye off the ball, exhaustion still clouding my brain.

  “I’ll show you my papers,” the nurse nods jerkily.

  I blink, swallowing, trying to straighten out my mind. “Show me.”

  “Okay, yes, I’ll show you.” She reaches for her pocket, and I start to relax. But then I see something turn in her eyes, and her stance changes, her hand going to her back rather than her trousers.

  “Kel!” Otto bellows.

  I close one eye, getting my aim straight, and squeeze the trigger, and she flies back into the wall before falling to the floor in a heap, wailing and crying, speaking a load of Russian shit I don’t understand.

  “What the fuck?” I breathe, rounding the bed and going to her, grabbing the front of her uniform and yanking her up close to my face. “Who the fuck sent you?”

  She snarls and spits in my face.

  So I put a bullet between her eyes, and the echo seems to drag on forever. I slowly rise and look across to Goldie, who’s up against the door, stopping anyone from coming in. And Otto is staring. Just staring at the dead woman on the floor. “Place your bets on who sent her,” I say quietly. So maybe Sandy wasn’t in that factory when I popped off half a dozen Russians.

  “I let her in,” Otto murmurs. “I fucking let her in.” His hands go into his hair. “Fuck!”

  That’s it.

  My time thinking is up. I get my mobile out and dial.

  “What are you doing, Kel?” Goldie asks.

  “I’m getting Beau out of here.” I go to her bed and gaze at her unconscious, oblivious face. And I realize now why the woman in this bed is unrecognizable to me. It’s not only because she looks sallow. It’s because she looks peaceful. I would do anything to maintain this look on her, but through my turmoil, my agony, I appreciate one thing. I can’t do that. I can’t take care of her and kill the enemy. I can’t even do it with Otto and Goldie by my side. It’s too much of a risk.

  For the first time, I need to do things differently.

  Which means revealing who I am.

  The call connects, and Spittle gives me a wary hello. “Find me a doctor. The best,” I order.

  “And what do I get in return?” he asks, sending
my jaw into spasm. But . . . Beau.

  “What do you want?”

  He’s silent for a time, telling me that whatever he wants is pretty fucking colossal.

  “Talk, Spittle.”

  He inhales, building himself up to say it.

  “I want you to kill Brad Black.”

  65

  BEAU

  Rainbows and sunshine, smiles and contentment. I don’t know where I am, but I never want to leave.

  No pain, no darkness, no fear, and no anger.

  But also . . . no James.

  That alone is enough for me to back away from the enticing light. And as I do, the pain starts to build deep in my tummy. The darkness begins to shroud the light. My smile starts to fall.

  My eyes snap open, and I inhale, the air hitting my lungs and burning them. I can’t see. Can’t focus. Can’t breathe. Can’t move. Nothing will move.

  “Beau?” My name is being spoken repeatedly, over and over. “Beau. Beau. Beau.”

  My cheeks are suddenly encased. My wild, darting eyes still.

  “Beau, baby, look at me. See me.”

  I blink the blurriness from my vision, trying so fucking hard to do that. To see him. But where is he? I can hear him. I can feel him. But I can’t see him. “James?” I croak, willing life into my muscles. “I can’t move. I can’t see you.” Panic takes hold, my body not listening to me, not taking the instruction.

  “I’m here.”

  “Where?” I yell, my throat raw. “Where are you?” Take me back to the light. Take me back to rainbows and sunshine. The pain and darkness are only worth bearing if he’s here, and he’s not here. “James!”

  I jolt on the bed, and I still, a tidal wave of pain ripping through me. I cry out, trying desperately to curb the agony by making myself small, by curling into a ball. But I can’t move. “I can’t fucking move!”

  “Hey, hey, hey.”

  There he is again. Speaking but not showing himself.

  Enigma.

  66

  JAMES

  I give the doctor a nod, and he moves in, putting more meds in her arm to calm her. I don’t know how many times I can let him do that. Knock her out. Stall her waking. Delay having to tell her we’ve lost our baby. That Dexter disappeared without a trace. That the man responsible for her mother’s death is still out there. That Nathan Butler is dead.