Bee hadn’t seen him in over a decade, but Adam Gage wasn’t the kind of man you forgot. Tall and tan and broad-shouldered. A handsome, square face, with dimples that popped when he smiled. A chiseled jaw covered in stubble that was always the perfect five o’clock length. The bridge of his nose a wide, sturdy triangle in profile.
The only things about him that had changed were the wrinkles around his hazel eyes when he smiled, a new scar in the shape of a crescent moon at the center of his bottom lip, and a receding hairline he probably should have just surrendered to and shaved clean off.
She stared up at him, still clutching Oliver tight to her, shock and disbelief clouding her ability to move. To react.
He held up his empty palms. ‘Hey, Shelby,’ he said, dimples popping, eyes wrinkling, and her pulse buzzed in her ears.
‘Stay here,’ she whispered to Oliver, sliding out of the car.
He wasn’t wearing a jacket, only a short-sleeved, white polo shirt, tucked into gray slacks. He didn’t look like he was concealing a weapon, but she knew from experience that didn’t mean he wasn’t. ‘It’s been a while,’ he said.
Her eyes stung. She tried to sniff the pain away. ‘Are you here to kill me?’ She kept her voice low so Oliver wouldn’t hear. ‘Or recruit me? Because honestly, I’m not prepared for either.’
‘No.’ He stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘No, neither, Shelby. Can we talk?’
She had so many questions, all of them rushing over her tongue at once, that she couldn’t ask anything at all. Instead, she managed, ‘It’s Beatrice now.’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Wow.’
He stepped around her, glanced around the carport. The car he’d used to run over their attackers still had its lights on, casting shadows around them.
Bee smoothed out her top when his back was to her and remembered what she was wearing. As quietly and yet frantically as possible, she unzipped her hoodie and threw it into her car, covering Oliver’s face.
He ripped it off with a, ‘Pfft!’
She hadn’t changed much either in twelve years, not really. A little wider in the hips from childbirth, but the yoga and the board-certified plastic surgeon had kept her stomach more or less flat, her breasts more or less perky. And sure, her blonde hair now came from the salon chair, but she’d been born with it, so what did it matter if she needed a little bit of a color boost now that she was thirty-three?
Oh, for the love of God, she wasn’t even wearing makeup. She licked the tips of two fingers, ran them over her manicured eyebrows. Wetted her lips. Pinched her cheeks to bring some color to them. And then she opened her blue eyes as wide as she could. They were naturally large, well spaced apart under those manicured eyebrows, and she’d never had to pay a surgeon to fix her nose. She’d always rather liked her button nose, the only physical feature she’d inherited from her mother. But large, doe eyes – especially blue ones – always made people think you were innocent.
And she didn’t know what Adam was there to talk to her about. But any extra innocence she could bring to the moment wouldn’t hurt.
She tugged the hem of her wrinkled red tank top down over her ill-fitting sweatpants.
This wasn’t her finest moment. ‘You could’ve called,’ she said and realized as she spoke who those unknown numbers belonged to. ‘You could’ve called from a number I would’ve answered.’
He grinned at her over his shoulder. ‘Is there a number I could have called you from you would’ve answered?’
She smiled, checked her topknot. It was still there. ‘Probably not.’
‘It’s a nice place you got here, Shelby.’
‘It’s Beatrice, Adam.’
‘Sorry.’ He turned so they were face to face, toe to toe. ‘It’s gonna take me a minute to get used to it. Beatrice it is.’
‘What are you doing here?’
He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was definitely not supposed to be here.
But neither was a third masked man, creeping up the carport with a machete in his hand.
‘Adam!’ Bee screamed. ‘Behind!’
Adam ducked at her warning. The masked man swung his machete too late, lodging the blade into the car’s doorframe.
Adam jammed a right hook in the man’s gut. He cried out, folded over. And then ran full force, tackling Adam to the ground.
Bee dove back into the car, cradling Oliver to her chest.
‘Jeez, Mom! Watch the nose!’
‘Sorry!’
Fists pounded on skin, bones creaked, men swore in foreign languages and Oliver scrambled out of her grasp.
‘Don’t get out!’ Bee hissed, clutching Oliver’s pajama collar. ‘Don’t get out!’
‘I’m not gonna get out, Mom! I just wanna see!’
The masked man had gotten the best of Adam, hips straddling his waist, raising a fist to punch him in the face.
There was the flat crack of a gunshot.
Bee gasped.
Another crack.
The masked man on top of Adam went limp, sagged like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Adam pushed the dead man off and sat up, panting for breath, a Beretta Bobcat .22 in his hands.
‘That,’ Oliver said, ‘was awesome! Holy cow!’ He jumped out of the car.
‘Oliver!’ She swung her hands to grab him and missed, his Hulk pajamas sliding between her fingers.
‘You killed all those guys by yourself! Who are you?’ He bounced up on the toes of his Hulk slippers. ‘Why’d you call my mom Shelby?’
‘Oh, he probably meant to say Mrs Bee, and it just came out sounding like Shelby.’
Bee pushed him behind her, surveyed their savior still on the ground. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ He slid the small gun into an ankle holster. ‘Are you OK? Were you hurt?’
She shook her head and then winced. ‘Only when I broke that guy’s nose with my skull.’
His mouth curved in a grin. ‘You broke his nose?’
‘It sounded like it anyway.’
‘Good. But listen, Bee. Those guys were Georgian. And I don’t mean Atlanta. They don’t mess around. We need to get out of here before their backup arrives.’
An evening rain started, cooling off the Miami street. She could hear water splashing against the high vaulted roof of her carport even over the buzz in her ears.
‘What do you mean, we?’
‘I’m here to get you guys out of town. There’s some’ – he glanced behind her at Oliver – ‘there’s some stuff going down.’
‘Go wait for me in the car,’ Bee whispered to Oliver.
He groaned but did what he was told, sitting in the backseat of her silver Mercedes S-Class.
She tilted her head and observed Adam. He seemed so relaxed now. Like dropping in out of nowhere after radio silence for a decade plus to save the day just in the nick of time and whisk her away was a normal thing to do on a summer evening.
‘What stuff? You gonna be honest with me, tell me why you’re here? Of all the McMansions in the world, you just had to walk into mine and all that?’
‘Yeah, um.’ He stood up, ran a hand over his balding head. ‘So. Your ex-husband?’
‘I’ve met him, yes.’
‘He … well, he hired me. I’m supposed to take you and the kid to the beach house, any means necessary.’
‘Oh-ho, is that so? And why would you do that?’
‘To protect you.’
She tilted her head even further until her ear touched her shoulder. ‘Protect me? From what?’
‘Theo Alvarez.’
Bee didn’t move. She kept her ear on her shoulder until her neck complained and her brain made a wubba-wubba sound.
‘Well.’ She straightened herself out, cracked the kink out of her neck. ‘Well. Shit.’
‘Yeah.’
‘OK, um.’ She pressed a hand to her forehead and tried to form a coherent thought. ‘Well, let’s get the hell out of here.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ve got the dog and the nanny inside. You watch Oliver?’
Adam nodded. ‘Be quick. In and out.’
‘In and out,’ Bee agreed, already jumping over the dead man at her door. ‘In and out.’
She crept into the darkness, steadied her breath. The light from the kitchen streamed into the foyer, and she followed the path it laid out before her, taking a quick glance around to try and shake off the feeling that something could pop out from behind the couch at any moment.
‘Malika?’
Hogarth sneezed in the living room. She peeked over the couch and found him belly up, tail thumping against the cushions.
‘Oh, good boy. Super helpful. Thank you for your service.’
Bee crossed the kitchen and cracked open the door to the in-law suite. Half of the small room acted as an office, complete with rusting, black metal file folders, a desk purchased from hell’s Swedish labyrinth and a corner wall of bookshelves stacked with untidy novels. The other half was Malika’s bedroom: a twin mattress under the window covered in messy purple sheets and a cheap folding table covered with top-of-the-line electronics. The closet door cracked open, and Malika poked her head out.
‘Good!’ Malika said, coming out of the closet. ‘You’re alive. And I’m glad you’re alive, don’t get me wrong, but how are you alive?’
‘Um,’ Bee said. ‘Adam Gage showed up.’
Malika gaped at her, a whale looking for krill. ‘What?’
‘Yeah. I know.’
‘Adam Gage? Your Adam Gage?’
‘Yeah, I know!’
Malika shared a look with Britney’s face on her shirt. ‘Might I ask why?’
‘Charlie sent him. Apparently, Theo Alvarez is after us.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah!’ Bee tossed her arms up. ‘I know! Get your go bag. We’re fleeing.’
Malika dragged her desk chair to the closet and stood on it. She pulled a packed duffle bag out of the top of the closet. ‘Do you know why Alvarez is after you?’
‘No, I figured I’d ask about that after we got the hell out of here. I’ll meet you out front.’
‘Bee!’ Malika jumped off the chair. ‘Wait!’
Bee jogged to the kitchen and grabbed her phone off the counter. She pressed Charlie’s face with her thumb, but his phone didn’t have the decency to ring, sending her straight to voicemail. She left a two-word, four-syllable swear on his voicemail and hung up the call.
‘Don’t you miss receivers?’ She called back as she hurried up the stairs. ‘I miss slamming phones down. Will you get Hogarth’s leash?’
Malika grumbled but did as she was asked.
Bee ducked into her bathroom long enough to grab the gun off the floor. She shoved it back in her waistband and ran down the stairs.
Then she grabbed the gold-framed pictures of her mom and uncle, of Pinkerton and Oliver, off the end table. Bee tucked the frames under her arms and tried calling Charlie again.
Again, straight to voicemail.
She walked to the foyer and opened the coat closet.
Hogarth’s paws clicked on the tile when he and Malika approached her, shoving her laptop in her go bag.
‘Boss,’ she said, ‘don’t you think Adam Gage showing up is a little, I don’t know, convenient?’
Bee pulled out a large storage bin from the back corner. Standing on the box, she pushed the extra blankets to the side of the top shelf, revealing a hidden panel carved into the wall. She pressed it on the right side and popped it open.
‘Of course I do. But I’m gonna worry about that when Oliver and I aren’t in Alvarez’s sights.’
‘What if he’s lying? What if he sent these guys in so he could, I don’t know, kill them? In some sort of … like a big, freaking con? And now he’s kidnapping you and Oliver, and shit’s gonna get real.’
Bee reached into the hole and pulled out a stuffed black duffle bag.
‘Watch out,’ she told the dog before dropping the pack on the floor. She took a few more seconds to put everything back in its rightful place then stepped off the bin. Bee kicked it back inside the closet, shoved the pictures and the gun inside the duffle, and threw it over her shoulder. ‘You think he’s got an angle?’
‘How can we trust him not to have an angle?’
Bee hoisted the strap higher on her shoulder. ‘We can’t.’
Malika gaped at her again, but what else could Bee say? Adam had never hurt her, not ever, and after risking his life in the carport, she doubted he’d suddenly change his MO now.
‘I gotta get Oliver out of town, and I’ll do what I have to do, Malika. I can take care of Adam. Trust me.’
Malika frowned. ‘Yeah, I trust you. It’s him I’m not sure about. He still the same – ugh, I hate this word – dreamboat from your past?’
She shook her head to hide her smile. ‘Hasn’t changed much.’
‘I don’t like this, Bee. Not even a little.’
‘Me neither. But we gotta go. Come on.’
Adam stood at the trunk of her car, a license plate in his hands, and frowned when he saw her. ‘How’d you both have time to pack?’
‘We didn’t,’ Bee said.
Malika hopped down the stairs, a fierce glare on her face. ‘We are not leaving this property until you and I have had a heart to heart, mister.’
Something grabbed Bee’s ankle. She dropped her bag and fell to her knees.
Hogarth started barking and didn’t stop.
Bee glanced over her shoulder. The man who’d attacked Adam wasn’t as dead as previously thought.
Oliver screamed. ‘A zombie! A zombie’s got Mom!’
She kicked the zombie with her free foot, nailing him in the nose. Blood spurted from his face.
He flinched, and she pulled her leg free, the suddenness of freedom sending her ass first down the three concrete steps to her entryway.
He yelled something she didn’t understand, blood trickling down his smiling lips, and rose to his knees.
Blood and grey matter shot out the side of his head. He fell over with the smile still on his face, much deader this time than before.
Bee heaved. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and closed her eyes. Bile hit the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down.
‘Dude! You killed a zombie!’ Oliver shouted. ‘That was so badass! Say, what was your name again?’
She collapsed back on the red pavers of her driveway.
‘Oliver, don’t say badass.’
‘Busted another nose. If you were a wrestler, you’d be the Nose Bleed.’
Bee opened her eyes and saw Adam above her, head tilted to the side.
He offered her his hand. ‘Maybe The Face Wrecker?’
She closed her eyes again. ‘Rhinoplasty.’
‘It’s good. Could see a lot of merchandise of a rhino with a bloody nose on it. Come on now. We gotta go before the neighbors call this in.’
‘OK.’ She let him help her to her feet. Then she unzipped her bag and pulled out the Colt. ‘Here.’ Her hands trembled. He took the gun, and she squeezed them into fists. These weren’t her first dead guys. She couldn’t afford to freak out now. ‘This one’ll kill them the first time.’
He checked out her gun, half his mouth curved in a goofy grin. ‘This is yours? It’s nice.’
She shoved the bag in his hands. ‘Why are you surprised? I only have nice things.’