Saving Bonnie: A Dark Mafia Romance (Blood Ties Book 2)

by Sahara Roberts

  Looking around, I spot a box sitting on the counter by the door. Heavy shrink wrap and shipping straps reinforce the cardboard. That should hold her weight without a problem. Reading the words along the side, I suppress a snort. Pickled carrots. The perfect place for Bunny to sit.

  “Give me a second.” Tucking her into my side, we take a couple of steps. When we’re close enough, I stretch, without releasing her, and grab the box. “Okay, we’re moving again,” I warn, tightening my hold as we maneuver to the spot where she landed.

  “I’m sorry. I should be okay.” Her face turns red as she blinks rapidly, fighting the aftereffects. I can almost feel the heat blasting through her cheeks.

  “I’ll set this on the floor.” I lower the box, setting it on end, as I try to keep her steady. “So you can sit for a while.”

  “Thank you.” She sets her butt on the box, prim and proper. The little shorts ride up to show off the top of her thighs. For several seconds, she’s got my full attention, and I don’t like it.

  “Wait here while I take care of the rest.”

  She nods, running her hands across her forehead and down her cheeks. The angle of her forearms pushes her tits together, and the ruffles on her blouse are waving in front of me like a matador’s cape.

  Fuck. I turn away, dragging in a breath. A woman should not look this good when she’s shaken up.

  “Mattie’s on her way.” Kassy’s voice pierces the fog, snapping me back to reality. How could I forget she’s still on the earpiece? Easy—all the blood’s rushed to my dick, so my brain’s shot.

  “Tell her there’s a small parking lot right past the building.” I head for the entrance, checking the shadows in the immediate area before closing the door.

  After a few seconds, Kassy returns with an update. “She knows,” she replies in a tight voice. “I swear she hates me,” Kassy adds, under her breath.

  “That’s not hate.” Disdain. Tolerance. Annoyance. Not hate.

  “But she—”

  I don’t have time for this shit. “Pronounce her name right. Then we’ll go from there.” Matilde prefers her nickname, but Kassy uses an American version. “You’ve heard me say it.”

  “Okay.” Her defeated tone wavers through the line. “Mah-tay.” She says, splitting the syllables, yet still mispronouncing the name. “No, Mah-teh. Sounds better when you say it. Mah-teh, Mah-teh, Mah-teh.”

  “Get me her position.”

  We’ve all avoided the barely suppressed hostility between them. The two couldn’t be more opposite. Kassy’s light, while Mate has darkness about her. She comes from a proud line, tracing back through the Aztec culture to a time before the Spaniards.

  “They’re at the gate.” The squeak of hinges is barely discernible over the pelting rain. Seconds later, the steady hum of the van’s V8 engine grows louder as they park beside the entrance.

  Bunny sets a hand out to push herself up. “Stay where you are,” I snap. Silently, she sinks down, bringing her hands to her lap, holding her knees in a white-knuckle grip.

  I need to pull myself together before Mate walks in with the crew. She’s got a sharp eye for detail. It’s what makes her the best damn cleaner in the business.

  The guys didn’t have much time to get around the place, but I’ll have Mate’s crew check them, just in case. “Did they take anything?”

  Bunny glances around, pointedly avoiding staring at the blood streaking the floor. “I-I can’t be sure, but I don’t think so.”

  The doorknob turns, opening to let Mate step in. She pauses at the entrance, her dark jumpsuit immaculate. Any other time, she would survey the area. Tonight, her sharp gaze goes straight to Bunny then tacks onto me. Questions flow between us, wordless, yet echoing throughout. Palm by her thigh, she spreads her fingers, halting her crew. They’re disciplined enough to wait in place, despite the rain.

  Bunny isn’t a threat, but she’s still a cause for concern. Mate’s waiting for an acknowledgment the situation is under control and Bunny is meant to be here. I give a quick nod, but the slight tightening of the muscles around her eyes says there’s more to come. Likely I’ll be on the losing end of that conversation.

  Raising her chin, Mate tucks her hands into her pockets and steps in like she owns the place. Her survey across the room is quick, but that doesn’t mean it’s not thorough.

  “They’re in the next room.” I nod, indicating the dining area.

  Her crew comes in, systematically removing rain gear. They hand it to a younger crew member who stacks it in a large, clear plastic bag. The last two bring with them a maintenance cart and an industrial-sized trash can on rollers.

  “The usual?” Mate asks, tone all business.

  “Get me their belongings.”

  The crew remains silent, heads downcast, marching through, single file, to their target in the next room.

  *****

  Bunny

  A line of women in dark jumpsuits marches by in front of me, pulling on gloves. They’re all different shapes and sizes, with at least two of them looking rough around the edges. The Terminator flips on the lights then steps away, letting them go past. He’s frowning, as if he’s upset at the men laid out on the floor. A cleaning cart rolls past, stopping in the next room at the precise spot to block my view of anything above chest level. I’m not an expert on how crime scenes are processed, but TV shows never show the medical examiner bringing cleaning supplies.

  Turning, I find the other two women in the kitchen. The one in dark-rimmed glasses goes from station to station with a thoroughness that speaks to a level of expertise. Yet, when she gets to this end, she brushes past, dismissing me like I’m another appliance.

  “What do you see?” she asks the woman beside her.

  Oh jeez, here we go again. Now the pretty brunette is doing the same thorough search. But her eyes dart around, and her eyebrows meet as she does another sweep.

  “Nothing,” she announces, shaking her head. My stomach does a somersault as she turns to who appears to be her mentor with a confused look. “This is the cleanest kitchen I’ve ever been in.”

  Well, that’s something, I suppose.

  “Who cleans for you?” the mentor asks without bothering to look at me.

  “I do.”

  She turns in my direction with the same assessing gaze she’s been using.

  Now it’s my turn to be scrutinized from head to toe. I swallow hard, yet her expression holds a hint of respect. “If you ever decide to change careers, call me.”

  Unsure of what I’m being offered, I clamp my mouth shut. The compliment feels odd, and I still don’t know who these people are or why I’ve nearly been murdered under my own roof.

  Not that I can imagine a life where I’m not feeding hundreds of people a day. My earliest memories are of being at the restaurant, small enough to be lying on the floor behind the counter with a coloring book while Grandma tended to customers.

  “I’m Bonnie Bustos.” It took a bit, but I remember my manners.

  “I know who you are.” The woman tilts her head to the right, checking the next room. I lean forward to follow her line of sight, but she brings her attention back to me, pinning me in place.

  “Mate,” she replies, introducing herself. Next door, the familiar pull of plastic wrap sound stops, leaving an unnatural silence.

  The brunette’s eyes widen, and her gaze cuts to me for a split second before meeting Mate’s. “I’ll check the other room.” Tension mushrooms around us, making the air brittle.

  The sizzle of a pan breaks the silence. Everyone turns, trying to find where the sound is coming from. “It’s my phone,” I announce, “but I don’t see it anywhere.” Yeah, I guess I’m not too original when deciding on a ringtone. Mate ducks, reaching under the industrial metal sink. It must’ve landed there when I was startled by the intruders.

  She looks down at the screen. “Opal McClellan.” The eyebrow arches as she pins me with a stare. “Is she your landlord?” Her voice is loud en
ough for everyone to hear.

  “Yes.” I follow her gaze to the doorway where Terminator stands watching in silence. Of course he’ll want to conclude their investigation before speaking to anybody from the outside. But what can I possibly say? I’m the victim here.

  “Maybe she found out about…” I stare past him to the dining area. “What happened.”

  His attention shoots to Mate, who’s still holding the phone.

  The ringing stops, and all I can do is stare from afar. Hopefully the call is going to voice mail. Miss Opal is a nice lady. I wouldn’t want her to think I blew off her call. The McClellans are well known for their ties to real estate in the downtown area. She probably owns half the buildings around mine. Likely, someone she knows heard the shot…or shots and called her. My stomach roils. What am I gonna do now? What if she asks questions I can’t answer?

  The phone lights up showing a message amid a backdrop of ripe greenhouse tomatoes.

  “Play the message,” he instructs.

  “She needs to unlock the phone,” Mate explains. At his grunt of acknowledgment, she sets it in front of me, letting me put my thumb on the home button. As soon as the screen unlocks, Mate takes over, flipping to my phone app.

  “Hi, Bonnie, this is Opal. I’ve been on vacation these past couple of weeks and I found I really like traveling.” She chuckles. “That said, I’ve decided I’m going to retire and see the world by cruise liner.” She pauses, and my tummy settles. “Since you and your family have leased the building for so long, I thought I’d give you the first opportunity to buy. If you’re interested, let me know. I’ll be home a week from Wednesday. Ta-ta.”

  Mate hands off my phone as I lean against the wall. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Blinking, I fight back the tears I’d managed to keep in check.

  “I’d jump on that if I were you,” Mate suggests.

  Defeat settles heavy on my shoulders. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “If someone else buys it, you’ll be lucky if you only get a rent hike.” She gives a half smile. “It would be a shame to have this place close. You make the best chilaquiles in town.”

  I try for a friendly smile, though I fail miserably.

  “Money issues?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.” My bottom lip quivers as I hold the words back from a stampede. “One of the employees I fired…” Inhaling, I give a tight smile. “My cousin, whom I trusted, didn’t make the last couple of deposits she said she did.” That feeling of self-pity comes over me again. “I went for a mani-pedi to make myself feel better.” Flashing my nails and wiggling my toes is the best I can do. “While the girl was doing my pedicure, I went through email and found a payment confirmation from last week.” I take a fortifying breath. “It seems my ex paid off his credit card from my account.”

  “Oh hell,” Mate adds with a frown. “Did you report it?”

  “No. As stupid as it sounds, even to me, I can’t do it. He works for the government. This would damage his career.”

  “And your cousin?”

  “I doubt she still has the money.” I exhale in a rush. “And I’m not going to throw family in jail.” Besides, how would she repay the money if she doesn’t have a job? “I thought those two were bad enough. Now this, and it may not be the only time someone tried breaking in at night. At this point, I’m more worried about my employees.” I run my hand down my face. “I’d counted on staying open late for the next few weeks to scrape through, but that isn’t going to help now.”

  “Why not?”

  My eyes widen. Is she seriously asking me that? “This place is a crime scene,” I point out to the woman with the big ME on her jumpsuit. “Nobody is going to come eat where two guys were shot in the dining room.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “How’s anybody going to know?”

  “You don’t think this is going to make the news?” I ask, incredulous. “Police cars? Lights?” Oh, wait…there are no cops. No lights. No police tape. And, most importantly, no questions. The only sound at the moment is a squeegee being dragged across the floor.

  “What were they after?” Mate nods toward the guys in the front.

  “I have no idea,” I reply cautiously. Who exactly am I talking to? They’re obviously professionals…ICE? FBI?

  Seconds tick by. Does she believe me? There’s nothing in here worth taking unless they’re going to raid the freezer. “Get security,” she finally suggests. “Get an alarm system.”

  I shut my eyes, leaning forward to drop my head into my hands. “I can’t afford it right now.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “I can’t afford anything.”

  “Talk to Tino,” she suggests.

  Tino. Terminator Tino seems like the perfect name for the man who’s barely spoken ten words to me and pretty much ignored me since the posse arrived.

  “I’m sure you could…work something out.” The slight hesitation tells me exactly how she thinks we can work things out. I bristle at the suggestion, yet a little part of me is tempted by the wall of muscles I leaned into earlier.

  “What am I supposed to say?” I scoff. “Help me through these next two weeks, and you can bend me over whenever you want?”

  I sit back, intending to give her the glare of her life, only she’s not the one in front of me. I freeze in that half crouch, my lips parted as I suck in a breath, following dark jeans that go on forever.

  “Didn’t realize that offer was on the table,” he rumbles.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tino

  She’s weak.

  What others mistake for kindness, I clearly identify as weakness. It’s in the hunch of her shoulders and the paleness of her face when she’s cornered. Some will take advantage of the vulnerability to the point of leaving her destitute or dead.

  Bunny let a guy and a family member rob her blind without retaliating, or even calling them out. Is this how she manages her business? And she’s surprised she’s run the place into the ground?

  The lights turn off in the next room. “I’ll leave you to…negotiate.” Mate strides over to check on her crew’s progress. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she organized this somehow.

  Now to wait. People are creatures of habit. Bunny may take her sweet-ass time to decide what to do, but inevitably she’ll crumble. No police, no news, and no drama. She’ll keep her mouth shut, but it’ll give me leverage to bring someone inside. Pretty boy can tie on an apron and bus tables for a day or two until Olga shows up, and I can stop sleeping on a hard bench at the church.

  “Mate.” Bunny stops to clear her throat. “Mate said the police aren’t coming. Is that true? I thought… Who are you?”

  There’s no use avoiding it, not when my sister decided to make friends today of all days. “I’m Tino.”

  “You’re not with the police,” she insists, twisting her fingers until they might snap.

  “No.” I’m a fucking far cry from being law, but it’s enough that some of the tension leaves her shoulders.

  “So, what happens now?” She sets her teeth on her lower lip, digging into the plump flesh so hard, I want to shake her until she stops.

  She may or may not realize it, but she holds both our futures in her hands. I’m going to clarify things for her, make her understand the reality of the situation. I’m enough of an asshole to admit I’ll enjoy pushing her buttons every step of the way.

  “That would be up to you. Do you want to call the cops?” If she didn’t bring in the cops after the two thefts, she won’t call them now. I just need to lead her to that conclusion so she’ll feel like she reached it on her own.

  “They’ll drag you over to the police department and leave you in one of their interrogation rooms. After letting you sit for a few hours, they’ll ask a bunch of questions you can’t answer. Meanwhile, the cops they leave here will cover the entrance with crime scene tape while they go through every inch of the place, leaving a mess. They’ll draw an outline on your floor that’ll last from here to e
ternity.”

  There’s a hitch in her breath, and her gaze shoots to the door with a mix of urgency and fear. She looks terrified, so I know I’ve said enough. Doesn’t mean I won’t give her one last jab. “The news people eat that up.”

  “Oh.” She folds her arms on her knees, running shaky hands to cup her elbows.

  “Or you could let things play out as they will.” I pause long enough to let the thought sink in. “Is that what you want?”

  Seconds tick by, and she seems to grow smaller. The box creaks, compensating for the shift in her weight. “No…” Defeat wins this round, and she shrinks in even more, if it’s possible.

  Perfect. Yet I’m robbed of the self-satisfaction I expected from getting her to switch to my point of view. She raises her head, facing me with an unexpected load of concern.

  “I can’t help thinking about their families. Worried mothers wondering what happened to their kids. Why they didn’t come home.” Green eyes grow huge, and her expression tightens. Does she expect me to understand what she’s going through, or what those women would be going through for the garbage that tried to kill her?

  Weak.

  The light turns on in the next room and Mate returns, staring at her phone screen.

  I drag in a breath, reaching for the frayed ends of my patience. “Drop them off with a friendly.”

  “Mmm, well played.” There might be a flash of amusement in Mate’s tone.

  It’s my turn to glare at her.

  “Walk me through what happened.” Mate turns on her heel and heads through the doorway.

  I follow her over before it occurs to me to leave instructions. “Stay there,” I say to Bunny. She leans back against the wall, one green sandal askew under perfectly polished toenails.

  “Skinny was three paces in, facing the kitchen. He took two shots to the chest and got off one round hitting the ceiling.” I point to the hole above the register area. “The other guy jumped the counter and ran out the front door. He got about five yards before getting clipped by an SUV and went headfirst into the curb.”