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

by Sahara Roberts

  The little actress shows the proper amount of confusion, including a wrinkled brow. Unfortunately for her, I’ve already had a look behind the curtain. With all the shit she’s pulled, she isn’t going to call attention to herself.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” she asks with indignation, pulling herself up. “You need to go. Now.”

  I tilt my head, giving her a minute to let the gravity of the situation sink in.

  “I’m calling the police.” She reaches across the table.

  “Stop wasting my time, Missy Taylor.” Her eyes go wide when she hears her name—her real name. Shaken, she shifts to the table, pulling the drawer to the proper position and holding her hand to the right. The drawer’s hidden compartment pops open with the barest click. A second later, she lowers her head as she takes in the empty cavity where a revolver should be sitting.

  “I’ve been here long enough to go through your apartment. All of it,” I add, giving her a moment to let it sink in. She turns around, leaning her butt against the table for support. “So stop wasting my time, or you won’t like the outcome.” Silence stretches out.

  Kassy sighs in my ear. “We’re ready.”

  “What do you want?” she asks, now that she’s had time to process the situation.

  “Restitution.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “Missy, you can get what you need from the safe you have in the master bedroom. That’ll have me downstairs within the five-minute time limit I set, and you’ll have few to no regrets.”

  “How do you know about the safe?” The healthy tan fades from her skin. “Have you been stalking me?”

  “Not at all. Like you, I study my mark.” I glance at the laptop she left on the coffee table. “I know you like art, but you can’t distinguish between an original and a forgery, however well done.”

  Her eyes scan the walls, likely she’s wondering which she got taken for.

  “I know about the sports car you drive, and the little extra added while you were visiting your grandmother at the nursing home you pay for.”

  Her fingers tighten along the edge of the table.

  “I even know about the video chat you scheduled for your grandmother and mother.” I tsk. “She’s still too busy to make the two hundred seventy-three-mile drive to visit.” She folds her arms in front of her. I’ve hit a sore spot. Is this why she does it? For Mommy and Daddy’s attention? How disappointing. “And if you don’t get me what I came for, it’ll all go away,” I sneer.

  “Okay, I get it.” She takes a second to lick her lips, planning her next move, or trying to.

  “By now, you know you’re trying my patience. You won’t like how that ends,” I assure her.

  “I don’t have that kind of money here. Give me a couple of days—”

  “I’m done.” I utter the code, knowing my team will execute the plan.

  A second later a thunderous explosion sounds, along with creaking and writhing of overstretched metal. In the window, a column of black acrid smoke marks the spot of the disaster.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “I hope you didn’t leave anything in your car.” A sense of incredible satisfaction rolls through me.

  “No…” She pushes away from the table, gaining momentum as she reaches the floor-to-ceiling window. In the distance, is a mangled, flame-licked heap that once was her car. “No. No. No.” She turns, fear outlining in her features. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m the guy who’s going to make sure you’re strapped into the driver’s seat the next time your car explodes.”

  She stares off into the distance then, slowly, her muscles go limp.

  “Okay,” she murmurs, running her palms down her slacks as she turns to face me. “What-what do I owe?”

  “Seven thousand seven hundred fifty-nine dollars.”

  Her jaw drops open. “That’s it?” She asks, eyes bugging out. “You blew up my car over seven grand?”

  Such a closed little mind. I’ve spent more finding her than what she owes, but it’s the principle of the thing. “I blew up your car because you annoyed me.” Though I did enjoy it. “You don’t want to know what I’ll do to you over the actual theft.”

  “You’re fucking crazy,” she says, shaking her head.

  “You stole from the wrong woman,” I declare.

  “Woman?” she asks, frown line cutting around her eyes. “No. They were all—” The lines on her forehead disappear as she shuts her mouth.

  “You pulled the money from her account when you played the Border Patrol agent.”

  “Oh.” She actually looks contrite.

  “So you understand, I don’t care what you do with him, or anyone else. But if you ever touch her accounts again, I’ll blast your picture across every phone screen in the hemisphere. And when I find you, I’ll make sure no man will ever give you a second look.”

  She swallows hard, and her head bounces with her acknowledgment.

  “Now, bring me the money.”

  *****

  Bonnie

  “Did you do something different?” Cord asks from the next room.

  Cocking my head, I turn, a soapy bowl in hand. “What do you mean?”

  “It smells different in here.” He walks over from the booth where he’s just finished setting up. “Not as harsh, I guess.”

  “Oh.” I pull my arm across my forehead. “I didn’t do a pass with bleach.”

  “You use bleach?”

  Does he know what happened? Tino had been on with two different people that night. So I guess saying, “Only when I’m worried about an outline of the two dead bodies” isn’t a good idea.

  “The delivery guy hadn’t brought my usual floor cleaner.” It’s the first thing to come to mind. “So I did the first pass with watered-down bleach and the second with cleaner.”

  “Gotcha,” he says, taking a deep breath. “The cleaner smells nice.”

  His cell phone rings, saving me from having to say anything else. He turns, heading to the booth while I continue with the dishes. “Hey, Kassy.”

  A loud slap comes from behind me, followed by a scrape of keys. I turn, wide-eyed, to find him heading in my direction. Heart pounding, I lean away, my waist pressing against the sink to give him room.

  “On my way.” His voice is sharp as his footsteps pound across the kitchen floor and out the door.

  Flipping around, I clutch the edge of the sink as he pumps powerful legs across the drive. Did they find the person they’re after? I swivel, searching the dining area over my shoulder, as if someone could come in through the locked door. I shake my head. No, the metal door would make more difficult than it’s worth.

  My phone beeps. Saul. I tap the message.

  Hi, Bonnie. Sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been tied up. Someone emptied my account, and I think you might have been hit, too. I’m working on setting things right. Give me some time to get things fixed.

  Well that explains a lot. What should I reply? A simple okay seems a little tame for what I’ve been through. Putting the phone on the table, I return to my task while I think about what to reply.

  Rinsing the sink, I keep checking the drive every few seconds. As if Cord, or anyone else, would come strolling through. So, if they get their guy, is this it?

  My mind wanders to the times Tino sat at the table, concentrating on his computer as I did the morning prep. He was always so absorbed in whatever he was doing. Wait, what was he doing? Watching the camera feed? But there was nothing to see...except us, in the kitchen.

  My hand goes still on the faucet. Is that it? While I was sneaking a peek at him from the corner of my eye, he was blatantly watching everything I was doing?

  A splash of white draws my attention. A delivery truck goes by, with Rick at the wheel. Turning the knob, I lean to the right, watching as he turns around in the parking lot and stops level with the door. He unlocks the back of the truck and steps inside.

  Opening the door, I peek outside. S
econds later, Rick appears, carrying a medium-sized box.

  “What are you doing?” I ask from the doorway.

  He gives me a big grin. “One of my deliveries canceled, so I brought a few things you might be interested in.” His hot gaze slips down my body as he heads my way. I leave him a wide berth so he can get to the storage room. Instead, he stops at the stairs and hands me the box.

  “Aw, I caught y’all cleaning.” He cranes his neck to see behind me. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

  I chuckle, taking the box. “It’s just me.”

  The corner of his lips goes up. “I know you fix everything fresh,” he says, a warning in his voice. “But I figured I’d let you have the first pick.”

  If he’s concerned with the slowdown, I should take what I can get. The box has some containers of prepared mole. Not something I would have considered a week ago, but now I’m not sure. With so much going on, it might be best to keep what I can for an emergency.

  “Thank you for thinking of me, Rick.”

  “It’s hard not to think of you, Bonnie,” he says, letting his gaze run across my face.

  Oh damn. I didn’t mean it like that. Last week, I would have welcomed his attention. Now, I just hope he isn’t going to try asking me on a date.

  “Hang on, I’ve got a couple more things,” he says, sounding pleased with himself. “If you want to come check.” He waves his hand toward the truck.

  “Sure.” I’m not turning my nose up at whatever he brought if he went to the trouble of coming back at this hour. “Let me put this down.” I drop the box at the edge of the table, next to my cell then head outside.

  Rick opens the door with all the flair of the big-city doormen on television. “Here. Let me give you a hand.” He offers his palm to steady me as I step on the low bumper then into the truck. I try not to think about him staring at my ass now that it’s eye level.

  Gazing across the boxes he has neatly stacked in shelves lining the walls, I frown. “What am I looking at?”

  Confused, I turn, expecting an explanation. Instead, I catch a shrinking wedge of sunlight as he closes the door, leaving me in the dark. I rush to the door, jostling the handle. “Rick, what are you doing?” No answer, and the door isn’t moving.

  Gravel crunches under his boots as he moves forward. “Rick,” I shout. “Rick. Let me out of here.” The engine turns on, the radio blares, then we’re moving.

  I grab onto the shelves to stay upright while I reach for my phone, only to find my pocket empty.

  *****

  Conrado

  I’m walking through the warehouse, past pallet after pallet in all different sizes, nodding my approval. “Rick’s got the place stocked.”

  Iz whistles. “They’ve got a lot of food.”

  Yeah, pallets of the shit he brings from across as camo for the stash. The rest goes to their regular customers. “My boy’s gotta be rolling in green.”

  Iz checks me out from the corner of his eyes.

  “Don’t go getting all butt hurt,” I say, blowing him off. Last thing I need is Iz acting like a jealous little bitch.

  We’re at the edge of greatness. Soon, I’ll have a place like this, only bigger, and some of those pallets will be stacked with cash. I’ve seen it done. Well, I’ve seen stacks on TV and the Internet, but they find those pics somewhere.

  A hard whistle has me checking around us. Sergio’s calling from the back of the building, by the emergency exit.

  He cups his hands around his mouth. “Come here.” He waves us over.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Iz cranes his neck, trying to see where I’m looking. “The trailer? That’s their office, man.”

  “Their office?” I ask, making a face.

  “A lot of warehouses use them,” he says, like he knows what he’s talkin’ about. “So whoever rents can rearrange the setup on the cheap.”

  I start cracking up. No way I’m going to have no trailer at my place. I need an actual office. With a big-ass desk and a leather chair where I can sit and have these guys workin’.

  “Rick is on the way.” Sergio comes down the metal stairs for a fist bump.

  “He got the box?” I cross my fingers.

  “No.” Sergio shakes his head. “He checked and didn’t find anything.”

  “So what are we doing?” I demand, stretching my arms in question. Because I’m not going in her place if she has cameras.

  “He’s bringing Bonnie,” Sergio says, sounding like his mama put him on time-out.

  “Oh shit. Why bring her here?” I ask, wondering what I missed.

  “So he can ask questions without no one around. He knows she has a guy sitting in the café overnight now.”

  “I thought he had a plan,” I shoot back.

  “She wouldn’t go out, and he’s got a deadline.” Sergio checks the area behind us, all nervous. “So he’s gonna bring her here, get the deets, and get rid of her.”

  “Get rid of her how?” Iz goes all stiff, turning to me.

  “I didn’t ask,” Sergio admits.

  They don’t want to talk about it, but how else does he expect to take care of a problem? Man, Iz has been my boy for years, but I can’t work with him if he ain’t fly.

  “He’ll distract her, grab the phone out of her pocket, and put her in the truck,” Sergio explains. “Once they get here and he’s done, he’ll call an Uber from her phone. Later, when the cops come by and he gets questioned, he’ll say they were going to go out, but he had to come back to work, she got pissed, and went home. They’ll find her phone in the street tomorrow morning. Her picture will go up on a poster, and eventually people will forget about her.”

  Okay, well that’s on him. “Didn’t have no problems? Because I didn’t think he could pull off taking her.”

  “Nah.” Sergio grins. “He took her some of the stuff he held onto, and he was going to have her help unload.”

  “And you think she’ll fall for that?”

  “Yeah.” Sergio shrugs. “Bonnie’s always trying to do everything herself.”

  “I don’t know, man.” I run my hand along the back of my neck. “Sounds too easy.”

  “He has a backup plan. He was taking flowers in case she was playing hard to get.”

  “Yeah, I see how he rolls.” These bitches love flowers.

  “Come on.” Sergio waves for us to go us into the office.

  Like I expected, the inside is all beat up. The place even smells old. The first room has a copy machine and a long table in the corner. They probably had people coming through this thing for years.

  “We can wait in here.” He points to some raggedy chairs with the covers coming off the corners of dirty cushions. “Rick should be back in a few.”

  No way I’m sitting on those.

  Sergio’s phone rings. “It’s my girl.” He takes a couple of steps toward the next room then turns on a heel. “Let me grab this.” He leaves, hitting the steps with a loud clang.

  Iz grabs a chair, but I shove my hands in my pockets and shoot out a breath. I walk over, checking the door to the other half of the building. The door isn’t completely closed, so I push it open with two fingers.

  “What are you doing?” Iz says, shooting up from his chair.

  “Shh.” I wave at him to be quiet as I put my head through the opening. The room is empty, with a desk, computer, and a couple of chairs in better shape than the ones by the copier.

  I stroll over, all cool, to check the computer. He left it open to some spreadsheet with a bunch of orders for people. “Yes.” After a fist pump, I roll up to the computer.

  Mom’s got me on this fucking old piece-of-shit phone with no Internet. I haven’t been able to log on for days. Grabbing the chair, I pull myself closer and settle in behind the desk. Click. I’m online. Click. I’m entering my user ID. Tab. I type in my password, my heart racing in anticipation.

  Now for some quality time with my cam girls.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


  Tino

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. I have good news and bad news. I’ll start with the good news,” Kassy rambles as I’m coming down the stairs from the plane. “You were right. Conrado was in Mexico.”

  “We got him?” I tighten my grip on the cell as I continue toward the parking lot.

  “Well, we got them on camera,” she says, slowing.

  Frustration tears through me as he slips through my fingers again.

  “The facial-recognition picked up our guys at the bridge a little while ago. I sent Cord after them.”

  Fucking marshal. Of course he had something to do with this. “Okay.”

  “But…”

  And I knew there’d be a “but.”

  “He got caught behind an accident around the corner from the café.”

  Shit. The streets around us are all one ways with parking along the street and narrow sidewalks. If you’re blocked in, you’re not going nowhere.

  “Why wasn’t he the first car parked on the street?” At seven, downtown is basically closed unless you’re going across the border. So parking isn’t much of an issue.

  “He was, but someone parked ahead of him, in the red zone. A bunch of girls dropping off decorations to the party room in the corner building.

  “Meanwhile, I followed the car, but the cameras don’t go more than a few blocks past the courthouse,” she whines.

  “He could have cut across and grabbed IH35 or headed south side.” With any luck, she can catch him on a camera.

  “They didn’t go south,” she says with certainty. “I tapped the cameras at every intersection before the ramp to the highway.”

  “So they didn’t get on 35 at all.”

  “I never saw the car. But Frank’s sitting on the apartment, just in case.”

  Of all the times for me to have been away. My shoulders stiffen as frustration rips into me.

  “All I can tell you is he was on the west side of town, heading north.”

  “Okay. What have you done so far?”

  “Everyone’s on alert. Iris is on lockdown. And I called you.”