Bonnie tried to laugh off her awkwardness, but it ended up sounding like she’d gotten something stuck in her throat. “Kid, I got no clue. What are you getting?”
“Either the Evil Berries with chocolate syrup and strawberry sauce, or the Cookie Monster with chocolate syrup, peanut butter and caramel.”
“Oh, my God.” Evie shook her head, but her smile was a fond one. “Maybe I should have waited until the weekend before we did the ice cream trip. You’re not gonna sleep until midnight with all that sugar.”
Jesus. These people were really freaking nice. Funny. Supportive. Friendly. The closest she’d ever gotten to treats growing up was the chips and dip her mom put out for impromptu parties.
Emerson ignored his mom entirely and wrapped his hand in Bonnie’s. “You want me to help you pick something out?” He pointed to the board. “You can either just get a plain flavor, or get one of the special kinds they’ve got up there. Then you pick three extra toppings.”
She couldn’t talk. Could barely even breathe. Emerson’s hand was so tiny in hers. So warm. And he didn’t seem the least bit shy about the action he’d taken.
But damn—he’d completely shaken her whole fucking world.
He motioned to all the Post-it notes around them. “Those things are special creations other people have come up with mixing and matching. I’m gonna put one of mine up there after I see how it tastes.”
Special creations.
Toppings.
Fuck, she was never gonna make it through this night.
She cleared her throat—or at least tried to—and squeezed Emerson’s hand. “How about you order for both of us? You get one. I’ll get the other.”
The smile he hit her with would’ve knocked her over if he hadn’t been holding her hand, and the tightness behind her chest threatened to snuff out her heart altogether.
Cassie leaned in close and splayed one hand between Bonnie’s shoulder blades. “You okay?”
Hell no, she wasn’t okay. Okay was a fresh iced tea when it was August and 105 degrees outside, or someone tipping you with a scratch-off lottery ticket and finding out you just got a free tank of gas. Spending a night with nice people and getting a glimpse of the good life when it was only going to disappear in hours was nothing short of cruel. “A little overwhelmed, if you want to know the truth.”
She chuckled at that and wrapped her arm around Bonnie’s waist. “Believe it or not, I absolutely get it.”
Bonnie doubted that. Just looking at Cassie, she could see how she’d fit in with the people around her. This lifestyle. She was pretty. Stylish. Always knew how to make people feel comfortable. The same held true for Evie.
The best Bonnie could claim was a decent skill for talking drunks out of driving and a willingness to pull out a baseball bat if it meant breaking apart a late-night brawl.
Minute by minute, they made their way to the front of the line. Everyone placed their order except for Bonnie, who waved Emerson toward the cashier in her place. Evie, Emerson and Cassie all watched the staff behind the plexiglass doing their thing with the ice cream on the cold metal tables, but all Bonnie could do was soak in the crowd.
The families.
The couples.
A few college students palling around on a weeknight.
And, of course, a few badass guards watching from the corner table.
Sorry, Bonnie. My parents say I can’t hang out with you anymore.
Did you hear about her mom? She was so shit-faced she plowed into a tree and bit it.
You don’t want to mix with her and her family. Bad blood, the lot of them.
God, she was pathetic. Twenty-five years old and she was still replaying the old cuts she’d been dealt in high school.
But every single word they’d said was true.
She’d come from trash.
It didn’t matter how long or hard she tried, her roots kept her locked in place.
“That’ll be $30.50,” the cashier said.
Before Bonnie could shake the stupor of her thoughts or the shock at such a high tab for ice cream, Evie handed over two twenty-dollar bills.
“Oh, hang on.” Bonnie slid her backpack off her shoulder and unzipped the front pocket. “Let me get you money for mine.”
“Don’t be silly,” Evette said, waving her off. “You’ve had a hell of a day. The least we can do is treat you for dessert.”
No hesitancy. Not so much as a blip of concern on the amount of cash changing hands or any indication of how vastly the scales of give-and-take were out of balance since the minute she’d met them. Still, the offer was a huge plus. She could hit Taco Bell for a full-size meal twice on a seven-dollar savings. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She reached for her order when the lady who’d made it handed it over—four pretty rolls of ice cream with sauce artfully drizzled over the top of it—and followed everyone to a table near the guards.
Her stomach churned, not the least bit interested in the treat in front of her, and her mouth felt like she hadn’t had a drop to drink in days. Despite the chilled wind sweeping through the front door every time it opened and the coolers that kept the ice cream nice and cold, a clammy sweat blanketed her back.
Evie, Emerson and Cassie chattered about their selections, oohing and ahhing over how good everything was.
8:45 p.m. showed on her watch.
Three more minutes and another trolley would stop just outside the ice cream shop. Granted, she’d only get three-quarters of the way to Tremé on the St. Charles, but it’d be better than sitting here waiting for her nerves to swallow her whole.
She kept her head down and forced a tiny bite.
“Do you like it?” Emerson asked.
The best she could do was nod and focus on keeping the food down.
Her knee started bouncing under the table, and her breath got so shallow the room around her got a little hazy.
“Bonnie, are you okay?”
It was Cassie’s voice, the volume of it low and private, but carrying genuine concern.
She couldn’t do this.
She’d been wrong to call Cassie.
Wrong to step outside what she knew and bring good people into her mess of a life.
She pushed her ice cream toward Emerson. “Sorry, buddy. I can’t eat this. It’s good, but you gotta finish it.”
Before he could ask why, she turned to Cassie. “Listen. I really appreciate you coming today.” She glanced at Evie then back to Cassie. “For dinner. For everything. But I can’t do this.”
She stood, grabbed her backpack and threw it over her shoulder.
The guards perked up, ready to move.
“Do me a favor,” she said to Cassie. “Just let me go. Don’t worry. I’m good. I promise. I’ll even text you when I get home. Just tell those guys to chill, okay?”
“But Bonnie—”
“Please don’t. You’re all awesome. Really. I just—” Feel like a complete imposter. Like someone’s going to show up at any moment and throw ice-cold water on me. “I need to go.”
She turned, hustled out the glass door and toward the empty tracks.
Right on time, the trolley clanged its impending arrival, the soft glow of the St. Charles marker at the top of it as close to comfort as she’d felt in hours. She hopped on as soon as it stopped, paid the fare and plopped down on the side bench.
Her pulse hammered in her throat, but her lungs finally pulled in a decent gulp of air.
Outside the window Cassie, Evie and Emerson stood in front of the ice cream shop, a guard on either side.
But they weren’t following her.
Just watching and letting her go exactly as she’d asked.
That’s good. It’s better that way. Cleaner. Less pain and disappointment.
She hugged her backpack tight aga
inst her chest and pulled in another deep breath. The same clamoring panic that had threatened to consume her still crawled beneath her skin, but the dark edges that had clouded her vision began to abate.
The trolley jerked forward, slowly pulling away from its stop.
Maybe it was cleaner this way. Safer for everyone.
But she couldn’t help thinking she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
Chapter Six
Roman wasn’t a slave to schedules or plans. In his world, events and strategies were too prone to go astray. A wrong word spoken to the wrong person. A desperate, ill-thought-out action taken in the heat of the moment. A new rival who thought they had what it took to infiltrate an established area. Any of them could shake an established peace between vors and turn a quiet day to chaos in seconds.
But today...
Today was beyond what even he could fathom.
Parked on the corner of St. Ann and North Prieur Street, he soaked in what details around him he could with the dim streetlamp burning overhead. To his right, an industrial building that had once housed some kind of a business sat with plywood over its windows and doors. A string of weathered white duplexes with iron bars on the windows stretched one after the other on his left and old power lines zigzagged overhead.
But it was the row of apartments up ahead that held the bulk of his attention. A two-story brick structure that had been painted gray with red trim and resembled an old-fashioned motel from the outside. Compared to the rest of the block, it was aged, but tidy.
Unlike his day had proven to be.
First the call from Bonnie.
Then the interlude with Pauley.
And finally, the text from Cassie advising him that Bonnie had gone home.
He sighed into the quiet and glared at the ground floor unit labeled 104C. Part of him wasn’t surprised she’d run. Was actually more surprised at how long she’d taken to bolt.
But another part of him was disappointed. Not to mention worried he’d misread her. Even Sergei had questioned the wisdom of continuing any efforts to help her when he’d learned Bonnie had run.
The comment had earned him a sharp rebuttal from Evette. “I’m telling you, the girl was having a panic attack. I know. I’ve had a few in my day. You can’t just leave her hanging with her dad and brother missing. Helping people is what you’re supposed to do.”
He’d pulled her close and cupped the side of her face. “We can only offer a hand to those in need, liubimaja. We cannot force them to take it.”
His pakhan was right. No matter the hardship or situation, people didn’t change until they’d truly reached their breaking point.
And yet, here he was.
Ignoring the responsibilities that had stacked up from his errant day and fully intent on knocking on Bonnie’s door. If, for no other reason, than to assure Cassie and Evette that she’d made it home safely and let Bonnie know Pauley wasn’t behind her family’s disappearance.
The real unknown in his dead-end errand was how she’d respond to his checking in and, if she’d truly had a panic attack, what had triggered it.
He killed the truck’s engine and got out. From one of the duplexes, the muted but steady bass of someone’s music thrummed into the night, mingling with the clipped strides of his footsteps on the cracked asphalt. At almost eleven, the temperature hovered just above freezing and, from the wood smoke lingering in the air, someone had deemed it cold enough for a fire.
Outside Bonnie’s door, he paused. No sounds came from inside, but the light was on, so he assumed she was still up. Either that or she was too spooked from the day to sleep with the light off.
He knocked on the door.
More quiet followed, but after a few moments the blinds shifted just enough for someone to peek between them. They clattered back into place and Bonnie’s voice sounded from behind the door. “I’m here, and I’m fine.”
Stubborn woman. She truly had more regal attitude than she knew what to do with. “You will forgive me if I insist on confirming that with my own eyes.”
In the silence that followed, he could easily imagine the same exasperated expression he’d already earned through the course of the day. The lock slid free a heartbeat later, and she opened the door. “See? All good?”
Oh, he saw. And in great detail. The jeans, jacket and boots from earlier in the day were gone, replaced with fuzzy gray fleece pajama bottoms with whimsical white stars and a simple white tank that clung to her full breasts.
He forced his gaze to her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was painfully low and strained. “You forget, malen’kaya koroleva, it was you who called for assistance today. You cannot blame those you called upon for following through and ensuring your safety, even if you do not think it’s necessary.”
Even in the shadowed entry, her flush was unmistakable as was the guilty flash behind her eyes. “That’s fair.” She relaxed her grip on the door and ducked her head. “I didn’t mean to run out like I did. I just... I don’t know. Got a little overwhelmed, I guess.”
It was a start. Not enough, but a start. “Cassie and Evette assumed as much. What they didn’t understand was what triggered your reaction.”
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It does to them.” And to him as well, if he was honest.
She sighed and studied the doorjamb. “Your family’s really nice, okay? Everyone will be a lot better off if I keep my shit out of the equation.”
“Says who?”
Her focus cut to his face, a wealth of fire, pain and disappointment swimming in her green eyes. “Says pretty much anyone who’s ever come into contact with me.”
An interesting choice of wording. As if she’d been tried and judged for the sins of her family many times over.
The smart thing to do was walk away. Simply tell her what he’d learned from Pauley, bid her good night and never step foot across her threshold.
But the way she’d looked at him when he’d caught her was burned in his mind. The lush press of her body against his unforgettable.
He splayed his hand on the door instead and pushed it wider, crowding closer.
“What are you doing?” she stammered as she stumbled out of his way.
“Coming in and gauging just how safe you are in this environment.” The living room was sparse, to say the least. An old gray futon with too thin of a cushion sat against one wall and a gooseneck desk lamp was centered on a plastic milk crate beside it. There was no television. No source of music. Only white walls in need of fresh paint, worn tan carpet and weathered blinds. Every inch of it was clean, though.
“You know, most people call someone barging in without being invited breaking and entering.” Despite her comment, the thud of the door closing sounded behind him.
“I did not break anything, and if you were truly alarmed you are wise enough to scream and attract attention from the neighbors.” The adjacent dining space held a simple folding card table and two folding chairs, the surface of the table covered in clear plastic tubs and Ziplock bags full of beads and strings and pamphlets. The flier on top read Delgado Community College—Medical/Clinical Assistant. He faced her and found her glaring at him with her arms crossed at her chest. “You want to study medicine?”
Her gaze cut to the table and her mouth firmed a second before she marched forward. She snatched the brochures and stuffed them under one of the clear plastic containers. “I don’t know what I want to do. Stop being nosey.”
“Nosey is part of my job.” He flipped the light switch to the tiny galley kitchen, but nothing happened. “Why does your light not work?”
She shoved his hand away from the switch and stepped between him and the kitchen. “Because I don’t have a ladder, so I have to wait on the landlord. Now, you’ve seen I’m okay. You can go.”
Bohze, but she was cute. Mor
e so when she forgot her fears and unleashed her attitude. Few and far between were those who stood up to him. It was intoxicating. So much so, he found himself eager to see what other things he could do to provoke her.
Undaunted, he took the three strides it took to reach the bathroom and flipped the light switch there. It worked, showing a simple clear plastic shower curtain, a pale pink towel hanging neatly to one side of it and the most basic of necessities. Again, all clean and perfectly neat.
“Are you for real? You’re checking my bathroom?”
“No. Confirming the rest of your lighting is in order.” He flipped on the light to her bedroom right across from it. A bed covered in a soft blue comforter and a simple desk along one wall took up most of the space, but all manner of hand-drawn pictures were tacked to the walls.
No, not pictures. More like designs, some on sketch paper and done in great color and detail, and others on anything from receipts to napkins. “What are those?”
“Sketches.” She reached behind him and flipped off the switch. “Now, get out of my room. Tell Cassie thank you again for bringing you today, but I think it’s better to handle things on my own.”
He fought the smile building inside him and strolled to the middle of the living room. “You believe you have the means to find your family on your own?”
“Well, it sure beats having some bossy Russian saunter in my house like he owns the damned place. I’ve worked my ass off to make my own way. Missing dad and brother or not, I’ve got boundaries.”
He doubted that. If she did, she’d have told her father to pay his own debts and would be able to afford at least more basic necessities than what he’d seen tonight. “You’ve been on your own for some time, have you not?”
“Since I was seventeen, so you can bet your ass I can take care of myself.”
“You are twenty-five years old, yes?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
He cocked his head. “That’s eight years. I’m surprised you haven’t gathered more belongings.”
She glanced away, and this time when she crossed her arms it seemed more as a means to protect herself than anything based on defiance or anger. “I did have more things.”
Mine to Keep Page 7
