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

by Sahara Roberts

  I don’t trust this guy, and I like him even less. Something in my stomach burns, going across my chest. What is this? Taking a man down in a vicious manner isn’t new to me. But I want to pound my fists into him then pull my knife and take my time with what’s left of him.

  Damn. Did I automatically go for the knife or was it because Miss Bonnie Bustos doesn’t like guns? The flame inside me jumps higher. No, her feelings aren’t significant here. I refuse to dig into my reasoning.

  I haven’t trusted Ricardo since he showed up on Tuesday. I should have let Kassy dig deeper into his background. Why did I stop her? Something about this piece of shit isn’t right. He just has it well hidden, and I dismissed him as insignificant. Stupid. I swear I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

  Swinging my backpack around, I unzip the front pocket and pull out a pouch and a red pen. After a quick glance around me, I empty a small GPS tracker onto my fingers. Careful to avoid leaving a print on the unit or the side panel, I reach under the vehicle. The magnetic case will find the best spot all on its own. An endless heartbeat later, the tracker pulls itself off my fingertips, grabbing the undercarriage. I adjust the small rectangle with my knuckles to make sure it has enough of a base to stay locked into place.

  The distant sound of metal against metal catches my attention, keeping me in a squatting position. Did someone go into the café? Not likely, since she was shutting down for the night.

  I reach out, pen between my fingers, as if I’m retrieving what I dropped. It’s enough to cover me if someone walks by and sees me crouched so close to the vehicle.

  Seconds tick by. Satisfied, I haul myself up, shoving the pen in my pocket. Still, I glance to the edge of the building then to the kitchen entrance. Nothing. Maybe she was locking the door. Either way, I did what I came for. Time to go.

  Readjusting the backpack, I cover the few yards to the street with little ceremony. Purposely avoiding my usual glance toward the front of the café, I hang a left. The scent of Mexican food grows more faint with every step I take. Why didn’t I notice this before?

  Within a few steps, I reach the end of the block then go around the church to their parking lot. A light breeze is coming in off the Rio Grande, purging my senses and making this feel like I’m somewhere far away.

  Slamming the door behind me, I turn the key, bringing the engine to life. I punch in a number on my cell, preparing to do the most distasteful thing I’ve had to do.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” Cord replies with a note of uncertainty.

  I inhale, drawing together the words before I change my mind. “I need you at the café tonight.”

  “A’right.”

  The word hangs in the air. I can’t bring myself to thank this idiot.

  “Everything okay?” He switches to concern.

  The last two words I want to hear from anyone, especially him. What am I supposed to say? The one woman I got comfortable around is scared shitless of being around me?

  The fire flares inside me. “Can you take over or not?” I snap.

  “Yeah, man.” He jumps back, defensively. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

  “Get with Kassy on shift change.” I end the call before he can say anything else. I don’t need to be giving him or anyone else any answers.

  You scare the hell out of me…

  Enough. The last week will be locked away, as if nothing happened and this is any other time in my life. And it easily could be. I’m alone, feeling caged, with the ground pulled out from under me. Only this time, I’m not in a metal drum, bracing myself on the sides to keep from drowning. I know one thing I can do to purge this poison, but I’ve broken my own rules too many times these last couple of days. I don’t need to involve myself in anything.

  I drop the phone into the cupholder then put the car in drive and pull out of the parking spot.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Bunny

  Right before seven o’clock, the keypad ticks, calling my attention. My own breathing echoes in the empty kitchen. I’m frozen, fingers tightening on the newly rinsed mop I hold.

  At this hour, it has to be Tino coming in. Hmm, let’s see what explanation he has for walking away in the middle of me pouring my heart out. I still can’t believe the callous bastard left me talking and took off.

  Deep inside, I know it shouldn’t matter, yet it does. I let myself get too involved in what should only last another few days. Afterward, I’ll probably never see him again. And damn this emptiness inside me at the thought.

  He hits the last digit and my heart jumps into my throat. The doorknob turns, slow and steady. I can’t help but stare at the entrance during the eternity it takes the door to open. Seconds tick by as I struggle to wrap my brain around the situation. It’s not the tall, brooding protector I’ve come to anticipate. Instead, a shorter, clean-cut guy with sandy-brown hair climbs the few steps to the kitchen entrance.

  “Hello, Miss Bonnie.” His deep-blue eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile. “I’m Cord Marson,” he announces, giving me a slight nod.

  If he has the code for the door, it should be enough to verify he’s working with Tino. Or at least part of the security team who set everything up, which would still mean he’s working with Tino.

  “I’ll be sitting with you tonight,” he says, stepping in far enough to close the door behind him.

  My chest deflates. Tino’s not coming. What is this supposed to be? A quick switch, and a hope I wouldn’t notice? What the hell? I catch myself and paste on a smile before I say something I shouldn’t. No, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me.

  “Hello, Mr. Marson.” I manage to push the words through as I loosen my death grip on the mop and tuck it away in the small broom closet. “Please come in.”

  “Cord will be fine, ma’am.” A powerful chest makes him look disproportionate. He’s bulkier than what he would appear to be, going by the size of his arms. Even if I didn’t watch so many cop shows, I’m around enough law enforcement to recognize he’s wearing a vest. So, who or what exactly are they expecting?

  Then again, this may not have anything to do with me. Tino needs a place to wait for whomever he’s trying to grab. Maybe the person is dangerous.

  Cord remains standing by the door, too polite to step across a freshly mopped floor. Swinging a black backpack off his shoulder, he tilts his head to study his path.

  “Come in and make yourself comfortable.” I run damp palms along the front of my apron.

  Cord presses his lips together and gives me a nod then takes careful steps across the kitchen, using the balls of his feet.

  “I’ll set up over here, in a booth, so I stay out of your way.”

  Instead of the table where Tino spends the night. Nearly at the place where he stood behind me that first night.

  “Do you need me to give you a hand with anything?”

  “No. Today was a slow day, so we shut down early.” I untie the apron. “I’m about to head upstairs.”

  “All right, ma’am. If you need anything, you just let me know.”

  If I wasn’t so annoyed, this would be laughable. This guy is polite, setting me at ease before intruding into my life. He’s thoughtful of the fact I just finished cleaning. And he’s attractive, to boot. The kind of guy I may have gone for at some point.

  Meanwhile, I’m choked up about the guy who came striding into my life, leaving a body count in his wake.

  It’s a sobering thought.

  *****

  Tino

  It’s no use trying to sleep. Working out got me nowhere. A couple of days of free climbing will turn things around. Nothing like relying on your physical ability during a climb to keep your focus on the task at hand. With any luck, I might even forget Cord will be with her from now on.

  I punch the buttons on the phone, dialing Dante.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Dante replies, answering my call.

  “I sent the marshal
to the café,” I announce.

  “Okay.”

  Dante’s simple reply just adds to my annoyance. I don’t let shit like this get to me. Yet, right now, I need to let loose on something or someone.

  “I have something I need to take care of.”

  “You have a lead?” he asks with interest.

  Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? “No. Not with Conrado.”

  “Hrmph.”

  I thought long and hard about what to do and what to say to him. While I could tell Dante I need some sleep, I’m not going to. I’m also not going to tell him about her. Instead, I’m going to find a good outlet for the anger brewing inside me.

  With an inward groan, I admit, “I need a couple of days on my own.”

  “I see...” he replies, leaving something left unsaid. Tejano music and hammering fill the silence.

  Dante’s never been one for patience. Having to wait for a lead on Conrado is testing his limits. If he didn’t have Iris with him, this would be like dealing with a caged animal.

  “Hang on,” he states. “Let me head outside.”

  His sharp footsteps echo in the storage area of Iris’s store. The door opens with a squeak then the crunch of gravel as he checks around the corner of the building.

  “I take it you haven’t talked to Iris.” It’s been well over a week since we found her father.

  “No.”

  “It’s only going to get worse the longer you wait.”

  “Hell, I can’t bring myself to tell her…to hurt her,” he confesses.

  Iris has changed him. Dante’s a long way from the selfish bastard I’ve called a friend for years. “I understand.”

  “As Montoya says, the time will come.”

  “Truth.”

  Taking a deep breath, he continues. “I want to apologize, man.” He exhales loudly. “I shouldn’t have put you at the church. I didn’t think you’d be stuck there with nowhere to go for so many days.”

  Yeah, the bench was no damn picnic. But I’ve had shittier places to deal with. Here, I had AC, a bathroom, and food.

  “Actually, I was surprised at the assignment. I expected to cover Iris.” Though him being tied to a woman is new territory. He must have wanted to be the one to look after her.

  “Yeah. Uh, about that…”

  Instinct kicks in, and I’m preparing for another gut punch. “What did you do?”

  “Nah, man. Nothing like that,” he assures me. “I like Bonnie.” His tone ends on a high note, like there’s more coming.

  I lean in, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. Inside, I’m at the edge of screaming for him to finish what he’s going to say.

  “I thought you might, too.”

  I’m stunned to silence. What. The. Hell.

  “This is going over the line, I know. And I was pissed when Montoya did it to me, but hear me out,” he adds in a rush.

  I take the turn into the private airstrip without slowing down.

  “I assume you’ve had some time around her since you’re in the building. You’ve seen it, right? Sometimes she gets this look,” he explains with excitement. “I’d swear I’m looking at you in her sidelong glare.”

  The image of her comes to mind easily enough as I pull into a parking space.

  “She’s like a female version of you.”

  My gut twists. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “But you know what I mean.”

  Damn him for always being so sure he can make a statement.

  “Yeah.” My voice is sharper than I intended. “Maybe.”

  “Well, I guess I should have talked to you about it instead of insisting you watch her place.”

  There’s a hollow below my throat that’s getting bigger. This must be something regular friends might do. But we’ve never been typical friends. Though we’ve never been regular boss and employee, either.

  “You okay?”

  How do I answer if I want to go hang off the side of a cliff by my fingertips because of a woman? No, I can’t lie to myself. What I really need to purge this is deeper and darker.

  “I’m cool.” Considering I’m about to take one of his planes, I should probably explain what I’m doing. “In fact, I’m going after a guy that ripped her off.”

  “She got held up?” His voice takes on a hard edge.

  “Her ex pulled money from her account.”

  “Damn,” he says, his tone returning to normal.

  “Now she’s having problems making ends meet. Not to mention the building might be sold out from under her.”

  “I can check into that,” he says, dismissing the issue.

  “Thanks,” I say automatically.

  “Did she ask you to track him down?” he asks, doubtful.

  “No.” I can’t imagine someone so sweet sending someone like me after anyone. “But this might be exactly what I need right now.”

  “Deal with him however you see best,” he says.

  “I plan to.”

  “Of course you do.” He snorts. “Poor bastard.”

  I have no sympathy, but Dante wouldn’t expect me to. “I’ll need the plane. I’m too wired to drive all the way there,” I confess.

  He’s silent. I can’t blame him. It’s probably more honest than I’ve ever been with him or anyone.

  “Montoya and I talked. We were going to get with you at the ranch, but all this happened.”

  Ah crap. New project. I’ll have to set this aside. “Okay. What’s up?”

  “We want to bring you in as a full partner.”

  Once again, he’s actually shocked me to silence.

  “You’ve been there for everything, both business and personal. It only makes sense.”

  Nothing makes sense right now. If not for the fact I couldn’t sleep, I’d think I was in the middle of a fucking nightmare.

  “You’d still manage the security aspect, and do what you do, but with a bigger cut.”

  To say a simple thank-you wouldn’t begin to cover what should be said. Yes, the pay and perks of this job have made me rich over the years. But it’s nowhere near what a partner in a billion-dollar company would make. Most important, it allowed me the time and resources to hunt the bastards I need to put down, for my own peace of mind.

  “You there?” Dante asks.

  I swallow. “Yeah.” The wild need to tear something apart pulls me back to that dark place inside me. “I’m trying to figure out what to say.”

  “No need to say anything. This changes nothing.”

  Hrmph. It may have just saved a man’s life.

  Maybe.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Bonnie

  “Do you get up at five every morning to make tortillas?” Cord is watching from the window to the dining area as I fold the masa, work it through, fold it over, and start again. The start of the day has always been my favorite, but this morning isn’t doing it for me.

  Now I have Tino’s voice stuck in my head, asking the same exact question, over and over.

  “Yes.” I’d add more, but I’m sure he has an opinion on what I should be doing.

  “It looks like a lot of work.”

  And here we go.

  “It can be.” I draw in a breath, ripping a piece of masa with a little more force than I’d normally do.

  “Kinda reminds me of my mom making bread.”

  “Oh…” Seconds pass, but he doesn’t add anything else. So what, that’s it? I glance at him as I roll the masa into a ball to fit my palm. The exact size I need for the oversized tortillas.

  But there’s nothing about the fact I could still be in bed? At least this guy wouldn’t be asking if I wouldn’t rather be making him breakfast.

  “Yeah, she’s homemakery,” he adds, breaking into my mental rant. I catch his wistful smile, and I’m chagrined. “Got my sister baking, too.” He scrunches his nose. “Not that Becky likes it any.”

  “And you?” I asked, half expecting a dismissive comment.

  “Guess she
never gave much thought to teaching me.” He shrugs.

  How unfair. “Why wouldn’t she teach you?”

  His cell rings, and he reaches to answer. “Likely, ’cuz, you know, I’m a guy.”

  The reply brings me to a dead stop midway through forming the next ball. Throughout my life, I’ve had to deal with what they thought I shouldn’t do because I’m “a girl.” I never thought about what guys weren’t taught because “they’re boys.” His mother assumed he didn’t want to or didn’t need to learn because he’s a man. She never bothered to ask or to take his feelings into account. I’ve made my own assumptions about a man at this very table twice this week.

  I place the ball next to the others on the table. Gram would never have allowed the ball to pass. Ball sounds so plain. When Gram taught me how to make tortillas, she made sure I called it a testal. Smiling at the memory, I palm the testal, tucking the edges under while creating the perfect little dome.

  “’Course she didn’t do this every day.” He takes in the mountain of masa and stifles a yawn. “And she certainly wasn’t going to start this early, especially on a Sunday.”

  “You get used to it.” I pull away to turn on the flat top. “After a while, you don’t think it’s any different from anyone else getting up to go to work every day.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Need me to put on a pot of coffee?” I offer, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. I don’t usually set coffee this early because I need it to be fresh when we open at seven.

  “I can make myself useful.” He pushes away from the window, pausing at the last second. “If that’s okay, I mean.”

  “Sure.” I nod, going back to portioning the masa. “Help yourself.”

  We work in silence for a few minutes as the smell of coffee fills the room. Never thought I’d miss being alone in this place, but with what’s happened lately, I’d welcome a minute to myself.

  “Would ya like a cup?”

  “Sure.” I manage a smile. “With three of the Italian Creme, please.” He approaches with the two cups in hand. “Thank you.” I take a sip of the hot liquid then, setting the cup on the counter, I start rolling out the first batch of tortillas.