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

by Sahara Roberts

  “I’m on the ground—”

  “And the other, bad news—well, maybe bad news,” she continues.

  “That wasn’t the bad news?” I try to follow.

  “Well, yeah, but…we’re not sure what happened to Bonnie,” she ends on a tentative note.

  The words are a fist landing square in my gut. “Explain.” All I can do is lengthen my stride. I need to reach my car because something tells me this is bad.

  “By the time Cord got to the café, she was gone. And he found her cell.”

  I’m struggling between anger and something I don’t recognize. I’m a fish in the ocean, and her words are a net dragging me out of the depths.

  “I went through the video and saw the delivery guy come by again.”

  I have a flashback of the way she acted around him last week.

  “She takes a box and puts it on the table then walks outside with him. I’m not sure if they left together or what, but she went willingly.”

  A weight drops on my chest. I’m nobody to tell her what to do, or who she can and cannot see. But what if this is something else? “So what makes you think there’s a problem?”

  “I just know,” she explains, with a plea for understanding. “She left her phone on the table. I mean, who does that?”

  I can’t go by what little she’s pieced together. Anybody could leave and forget their phone. My mind goes to the image from a few days before. Bunny, clipboard in hand, putting some space between her and the guy.

  “On the recording, it doesn’t look like anything’s wrong. I can’t tell you why I feel like this,” she continues with a note of confusion and defeat.

  I should have set up a camera along the side of the building. But I was really looking for someone coming in as a customer. The rest of the cameras were an afterthought, for Bunny’s benefit.

  “Cord’s on-site, in case Bonnie shows up.”

  As soon as she mentions his name, my gut wrenches. Cord. Something inside me tells me that isn’t going to happen. Why wasn’t he there? Fucking piece of shit can’t even follow the other idiot we’ve been waiting for.

  “He checked outside, and the gravel isn’t disturbed. No sign of a fight or anything, but I caught him on camera, and she’s not in the truck,” Kassy continues. “I have this feeling like something’s wrong, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Call Montoya.” The words are out of my mouth before I complete the thought.

  “What?” she asks with a note of surprise.

  “He might be able to tell us more,” I concede, hitting the remote to start my car.

  “Wait.” Her fingers run across the keyboard. “Yes! I got him. Your ass is mine, you piece of crap,” she mutters under her breath.

  I drop in behind the wheel. It’s about fucking time he popped his head up.

  “He logged into his favorite porn site,” she explains. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away forever,” she says triumphantly. “And I just sent everyone the address.”

  I hit reverse, peeling out of the parking space. “Send maintenance the address.” If there’s ever going to need to be waste removal, it’ll be now. “Get some of our uniforms to cover, and be ready to shut down communication in case someone calls the cops.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll tell Dante you’re coming,” she says absentmindedly.

  “No.”

  “Whaaat?”

  “Dante can take care of Conrado,” I assure her. “It’s his right.”

  “Sooo, you’re going to…?”

  “I’m going to check on Bonnie.” I end the call and check the tracking software. He’s across town, headed to the old warehouse district.

  *****

  Bunny

  We make a hard turn, and I tighten my hold on the shelves. We’re moving at a crawl now, and my heart’s about to come through my throat. The truck stops, with Rick cutting the engine a second later. Gaining my footing, I straighten and pry my numb fingers from the slanted shelves, taking deep breaths. The smell of diesel hangs heavy in the air.

  Seconds tick by as I wait for something to happen. I curl and uncurl my fingers, hoping to get feeling back to them before... Well, I’m not even sure what to expect.

  Metal clanks then the door handle shifts. Fear shoots through me, but I force my legs to move. Whatever he plans, my shrinking against the wall isn’t going to make much of a difference.

  Rick cracks the door open, blocking the exit. Picking apart his expression, I find it’s regret that takes the forefront. Oh Lord, I may throw up.

  A scene from The 13th Warrior flashes through my mind. Antonio Banderas is praying to live the next few minutes well. In keeping with the theme, Mom, Grandma, and Grandpa flash through my mind. Poor Mom may end up alone, not knowing what happened to me. Which will be a hell of its own.

  Tino. Everything he went through to keep me alive, and I unknowingly walk into a trap. How utterly stupid.

  “Come on, Bonnie. I don’t want to hurt you.” He moves aside, leaving me space to step down.

  This time, I don’t accept his help. Instead, I study my surroundings. We’re alongside a warehouse dock, tagged by a neighborhood gang. A trailer’s sitting at the nearest rollup door, blocking any view of the street.

  From what I could tell, he followed San Bernardo, across the railroad tracks, then eventually turned left. So we’re in the old business district. This area is full of brokers and warehouses, many of them empty. Likely not much going on this late, but there may be a guard somewhere.

  His palm lands in the middle of my back, urging me forward. I flinch, shrugging away from his touch.

  “Weren’t you all hot for me just a couple of days ago?”

  The mocking tone rankles, but I can’t dispute what he says. In fact, I could kick myself for being so stupid.

  “Maybe you just wanted my hands somewhere else,” he says next to my temple.

  “Screw you, asshole.” I jam my elbow into his side.

  He grunts, curling a hand around my biceps. “Come on. Bring your fine ass over here.”

  “Let me go.” I pull, trying to break free, but he tightens his hold. Pushing against him doesn’t do much to slow his pace. I kick, aiming for his ankle.

  “Bitch.” He shifts his weight, pulling a gold-plated gun from under his shirt. “That’s enough.”

  Last week I was falling apart when I thought I was going to die. But after nearly getting shot, two dead bodies, a weapon on the table and on my towels, my mom’s revelation, and a flashback of every action movie I’ve ever seen, things have changed. I’ve changed.

  I have no idea what kind of gun he’s holding, but it’s not as intimidating as it would have been a week ago.

  The door opens, and Sergio sticks his head out, checking around us. “Come on, before someone sees you.”

  Rick drags me up the steps beside him then shoves me through the door.

  Sergio goes to a small building and slams the side of his fist against the wall. “Come out here. Rick’s back.”

  I check the area around me, like I’ve seen on TV. Concrete walls, no windows, rollup doors stretching past the little trailer, and rows of food piled taller than me.

  Meanwhile, Sergio approaches me and cups my forearm. I pull away, but he snatches my arm, drawing me in close. I’m inches away from the handle of a gun he’s tucked into his side. Could I steal the thing away? If I do, can I actually use it? There’s more to it than pulling the trigger. How many times have I seen a show where the guy doesn’t take off the safety before trying to shoot? What does a safety even look like?

  “Don’t be stupid,” Rick warns from next to me.

  He aims the barrel in my direction. My back and shoulders go slack. Part of me is glad, because I would have probably gotten myself shot.

  Sergio takes hold of my wrist, using a plastic tie to link them together.

  “Rick, my man.” Conrado, Olga’s perverted kid, saunters over. His friend, Izzy, hangs back.

  “Let’s
get this over with,” Rick says in a tight voice.

  “She wouldn’t talk?” Sergio asks.

  “I brought her straight here. I didn’t want the security guard to show up.”

  Security guard… He’s lucky Tino wasn’t there. The pang of loss echoes through me again.

  Conrado comes within inches of me. Running his thumb along the edge of his nostril a couple of times, he juts his chin. “What’d you do with the carrots?”

  Okay, not something I would have expected to hear. “Carrots?” I frown. “What are you talking about?” He can’t possibly mean…

  “The box of carrots, Bonnie.” Sergio’s bitter words come from behind. “I put them in the storage room when Rick dropped them off.”

  “They’re not there now.” Rick jams the gun into his belt, at the belly. “I checked every box.”

  I shake my head, glancing from one to the other. They aren’t going to let me go, even if I tell them where to find the box. The best I can do is stall. Not that anyone will come looking for me. Who knows how long Cord will be busy with their guy. And he wouldn’t know what happened anyway. “Why don’t you ask Sergio?” I send him a glare. “He was the one stealing from my storeroom.”

  All eyes turn to him. Sergio’s attention darts from one man to the other then he takes a careful step back. “Hey.” He raises his hands. “I don’t have it.”

  “She had no idea about the package,” Rick points out. “Even you said so.”

  “What about the dude you sent in?” Conrado asks.

  Rick scowls. “What guy?”

  “He had a guy go in to look for the box last week,” Conrado explains. “But the guy ended up dead.”

  I bite my bottom lip, barely smothering a gasp. Sergio was responsible for the break in? He’s the reason I almost died that night.

  Rick pulls his gun. “Where’s the heroin?”

  “Heroin?” Blood’s pounding at my temple. These idiots were bringing something illegal into my place. How many law enforcement officers go in and out every day? What if one of them… Well, I’m not sure how they would come across it, but what if they did.

  “I don’t have it.” He slaps his hand over his heart. “The guy never contacted me.”

  “Are you for real?” Conrado shoves Sergio by the shoulder. “Are you trying to fuck us over?”

  “Noooo.” Sergio’s gaze is glued to Rick’s gun. “Dude was in an accident in Nuevo Laredo. He and two others died.”

  “And he had the box?”

  Sergio swallows hard, his nervous glance finding Conrado for a brief second before turning to Rick. “I don’t know.” His whispered admission a plea for understanding.

  Rick turns to me. I hitch my shoulders. “How should I know?” My mind races through facts so I can put together a plausible scenario. He’s aware of the security system. Why would I have it all of a sudden?

  “Did someone break into your place?”

  “I-I heard noises.” I have to avoid saying anything about the thieves. “I got scared and installed an alarm.”

  Rick narrows his eyes. “When?”

  “Sunday night.”

  He turns to Sergio.

  Sergio nods. “That’s when he was going in.”

  “Damn it.” Rick leans his head back. “Argh. The fucking cops probably have it.” The veins in his temple are throbbing. “Unless the punk double-crossed you.”

  Sergio’s jaw drops. “No.” But the doubt in his voice says he may not have considered the thief would steal from him, too.

  A shot rings out. I gasp, the echo jolting through me. Sergio doubles over. He’s grasping at his waist, his eyes huge. Rick pulls the trigger a second time.

  “Duuude,” Conrado yells.

  My hand’s at my mouth. I retreat a step, trying to get as far from what’s happening as possible.

  Another shot. This time Sergio goes limp, his hand hitting the floor as the gun clatters next to him.

  “Oh my God.” The ringing in my ears drowns out my ragged whisper. How did I get caught up in a shootout?

  Rick swings back to Conrado. “Your turn.”

  Conrado looks down at Rick’s weapon. Is he next? But no. Conrado turns his gaze my way.

  So he’ll be the one to kill me. The blood rushes from my head.

  “I’m not killing her,” Conrado asserts.

  “Yeah, you are,” Rick states with finality. “She’s seen too much. And unless you want her turning both of us in, you’ll take care of this.”

  Conrado chews on his lip.

  I manage to pull my shaking hands from covering my mouth. “I won’t say anything.” My voice trembles on the last two words.

  “Iz,” Conrado says in an ominous tone.

  Izzy’s cowering against the side of the building, watching in wide-eyed horror.

  “Grab the gun,” Conrado instructs, nodding toward Sergio. “Then, drop her in the pit with Tony.”

  Tony Gloria? So this is what happened to Iris’s father.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Tino

  The tracker takes me to a warehouse at the edge of the old business district. It’s one of the smaller locations in the area.

  I’ve been watching from across the street for five minutes. The lights in the front office are off, and the desk in front of the glass door is empty. So far, no security guard has come around the parking lot.

  My cell vibrates. Montoya. Let yourself fall. What the hell does that mean?

  I cross the street and slip along the side of the building, past two trailers at the dock. And there’s Rick’s delivery truck.

  The truck’s empty, but a check at the wheel well confirms the engine’s still warm. He hasn’t been here long. I take the stairs with silent footsteps.

  Pulling a handkerchief from my pocket, I use it to test the doorknob. Locked. No issue. I’m prepared with a pick. Within seconds, I line up the pins on the lock, and it spins. Opening the door a few inches, I scan the wall and ceiling. No mirrors, no cameras. One last glance in either direction, and I go in.

  A pool of blood cakes the middle of the concrete next to a spool of shrink wrap. Careless footprints lead away, crossing fading drag marks as they go around the first row of pallets.

  Fuck. A dull ache spreads through my chest, turning to fury. Why did I wait? I could have saved her.

  I palm my gun, letting my fingers settle in place.

  I check the row as I pass, making sure I don’t get any surprises. All I can see is pallets of food. Going left, I head behind the building. Something clatters nearby.

  “Chingado.”

  It’s him. I head in, not bothering to mask my footsteps. A light shines from an open door next to the restrooms. Past that is an industrial-sized freezer.

  Conrado Villa comes around the corner, rolling a mop and bucket. He stops, kicking the wheel as he mutters.

  After all the hours we put into tracking, this piece of shit is hiding here, with Rick.

  “Hey, the wheel on this fucking—” He looks up. His eyes grow huge and his skin goes a satisfying shade of gray. “Fuuuuck!”

  He takes off at a run, knocking the mop bucket in front of me.

  I push off, breaking into a run. Conrado slips around, his arm extended. Fuck.

  A shot rings out. My foot slides, and Montoya’s words flash into my mind. Let yourself fall. I relax my muscles, letting myself go down.

  Thwack. The bullet hits above my head. A second shot goes high.

  My hand hits the floor and, with the impact, I jerk the trigger.

  Conrado screams, crumpling to the floor.

  I push up, watching him clutch his hip. Well, son of a bitch. Lucky shot because I would have ended him. As it is, that hip should keep him in place until Dante gets here. I’ve got someone else to deal with.

  The door to the freezer opens. Rick steps out, pulling off a heavy jacket. “Did you—” He stops, the jacket halfway off, when he catches sight of me.

  She’s gone.

  A
nger flares into rage threatening to consume my every thought.

  His hands are visible. His jeans cover his boots to the ankle. Everything in between is hidden by the jacket.

  “Where’s Bonnie?” The edge in my voice is sharp as my knife.

  “Hey, man.” He looks past me to the door. “How did you get in here?”

  “Where. Is. Bonnie?”

  “Rick…” Conrado manages to get a word in. “Help me.” He’s still cradling his side.

  The chill of the freezer escapes as Rick shifts his weight to lean against the door. “She was all hot for me, ya know.” He shrugs, but his eyes show how nervous he really is. “She came by. We fucked. She left.”

  My voice drops as I gather my calm. “I’m not going to ask again.”

  “Look, man.” He jerks his shoulder, letting a sleeve slip down. “You’re just not—”

  I pull the trigger, hitting his knee.

  “Motherfucker.” He lands on all fours, his damaged leg folding under him. “Argh!” His scream ends, his breath creating a cloud as he pants. Rolling on his side, he tucks his leg.

  My only question is which hand is going for a gun. My next bullet hits his right shoulder.

  “Argh! Fuck!”

  I reach down, dragging him from the doorway. His gun clatters to the floor.

  “Dude,” Conrado wails.

  “You’re going to tell me where Bonnie is,” I tell Rick.

  “She’s... She’s…”

  “He said she had to die,” Conrado rasps. He’s crying now.

  “No.” Rick shakes his head. “He took her. He took her.”

  “Iz-Iz-Izzy,” Conrado sobs. “But Rick said…”

  I go down on one knee, settling on Rick’s forearm.

  “I’m sorry.” Rick’s eyes are huge.

  I’ve heard those words before. Always when it’s too late.

  “No, man.” Rick’s body is rocking, his head hitting the floor each time. “Fuck my life. It’s his bitch mother who forced me to work with him.”

  I pull my knife and bring it to his throat.

  “I just wanted to make some money,” Rick continues.

  The tip bites in enough to cut the skin. I watch the hollow of his throat fill with blood.