Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“A silver-tongued talker, that’s you,” Enzo snaps. “Or maybe you don’t just use that tongue for talking, eh? Maybe you use it on that whale in the car.”
My fists clench, even as I try to summon the coldness, the icy shield I’ve used countless times to hide my emotions during these tense meetings, but Enzo won’t leave it alone.
“I saw the way you looked at the meeting,” he goes on, “when I said her name. It’s how you look now. You care about this girl, don’t you?”
I sense nobody is nearby us. Cameron is out of earshot.
“If you think I care about her,” I snarl, “you’re an idiot for saying anything bad about her. Ever. You need to shut your mouth.”
“Why? You won. Just be careful I don’t find your pretty woman and—”
I can’t take it anymore. My body surges with adrenaline, my heart thumping, violence flaring. He’s gone too far. Nobody gets to threaten Bonnie.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bonnie
My gaze has been on Dad, assessing him for injuries, trying to figure out how badly the Italians treated him. Malcolm walks him toward our car. As he gets closer, I’m relieved to see Dad look unharmed except for the defeated expression on his face. Physically, though, he’s okay. He made it out alive.
Then my gaze snaps to Blake. He launches himself into an attack on the Italian, Enzo, the man who’s an inch taller than him and just as wide. I yell and reach for the door handle, pulling on it roughly, but it’s locked.
“Miss,” the driver says. “I can’t let you out.”
“I have to help him,” I snap.
“He doesn’t need your help.”
Enzo ducks under the first punch and then throws a vicious right hook. He’s wearing gold rings, glinting with the quick violence of the movement, leaving me to imagine what would happen if a devastating punch like that landed.
Blake steps back, ducks his head, and fires a shot in Enzo’s face. Even with the distance and the car windows dampening the sound, I hear Enzo’s strangled cry. He collapses onto the ground, and Blake steps forward, looming over him, fists clenched at his sides.
It’s out of place, but my mind has been doing funny things lately. I remember the first day when he seemed like a wild animal, looming with the same intensity he has now.
“Are you done?” Blake roars, his voice carrying.
Enzo must tell him yes because Blake turns and walks toward his car. I want to go to him, hold him, thank him, and tell him it’s okay. He can let some of the fire go. Then his voice comes through the walkie. “Get Cameron in the car. We’re rolling out.”
Malcolm opens the door, nodding for me to budge up. I move into the middle seat next to one of Blake’s other men, letting Dad climb in next to me.
“Bonnie,” he whispers, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted it to be like this. I never wanted to be a part of this. Bonnie, oh, Bonnie…”
I hold him tightly, stroking his shoulder, stunned by how small and fragile he feels.
I’ve always been a part of this, I almost say, but talk of Mom can come later when we’re alone.
“He really likes you,” Dad comments, as Archie sits at my feet, pawing the air for attention.
I smile and lean down, stroking him under the arms, the place that makes his body wriggle as if he’s having the best time of his life.
The car ride home was quiet, Dad sitting next to me, my hand clutched in his tightly. I want to continue the lie, almost let Dad believe I’m here as a cleaner and nothing else. Okay, maybe that part can stay secret for now.
How the hell are we going to tell him? Will Blake even want to, or will he want to end us now that Dad’s safe? But the rest of it, Mom, the murder, the lie…
“Dad, I know the truth.”
Even in his fresh clothes and showered, he looks small and somehow broken. My heart pangs when he flinches, gritting his teeth, not asking what truth I’m talking about. I think he already knows.
“Why did Blake tell you?” he says.
“So, it’s true?”
I can’t tell Dad why Blake told me. I can’t explain that we were holding each other, my lips sore and needy from kissing, our closeness somehow feeling warm and starry despite the spanking at the start.
Dad sighs. “Yeah, it’s true. Blake had no right to tell you.”
“Blake just saved your life,” I say, feeling the need to defend my man against my dad.
I haven’t even spoken to Blake since coming home. He’s been holed up in his office making calls, presumably to the Italians, to inform them about what happened with Enzo.
“Why did you lie to me?” I ask. “All this time, thinking the killer was still out there… Why did you say that?”