“And his son,” Kir added.
Pauley scoffed and reclined as much as the chair would allow. “You sure it’s Buzz they’re after then? ’Cause that boy’s got a string of people he’s pissed off. Ever since he got into computers in high school he’s been gettin’ into things he shouldn’t. Buzz coulda just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or hell, maybe the two of them hooked up on some con and whoever they tried to pull it on decided to fight back.”
“You say that like you’re intimate with their history,” Sergei said.
“Well, yeah. Buzz and me went to school together. Go way back. He never did think rules applied to him. Neither did his wife, Joleen. Peas in a pod, those two. Born to screw the world and everyone in it every chance they got.”
“And their apples didn’t fall far from the tree?”
“Not with Kevin. Boy’s smart as a whip. Got all A’s in high school and didn’t even try. Heard he did good in all his tech classes, too. But common sense? Ain’t got a damn lick of it.” He paused a moment and his gaze narrowed. “Don’t know much about Bonnie, though. Quiet girl. Seemed to mostly stay to herself growin’ up. Cut out of her daddy’s house before she graduated.”
Instinct prickled along Roman’s shoulders and his gut clenched. “Why?”
“Beats the hell out of me. Probably ’cause her daddy was an asshole. Always was a short-tempered son of a bitch, but after Joleen died, he drank twice as much and fought every chance he got. Least up until that liver of his decided to fight back.”
Sergei nodded then looked to Roman and Kir in turn. When neither of them added any additional questions, he stood and buttoned his coat. “You’ve been most helpful, Mr. Mitchell. I’ll look forward to doing business with you in the future. Let’s start by you providing a full accounting of all past and current loans. Roman will be your contact going forward.”
Sputtering, Pauley stood and, unwisely, blocked their departure. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because I told you to.”
“You think I’m just gonna hand over everything on my business to a bunch of high-falutin’ foreigners? Are you out of your mind?”
Sergei prowled forward, the menace pulsing off him jumping exponentially in mere seconds. He paused, not quite nose-to-nose with Pauley but well into his space and lowered his voice. “As of today, we are no longer strangers. You loan money to people in this city. Foreigner or not, this city is under my protection. So, we will either be business partners, or we will be adversaries. The choice is up to you.”
Not pausing for an answer, Sergei started forward once more, and Pauley scrambled out of his way.
Roman and Kir followed, but Roman paused and handed the shell-shocked man a card on his way out. “You have three days to gather your records. I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Five
Bonnie had heard once that the casinos in Las Vegas piped extra oxygen into their gaming areas to keep people happy and throwing their cash around longer. Maybe the good people of the Garden District had done something similar and found a way to fill the atmosphere with a whole lot of fairy dust and happily-ever-after juice. It was the only explanation she could think of for seeing this many happy people all at one time in one tiny space.
On every wall of The Freezing Cow, little Post-it notes in varied colors wavered each time the front door opened. And wow, was it opening a lot. The place was packed and all so people could watch staff members spread ice cream out on a cold metal surface just to roll it up and turn it into a fancy work of art.
Fortunately, her four-man crew was near the back of the line, which meant she had enough time to figure out what the hell she was supposed to order. She’d have had an easier time learning how to crochet than she would figure out the menu on the massive chalkboard overhead.
Evie, Emerson and Cassie each stared at the options, every now and then calling out a topping or combination that sounded interesting. The two guards they’d brought with them sat at a table in the corner, but kept a watchful eye on their charges.
And didn’t that drive home the extent of what she’d gone and gotten herself involved in. Yeah, she’d known the rumors about Kir and his brothers and had seen the guards following Cassie around before she left the TV station, but somehow the long game and the consequences of her actions hadn’t factored as vividly when she’d been buzzing on adrenaline this afternoon.
You should’ve caught the streetcar when you had the chance.
Bonnie adjusted her backpack and forced herself not to look at the now empty track through the storefront’s glass doors. She’d sure as hell contemplated hopping on the St. Charles ten minutes ago. It’d come for a stop outside the ice cream shop just as they’d been piling out of the car. It damned sure would be more comfortable than standing in what appeared to be the happiest ice cream shop on earth and pretending to fit in.
But how would that have gone?
“Hey, Cassie. I really appreciate you and Roman riding to the rescue today, but I’ve thought about it and I just don’t think the mercenary approach is for me. Thanks for the trip to Wonderland. Gotta run now!”
“Hey, Bonnie,” Emerson said. “What are you gonna get?”
To her left, Evie and Cassie twisted and raised both eyebrows, both waiting for her answer.
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.”