Oh, she’d think about it. Acting on it was a whole different ballgame, but she owed Cassie some consideration at least. “Promise. Now go. Blood’s a bitch to clean up.”
With a giggle that was as bright as everything else about her, she hustled to the exit and strong-armed Kir and Roman out the front door.
They’d come to check on her.
Why that simple realization rattled her as hard as it did, she couldn’t say, but it left an unfamiliar warmth and comfort in its wake. She’d never met anyone quite like Cassie. Not growing up, or in the friendships she’d tried and failed to make living on her own. But there was something about her—an air that made you feel comfortable enough to be exactly who you were and assured there’d be zero judgment.
Actually, Evette had been the same.
So had Emerson and Olga.
She’d never met Sergei, so he was hard to factor, and Kir was obviously love-struck for his woman, but Roman—Roman was something else entirely. Six-foot-four of rock solid power that probably made everyone he met think twice about stepping inside his sphere.
So, are you gonna go to their party or what?
A damned good question. One she wasn’t sure she had an answer for.
But that wasn’t an answer she needed now. She still had three more hours before closing time and a whole lot of drinks to fill before the quiet of night swooped in and consumed her thoughts.
She sighed and got back to work. There was plenty of time to mull things over. Or at least come up with a plausible reason why she shouldn’t go.
Chapter Eight
Roman exited I-10, made a cursory stop at the red light, then took a right onto Orleans Avenue. At just after three in the morning, the only people milling the streets of Tremé were those staggering home from the bar, overnight workers or troublemakers.
He loved the night. The quiet of it. Felt more at home beneath the dark skies than he ever did beneath the sun. In the shadows, a person could more easily camouflage their secrets and their pain—much like the dim lighting at Bonnie’s bar hid the stains of alcohol and time.
Turning onto St. Ann’s, he stretched his neck from side to side, forcing away the tension that had built since seeing Bonnie up close at the bar. He understood the need to work. To survive. But that hovel was beneath her. Was a gloomy pit of drunkenness and despair made tolerable only by the brightness of her spirit.
But her spirit was dwindling. He’d known of the double shifts she’d worked. Had either followed her comings and goings himself, or assigned one of his men to follow her to and from work. But the distance had hidden the fatigue on her face. The despair and sadness behind her eyes when she’d spoken of accepting whatever fate had befallen her brother and father.
He should have found them by now. Or at least unearthed some lead as to who might have taken issue with them. He’d lived and breathed the streets of New Orleans for over three years now. Had healthy ties within the NOPD and knew all the major players capable of making two grown men disappear.
But he’d found nothing.
That meant they were dead or they were in the hands of someone well outside his family’s territory. Neither made for a message he wanted to share with Bonnie.
His phone rang through the truck’s Bluetooth system and Luke’s name flashed on the display. He pulled into the alley outside Bonnie’s apartment, punched the answer button on the steering wheel and checked his rearview mirror. “Where is she?”
“Two blocks out.” From the sound of Luke’s labored breathing, Bonnie had kept a brisk pace for the walk home from the bar. “Just crossed Galvez Street. No hanging around the bar when she shut it down, and no signs of anyone on her tail except me.”
“Good.” All around him, the streets were quiet and empty, the single tired streetlight a block away casting a sorrowful glow on the cracked pavement. “She’ll be in my sights when she reaches the church. I’ll take watch from there.”
“You got it, boss. Same drill tomorrow?”
The grim heaviness he’d fought all night pressed harder on his shoulders. Keeping an eye on her thus far had proven unnecessary. Had revealed no signs of danger or people that might prove useful tailing her. Perhaps she was wise to focus on acceptance. To brace for the grim reality that the last of her family was gone.
But he hated failing. Hated that he couldn’t give her just one bright moment in her otherwise dreary world. Watching her the last four days had only confirmed her indomitable spirit. Her determination to overcome the life she’d been born into.
She deserved a break.
A champion.
And whether it was wise or not, he found himself wanting to be that person.
“One more day only.” The words felt wrong on his tongue. But avoiding reality wouldn’t change it and wasting resources on unnecessary errands wasn’t good for business. “I will have her car repaired tomorrow. Then we will leave her to her own devices.”
Luke answered with a sound somewhere between a grunt and a chuckle. “Not gonna say I’ll miss all the exercise, but she’s been easy on the eyes at least.”
Not the right thing to say.
Accurate perhaps, but a stab to the protective streak he seemed to have developed and only worsened his mood. “She is not for you to appreciate. She is for you to protect. Do I make myself clear?”
“Umm. Yeah.” A pause. “Sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
The reasonable part of him knew that. But reason hadn’t been the foremost driver when it came to Bonnie. Curiosity, yes. Appreciation and challenge, definitely. But common sense hadn’t factored since she’d called him bossy to his face.
She strode into view, her head down, backpack firmly stowed on her shoulders and hands jammed in the pockets of her jean jacket. A distracted pose he’d never seen on her before. Especially, not this late at night. Either she was deep in her thoughts, exhausted from another double shift, or both. Neither was wise for a woman like her walking home this late at night. “You know your assignment. Be ready for her in the morning.”
He ended the call without another word, and the silence in the truck’s interior swelled. What was the kinder path? To let time provide the answers? Or face her tonight and state the facts clearly? Were she anyone else, he’d undoubtedly choose the latter, but the mere thought of hurting her more than she’d already suffered was untenable.
She rounded the corner of her apartment building, headed toward her unit.
Odd. She didn’t normally leave her light on, but a pale light glowed behind the closed blinds.
A prickling awareness whispered across his shoulders and down his arms, and the muscles in his torso tensed. It could have been an oversight by the maintenance crew he’d coerced the landlord to send over. Or a subtle message from the landlord himself that all the repairs and improvements Roman had demanded had been seen to.