Cassie wrapped her in a hug. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” She backed away, but anchored her hands on Bonnie’s shoulders. “Have you heard anything from your brother or dad?”
Bonnie’s gaze slid to Roman. She took two steps backward and jammed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “No,” she said, finally giving Cassie her attention. “Not a word.” She cleared her throat and glanced again at Roman. An awkward response that said she was either deeply intimidated or had significant social issues. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I just thought you’d bring Kir. Or maybe one of those guys who are always following you around.”
Well, that explained the rattled behavior, at least.
“It’s okay,” Cassie said. “I should have introduced you. Roman, this is my friend Bonnie Drummond. We met at the television station before they canned me.” She motioned to Roman. “This is Kir’s brother, Roman Kozlov. I mean—not his actual brother. But—” She held her hands up in front of her. “You know what? Never mind. It’s confusing. Kir’s in Houston on business, but Roman was with me when you called, so he volunteered to come along.”
Volunteered was a gross misuse of the word. Left without other, more palatable options was more accurate.
Apparently, Roman’s face said as much because Cassie frowned up at him, the unspoken message on her face riddled with feminine warning. She cleared it quickly, though, and motioned Bonnie to the sitting area strewn with mail and magazines. “How about if we all sit down and you can tell us what happened?”
Bonnie didn’t budge. Just nibbled her lower lip and watched Roman with all the anxiousness of a cornered doe planning her escape.
Roman cocked an eyebrow and held his place as well.
“Oh, good grief, you two.” Cassie settled in the one spot on the couch not littered with paper. “Bonnie, sit down. He’s harmless, I swear.”
“Him? Harmless?” Bonnie shot them both a disbelieving look. “That’s like calling a pit bull a lap dog.”
He shouldn’t have reacted to the retort. Should have kept his wicked chuckle and icy grin at bay, but the unguarded and snappy observation was too keen not to appreciate.
Not to mention, deadly accurate.
Cassie rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “Okay, then. Harmless to us. That is, unless you keep looking at him like he’s got three demon heads. Then he might spook you just for fun.”
With one last considering toe-to-toe evaluation of all six-foot-four of him, Bonnie rounded the sitting area and perched on the edge of the chair farthest away.
“Good,” Cassie said. “Now, tell us what happened.”
“Um...”
Taking pity on the woman, Roman paced the room, noting every detail. Unlike the rest of the furniture, the recliner sat askew. A handful of bills and envelopes lay scattered on the floor. Two possible signs of struggle. Though, either could have simply been founded in disregard for tidiness as well. Everything else seemed perfectly normal, albeit worn and sparse.
Roman opened a window blind along the far wall and studied the empty lot outside. Not a soul stirred on the street. In his periphery, Bonnie planted her elbows on her knees and rubbed her hands together, making the stack of beaded bracelets on each of her wrists delicately clink against the silence.
“I came over to talk bills with my dad,” she said. “I’ve been working with the people at the hospital and arranged some payment options so he can get another treatment scheduled.”
Cassie cocked her head then twisted it like she was replaying their arrival. “Where’s your car? I didn’t see it outside.”
Bonnie grumbled. “Down for the count again, so I took the bus.” She shook her head. “Anyway, when I got here, Kev and Dad were yelling at each other. Dad called Kevin a shit for brains. Not sure why he called him a shit for brains—though, I gotta admit, with Kev it could be anything—but then Kevin threw something back about me not having enough money to pay Pauley back this time.”
“Who’s Pauley?” Cassie said.
“Pauley Mitchell. A loan shark Dad’s used to get out of scrapes for years. Calling him a loan shark is really kind of a stretch. He’s more like a pawn shop owner without a storefront. If you don’t pay him, your shit starts disappearing until you fork over the money plus interest.” Bonnie paused only a beat, but the anger in her voice when she spoke again was fresh. “Took me six months to get his last debt paid off. I swear to God, if he’s in with that loser again, I’m gonna shoot him.”
A spunky woman. One apparently not afraid of speaking her mind and who didn’t mince words when she did—so long as he wasn’t the one staring her down. Her father sounded like a wastrel, though. A user. No man should rely upon a woman for money, let alone his own daughter.
Roman pulled the blind back in place, turned and paced to the tiny kitchen adjacent to the living room.
“So, your dad and Kevin were going at it,” Cassie said. “Then what happened?”
Bonnie ran it down while Roman studied the rest of the house and the surrounding views outside. How someone had showed up in front of her father’s house and her brother hadn’t wanted her presence known. How they’d hid her in a gun closet at the back of the house and the heated exchange she’d overheard. The raised voices that had escalated to some kind of physical exchange and subsequent silence.
Confident no one was watching the house, Roman stalked back to the living room, stood near Cassie and casually tucked his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.
“And then you came out and everyone was gone?” Cassie said.
“Yep.” Bonnie waved at the recliner. “The only thing different was that chair knocked out of whack and the blood on the door.” She shoved to her feet and paced the width of the room. “It doesn’t make sense. I mean, Kev’s always getting into something, and brawling is an any-day occurrence around here, but something about this feels wrong.”
She turned and made a lap in the opposite direction, fisting her thick hair on the top of her head as she went. The action lifted the hem of her jacket, giving him an admirable few of how perfectly her jeans molded her ass.
An exceptionally nice ass.
One a man could savor and appreciate in the most tactile fashion.
Cassie cleared her throat.
Roman shifted his attention to Cassie and found her narrowed, assessing gaze on him.
Not good.
Doubly not good if she drew too much into what she’d seen and hatched any of the matchmaking plans she and Evette were known for.
“Why didn’t you call the police?” Roman asked as a means of diversion.