AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He wouldn’t do that, Jimmy,” Bronson states, circling my lower back once again. “That kid idolises you. Loves you.”
“Yes.” Jimmy nods. A dark and distrusting shadow moves across his eyes. I look away, the phantom of that sentiment uncomfortable to behold. Like if I can see it, maybe it can see me. “Yes,” he agrees again, his tone almost a hiss, “he does. . . But the missing diamonds. Sal. Dominic. . .You.Someone is trying to get to me,se?”
“I don’t know about all of that, mate.” Bronson leans back a little. “Seems like they just wanted the diamonds.”
Jimmy considers him for a moment. “Perhaps.” He taps the desk and stands in one smooth movement, a big smile engulfing his face. “No more of this tonight. Go take yourbeddagirl to the sauna. I am sure she will like it. You must be stiff from all that travel.”
We leave Jimmy’s office.
Bronson’s circling fingers become more of a massage on my lower back, moving in a needy way.
And I’m still unsure about what just happened.
Shoshanna
Present day
After we re-enterthe dimly lit lounge, Bronson grabs a drink from the bar, steering me around as he does. My eyes bounce around the room. Guests seem to offer us a quick look before lowering their eyes. I wonder if they are afraid of Bronson. These men don’t appear the type to be afraid of much, but they are clearly wary of his presence.
There is a larger-than-life aspect to him, always has been. I used to revel in the fact I was the one standing beside him. To a sixteen-year-old girl, there was something about not knowing what he’ll do or say that was. . .exciting.
But to a twenty-seven-year-old woman, I can now see it’s just danger sitting out of sight. Perhaps twenty-seven-year-old Bronson has a reputation that proceeds him. I never really noticed it before, but I suppose people are legitimately afraid of what he may do on a whim.
The conversation we just had with Jimmy shuffles around in my stomach. Questions about Clay in Darwin, Salvatore, and the missing diamonds all mingle together. I need to know what they are doing in Darwin.My Darwin.
What business did Bronson have there?
Is he in trouble?
Fucksake.
He’s always in trouble.
Part of me wants to go back to the RV, bide my time until I can make a break for it, then leave him with Jimmy Storm and the bullshit surrounding him. The other, though, feels an intense pull to stay with Bronson. To be the person by his side. To wring information out of him, sort it all out, and keep him safe.
Bronson passes me a wine before leading me outside and around towards an external building illuminated with a warm orange light at the front door. As we wander through glass double doors, we enter a small cloakroom with a coffee table and clothing rack.
When his hand moves away from my lower back, the spot feels instantly colder. The beer clicks on the coffee table as he settles it down, making his silence obvious and unnatural.
“Are you going to tell me what happened in there?” I ask, watching him slowly undress. “Or why we are still here?” Ignoring my questions, he turns his back to me and pulls his suspenders down until they hang around his legs.
I hate his silence.
It’s ominous.
I try to wash the knot forming in my throat down by, sipping my wine. I can tell it’s expensive from the way it slides down my oesophagus with ease. Placing the glass down beside his beer, I decide the best thing to do is read the room and stay quiet.
Bronson unbuttons his shirt and slides it off his muscular shoulders, revealing an intricate family tree that ripples as his back muscles contract. I’ve seen it many times before. The trunk and branches were his first ever tattoo.
I remember the day well.
He made jokes the entire time as if he was being tickled by a feather rather than carved into by a needle. The sixteen-year-old me swooned the entire time.
He was my dream boy.
We have lost so much time, Bronson.
Where did it go?
