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“Bonnie!” I gave her cheek a firm smack and pressed her back against the cool concrete wall of the stairwell, using my size to shield her from Maisie. “Look at me.”
She shook her head, eyes clenched so tight it had to hurt.
“Bonnie, it’s me, Calvin. Look at me.” She shook her head again. “It’s okay if you’re afraid of me. Just look at me and tell me that.” It gutted me to think that one act might have made her afraid of me, but she was safe and that was what mattered.
She gasped, the outrage sparking flakes of gold in her hazel eyes. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Good. We need to have a long talk. Later. For now, are you all right?”
Her eyes slammed shut again and she shook her head. “No.”
“Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere. You’re in shock. You’re not thinking clearly. Hang on to me. Follow me.”
“No.”
“Yes,” I told her and grabbed her face until I could see every thread of green and gold woven into amber brown. The moment was tense. Her breath hitched, bringing her curves up against my hard, tense body. “Follow me and do what I tell you to. Got it?”
She nodded and licked her lips. “Got it.”
Her easy compliance told me she was still affected, so I put her hand in mine and kept it there until she was in the passenger seat of my car with the seatbelt strapped across her chest. By the time we made it back to Ashby Manor, Bonnie’s muttering had died down along with her rocking.
“Come on, let’s get you showered and caffeinated. In that order.”
She nodded and rocked, and I sighed. It wasn’t just heartbreaking to see a girl like Bonnie so low. It was a stark reminder of my own past. I helped her out of the car and took her to my place.
For coffee and an overdue conversation.
“Nice coffee pot. Fancy too.” Bonnie’s words came out soft across the kitchen table, but I heard the sarcasm. And the judgment. It was hard to be offended by a woman wearing an oversized robe with the sleeves rolled up half a dozen times.
“So unlike the thirty-dollar plug-and-play coffee pot you drank from growing up?” Her family didn’t have the kind of money that mine did, but Bonnie’s family was squarely upper middle class. Rich enough to be snobs but not rich enough to say ‘fuck you’ to the world.
“Touché.” Her lips curled into a grin for a quick moment before she slammed her eyes shut again.
“Another memory?”
She nodded and looked up at me, a question in her eyes. “How did you know?”
“We all have memories, Bonnie.” The coffee pot beeped, and I poured two oversized mugs even though it was close to midnight. “How much do you owe him?”
She shook her head again, but when her gaze met mine, she seemed icy cool. “What?”
“Dammit, Bonnie, stop playing games. How much money do you owe that guy?”
“What guy?”
“Squeaker.”
She blinked. “Was that his name? I was sure he had me confused with someone else.”
“Did he also have you confused at Club Degenerate? Or when you met him at whatever dark alley he sells drugs. Did you fuck him?”
She gasped in outrage, going so far as to put a hand to her chest. “How dare you!”
“Save the southern belle act for someone who doesn’t know all the signs,” I told her and slammed the coffee mug down in front of her harder than I needed to, but I was pissed dammit. “Did you fuck that guy for drugs? And don’t lie to me.”
“No! And why do you even care?”
I sat and shook my head. “Oh my God, Bonnie! You’re too damn stupid to realize when you’re in danger. Otherwise, you would have asked for help.”
Damn woman didn’t know enough about the world to know that she didn’t know shit. She said nothing, determined to play this game to the end. Yeah well, I was determined too.
“I’m not stupid.”
“You didn’t use to be,” I growled and searched for the tablet I usually kept on the kitchen table. I found it beside Bonnie and pulled up what I was looking for.
“Jefferson ‘Squeaker’ Collins. Age twenty. Arrested for armed robbery, assault, sexual assault, felony assault and battery, sexual assault of a minor, aggravated assault, drug paraphernalia. Should I keep going?”
Bonnie shook her head, face going pale as she looked at every heinous act documented by half a dozen different police departments throughout Nevada and Arizona.
“Went to juvie when he was sixteen for selling tainted drugs to the kids he hated in high school. Played the game and got out a year ago.” Three fucking years for three dead kids and two more who were effectively brain dead.
“So are we going to talk like adults now?”
She nodded and buried her face in the coffee mug, taking a long fortifying sip. “Fine.”
