AllFreeNovel
Share Us
By the time I had my breathing under control, I found what I was looking for and took it to Jasper. I found him exactly where I knew he would be at this ungodly hour, at Ma’s side.
“The fucking Crusaders did this, not some rando junkie or homeless person.”
Jasper and Ma looked up at me. Both of them wore those slightly bored expressions as if they were humoring a little kid. I fucking hated that look.
“What are we talking about?”
I ignored my brother’s condescending tone and nodded toward his phone when it buzzed.
“It’s too fucking late,” I said, managing to keep my temper in check, “or early in the morning to fucking argue with you. And I’m tired. So I’m only going to say it once. We’re talking about a wannabe Crusader punk who stalked Bonnie in the bar and beat her up just before she got home. You can look for yourself.”
Jasper looked down at his phone, wincing the same way I did when I watched the man throw her up against the wall and stomp her more than a few times in the stomach and ribs and chest and back. He knocked back a shot of whiskey and asked, “And how is this Ashby business?”
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. How can he be so dense?
I stared at Jasper for a long moment just to make sure this was the same man who’d protected me, hell all of us, from Dad’s never ending drunken wrath. Breathe.
“For starters, because we all know she had nothing to do with that priest’s death or any of the others for that matter. This is on us and we owe her. The poor girl has nothing. No family, no job, nothing. All because she was accused of something she didn’t do.”
Jasper shuddered, a delayed kick from the bourbon. “While I don’t agree with you that we owe her anything, I think we can let her stay here under our protection for a while.” As if the matter was settled, he moved on to his favorite topic. Business. “What are we gonna do about Savannah Rhymer?”
Ma sighed. “Ronan is getting impatient.” But the smile that curved her lips and the gleam in her eyes said, “He can wait. I need to figure something out so Jasper can focus on this current situation. Is the Rhymer girl being taken good care of?”
Jasper nodded to Ma before he turned his attention to me. “Anything else I need to know?”
I didn’t know how Jasper knew I was digging into the FBI agent, but he did so I didn’t bother lying. “Nothing of interest. Yet.”
“Let me know.”
“I will.”
Jasper nodded, looking suddenly unsure, and I knew he wanted to say something else so I waited. And waited. “Watching your girl spiral like this can’t be easy.”
I shrugged. “It’s not easy or hard, it just is.” I let the crack about Bonnie being my girl slide.
“All right. I’m here if you need to talk.”
“Thanks,” I told him and left before he tried again. Not that I didn’t appreciate it, his concern. Everything Jasper did was in the name of the Ashby family, whether we all agreed with him or not, but talking about emotions wasn’t his specialty. It wasn’t mine either, but I was at least capable of it.
Unfortunately, Jasper was perceptive and seeing Bonnie drinking too much, and based on the Gen Z crowds that called Bullets & Beer home, probably snorting coke or molly, maybe both, wasn’t easy. It brought up ancient history.
We were all just one second away from repeating that history, no matter how ancient it seemed just a mere hour ago.
CHAPTER THREE
Bonnie
“What head injury?” I asked, trying to sit up and failing. “Ow.”
“You don’t remember what happened?” The doctor looked concerned, and he should be. If I had a head injury, that was serious business.
I shook my head slowly. “No. The last thing I remember is…” It was hard to think with the pain throbbing through my skull. “I was walking home. There was a man. A bad man.”
“Do you remember who?” The doctor asked, coming closer to the bed.
I nodded my head. "No. But he was at the bar.”
“Do you know why he attacked you?”
I shook my head again, wincing at the pain. “I don't know. I didn't do anything to him.”
The doctor sighed and sat down in the chair next to the bed.
“Dr. Callahan. What happened?”
His silver brows dipped in low. “I was hoping you remembered,” he said, concern lacing his words and putting me right back on edge. “Your blood alcohol level was very high, so I can’t be sure if the memory loss is from the trauma,” he pointed to my head. “Or the alcohol.”
“I just had a few drinks,” I insisted instinctively as if this man was my father. He wasn’t. He was a mob doctor, and he was checking me out as a favor. Nothing more.
