Page 49 of Saving Bonnie

“What do you want?” Her stress level has spiked, and so has the pitch in her voice.

Fine, we’ll play it her way.

I glance over my shoulder at her without saying a word. Her arms are full of shopping bags, the logos showing the high-end stores she frequents. A stab of anger cuts through me. She’s spending money on clothes while at least one of her victims, who busted her ass to earn the money, is worried about her people’s future—even more than her own.

Missy sets her purse on the rectangular table, letting the shopping bags slide to the floor at her feet.

“You need to leave, or I’m going to scream my head off,” she threatens, shoulders stiffening.

“You took something you shouldn’t have,” I point out, putting a hard edge to my voice so she knows I’m not up for her little act. “I’m here to get it back.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, affronted.

The little actress shows the proper amount of confusion, including a wrinkled brow. Unfortunately for her, I’ve already had a look behind the curtain. With all the shit she’s pulled, she isn’t going to call attention to herself.

“Didn’t you hear me?” she asks with indignation, pulling herself up. “You need to go. Now.”

I tilt my head, giving her a minute to let the gravity of the situation sink in.

“I’m calling the police.” She reaches across the table.

“Stop wasting my time, Missy Taylor.” Her eyes go wide when she hears her name—her real name. Shaken, she shifts to the table, pulling the drawer to the proper position and holding her hand to the right. The drawer’s hidden compartment pops open with the barest click. A second later, she lowers her head as she takes in the empty cavity where a revolver should be sitting.

“I’ve been here long enough to go through your apartment. All of it,” I add, giving her a moment to let it sink in. She turns around, leaning her butt against the table for support. “So stop wasting my time, or you won’t like the outcome.” Silence stretches out.

Kassy sighs in my ear. “We’re ready.”

“What do you want?” she asks, now that she’s had time to process the situation.

“Restitution.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Missy, you can get what you need from the safe you have in the master bedroom. That’ll have me downstairs within the five-minute time limit I set, and you’ll have few to no regrets.”

“How do you know about the safe?” The healthy tan fades from her skin. “Have you been stalking me?”

“Not at all. Like you, I study my mark.” I glance at the laptop she left on the coffee table. “I know you like art, but you can’t distinguish between an original and a forgery, however well done.”

Her eyes scan the walls, likely she’s wondering which she got taken for.

“I know about the sports car you drive, and the little extra added while you were visiting your grandmother at the nursing home you pay for.”

Her fingers tighten along the edge of the table.

“I even know about the video chat you scheduled for your grandmother and mother.” I tsk. “She’s still too busy to make the two hundred seventy-three-mile drive to visit.” She folds her arms in front of her. I’ve hit a sore spot. Is this why she does it? For Mommy and Daddy’s attention? How disappointing. “And if you don’t get me what I came for, it’ll all go away,” I sneer.

“Okay, I get it.” She takes a second to lick her lips, planning her next move, or trying to.

“By now, you know you’re trying my patience. You won’t like how that ends,” I assure her.

“I don’t have that kind of money here. Give me a couple of days—”

“I’m done.” I utter the code, knowing my team will execute the plan.

A second later a thunderous explosion sounds, along with creaking and writhing of overstretched metal. In the window, a column of black acrid smoke marks the spot of the disaster.

“What the hell was that?”

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