Page 50 of Saving Bonnie

“I hope you didn’t leave anything in your car.” A sense of incredible satisfaction rolls through me.

“No…” She pushes away from the table, gaining momentum as she reaches the floor-to-ceiling window. In the distance, is a mangled, flame-licked heap that once was her car. “No. No. No.” She turns, fear outlining in her features. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the guy who’s going to make sure you’re strapped into the driver’s seat the next time your car explodes.”

She stares off into the distance then, slowly, her muscles go limp.

“Okay,” she murmurs, running her palms down her slacks as she turns to face me. “What-what do I owe?”

“Seven thousand seven hundred fifty-nine dollars.”

Her jaw drops open. “That’s it?” She asks, eyes bugging out. “You blew up my car over seven grand?”

Such a closed little mind. I’ve spent more finding her than what she owes, but it’s the principle of the thing. “I blew up your car because you annoyed me.” Though I did enjoy it. “You don’t want to know what I’ll do to you over the actual theft.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” she says, shaking her head.

“You stole from the wrong woman,” I declare.

“Woman?” she asks, frown line cutting around her eyes. “No. They were all—” The lines on her forehead disappear as she shuts her mouth.

“You pulled the money from her account when you played the Border Patrol agent.”

“Oh.” She actually looks contrite.

“So you understand, I don’t care what you do with him, or anyone else. But if you ever touch her accounts again, I’ll blast your picture across every phone screen in the hemisphere. And when I find you, I’ll make sure no man will ever give you a second look.”

She swallows hard, and her head bounces with her acknowledgment.

“Now, bring me the money.”

*****

Bonnie

“Did you do something different?” Cord asks from the next room.

Cocking my head, I turn, a soapy bowl in hand. “What do you mean?”

“It smells different in here.” He walks over from the booth where he’s just finished setting up. “Not as harsh, I guess.”

“Oh.” I pull my arm across my forehead. “I didn’t do a pass with bleach.”

“You use bleach?”

Does he know what happened? Tino had been on with two different people that night. So I guess saying, “Only when I’m worried about an outline of the two dead bodies” isn’t a good idea.

“The delivery guy hadn’t brought my usual floor cleaner.” It’s the first thing to come to mind. “So I did the first pass with watered-down bleach and the second with cleaner.”

“Gotcha,” he says, taking a deep breath. “The cleaner smells nice.”

His cell phone rings, saving me from having to say anything else. He turns, heading to the booth while I continue with the dishes. “Hey, Kassy.”

A loud slap comes from behind me, followed by a scrape of keys. I turn, wide-eyed, to find him heading in my direction. Heart pounding, I lean away, my waist pressing against the sink to give him room.

“On my way.” His voice is sharp as his footsteps pound across the kitchen floor and out the door.

Flipping around, I clutch the edge of the sink as he pumps powerful legs across the drive. Did they find the person they’re after? I swivel, searching the dining area over my shoulder, as if someone could come in through the locked door. I shake my head. No, the metal door would make more difficult than it’s worth.

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