“No. I’m sure. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen her before.” I was reasonably sure I’d have remembered all that pretty.
“We’re gonna need to talk to her,” Fallon said.
“I figured,” I agreed. “Think I can maybe bring her a drink first? Make her more comfortable? Won’t get anywhere if she’s too freaked to speak. And you might want to consider getting some women in here,” I said, looking around at the sausage fest.
It was enough to scare any woman, being surrounded by so many strange men. But something about this Bonnie chick told me she was more on the skittish side than most.
“Alright,” Fallon agreed, nodding. “That’s a good idea. See if we can get Chris down here from Hailstorm. And if Layna and Vi are in town…”
With them distracted by their plans, I took myself into the kitchen, grabbing a tray and making mugs of coffee, tea, and hot chocolate to bring with me back to my room. Everyone likedsomesort of hot beverage. And they were universally soothing.
We needed her as comfortable as possible if we were going to get information out of her.
“Bonnie?” I called through the door. “Can I come back in?”
There was a short pause, then a whispered, “Okay.”
Pushing the door open, I found she’d stripped my bed of its comforter and was currently using it to try to disappear into its depths on the same chair I’d left her in.
This might require more than just a hot beverage…
CHAPTER FOUR
Bonnie
As soon as I was alone, I snatched the blanket off the bed, brought it with me back to the chair, and wrapped it around myself.
It was partly that I was freezing after all that stress sweat dried on my skin. And partly because I just wanted to cocoon myself up.
Half of life’s problems, I was convinced, could be fixed by curling up in a big, fluffy blanket and ignoring the world.
Of course, this wasn’t a stranger knocking at my door or bad news on the TV.
This was life or death.
Namely, almost, my own death.
And I mean, fine. I lived a very small life. But it was mine. I wasn’t done with it yet. I mean, I’d added twelve books to my TBR just this month alone.
The warmth of the blanket chased away the chill, and I was almost comfortable when I heard his voice on the other side of the door.
Hisvoice.
The voice of the man who’d dismantled the bomb. Who’d held me and stroked my back afterward as I fell apart, who’d talked me through my panic attack.
The man to whom I was there to deliver the ‘message to.’ Except there was no actual message.
Just the bomb strapped to my chest.
I guess, in a sick sort of way, that was message enough.
I honestly hadn’t given a single second of thought to the man I was meant to deliver this message to. I was too busy trying not to pass out because I was relatively sure that falling down when you had something explosive strapped to your body was probably a recipe for disaster.
It wasn’t until the vest was off that I could finally give in to the panic that had been building in my system since the moment I woke up in that basement.
But, yeah, Sully.
He was, objectively, hot.