Stone Cold - Ashby Crime Family

She shook her head and I cut her off. “You’re safe here.”

“From The Crusaders, maybe. Not the police or anyone else who might want to slap handcuffs on me.”

She visibly shuddered at the thought and I realized I hadn’t truly realized what Bonnie had been through recently.

“Not that I’m blaming you or your family, but I don’t have anyone, Cal. I can’t afford to be caught in the middle of a fight that isn’t mine.”

“You’ve given this some thought.”

Her laugh came out bitter and quiet as her hands quickly assembled the lasagna and slid it into the oven.

“What else am I going to do all day? I’m not judging you. I swear I’m not. Your family has been really kind and generous to me, but I can’t ignore the risks.”

“I understand.”

“You do?”

“Of course, I do. You made no secret what you thought of us when you came here the first time, I doubt your opinion has changed much.”

She sucked in an outraged breath. “Don’t you dare try to blame this on me. You and your family are who you are, and I’ve never said a bad word about any of you. But your reputation in this town is what it is, and I can’t ignore that because it’s not convenient for you.”

“So your arrest is somehow my family’s fault?” It absolutely was and I knew it, with more certainty than Bonnie did, so why the hell was I arguing with her?

Bonnie took a deep breath and glanced at the timer she’d set on her phone, a sure sign she planned to run away rather than talk.

“I don’t know, not for sure. But there was no reason for them to know I’d be here at Ashby Manor.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll find a job on my own. Somehow. You don’t need to worry.”

The hell I didn’t. “We have a deal, Bonnie. I’m gonna worry. Period.” She didn’t realize how close she was to tipping over the edge, to taking her life to a place she’d never be able to come back from, and good, bad or foolish, I was determined to save her.

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about your precious little deal, Calvin. If I don’t have a job at the end of the thirty days, I’ll be out of your hair.”

That’s not what I wanted, but that was the deal. Did that mean she wanted to leave? Was she only here so I’d pay off her drug debt? “That’s not…never mind. I’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” she shot back, quick enough to let me know she wouldn’t turn down a break from this conversation either.

I walked around the huge yard to clear my head and get my thoughts straight. Something about Bonnie made me say the wrong thing. Constantly. I went back after about a half an hour and she was taking the blue and red casserole dish from the oven. “Smells good.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly, not bothering to turn to look at me.

“I’m sorry, Bonnie. Sometimes I can be a little protective of my family and—”

Then she did turn. “Don’t worry about it. You should absolutely be protective of your family. They are all you have.” She shook her head, a nervous smile on her lush mouth. “I probably didn’t make the best first impression, and I’m sorry about that. I could blame it on my parents or how I was raised, but I won’t. Your family has helped me more than I could ever want, and I am incredibly grateful, really, I am. But I’m not in a position to make your battles mine.”

And I couldn’t ask her to, not when my battle was up against two determined Feds, one with a personal beef against the Ashbys. “I understand.”

She wanted to argue, but instead, Bonnie snapped her lips closed for a long moment. “Okay. Good.” Her arm snaked out to grab the tumbler of whiskey like it was a lifeline, and she brought it to her lips slowly, savoring every drop it seemed. “Good,” she said again, more to herself than to me.

I smiled. “Good?”

She gasped, startled almost as if she’d forgotten I was here. “Pretty good. Never had anything this strong before.”

“Want to mix it water or soda?” It would be an abomination but I’d allow it.

“No thanks. It’s purely medicinal,” she said and tilted the glass back until it was empty. She didn’t look happy or satisfied, just kind of blah. “Ready to eat?”

“Sure. I’ll help set the table.” Maybe I needed what Bonnie had given herself with dinner, a distraction. From troubling thoughts about the Ashby role in blowing up her life. From images of stripping her out of those baggy clothes and making her moan and scream. From memories of Agent Beck. And Brendan Rhymer.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”