Chapter Four
I’m screwed.
Vick had gotten an unexpected reprieve, but her luck would run out soon enough. Simon was a scary mixture of determined and bat poop crazy.
Bonnie had ushered Vick into her office and handed her a shot of fireball whiskey. While Bonnie yakked with a liquor supplier on the phone, Vick sipped the drink and tried to pull it together.
Things had gotten considerably noisier outside—men howled, the music throbbed. Vick didn’t know how Bonnie dealt with the chaos on a nightly basis.
To calm down, she focused on the office, as she got her bearings once more. Like the rest of the club, it had a country and western theme. Wooden walls and floors, and the ceiling held several long, braided ropes. Strung through them were Mason jars with pail-like lids wired with bright white lights. Two suede chairs faced a converted barrel. It’d been tipped on its side, sawed in half, and nailed to two wooden slats, which held it in place. With the flat wooden top, it formed an unusual desk.
The signs on the wall amused her. Under different circumstances, they might’ve made her laugh. One read: $5.00 fine for whining. Another read: Sinners and Saints Welcome Here.
Her throat still ached from the sharp bite of cinnamon liquor, but her hands had stopped trembling. She didn’t feel quite as nervous either. Although a bruise had bloomed on her pale wrist.
“Speak with you next month.” Bonnie ended her phone call and then rounded the desk.
“Here, let me take a look.” Before Vick could protest, Bonnie grasped her forearm, turning it over, so she could examine the damage. “I’ll get you some ice for it.” She walked out to the bar and returned with a glass full of cubes, which Vick pressed against the wrist.
“Ready to talk yet?” Bonnie asked.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Horse shit. You’re still shakin’. The bastard nearly abducted you.”
“Yeah, well, he didn’t.”
“Because I stopped him with the business end of a shotgun.”
“I’ll pay you for the drink, then I’ll be on my way.” Vick reached into her purse.
“It’s on the house, honey.” Bonnie waved a hand. “Now quit foolin’ around and tell me what’s goin’ on.”
Vick sighed. “You’re right, I’m not okay, but it’s my problem, not yours.”
“Why? Because I’m Byron’s kin?”
“Something like that.” In her experience, knowledge was power. She made a living discovering other people’s secrets.
“In case you didn’t notice, my nephew and I don’t care for each other.”
“Yeah, but I still work for him.” Well, for Dix, technically, but Byron was still in the chain of command.
“And you don’t want the mafia to know?”
Vick flinched.
“Don’t even start with the ‘legitimate business’ crap, y’all like to throw around. I know Byron’s up to his neck in dirty deeds, so don’t even try to deny it.”
“I can’t ask anyone for help.”
“You could ask me.”
“Why? I hardly know you.” She’d met Bonnie a couple of times in passing so they weren’t friends or even acquaintances.
“I don’t like seein’ women get hurt is all.” Bonnie stroked the side of her face. As though recalling a wound of her own?
The look in her eyes troubled Vick. There had to be a story there. She had a feeling Bonnie might’ve had a run-in with another man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Vick asked.
“Fuck, no.”
“Yeah? Me neither.”
“Well, now, I’d be a hypocrite to hold it against you, huh?” Bonnie placed her hands on her slim hips.
“You said it, not me.”
“Okay then.” She heaved a sigh. “Call it an educated guess, but I think your private life’s about to go public. He don’t strike me as the sort who backs off without a fight.”
“Tell me about it.”
“And he’s got a mean streak so watch your back.”
Vick thought about it a moment. “I know he’s bein’ stalkery, but I don’t think Simon would hurt me.”
“Yet. There’s a first time for everythin’. He’s been ignorin’ what you say? Crossin’ your boundaries?”
Vick nodded. His disturbing behavior was intensifying.
“Trust me, I got a sixth sense about these things.” Goose pimples raised on Bonnie’s arms, and she rubbed them. “He’s the type of fella who’d beat you senseless, and then tell God himself you fell off a horse.”
Perhaps, Bonnie had a point.
“You got anythin’ for protection? A gun?”
“Nope.”
“You work for the mob, and you ain’t got a piece?” Her brows raised.
“Not my style.”
Vick spent most of her days surrounded by armed men, anyway, so it’d never been an issue. And she committed cyber crimes—no weapons necessary.
“Try it on for size. You might find it fits.” Bonnie reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a handgun. “No serial numbers on this piece, so it’s completely untraceable.”
Vick gulped. “I’ve never even held a gun, much less shot one.” With her luck, she’d drop it, and the darn thing would go off and nail her in the foot. Vick wanted Simon to leave her alone, without bloodshed, thank you very much.
“No time like the present.” Bonnie tried to put it in her hand.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” Bonnie held it out once more. “And you will.”
“Okay.” This time Vick tucked the pistol away in her purse. She didn’t intend to use it, but she might sleep easier with a piece sitting on the nightstand next to her. It’d be like a really scary paperweight. If nothing else, she could wave it around for effect.
“And if you can’t bring yourself to fire it, find someone who can.”
“Maybe, I should consider some protection.”
“Now you’re talkin’.”
While she couldn’t approach anyone in the outfit, particularly Jasper, she could ask for help from another source. Men who had no love for the Lone Star Mafia. Knights on shining steel, for example, like the Four Horsemen MC. The bikers considered themselves vigilantes who helped folks in trouble, and she was definitely in a bind.
Yes! It was the perfect solution. She didn’t have to involve her co-workers, no one would be the wiser, and she could pay the bikers for their time and discretion. Win-win.
“Promise me, you’ll take precautions?”
Hmm, she actually seems worried about me. Unlike Byron, Bonnie might have a conscience.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Bonnie squared her shoulders.
“Thanks for your help.” Vick walked to the door.
“You’re welcome, darlin’. You keep ice on that wrist now. The swellin’ will go down in a day or two. I’m pretty sure it’s only a sprain, but you should get it checked out.”
“I will.”
“One more question.”
“Yeah?”
“Why’d he call you Veronica?”
“You heard, huh?” She’d been hoping Bonnie had been too preoccupied. She should’ve known a Beauregard wouldn’t miss a trick.
“Obviously.”
“It’s a complicated question.”
“It really ain’t.” Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “You see, from what I figure, he’s your john.” She looked Vick up and down. “Yeah, you were probably one of those real high-end types of escort. Girls they take to the theater and fancy dinners.”
Vick took in a shuddering breath. How did Bonnie know? Do I give off some kind of sex worker vibe? Before she’d been an escort, Vick had worked as a cam girl, a virtual stripper, and she’d built up quite a fan base.
“Honey, in my line of work, I see all kinds of people. And I’ve become a real student of human behavior.”
“Well, you’re wrong about me.” This is exactly the kind of thing she wanted to keep quiet.
“No, I’m not, but don’t worry. I ain’t breathin’ a word to anyone.”
Vick closed her eyes. “I appreciate the discretion.”
“Don’t mention it. You know, men like Simon, and the ones who come to my club, they see women as objects, as merchandise they can purchase. That’s why I keep a shotgun behind the bar.”
“What are you tryin’ to say?”
“Simon don’t see you as a person, and if he can’t buy you, then he’ll resort to other measures.”
“Like what?”
“If I’m right, and I usually am, force. So, watch yourself.”
Yeah, I’m definitely callin’ the bikers.