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  “What happened to them?”

  Her mouth screwed up in a wry pucker and she aimed a sharp glare at him. “I had a job and my ex didn’t, that’s what happened.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he moved out and helped himself to what he wanted while I was at work one day, then racked up one hell of a balance on my credit card before he skipped town.”

  The muscles in his arms and torso tensed and the deadly calm that came when any target stepped into his crosshairs whispered over his skin. “His name.”

  Her eyes widened for all of a moment, then narrowed again with realization. “Oh, no.” She planted her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I’ve got enough problems without adding a guilty conscience to the list.” She waved him toward the door. “I’m good. I’m sorry I sent everyone on a wild goose chase today, but thank you for your time.”

  She wasn’t good.

  She was eking by at best and letting people who didn’t seem to value her good heart and determined nature to walk all over her. Or at least that’s how it appeared from his point of view. And whether or not she willingly gave him her ex’s name, he’d find it. “Do you not want to hear what we learned from Mr. Mitchell?”

  Her bravado melted almost as fast as it had ridden in to save her. “You actually talked to him?”

  “I told you we would.”

  The sheepish expression she’d given him at the door rushed back in place, but she held his gaze. “I assumed you’d change your mind after Cassie told you I bailed.”

  “You’ve assumed many things about me and my family today, malen’kaya koroleva. Perhaps you should reevaluate the things you believe to be true.”

  In the light of her apartment, her blush was beautiful. A charming pink against pale skin that made her cheeks seem even rounder and her freckles that much more prominent.

  Rather than cause her more discomfort, he got to the point. “Pauley does not have your brother or father. Nor does he know who might have them. Though, he did seem to suggest that whomever was at your father’s house was more likely there for Kevin.”

  Sad acknowledgment swept across her face, the expression of a woman with far too much experience in the realm of disappointment. “Yeah. Probably not a long shot to think that.” Her gaze slid to the side before she nodded, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Thanks for trying and for coming here to tell me.” She lifted one shoulder in a defeated shrug and tried for a wry smile. “I still think you’re a bossy dude and overbearing, but I can see why Cassie likes you.”

  Such bravery in the face of hopelessness. While he might question the motive that had pushed her to relinquish their help, there was no question she’d do everything in her power to continue forward on her own and take whatever lumps life dealt her.

  “Likewise.” He inclined his head. “I wish you the best.”

  With that, he turned for the door. He had it open and was one step past the threshold when Bonnie’s voice cut from behind him. “Oh, wait!”

  She disappeared into her room and came back seconds later holding the phone he’d given her. “We should probably switch back.”

  So tied up in his errands and the aftermath of Bonnie’s departure, he’d all but forgotten her worn out phone in his pocket. He took it out and handed it to her. “Keep the phone I gave you. Forward your old number to the new one. Keep the old one turned off.”

  She glowered up at him like he’d lost his mind. “I can’t keep a phone like that! It’s worth over a grand!”

  He glanced at the phone in her outstretched hand then back to her. “Then you have a choice. Sell it as you please, or use it to replace your old one as a means to stay safe. It’s your call, malen’kaya koroleva.”

  Tempting as it was to linger and ensure she locked the door behind him—or better yet, give into temptation and find other more carnal ways to make her more agreeable and see reason—he forced one foot in front of the other.

  “Hey!” she called out behind him.

  He stopped, turned and waited.

  She stood just outside her doorway, the backlighting of her apartment accenting her delicious curves. “What’s that mean? The malen’kaya koroleva thing you keep saying?”

  He couldn’t have stopped his smile if he’d wanted to. She was every bit a kitten bent on feeding its curiosity only to find itself in a mess of its own making. On top of that, she’d pronounced the phrase for little queen exactly as it should have been, her husky voice uttering the words of his mother tongue perfectly. “You have your secrets, Bonnie. I think I’ll keep mine as well until we can negotiate a trade.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself and smoothed her hands up her bare arms, whether to ward off the chill beating against her, or simply to ground herself.

  “Good night, Bonnie. Lock the door behind you.”

  He stalked to his truck, ears peeled for the solid clunk of her door falling shut and the flimsy zrring of her bolt sliding home. By the time he opened the driver’s door, her light was already off, but he could have sworn a shadow moved behind the curtain.

  The roar of his truck’s engine against the night rivaled the frustration roiling in his gut. Bonnie Drummond was definitely an enigma. Alluring with those big cat eyes in that unique shade of green and the sensual way that she moved. Wholesome with her freckles and her unguarded smile when one managed to catch her unaware. Street-smart and understandably cautious, yet also clearly willing to bend over backward for those she loved.

  He put the truck in drive and pulled onto the street. Two blocks away, the traffic light turned red.

  Helping people is what you’re supposed to do.

  Actually, it wasn’t what they did. At least not the only thing they did. They ran businesses. Many of them. Most of which were on the up and up, unlike the life he’d left behind in Russia.

  But when they did help others, they came with a cost. Favors required paybacks. Debts owed and expectations set.

  The memory of the day he’d first met Sergei flashed vibrant in his mind. The thick gray skies. The stinging cold against his skin. The throbbing of his knuckles and the wild thrum of his heart. He’d earned the latter two beating a bully who’d refused to back down to an unconscious heap.

  And Sergei had watched it all. Had followed Roman back to his orphanage, introduced himself and later taken him under his wing.

  All without a single thing asked in return.

  The light turned green.

  Roman hesitated for all of a second, swung the truck wide and circled back the direction he’d come. In another minute, his truck was parked at a different angle, well hidden in the shadows from prying eyes.

  He checked his watch, drew his phone from his pocket and dialed one of his men.

  Luke answered by the second ring. “Yes, sir?”

  “St. Ann and North Prieur Street. There’s an alley that runs beside the apartments at that intersection. Meet me there at midnight. Be prepared to stay on watch until I send relief.”

  “Got it. I’ll be there in thirty.” He hung up as fast as he’d answered, which was exactly why he’d chosen Luke for this assignment. He never asked questions and had no compunction at following orders.

  Any orders.

  Roman killed the truck’s engine and settled in, his gaze rooted on Bonnie’s door. “You might not want our help, malen’kaya koroleva. But you’re getting it anyway.”

  Chapter Seven

  Only 10:30 p.m. at night. The pretty blue neon surrounding the Bud Light clock on the wall was the only pretty thing about the Dusty Dog, but right now all it did was luminate a very ugly truth—three days of double-shifts in a row was a stupid fucking idea. How the hell she was going to walk all the way home after close tonight, she didn’t have a clue.

  Bonnie wiped down the bar and checked the drinks of those lined up on the
other side. One positive at least—Friday nights were busy enough she didn’t have enough time to worry about how bad her feet hurt. At least not until she was walking out the front door.

  Definitely need to get that damned car fixed.

  “Hey, Bonnie.” Trixie sidled up to the bar and slid her tray toward Bonnie. At five-foot-two with a decent body and an emo school-girl flair, she was a favorite with the male patrons. Especially when she rocked the short plaid skirts and put her bleach blond hair up in pigtails like it was tonight. “Need two Crown and Cokes and one Jameson.”

  Bonnie checked the round table tucked in the farthest corner of the bar. The Dusty Dog’s lighting was always kept dim to hide how beat up the place really was, but that particular corner was especially shady. A good fit for the three assholes hogging the space.

  Lowering her voice for only Trixie to hear, Bonnie cautioned, “This is their seventh round. The last time they hit that number, an innocent customer ended up with a broken jaw. They might have been dead if not for my trusty baseball bat.”

  Trixie eyed the Louisville Slugger propped in the corner, then shrugged and pulled a stack of bills out of her apron. She thumbed through them and smacked her gum. “They keep tippin’ me tens every time I bring a round, I don’t care how many they drink.”

  Bonnie finished up the round as ordered and stacked the full glasses onto the tray. “Mmm hmm. Just know if they get rowdy on your watch and you didn’t cut ’em off before it happens, it’ll be your last night and those tips are gonna be the only thing you go home with.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “Sure, I can.” She slid the tray toward Trixie and forced a matter-of-fact smile. “Gotta have some extra money to offset the medical bills I have to pay when those idiots decide to revamp customer faces.”

  The scowl on Trixie’s face mirrored every uppity bitch Bonnie had ever known in high school. “Fine. After this round I’ll cut ’em off. But I’m tellin’ ’em it was you who made the call, not me.”

  She reached for her tray, no doubt ready to flounce off and give the assholes an earful of how awful it was to work here, but froze a second later. Her eyes widened and an entirely different glint blossomed behind them. “Holy hell, would you get a look at them.”

  Before Bonnie could turn for an assessment, the steady rumble of the Dog’s patrons dimmed as if NOPD’s finest had just ambled through the front door.

  She turned, braced to pull out every permit she’d finally gotten current or to frog-march whichever idiot they were there to cuff out the front door—only to lock stares with Roman Kozlov. “Motherfucker.”

  “You know them?” Trixie murmured behind her.

  Them.

  Right. Because Cassie and Kir were with him. Not that her insides seemed to care about that particular detail with the intense look Roman was giving her. And good God Almighty, he had on jeans, black Jacoby boots and a deep green T-shirt that put every inch of his solid torso on display. “Sort of.” She motioned Trixie to the knuckleheads in the corner. “Better get them their drinks. You keep staring at the new victims like that they’ll get jealous and drop your tips.”

  The truth was, the idiots were probably too shit-faced to focus as far as the door by now, but the last thing Bonnie needed was Trixie’s gossip-loving ears anywhere near the trio headed her way.

  Perched on the barstool right in front of her, one of her regulars dazedly gaped at Roman pretty much the same way everyone else was. Bonnie nudged his arm hard enough he nearly wobbled off his seat. “Hey, Leo. How about you scoot down a few, yeah?”

  It took a few stammers and hard blinks before Leo’s mind seemed to catch up with her request, but he eventually stood and staggered to a new spot. “Yeah, right. Good idea.”

  Good idea, indeed. Because neither Roman nor Kir looked like they were in the best of moods. Even Cassie, who was able to paint a smile on anything, was sporting a pinched expression.

  “You three get lost?” Bonnie said as they reached the bar. With Kir in a fine gray suit and Cassie sporting ivory leggings and a fancy looking sweater tunic, they certainly looked lost compared to everyone else. “If you’d have given me some warning, I’d have fished out the Lysol and Febreze and given that stool a once over. Leo’s not known for exceptional hygiene.”

  The quip managed to knock the worry off Cassie’s face and Kir managed a half-cocked smile, but Roman’s scowl only deepened.

  She sucked in a bracing breath and scanned the lot of them. “I doubt the three of you were lookin’ for a new Friday night haunt, so what brings you to the Dusty Dog?”

  Cassie looked to Kir.

  Kir cocked an eyebrow at his wife that said, We’ve already had this discussion.

  Roman just kept glaring at Bonnie. It’d sure felt like they’d parted on decent terms the other night, so either he’d had a shit day, or he hated the hellhole around him.

  Cassie scoffed and slid onto the barstool Leo had vacated. “You haven’t answered my texts or calls, and we were worried about you.”

  Well, of course she hadn’t answered any texts or calls. Four days hadn’t done a damned thing to make her feel like less of an idiot for asking for help and then saying thanks, but no thanks six hours later. “Not much to tell. Been working my ass off so I can get that stupid car of mine fixed.”

  “No word from your dad or Kevin?”

  “Nope. Not a thing.” She dared a glance at Roman.

  Yep, still doing his laser-beam glare.

  She cleared her throat. “I called all Dad’s friends. All Kevin’s friends. No one’s seen or heard from ’em. No hospital check-ins. Nothing at the police station. Just....nothing. For all I know, they’re perfectly fine. It’d be just like those goobers to turn a bad deal into some freakish gold mine and end up sucking down frou-frou drinks on some private island somewhere.”

  “What makes you say that?” Roman said so sharply the woman right next to him jumped.

  Bonnie smiled at the girl and waved her back to her own business. “Hell, I don’t know what I mean. Maybe just wishful thinking. Better that than entertaining the alternative. The truth is, it’s beyond me and out of my hands, so I’m just trying to accept things the way they’ve always been—crazy.”

  Cassie sighed. “I’m really sorry, Bonnie. Kir and Roman have been looking for leads, too, and haven’t found anything. We were hoping you might have something else for them to go on.”

  She frowned up at Roman. “I told you I’d handle it.”

  Not the least bit ruffled, he smirked back in response. “So, I recall. Though it appears you’ve made no progress, and I did not agree to drop it.”

  “You’re nuts,” she said to Roman, then shifted her attention to Cassie and Kir. “Seriously, there’s no point in y’all getting involved. Doesn’t look like there’s anything for anyone to do anyway.”

  “You’re my friend,” Cassie said. “Your family is missing, and I want to help you. We all want to help you.” Her gaze narrowed and roamed Bonnie’s face. “And from the looks of things you could use that help. How much sleep are you getting?”

  Between jumping at every noise outside her apartment and the hours she’d been keeping at work, about an hour and a half each night. Not that she’d admit that out loud. Avoiding Cassie’s eyes, she grabbed a few empty lowball glasses and started washing them. “’Bout the usual. I’m just worn from shifts the last three days. Worked three doubles in a row—which kinda worked in my favor since my landlord finally got off his ass and decided to fix some stuff in my place this week.”

  “She is also still walking to work,” Roman said to Cassie, all matter-of-fact.

  Bonnie snapped upright. “How do you know that?”

  Roman smiled back, all smugness. “Because you just said your car is not fixed and it’s not in the parking lot.”

  “And how do you know what car I d
rive?”

  “Do you think I would commit family resources to assisting you and not know basic facts, malen’kaya koroleva?”

  “Hmmph.” Not the most powerful retort, but it beat gaping up at him the way she wanted to. She stacked the glasses in the drying rack, wiped her hands on her bar towel and pinned her attention on Cassie. “You guys gotta let this go. God himself hasn’t kept my family out of chaos at any point in my life. I doubt any of you are gonna do any better.” She pulled the phone she’d kept in her back pocket free and handed it over. “And take this, too. I feel bad enough jerking you guys around on Monday. I tried to give it to the big lug, and he wouldn’t take it.”

  Cassie smiled.

  Actually smiled. Then beamed that huge grin up at Roman. “You told her to keep the phone?”

  He shrugged. “I did not need it. She did.”

  “Uh-huh.” A pronouncement from Cassie that sounded like she’d read a whole lot more into his response than Bonnie had. She faced Bonnie and crossed her arms on the bar like some monumental decision had just been made. A satisfied glint sparked behind her pretty blue eyes. “Well, if he says you need it, then you need it. And you’re the one who called, so you’ll have to be the one who talks him out of helping you.”

  Jesus.

  These people might be kind, but they were stubborn as hell, too. “Right. And after I get that through his thick head, I’ll round up all the government bigwigs and get the deficit sorted.” She rolled her eyes for added effect and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. If they wanted to throw around big money like confetti, so be it. At least she’d tried to do the right thing.

  Behind the trio, Trixie sauntered past and assessed Roman and Kir in turn.

  Bonnie sighed and said to Cassie, “Better watch your guys. Trixie’s eyeballing them like prime cuts of beef.”

  Cassie’s eyes widened and she spun, surveying the crowd behind her. “Who’s Trixie?”

  Kir chuckled, slid his arm around Cassie’s waist and pulled her tight to his side. “Relax, liubimaja. Any attention on me is wasted.”