I’ve never seen the Don look so worried as he did when he called me into his home office in the early hours of this morning. His health hasn’t been the best of late, but I honestly thought I may end up calling an ambulance when I saw how ashen his complexion was.
His only directive was to travel to the middle-of-nowhere England and find Bonnie Moorside. I tried to get more out of him, but it was useless. He clammed up, which instantly raised my hackles. Don Ferrante has always been an open book with me. I know all his secrets, including the one about how he can no longer effectively run the business, hence the reason I have taken up the mantle in the shadows. To the rest of the family, Don Ferrante is still the powerful leader they all know and trust. But I know better.
But back to the task at hand: finding out who the hell this Bonnie Moorside is and why Don Ferrante wants me to find her? I’m not worried about convincing the girl. I’ll throw her in the trunk of the car if push comes to shove. I’m eager to know what the hell is going on, and that means she has to come with me.
“Al, we’re here,” Toni calls, pulling me from my ruminations. I didn’t even realise we’d come off the motorway. I hate being distracted—it’s dangerous.
The Land Rover in front of us pulls to a stop outside a bookshop: Wood’s Writing Emporium. Interesting name, I suppose.
I get my head back in the game. “Toni, take Mica and Hanz to check it out. Remove any customers if necessary.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Mia, keep the car running.”
“No problem, Al.”
Taking my time, I open the car door and step out, always keeping my eyes on my surroundings. There is no threat here, but doing it comes as second nature to me now. The bookshop is quite large, considering the size of the town. We stick out like a sore thumb. Three blacked-out Land Rovers with occupants all dressed in black. We definitely don’t blend, but that’s fine, I don’t intend to be here for long.
My guys have had a few moments to scope out the shop. Time for me to meet this Bonnie woman. The doorbell jingles lightly as I shove it open. It takes me just a second to get a visual of the shop’s layout. There is a second exit to the left of the cashier’s desk. I presume one of the two wide-eyed women currently staring at Toni and the others, is Bonnie Moorside.
The taller of the two shifts her eyes to me. She’s…short. Five-four at most. Her hair is deep brown and swept into a low ponytail. Her clothes are…well, wool. She’s clad head-to-toe in wool. I don’t need to see below the counter to know that. The woman screams “bookworm cat lady”. I’d bet my place as head of the Ferrante family she’s wearing a woollen skirt with tights.
“Can I help you?” she stammers. Her nerves are plain to see. Good, I want her on the back foot. Sliding my sunglasses off, I take a few more seconds to stare. Cat-lady aesthetic aside, she’s a good-looking woman.
“Bonnie Moorside?” I ask. My eyes roam her chest because, despite the wool, I can see she is well endowed.
“That’s me,” she answers.
“I’ve been looking for you.” She swallows deeply but keeps her composure. It’s impressive. I know how intimidated she must be.
“W-what can I do for you?”
I’d like to smile at her effort. Her friend, on the other hand, looks like she’s about to piss herself. “You need to close the shop, pack a bag, and come with me.”
There is a beat of silence before she scoffs, “Not likely. Now, if you’re not here to buy a book, I need you to leave.”
She has guts. Licking my lips slowly, I continue my penetrating stare. Her eyes drop to the tip of my tongue as it travels the length of my bottom lip.
“It wasn’t a request,” I finally say.
Looking at Toni, I give a curt nod. He walks to the door and locks it, turning theOpensign toClosedand flicking the deadlock. Stalking forward, I take my time. I want her sweating.
“We’re going to leave now,” I say in a low, smooth tone, “go to your home where you can pack some clothes, and then youwillcome with me.”
“Now, hang on a minute,” she argues.
Her efforts are noted. Most grown men who have spent time in prison don’t make me ask twice.
“If I have to repeat myself, I will take you by the hair and drag you to the boot of my car,” I say calmly.
Her eyes grow even larger with fear. The friend who has been cowering behind Ms Moorside lets out a whimper. I want to laugh. This is turning out to be quite entertaining.
She turns her head slightly and looks over her shoulder, then returns her deep brown eyes to me. “Let Kelley go home, and I’ll do as you say.”
I place my sunglasses on the countertop. My focus is now on Kelley. “Hmm, how can I be sure Kelley won’t call the police?”
“I-I won’t, I swear it.” She’s practically vibrating with anxiety.
