3. Bonnie
3
Bonnie
S he shot Kelley! With a gun—a real gun! She just whipped the gargantuan thing out and fired; no hesitation, no remorse.
Oh my God, what the hell is happening? I was so sure this was Pete’s hilarious way of getting back at me for always staying in with a good book, but…she shot Kelley! And there was so much blood!
I’m ninety percent positive… No, let’s make that ninety-five percent positive, I’m going to have a heart attack. A deep, pounding thrum fills my ears, each beat rattling through my skull and I swear the room is tilting. I might just black out. No pins and needles, though. That’s a good sign, I think. I once read about the symptoms of a heart attack. Maybe I’m just suffering a mild one.
Stop rambling and get a grip!
There has got to be a mistake—a huge mistake! The crazy lady has the wrong Bonnie Moorside. I’m a bookstore manager, for crying out loud. What could I have possibly done to have gained the attention of… God, I don’t even know who they are! Psychopaths, for sure. Did I mishandle a book order or something?
My brain is conjuring a million things to scream, but my mouth remains clamped shut. I can feel my body convulse with terrified shakes. I’m going into shock, I think.
“Take a breath, Ms Moorside,” the crazy killer lady says.
Like her voice is the one that will soothe me right now!
I don’t fucking think so!
Escape. I need to escape, but if I do, what about Kelley? She might already be dead. The pressure of crazy lady’s hand on my arm pulls me from blacking out. Instead, I yank my entire body as far away as possible, which is only centimetres considering I’ve been plastered to the other side of the car since the driver hauled me off the ground. Fuck, I think I might vomit.
“Mia, pull over again, will you? She’s looking a little green.”
Is she chuckling at me?
The car comes to a rather abrupt stop. I hear the locks release and instinctively I push myself out the door. My breakfast and lunch make a reappearance. With hands on my knees, I take a few deep breaths. I should run…just start running and hope I find someone to help Kelley.
The tired sigh of the batshit crazy blonde filters through my buzzing ears, “If you run, she dies. It’s simple.”
Did I voice my plans out loud?
“I—” More vomiting.
“You’re not exactly subtle, Ms Moorside.”
“Well, forgive me for not wanting to ride along with a homicidal maniac,” I spit back. And then I literally spit. Ugh, I need water and a mint.
“Homicidal,” she chuckles. “Kelley will be fine. A flesh wound at most. I just needed to make a point.”
“And you couldn’t think of any other way that didn’t involve shooting someone to get that point across?”
What am I doing arguing back? This lunatic could finish me off whenever she feels like it.
“Not one that got the point across so quickly,” she smiles.
I open my mouth to launch a retort, but I have nothing. My brain is going into sleep mode and I have no idea what to do or say.
“The sooner you get in the car, the sooner I can deliver you and you won’t have to see me again.”
“What about Kelley? You can’t leave her like that.”
An eye roll? Really?
“She’s already received medical attention. All my men are trained to cope with wounds.”
Once I am sure that my bout of sickness is over, I take a second to look at the car pulled up just in front of this one. It’s Kelley’s car.
“I want to see her!” I demand.
The scary blonde slips out of the car and advances toward me. I gulp—like cartoon-style gulp. I’ve pushed her too far and now she’s going to shoot me too. Pete was right: I haven’t had a life. I’ve spent all my time either selling books, or with my nose in one. I may have travelled to distant lands and galaxies via the printed word, but in reality, I’ve never left my hometown. How bloody sad is that? And now, I’m going to die at the hands of…
Hang on a minute. She’s not reaching for the gun that’s wedged near her backside. I watch her come to a stop right in front of me. Craning my head to look up, I whimper as her eyes bore into me once more. When she knows my attention is solely on her, she dips forward. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was going to kiss me. But I do know better, and I’m more likely to have my throat ripped out by her teeth than any smooching—not that I want her to smooch me. Oh, Jesus, I’ve gone delirious.
Her breath tickles the side of my face as her lips reach my ear, “Please don’t make me hurt you, Bonnie,” she rasps. “You have such a lovely face.” Her head pulls back slightly so I can see her eyes in my peripheral vision. This woman is utterly terrifying. “In the car. Be a good girl.”
“I’m not a girl,” I growl, before stomping back to the car.
She laughs quietly at my outburst. I’m crossing all my fingers and toes I’ve contracted a fever or something similar, that would give me an alternative to what is going on right now. Fevered delusion sounds good. I knew I ate too much cheese last night. This could be a really intense dream. Gouda does that to me.
I’m still cataloguing which fromage I snuffled down last night when Blondie slides gracefully back inside the car after I do. She gives a nod to the driver, who says something into a hidden microphone near her cuff before pulling the vehicle back onto the road. Plucking the last vestiges of courage, which are recklessly swimming around my nervous system, I clear my throat. “Who are you?”
“I told you it doesn’t matter.”
“And I beg to differ. You must realise you have the wrong person. Do I look like someone who cavorts with thugs?”
“Thugs?” she laughs. “Come now, Ms Moorside, we both know I’m no thug.”
“Government agent?” The question comes out as a hopeful squeak.
“Please, don’t insult me,” she tuts.
“Okay, just give me your name, then. I can’t keep referring to you as ‘Crazy Blonde Lady’.”
She turns in my direction. “Is that what you’ve been calling me?”
“Um…”
“I’ve been called worse. And, it’s Allegra.”
“Right, Allegra. So, who are you taking me to see?”
My new plan is to keep her talking; maybe get her to relax so I can make a move. If I could get her gun, I could hold her hostage in exchange for Kelley.
Even as I think about it, I know it is a monumentally stupid idea, but what other choice do I have?
My plan held up for all of ten seconds. Allegra is a super spy or something. She can read me in seconds. I know, because as I peppered her with questions, she held up her hand, which stopped me talking and said, “Even if you get my gun, have you ever used one? And saying you manage to work it out before I disarm you, are you ready to take on my men?”
I sat there with my mouth gaping, unable to find an answer, so I just closed my mouth and turned my head away.
I still have my head pressed against the glass of the car window. We’ve been driving for hours and I need to pee, but I don’t want to speak to Allegra again. I want this total nightmare to be over. I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out who wants to see me so badly, and I’m still at a loss.
I am literally the most boring person on the planet; an only child to two wonderful dads. I never had any trouble at school or university. I never hung out with the wrong people, and I pay my taxes and bills on time.
The car slows. The sun fell a while ago, so looking for a clue as to where I am is useless. Allegra doesn’t move as her driver steps out of the vehicle. I do my best to listen to what she is saying to the other driver—the one from Kelley’s car. There’s some nodding and more talking into their cuffs.
The one Allegra called ‘Mia’ breaks away and heads to Allegra’s door. “All clear. We’re ready to move.”
“Thank you, Mia,” she responds and then turns to me. “Do you get seasick?”
I silently shake my head. She’s taking me out to sea? I haven’t got a passport, so I hope the boat stays in British waters. A burst of laughter echoes around the car and I realise, this time, I did say it out loud. Dammit.
“Out,” Allegra barks after she’s finished mocking me.
Scrambling out of the car, the sea air instantly assaults my senses. Any other time, it would be quite lovely. It’s been ages since I went to the beach, although I did read a fantastic romance book last week that was centred around summer holiday time and scuba diving in southern France.
My musings are interrupted by Mia taking my arm rather forcefully. She half walks, half drags me along as we follow Allegra toward what I think is a slipway. Turning my head, I desperately look for any sign of Kelley.
“She’ll be onboard,” Mia comments.
Seriously, can they all read minds?
A small-ish dinghy awaits us. Allegra steps onboard without so much as a look in my direction. She takes her place at the helm. I’m shoved to one of the seats at the rear. The only thing keeping me from a panic attack is the sight of Kelley, who is thankfully alive. She’s conscious, too, although extremely pale.
The second she is in reaching distance, I pull her to my side. “Are you okay?”
Silly question, really. The woman has a hole in her shoulder. She nods silently, burying her head in my neck. There are no words, so I simply hold her. Guilt roils in my stomach. I should have insisted she go home; should have done more to keep my best friend safe.
The roar of the engine startles us both. There is still a kernel of hope this is all some overblown prank. But that kernel is getting smaller by the second. Mia and the other goons settle themselves on the boat. Allegra does a quick visual sweep of the dinghy before hitting the throttle. Everything about her is both impressive, and fear-inducing.
She’s strong, both physically and mentally. It doesn’t take a psychologist to figure that out. From her interactions with the others, she is well and truly the boss, but not the “big boss”. No, she answers to someone—the someone who wants to see me. I have no idea what is going to happen, and for someone who likes routine, that makes me sweat. Maybe it will be as simple as a quick chat and soon I’ll be on my way home with Kelley.
Unlikely.
Now the hysteria and shock have worn off, I know I need to be smarter. No more gobbing off at Allegra. That’s a surefire way to get a hole to match Kelley’s.
The best approach would be to sit quietly and take in as much as I can. I’ll need all the information possible for the police. That’s if they believe me, and I get out of this in one piece.
My gaze drifts to Allegra, who is standing tall, casting her intensity out to the open water. I think back to what she said earlier: that as soon as she drops me off, I’ll never see her again. For some reason, that doesn’t seem likely. In fact, I think I’m going to be seeing the blonde maniac quite a lot.
Strangely, the thought doesn’t scare me.