Chapter 6
“It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I need and such a good price.”
She probably shouldn’t be saying that to this man. Heck, it went against every “how to buy a car” guide out there. But the red Santa Fe really was exactly what she needed and smack dab in her budget. It had low miles and looked like it was in great condition.
“I can put a deposit down right now and come by with the rest of the money tomorrow,” she added.
The middle-aged man with graying hair lifted his brows. “Great. Wait here, I’ll go get the missus and let her know.”
Bonnie grinned. “Thanks.”
She’d finally have a car. Thank God. Because she was sick of getting around everywhere on foot. Don’t get her wrong, she was glad her apartment was so central, but a car would be easier, especially when she was staying late at work so much.
As the guy disappeared into the house, she ran her fingertips over the hood. The test drive had been so smooth, and she’d paid a mechanic to have it checked while she was at work this afternoon.
She’d come here straight from work because the thing had only popped up on Facebook Marketplace this morning.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, a little of her excitement fading at the empty screen.
No response from Indie. They’d been texting every day, and this morning, Bonnie had finally mustered the courage to invite Indie over.
But her sister hadn’t responded. It was the first text that she hadn’t received an immediate response to.
The door to the house opened, and Bonnie shoved her cell back into her pocket.
She looked up and smiled. “Hi.”
The woman stopped a few feet out the door, a frown cutting between her brows. “I know you.”
Shit. The tone of her voice told Bonnie that was not a good thing. “I’m Bonnie.”
“Yeah. You’re that Hayes girl who left Dean White at the party, even though you were his ride.”
Her belly rolled.
“What are you talking about, Magna?” her husband asked.
The woman glared at Bonnie. “Dean, Billy’s friend. Crashed that car the night of the graduation party because she left him there. She was supposed to drive him home.”
Bonnie swallowed. “Look, I’m just here to buy a car.”
The woman crossed her arms. “Price is eighty thousand.”
Bonnie’s eyes bulged out of her head. “That’s three times the listed price.” Hell, they were less than forty thousand brand new. She could buy two of them for that price and have change.
“Decided I want more. Eighty thousand. Take it or leave it.”
Bonnie looked at the guy beside her. But even though he seemed shocked, he clearly wasn’t about to jump in and save her. She turned back to the woman. “Come on, that’s not fair.”
“No? What’s not fair is that Jane, one of my best friends, had to bury her son thirteen years ago because the kid’s girlfriend couldn’t be bothered to take him home.”
Bonnie shook her head. She was wasting her time. “I’m leaving.”
“Good. Don’t come back.”
Bonnie stormed down the street, hating the angry tears that gathered in her eyes. She shouldn’t care that Jane and Carlos had told everyone Dean’s death was her fault. Once upon a time, she’d thought that too. It wasn’t true. She knew that now. It should be enough.
But God, she should also be able to buy a car without being made to pay a guilt tax.
A tear fell down her cheek and she swiped it away.
No. She was not going to cry. They didn’t deserve her tears. Not that woman. Not the Whites. Not anyone.
What she needed was a dirty chai from The Tea House and a long walk.
She turned onto the next street, only to groan. Because there, only a few yards away stepping out of a shop, was Carlos White.
Good God, could this day get any worse?
Quickly, she crossed the street, not in the mood for another confrontation.
“Hey.”
She ignored him and sped up.
“Hey. I’m talking to you.”
Loud footsteps thumped behind her.
She didn’t glance over her shoulder, but she didn’t need to do so to know he was close.
“Why are you still here?” Carlos shouted.
“Leave me alone.”
“Leave you alone? You come into my town, a walking reminder of the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and you want me to leave you alone?”
Bonnie walked so fast she was almost jogging. And she hated that. She hated having to run from this man.
“Did you think we’d all forget?” Suddenly, he grabbed her arm and spun her, strong fingers digging into her skin. Then he got so close, she could feel his breath on her face. “I will never forget. And I will never let this town forget.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Carlos, but if you don’t release my arm, I will.”
“I will follow you. Torment you. Ensure every move you make is so uncomfortable that you wish you’d stayed away.”
Her skin chilled, and for a moment the threat paralyzed her. The rage in the man’s voice. The way he said the words with such conviction.
“Get the fuck off her!”
She jumped at the fury in the new voice. New but familiar.
Zane.
He appeared beside her, but Carlos didn’t release her arm.
“Stay out of this, boy,” Carlos seethed through gritted teeth.
Zane inched closer to Carlos, almost stepping between them. “You have two seconds to release her before I break your wrist.” He said the words slowly, firmly, the threat alive in the air.
Carlos’s chest rose and fell, and for a moment, anger blackened his eyes. Then, finally, he let go of her and stepped back.
He glared at Zane before turning back to her. “Remember what I said.”
Zane watched the back of him until Carlos crossed the road, then turned to her. “Are you okay?”
No. She wasn’t close to okay. She was angry and sad and frustrated all at the same time. “I’m fine.”
Zane touched her arm, right where Carlos’s fingers had been. But where that man’s grip had been hard and painful, Zane’s was soft, almost soothing.
He lifted her arm and trailed his thumb over the red marks. His expression darkened, rage settling over his face. “I’m going to kill him.”
He started to turn but she grabbed his arm. “No. Please don’t.”
“Then I’ll call the sheriff’s station. Make a report.”
“What will that do? Carlos doesn’t care about getting into trouble, he just wants me gone. Besides, I can’t report everything that everyone in this town does to me. I’d be there every day.”
Suddenly, she questioned everything. Her reasons for coming back. The vision of her life if she stayed here. Heck, she wasn’t even able to buy a car.
“Hey.”
Zane’s voice pulled her back to him.
“Come inside the gym.”
She frowned in confusion, and that’s when she realized she was right outside The Pit. “No, it’s getting late. I should go.”
She turned, but this time Zane touched her waist. Again, it was gentle but also firm. “Bonnie…come inside with me.”
Did she look the mess she felt? Because she did feel a mess. A stone’s throw away from breaking. Between Indie not responding, the woman who refused to sell her that car, and now Carlos, it was all piling on top of her, feeling like this immoveable weight.
“Okay.” The word was so quiet she wasn’t even sure it crossed the distance.
He slipped a hand to the small of her back and led her inside.
As she walked in, the only thing holding her together was the warmth of Zane’s touch. And maybe he knew that. Maybe that’s why his hand lingered.
It was taking every part of Zane, every fraction of self-restraint he possessed, to follow Bonnie inside the gym and not go after the asshole who’d touched her. Marked her. Even thinking about the fucker made his hands ball into fists like he was going to hit something.
He forced himself to cross the gym to the small bar fridge in the kitchen and grab two beers. He cracked them open, and when he reached Bonnie again, he handed one to her. “Here.”
“You’re giving me a beer?”
“It’s alcohol or hit something. I thought this would be your preference.”
Her gaze flicked to the closest bag. “Why not both?” She slipped the beer from his hand and downed a quarter of the bottle before moving over to the leather bag.
Why the fuck did he find the combination of Bonnie, beer, and a leather bag so hot?
He tipped back his own bottle, letting the alcohol burn his gut before following. “Who was he?”
“I dated his son through high school.”
“Dean? The guy who died?”
“Yep. Dean got drunk at our graduation party, took his friend’s keys, and tried to drive himself home.” She ran her fingers over the bag. “He didn’t make it.”
“How’s that your fault?”
“I was supposed to drive him.”
The fact that she hadn’t made him think there was a good reason. “Still doesn’t sound like it’s your fault.”
“They needed someone to blame. And that someone became me.”
“That’s why you left town?”
“No. I left because one day I was this numb teenager who did stupid things in an attempt to feel something, and the next, I felt everything…and I wanted to claw out of my own skin.”
“Just from Dean’s death?” He didn’t buy it. There was more to this.
“Well, Dean died, the town blamed me. Then my parents died while coming to pick me up after asking me not to go out.”
Fuck. She really had had it tough. He didn’t even want to say sorry, because that felt fucking stupid.
Zane moved to the equipment box and pulled out gloves. Then, without a word, he took her beer, set it aside, and fit the gloves onto her hands. “Have you hit a bag before?”
“Once or twice.”
When the straps were tight around her wrists, he stepped back. “Show me.”
One side of her mouth lifted, only to slip again when she turned to the bag.
Her stance was good—left foot forward, chin slightly down, elbows tucked in tight.
She gave the bag one solid strike, her torso twisting.
He watched her throw more punches. Each hit was hard and filled with heavy, loaded emotion.
He watched one more before stepping behind her and gripping her hips.
She gasped. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve got good form, but you need to twist with your hips, not just your torso.” He guided her hips to show her. “And after the hit, you need to unwind your hips and return your hands to guard.”
She nodded.
He guided her hips forward a second time, then back. “That’s good.”
“I thought you said you weren’t a teacher?”
“You’re not a beginner, so this isn’t really teaching.”
“Then what is it?”
An excuse to touch her? A strange need to get close? And fuck, why did she smell so good? All florals like he was in the middle of a fucking garden.
He must have taken too long to respond, because she glanced over her shoulder and there was something in her eyes. The sadness from moments ago was gone, replaced with…desire?
He told himself to take his hands off her, to step back. He fucking screamed it. But he didn’t listen, because he was weak. He stood so still he wasn’t even breathing, needing to know what she’d do next.
Her gaze lowered to his lips, and that desire in her eyes shifted. Darkened.
Her breathing quickened, her gaze rising to his eyes again.
He was a damn fool. Because even though every part of him knew that he shouldn’t, he didn’t listen.
He lowered his head and kissed her.
It felt like a gut punch. But the good kind. The kind that felt like he was breathing fresh air for the first time in years. Sweet fucking air that filled his lungs.
She turned the rest of her body, and he only released her hips for a second before gripping them again and tugging her into him. When her chest hit his, she gasped, and he slipped his tongue inside.
And the taste of her…shit, it was like an assault on his senses. So sweet he could drown in her. He swirled his tongue around hers. His hands were just slipping up her sides, getting lost in her softness, when she pressed her gloved hands to his chest and pushed.
It took more willpower than it should have, but he forced himself to step back. Her eyes were hazy and her chest was heaving.
“That was…unexpected,” she breathed, voice barely a whisper.
What was? The kiss? Or the way it shifted something between them?
“Can you…” She lifted her hands.
He unstrapped her gloves, and the second they were off she took two steps away.
“Well, I, uh…should be getting out of here.” Her next step almost caused her to stumble over a box.
He grabbed her arm. “Do you need a ride home?”
“No. Nope.” She stepped away again, his hand dropping. “I’m good. I’m, uh, completely…very good. Yes. Okay. Bye.”
She almost raced out of the gym.
His lips twitched. She was nervous. Because the kiss had been as good for her as it was for him?
He was just packing up when the door opened and footsteps sounded. He turned, thinking she’d come back in.
She hadn’t.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Zane growled.
Abe Koch, the reporter, stepped into the room, brow lifted. “That’s no way to greet a potential customer.”
“You’re not a customer, because you’re not welcome here. Get out.”
“Lucky for me, I’m not here to work out. I’m here for my story.”
“Bonnie’s not here for you to harass.”
“Actually, I’ve shelved that story for now. I found something better.”
A slow burn crawled up the back of Zane’s neck, like a warning under the skin. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Well, I found some pretty interesting information. About you and your cousin from Billings. There was a murder, right? Your prints were found on a gun at a party? Then there was that guy a few months later that you—”
Zane was across the gym in a second, grabbing Koch by the shoulders and shoving him against the wall. “You so much as print my name in your paper, you’ll regret it.”
The asshole laughed, and it made Zane’s hand twitch to hit the guy. “Go on, hit me. I’ll add it to the story.”
The door to the gym opened again, and seconds later, two men came around the wall. Noah and the town sheriff.
The fuck?
“What’s going on here?”
Zane wasn’t sure which man spoke—he only had eyes for the asshole reporter. It took five seconds to let him go. To step back. And he immediately regretted it because of that smug look on the asshole’s face.
The sheriff stepped closer. “I’m Sheriff Hayes and I’m going to ask again—what’s going on here?”
Koch lifted a brow, leaving space for Zane to answer.
“Nothing.” The single word growled from Zane’s lips.
“Well, I’ll take that as ‘no comment.’” The reporter smiled. “Have a good evening, gentlemen.”
Zane’s stomach curled as he watched the guy leave, wanting to follow him. Threaten the fucker until he agreed to drop the story.
“Hey.”
Zane dragged his gaze to Bonnie’s brother.
Noah frowned. “Everything okay?”
Not even close. If the reporter had found out what had happened in Billings, if he printed it for the town to read, everyone would know about his past…about what he’d done.