Mine to Keep (NOLA Knights #3) - Rhenna Morgan Page 0,92

after her last four tirades. “In case it’s escaped your attention, Miss Drummond. You’re not in a position to demand anything. You’re comfortable. You have food. Protection. You should consider yourself lucky.”

Lucky.

If she could find something with a sharp point or a cutting edge on it, she’d show him lucky.

Asshole.

She focused on her breathing.

One slow, long inhale.

One long exhale.

Everything would be okay. Roman would find her. Even without the tracking device. He was crafty. Tenacious.

Assuming he was okay.

God, would he hate her after this?

Well, I hate you now, her conscience said. Why the hell didn’t you listen to him?

A good question. A solid one actually. Roman had been dealing with bad guys the vast majority of his life. He’d tried to tell her not to fall for it, but nooooo. She just had to get up in the middle of his giving a shit and have her say.

Bad. Freaking. Idea.

She huffed out a sharp breath. What the hell. She’d made it this long giving the jerk by the door all kinds of grief. One more round wouldn’t hurt. “Hey. Mean dude.”

Her guard met her stare, but kept his silence.

“Where’s your boss? Rossi or whatever his name is.”

Her guard’s eyes narrowed to menacing slits and his voice dropped to an eerie pitch. “You would be wise to forget that name. Jennette should have as well.” He paused all of one heartbeat. “She’ll pay for sharing it.”

Not good.

Not good at all.

Still, Bonnie kept her face impassive the same way she would facing down a bar fight about to erupt. “Whatever. I don’t care what his name is, but I wanna talk to him. Now.”

Surprise flared on his face. “Is that so?”

“Yes. And I want him to bring my family with him. If he’s gonna keep me against my will, the least he can do is show his pansy ass and give me some damned answers.”

The man’s mouth twitched, but he pulled his phone from his pant pocket. “You’ve got a lot of fire, Miss Drummond. You’d better hope you don’t end up burned.”

He typed something on his screen, then seemed to do a good two or three minutes’ worth of texting someone before tucking the phone back in his pocket.

“Well?” Bonnie said.

“Don’t push your luck. Maybe you could be smart instead and use your spare time to pray.”

Yep. Definitely an asshole. If Roman did manage to find her, she was gonna ask if he’d be up for letting her get a few punches in before he gutted the dude.

She sighed and waited.

And worried.

And yeah, she threw a few prayers in, too. Not that she figured God was in much of a mind to help her at this point. He’d given her a homerun lottery introducing her to Roman and Cassie and everyone else in their family, and look what she’d done with it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The six o’clock morning news came on.

Then the seven o’clock edition.

Not a single word about the incident yesterday afternoon was reported. Actually, nothing of interest was reported—which was really saying something for New Orleans on a Sunday morning. Usually, someone somewhere got up to no good over the weekend.

But today it was all fluff. An agricultural story. A tour of a local art gallery. A freaking cooking segment.

Suddenly, the guard stood. He moved his chair a good three feet from the door then braced his feet hip width apart and clasped his hands loosely in front of him.

“What’s going on?” Bonnie stood as well, her joints and muscles aching from the fight she’d given her captors the day before and the lack of movement all night.

The guard ignored her, his blank stare locked onto the thick red curtains drawn over the windows.

A click sounded on the room’s lock a second before it opened. Another of the men who’d taken her walked through first, holding the door ajar. Two more stood on either side of the jam in the hallway, each of them mirroring the same alert, yet impassive posture as the asshole who’d watched her all night.

A second later, Kevin stumbled through the door as though someone had pushed him. “All right! All right!” he barked back at them, clearly not registering Bonnie’s presence. Not a big shock though, considering what his face looked like. It was more black, blue and green than it was white, and a few scabbed over cuts marked one cheekbone and the side of his mouth.

“Kevin...” She hurried to him, but stopped on a harsh gasp when two guards half carried, half frog-marched