My displeasure over the thought that he is actually handsome despite his age is only matched by my awe as we step into a room lit in a dim hue of crimson. A lounge of sorts. The air is thick with cigar smoke. Across the misty space, I see many other suited men conversing as well as girls in a similar attire to me.
Straightaway, I notice the ones with collars are politely ignored, whereas the ones without are intensely observed.
Anger cascades through me.
My feminist brain screams.
Why would he want to be here with me? Why not wait until tomorrow to report to his precious Jimmy and save me from this scene.
As Jimmy walks towards a door at the rear of the lounge, I lean towards Bronson and whisper, “Why didn’t you just leave me tied up in the RV! I’d have preferred it.”
He spins to face me with a cool grin and something like mischief in his eyes -likemischief, but the telltale green glow to his irises screams a threat. “Me too. I hate you being here. I’m dreaming about gouging every man in here’s eyes out of their sockets just for being in this room with you inthat.”
I exhale raggedly.
He tries to stifle a low growl. “But.” He lowers his cheek until it touches the side of mine. “I couldn’t leave you alone in the RV. . . Cause they’re searching it right now.”
I gasp, bouncing my eyes to the ground in case my shock can be seen within them. “For what?”
“Another time,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my cheek, lingering there for a few minutes.
Casually, Bronson turns around and tails Jimmy into the back room with me in tow. As we enter, Jimmy settles at his desk with a tight smile. A petite girl with shiny dark hair sits on the edge, whirling brown liquid around in a short glass. The sheer fabric of her skirting is barely a frill, and the corset encasing her small torso pushes up her pert breasts.
She eyes me kindly, and although her demeanour is content - satisfied even - she is showcasing bruises and bite marks on her thighs.
My stomach turns.
Jimmy looks at the girl. “Miranda, leave us,se.”
She slides from the desk and glides towards me, stopping shoulder to shoulder for a moment to study me. She presses her shoulder to mine playfully and then disappears; it is the weirdest interaction ever.
Jimmy smiles at her back as she leaves, watching her every move, fascinated by her perhaps. “She is the most sensitive little thing,” he says. “I don’t like to bore her with shop talk. Yours likes it,se?An intellectual, maybe?”
Bronson slides into a chair opposite Jimmy, pulling me down onto his lap. I shuffle in close. Not that I can’t take my own, but I’ll pick my battles. This isn’t one of them.
“She likes to sit on my lap, no matter the banter.” Bronson smirks and Jimmy laughs from his belly. The vibe is pleasant and awkward at the same time. “Anyway, where’s Clay tonight? Not allowed out now that he’s a councillor?”
“He’s in Darwin,” Jimmy states, leaning back into his big, looming black chair. I twist my head into Bronson’s neck, hiding the surprise that consumes my expression.Darwin?Why? “Hunting down Salvatore,” Jimmy says, answering my thoughts.
Bronson twitches beneath me. “Hunting?”
“Se. I know what happened.”
“What do you mean, Jimmy?” Bronson asks, his voice even.
“The tattoo,” Jimmy states plainly, and I try not to look back, fighting with my own resolve to not engage. “The one you described. It belongs to Dominic.”
“Demarco?” Bronson asks, playing with the dimples at my lower back again, settling something inside me. I relax on a little sigh. Twisting back towards Jimmy, I steel my face and watch the interaction with as much indifference as I can muster.
“Se.He has also-” Jimmy considers his words. “Disappeared. So, I believe Sal is now dirt or the whole thing was a ruse.”
“The gun-shot in my chest doesn’t feel much like a ruse, mate,” Bronson says with a chuckle, and I smile easily, because it seems more natural to chuckle when he does, rather than feel the chill and discomfort washing over me.
Jimmy’s brown eyes watch Bronson, scrutinizingly, following every tic, each subtle tell. “No. I’m sure it doesn’t. But Sal wasn’t shot at by Dom.”
Bronson’s fingers freeze on my back. “What are you saying?” he asks smoothly.
The pause that follows near ignites the air. “He’s betrayed me, my boy,” Jimmy finally says.