Page 22 of Honeycombs & Homecomings

The man crossed his legs. “That’s a well-behaved dog. Good looking, too,” he said. “What bread is he?”

Her golden, long-haired Labrador retriever mutt mix wagged his tail. He looked just like a Labrador Retriever, only with long hair, except that he was much bigger. Much, much bigger. And she didn’t mean fat, she meant tall and muscular. He weighed in at 125 pounds in his left paw.

Honey always knew when he was being spoken about. He was a smarty pants like that. To Allie’s mind, he was the best-looking dog in the state—definitely better looking than all the Labradoodles all over town, and way smarter too. But as soon as anyone heard the word “mutt” they looked at him different. She hated that.

“Are we here to talk about my dog or the loan your man gave Tony Jones?” She rested her arms on the armrest.

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. “My men tell me they took you to the local man in charge and when he wouldn’t give you answers, you demanded to be taken to the real man in charge.”

She lifted her chin. Okay, that’d been impulsive. The fact that they’d taken her by gunpoint in the first place was bad enough. The last thing she wanted was to be taken over state lines on a six-and-a-half-hour car ride to Atlantic City. But, when she’d met the little weasel at the racetrack the next town over who’d apparently been giving loans to her Tony, she’d wanted to ring the life out of him. She’d given him a piece of her mind at growling teeth point.

Plus, she couldn’t take him seriously. Even a little bit. He’d been so terrified of Honey, that he’d ended up huddled in a corner with Honey growling at him and wagging his tail at the same time. Even Honey couldn’t take the guy seriously.

He’d kept looking at her as if to say, “Is this guy serious?” Followed by another growl and a more whimpering from the guy. Allie had almost felt bad for him. She would’ve too if he hadn’t been so ridiculous and disgusting.

But that didn’t matter now. She was here, and she needed to get down to business. If they wanted to use her as a bargaining chip, she needed to know what for. And she was getting nothing from the little weasel. That was when she’d demanded to go to his boss. Whoops.

“You may go,” Boss said to Allie’s abductors.

The two men left the room.

“My name is Henry Salucci,” Boss said.

He was an Italian? Great. If this wasn’t the most cliché loan shark related kidnapping in history, she didn’t know what was.

“Let’s cut the crap, shall we,” Allie said. “My boyfriend owes you money. How much?”

Henry laughed. “I like you.”

She huffed.

“A hundred grand,” he said.

What?! “A hundred thousand dollars?”

“That’s right.”

She would kill Tony herself. She’d ring his neck with her own bare hands. She’d squeeze until the life left him, then she’d revive him and strangle him again. How could he do this to them? She clenched her fist, her 3-carat diamond engagement ring sparkling up at her with the light from the window. She straightened her fingers and glanced down at her ring.

She hadn’t had her ring appraised, but she’d known from the start that it hadn’t been cheap.

Her breathing starting coming in deep rasps. Tony had purchased her engagement ring with money he’d gotten from a loan shark? Not a hundred thousand worth, but she’d bet a sizable chunk. “You can’t be serious.”

“Are you all right, Miss Alice?” He leaned forward at the same time she did. “It’ll all be fine. We just need to find Tony and after that, we’ll figure it all out.”

She sucked in a sob.

“No, please,” Henry pleaded. “Don’t . . . don’t cry.”

Heavens to Betsy, they were in so much trouble.

***

Thursday night, Cash drove through Charleston, the small town twenty minutes from Harvest Ranch, and pulled into their small grocery store parking lot. He’d left Jo’s shop a little before ten, after installing the locks, and he’d said nothing about coming back. As long as Cash had known Jo, she’d always been so stoic. That facade had come down when she’d walked in that morning to find the group cleaning, and it’d slipped for just a moment before he’d left.

Kneeling by the back door, he tested the slip bolt, then the dead bolt. “There, now you can sleep safe at night and not have to worry about someone breaking in on you.”

“Thank you,” Jo said, her voice barely above a whisper.

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