Chapter 14: Chapter Fourteen

“Follow,” Frankie growled as he crouched and stalked from the elevator.

Gloria shadowed him, keeping one hand touching his back as he moved from the elevator to the concierge desk a few feet away. As they lowered down behind the desk, the first gunshot ricocheted off the computer causing it to spark and explode. Frankie’s hand fisted in her t-shirt and shoved her under the desk, cramming her small body into the only source of protection he could find.

Laughter rang out over the empty lobby. “Frank Donati. Long time no see!” a familiar voice beckoned across the room.

Frankie snorted while he checked his weapons like it was a nervous tick. He then noticed a few shards of glass from the computer monitor within easy reach. “I wish I could say the same, Thompson. Why don’t you step out of your hiding place so I can see your pretty face,” Frankie suggested.

“That’s cute. Almost makes me want to give you what you want,” Thompson taunted.

“How many men you got with you?” Frankie asked, carefully brushing the dust and debris off a shard of glass.

“Oh, you know, seventeen or so. Shall we do a head count for you?”

“That would be nice.”

“How about you? Accardi with you?”

“Nope, just little old me. I’m flattered Sergei sent you,” Frankie said, holding the glass up and turning it around the space as he tried to decipher where the men were hiding.

“You’ve killed everyone else at the mansion,” Thompson informed him.

“Were you impressed?”

“It did make my pants tight.”

Frankie swiveled, shot to his feet and fired twice before dropping back down to avoid the hailstorm of gunfire sent his way. “Six,” Frankie whispered to himself, holding the glass up. Another moment later he smiled and repeated the action. This time he managed to get off five shots before he had to duck. “Nine.”

“Eight, eleven, nine, fifteen!” Thompson said, his voice seemingly closer.

“Don’t mess up my count, fucker!” Frankie yelled, popping back up and firing two more shots. “Ten.”

“There’s someone behind the pillar and another behind the reception desk that is the slowest to drop after he fires,” Gloria said, hoping to be helpful.

Frankie smirked and nodded. He took a deep breath, carefully maneuvered to the side of the desk and peeked around the corner. He raised his gun. Three shots.

“Twelve, thanks, Vixen,” he said with a wink that made her bristle with pleasure.

“Glooorriiiiiaaaa,” Thompson called, turning the bristle of pleasure into a shiver of disgust. “Sergei is very disappointed in you, Gloriaaaa.” Frankie kept his gaze on her as he reloaded, calculating her response. He was always calculating her response.

“I don’t think she wants to talk to you,” Frankie answered for her.

“She doesn’t need to talk with what I have in mind for her.”

Frankie snarled, the taunt landing right where it was meant to. Frankie stood and started shooting blindly. Bullets whizzed past him, close enough to make the clothes he was wearing flutter with their trajectory. Gloria grabbed Frankie by the belt and hauled him back down before he got seriously hurt.

“Fifteen.”

“So, why her, Frank?” Thompson asked, his voice in a different location again. “I mean I get the physical appeal, but I never thought you’d be one to settle down.”

Gloria tried to decipher the tone of his voice. There was something there, beneath the taunt and the question. Something like… jealousy?

“Is that jealousy I hear, Asher?” Frankie asked, picking up on the same thing she was.

Thompson scoffed. “She’ll never measure up to what we had. There are things no one will be able to take from us.”

“You two?” Gloria mouthed, moving her finger from Frankie to the general direction of Asher’s voice.

Frankie’s smirk pulled down at the edges in an exaggerated manner as he gave her a look of false shock.

“Don’t deny it, Frank. She’s going to find out eventually. The only factor left up for debate is… Who will tell her?”

A barrage of gunfire erupted around them. The bullets pierced through their fortress. Frankie fell forward to cover her while his head swiveled trying to find the best way to get them out. His head jerked suddenly to the right. He shoved Gloria and twisted around just in time to avoid a bullet. He raised his gun and shot twice. Then he pivoted on the balls of his feet and shot twice again. Gloria watched as Frankie slowly stood and started taking down men without any regard for his own safety. She couldn’t let him do this alone anymore.

With shaky knees, Gloria rose. Her eyes immediately darted around the room. Then everything slowed. Years of practice, training, preparing all coalesced in a singular moment. A bullet whizzed past her head. Her eyes flicked in the direction of the bullet’s path. She spotted a man wearing a dark mask aim his gun at her head, but she was faster. She didn’t think, she let her body use muscle memory. Before his finger could slip over the trigger, she squeezed hers. The man dropped to the ground. A head shot. Clean. Over.

She swiveled, aiming for the other men whose objective was Frankie Donati, not their future queen. She walked in Frankie’s wake, taking out the men who were not in his path. Her mother told her this would happen. She promised that if she were ever in a situation like this the instinct to survive would win out over her morals. Gloria finally understood why Frankie did what he did. The rush, the tingle of adrenaline zipping just beneath her skin, the high of holding someone’s life in your hands and snuffing it out with nothing more than a calculated raise of her hand and a twitch of her finger.

White-hot pain scorched through her upper arm. She cried out and immediately ducked behind a pillar. She clasped a hand to her arm, trying to stall the blood that was flowing through her fingers.

“Gloria!” Frankie called.

“I’m okay!” she answered back. “Crap,” she breathed through the pain. She peeked out from behind the pillar and spied Frankie hiding beside a different one. Her eyes widened as she noticed a man approaching him. “Fra-”

Her warning was cut off when someone clamped their hand over her mouth. The gun dropped, her legs lifted off the ground as the man picked her up from behind. Gloria flailed. She kicked. She threw her head backward. The man was too strong. On the other side of the room Frankie was engaged in hand to hand combat. His hands flew through the air as he deflected Thompson’s attacks with brutal force and practiced patience. She tried to think of how she could get out of this. There was only one weapon at her disposal and she decided to put them to use.

Gloria bit down on the man’s palm. Blood flooded her mouth as her jaw locked onto the mystery man’s hand. He tried to yank her off but she stayed firm until he threw her roughly down. Gloria’s head connected with the marble floor. She saw stars for a moment before the man started dragging her back. She kicked her legs, knocking his hands only for him to stomp his boot into her stomach. She lurched, the air knocked from her lungs. The man grabbed her by the back of the neck and hauled her upward. He smiled, his teeth were rotting, a smell emanated from their decay as he leered down at her. Gloria tried to grab at him but her attempts to get him to drop her were met with steel determination. As a last resort she brought her head back, kicked her legs forward and then sent her head into his nose.

The man bellowed and dropped her as he grabbed his now broken nose. Gloria hit the ground again and a sob ripped through her as she landed on her injured arm. Her attacker stomped forward, ready to finish the job whether his boss would approve or not. One more gun shot. A hit between the eyes. The large man stopped. His body wavered and then he fell to the side. Gloria quickly got to her feet and turned to face Frankie. He stood over a groaning Thompson who was holding his leg as if it had been broken. Frankie’s gun went from where her attacker had stood moments ago to the man at his feet.

“I let you live. We’re even. Our deal is done,” Frankie told Thompson.

Thompson stared upward for a moment before he nodded. Frankie flipped the gun in his hand and used the butt of it to knock Thompson unconscious. Then his dark eyes turned to her. As he strode toward her, she tried to take stock of his injuries. There was blood on his arms, a cut to his right leg, one of the fingers on his left hand looked mangled and… Frankie caught her throat between his hands and kissed her.

The kiss caught her off guard with its intensity. He drove her head back with the force of his desire to devour her. His tongue invaded her mouth, tasting every inch she had to offer while her own tongue made a valiant effort to keep up. He pulled away, his lips making a sound as he ripped them away from hers. He was panting, so was she. She licked her lips and tasted copper. His eyes went to her mouth. His thumb traced across her bottom lip, removing some of the blood left there by her attacker and the use of her head as a bludgeoning tool. He looked to the blood on his thumb and sucked it clean.

“We have to go. Now,” Frankie told her, stepping slowly away as if afraid she might not follow.

“Okay,” she answered, allowing his body to relax.

As Frankie jogged to retrieve his duffel, Gloria put her own fingers to her mouth and pulled them away to look at the blood tainting them. She absently wondered if she would ever share a kiss with Frankie Donati without blood on her lips.