Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen

Present Day

Frankie held onto her hand as he forced her to jog through the quiet lobby toward the elevator. Once inside, he pushed her against the wall. His hands scoured her body taking in every cut, bruise, scrape or bump. There was bruising around her neck, some old, made by himself on the night he took her from Sergei, and some just forming from the brute who tried to manhandle her. She had cuts, her skin was split open from the impressive head butt she’d performed and her finger was cut from the way she’d held the gun. The most obvious injury though was the gun shot to her arm. It hadn’t exited. He would need to remove it. Fuck! How did he not see them coming? He ripped a strip of his t-shirt and tied it tightly around her arm making her groan and her face turn a shade lighter than it already was.

The elevator stopped in the garage and he forced her to keep moving. Her body swayed, the adrenaline in her system wearing off as they moved across the garage. Once at the bike, he deposited her on the seat and fastened the helmet around her head. She started to tip and he caught her just in time. He growled to himself, knowing he couldn’t get them out of the city and away from the police if he also had to keep her upright.

Frankie dug through his duffel until he found the med kit. He scoured the various syringes until he found the epinephrine. He used his teeth to rip the cap off and jammed it into her thigh before squeezing the plunger. Her eyes widened and she stared down at the needle still poking from her thigh. She slowly looked up, her innocent expression punching him in the gut.

“Shot of adrenaline,” he explained with a shrug he hoped came across as somewhat sympathetic.

He could feel her pulse beating roughly beneath his fingers before he let go to put his own helmet on.

“We are going to have to duck and dodge a bit, Vixen. I need you on your toes.” He slung his leg over the bike and revved it to life. “I need you to hold on.”

Her arms wrapped around his waist and the moment he felt her hands lock together, he took off. Police cars were waiting outside the entrance. He managed to squeeze between the blockade and keep going. Sirens filled his ears as he started weaving in and out of traffic, up on to the sidewalk, around pedestrians. Gloria kept her hands locked around his waist. She turned with him and stayed glued to his back. He passed several police cars going a different direction. Their tires squealed as they whipped around in the next intersection to give chase.

Frankie picked up speed, flying past parked cars as if they weren’t capable of crippling him, his bike and the woman he was trying to free. A cop car tried to cut him off, but Frankie merely veered right into an alley. He passed a homeless encampment, earning hollers of anger as his bike kicked up trash. He could hear the sirens following him. He veered left and then right, dodging between alleys, dumpsters and the occasional feral cat. At last he saw his next target. He pulled into the alley, made a sharp right into an abandoned single-car garage and halted, causing Gloria to shove against him with the force of her inertia.

He hopped off and got to work. He scraped the paint job and started to peel the sticker off turning his bike from black to a powdery sky blue.

“Get your helmet,” he directed Gloria who immediately complied by peeling the sticker from her own helmet.

Frankie pried his license plate off and switched it with a fake. He pulled his duffel bag down and removed everything from inside. As he laid it all out, he felt a tug on his helmet. He glanced up to see Gloria deep in concentration as she stripped the sticker from his helmet.

Once everything was out of the bag, he turned it inside out so that even the color of the duffel had changed. He put everything back in it apart from the extra fender accessories. He popped the cheap plastic over the cherry fenders.

“I’m sorry, Girl, it’s only temporary,” he told the bike as the accessories snapped into place.

He threw his leg back over the bike, took a deep breath and started her up again. He pulled out into the alley going slow and steady. The change had taken only a few minutes. Sirens still wailed. He stopped at the entrance of the alley and waited as a group of cops flew by still trying to track him down. He turned on his blinker and pulled out after checking both ways.

This trip through the streets of Chicago paled in comparison to the one they’d just left in their wake. He stopped at every red light. Waved to every cop that looked his way and smiled at women who gawked at his Frankenstein bike. It wasn’t until he pulled onto the highway that he started to pick up speed. He could feel Gloria behind him, leaning heavily against his back as the adrenaline he’d given her warred with her mind that wanted to shut down and recover. He needed to get her somewhere to treat her wounds, but he also needed to get as far from Chicago as possible. He needed to get home. There was no more stalling. They needed security. They needed the protection of the Accardi name. New York was almost a twelve hour drive though. He needed to find a second spot to stop for the night.

Frankie continued to drive for as long as the gas in his bike would let him. He stopped for gas once but when that tank started to flash empty, he knew they needed to stop. It was nearly midnight and she’d gone slack behind him half an hour earlier. He took to the back roads and the moment he saw lights, he started to slow down. He smirked when he saw what the lights were illuminating: a small, quaint motel with a motorcycle bar beside it. Before he got close, he pulled his bike to the side of the road, jarring Gloria back to reality.

“What… what’s happening?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“I found a place for us to stay. I just have to take care of a few things first.”

Frankie walked around his bike and took off the cheap disguise. The bike was still powder blue but at least it no longer looked like it was being driven by a teenage kid just out of high school looking to impress the head cheerleader. A few minutes later they completed the last hundred yards of their journey. He parked in front of the motel. He told Gloria to wait for him while he went inside to get a room. Luckily there was one still available.

He helped Gloria off the bike. She stumbled over her own feet as he led her toward their room. The door opened with a creak and he flicked on the lights before walking inside. It was doable. There was a bed, a bathroom with a semi-clean shower, and a tv that still had a box attached. It would serve their purpose. Frankie set her down on the edge of the bed and immediately started to unwrap his medical kit. Gloria slowly lowered herself back on the bed and sighed. When her eyes closed, he leaned over and lightly smacked her cheek, making her eyes fly wide.

“Stay awake, Baby. You probably have a concussion.”

“Baby?” she repeated, rolling the pet name around in her mouth as she tried to decide if she liked it.

“It fits in this moment. Sit up.” Frankie helped her to sit and he started to unwind the shirt from her arm.

Frankie examined her arm, noting again how the bullet had entered but not exited. He looked through his kit at all the medication.

“No more drugs. Please,” she whispered, her eyes threatening to close again.

“You need something for the pain, especially once I start digging.”

“Alcohol.”

“I don’t think…”

“Alcohol,” she repeated more firmly.

Frankie sighed and commenced his delving again until he found his flask. He held the container out to her and she took it with trembling fingers. She opened it up and threw it back as he assembled the rest of his supplies. She kept the flask against her lips as if she were suckling from a bottle. He touched the bottom of the silver container and urged it upward. A few drops of whiskey ran down her throat. When the flask felt empty, he took it back from her and urged her down.

“This will be painful,” he informed her as she fisted the bed sheets in her hands. She nodded. She already knew. “If at any point you need me to stop, just say so.” Another nod. “Are you ready?”

Frankie watched as she visibly swallowed. Her fists tightened and she squeezed her eyes shut. Then she nodded and he lowered the scalpel to her delicate flesh.