Chapter 17: Chapter Seventeen

Frankie watched the color of the water in the shower slowly turn back to clear. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and the water turned pink again. He sighed and leaned heavily against the tiled-wall. He was cursing himself for not using the rain shower available at the penthouse suite. He was cursing himself for a lot of things.

She’d handled the surgery with much more grace than he’d expected. He’d had to stuff a pillowcase in her mouth to keep the screams from attracting unwanted attention. It wasn’t his first time removing a bullet though. Hell, it wasn’t even his first time removing a bullet from an arm. He was quick, efficient, and it was over quickly. He reached up and turned the shower off but he made no moves to get out.

He was exhausted. Everything was sore. How had they found them so quickly? It was a question for a later time. As he stepped out of the shower he heard the click of a door closing. He rushed from the bathroom to find the suite completely empty. He noticed a piece of paper from the hotel notepad sticking to the door. He walked up to it, fully expecting it to be a ransom note. Instead it was Gloria’s swift writing:

Went to get a drink. - Gloria

Damn! Frankie ran around the room collecting any clothes that seemed semi clean. He sprinted across the parking lot, still pulling his shirt over his head. He pushed open the door to the bar and glanced around. It was late… or early, however you wanted to look at it. The people still lingering in the joint were of two varieties: those looking to drown themselves and those looking to drown others. He spotted Gloria’s damp hair at the bar and started toward her. That’s when he noticed another man lean over and offer her a light… and she took it.

Frankie walked up and shoved between her and the man. He ignored the hulking figure at his back to settle his gaze on his woman.

“Why did you leave the room when I specifically told you not to?” Frankie asked.

Gloria shrugged. “We were out of whiskey,” she explained, holding her new glass up. Frankie eyed the bartender.

“Selling alcohol to a minor?”

The bartender scoffed as he continued to mop the floor behind the counter. “You’re one to talk, hot shot.”

Frankie rolled his eyes as Gloria took a drag of the cigarette and started to cough. He took the cigarette and held it up to his nose. He swiveled around to the man behind him and unleashed his most dangerous glare.

“You gave my girl weed?” he asked.

The guy kept his gaze forward as he took a pull from his own joint. “Looked like she needed it.”

“I’ll tell her what she needs.”

The man pushed back from his seat and stood to his full height. Frankie fought the urge to roll his eyes again. Being on the “shorter” side of the bad boy spectrum, he had long since become immune to this very tactic. We get it. You’re big. But can you disembowel someone with nothing but a spade? Can you take out a group of enemies from 500 feet away? Could you capture the attention of a striking beauty with a body that called to your primal side and eyes that sparked intrigue?

“Back to the room, Gloria,” Frankie chastised.

“I’m almost done.”

“Now.”

Gloria sighed and started to get down until the man in front of Frankie extended his hand and touched her elbow. Gloria went rigid. Her wide eyes swiveled to the hand that was still caressing her.

“She doesn’t need to do anything she doesn’t want to, Bub,” the man said.

“Bub?”

“I’m guessing this is your handiwork?” the man asked, gesturing to the bruises along her body.

“Some of them,” he said, always one to be honest with himself.

“She’s coming with me. I’ll take her to a shelter.”

“I’m okay, Sir. Thank you for your concern but…”

“Gloria. Room. Now,” Frankie ordered.

“Frankie, please don’t kill him,” she begged, touching his arm in the same way as the man had just touched her. His smirk lifted on one side. She didn’t want to listen to him. He would show her the same courtesy.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said.

Frankie didn’t look as she walked to the door, nor did he look as it shut behind her. He kept his eyes pinned to the gargantuan in front of him. Then he relaxed. He sat in the stool Gloria had vacated and sipped from her whiskey. He took a pull from the joint she’d left behind and enjoyed the moment as the effects of the drug worked through his body.

“Look,” Frankie began. “You can take a beating, you can take a shot or you can take a bullet. Which would you prefer?”

The man scoffed. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Shrimp?”

“Shot it is,” he said, slinging the last of the liquor back.

Frankie stood sharply, rolled his shoulder back and cracked his fist into the man’s nose. The man fell back and hit the floor with a pronounced thud. Frankie glanced at the bartender who watched the interaction with keen eyes as he leaned over the mop handle propped beneath his palms.

Frankie laid a few bills down on the counter and turned to leave. He flexed his fists as he walked through the door and trudged back across the parking lot toward his room. She’d left the door propped open. He kicked it closed with his heel. She was waiting for him on the bed, her lids drooping with exhaustion, her body slumped with the weight of the last 24 hours. He eyed her carefully as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“We need to get a few things straight,” he told her.

She blinked slowly in answer. He leaned over the bed toward her on his palms.

“When I tell you to do something or not to do something. You listen. Understood?”

She nodded once.

“The next time you lead a man on, I’ll punish him in front of you and then make you pay.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

His eyes narrowed at her sudden submission. “If another man touches you again, I’ll kill him and everyone that steps to his aid. I’ve killed nearly one hundred men getting to you. I don’t mind adding one or two more to the list.”

She stared blankly at him.

“Are you understanding me, Gloria?” he asked as he shucked his jeans off leaving him in just his boxer briefs.

Her eyes didn’t wander as they usually did. Her lips didn’t lift into a smile. Her face remained blank, unblinking. Finally she shrugged.

“Whatever,” he said with a sigh. “Move over,” he told her. “I’m exhausted and I sure as fuck am not sleeping on the floor.”

Gloria immediately complied by moving further to the right. He climbed under the covers. As he let his body settle into the too-soft mattress, he felt his muscles relax and with it came the pain. He’d been wound tight, close to snapping for weeks and not even the huge release he’d received over the last day had been enough to loosen them. Instead they cramped, spasmed and threatened to send him spiraling.

Then her hand touched his chest. Frankie jolted at the heat that fanned out across his skin with her touch. Her cheek smoothed against his shoulder and her fingers curled against his pec. She released a long sigh as she settled her head on the curved portion of his torso where his shoulder met his chest.

“Tomorrow. When I don’t feel like a zombie. We’ll discuss how misogynistic and caveman you just sounded,” she whispered into his skin.

“Okay,” he whispered as her magic seemed to seep through his muscles, into his soft tissue… his heart.

Frankie wrapped his arm around her and drew her in closer to his body. Her leg curled around his and he fought the groan that threatened to surface. He exhaled long again and laid his head back against the pillow. And slept.