Chapter 18: Chapter Eighteen

New York City. She saw the buildings miles before they entered the city limits. The skyscrapers rose out of the ground like sentinels sent by the Gods to protect what lay hidden in the ocean from what prowled on land… or vice versa.

She could sense Frankie’s shift in demeanor the moment they crossed over the border into his boss’ territory. Once rigid and precise in his driving, he suddenly slowed to the speed limit and started weaving in and out of traffic as if it were a fun, lazy game. The muscles in his back loosened, his shoulders dropped and his head rose as he looked forward to his own domain. It was late in the evening. Darkness had swallowed them long ago but Frankie refused to stop. They were too close.

In the midst of the city with lights flashing and people yelling at each other, she let go of his waist and started enjoying the ride with her hands hanging loosely at her sides. It didn’t take long to figure out where their first stop would be. As Frankie pulled into a back alley featuring a worn, round sign for Valentina’s, her stomach started to feel queasy with nerves. He was taking her to his boss. He was taking her to Accardi.

Frankie helped her off the bike and performed his newly developed ritual of watching her stretch her muscles. His dark eyes absorbed everything and gave nothing back as he swiped his hair to the side and helped her with her helmet.

“I need to meet with Accardi before we go back to my place,” he explained, confirming her worst fears.

She gulped. “Why?”

“He’ll want to discuss our activities.”

“Ours?” she asked with a raised brow.

He smiled and laughed through his nose. “Yes, ours. Get used to the word, Vixen. It’ll be how I refer to anything that includes you and I from now on.”

Frankie took her hand and walked her across the alley toward the steel door at the back of the fight club. Frankie knocked and waited. A moment later a slat opened and a pair of dark eyes looked out at them.

“Don,” Frankie said with a nod.

The eyes on the other side of the door crinkled in recognition. The slat closed only so the door could open.

“Frank! Nice to see you, Man. We all thought you’d died and Accardi was covering it up,” Don said. “Oh, hey, Lilah.”

“Hi,” Gloria said with a wave, wondering if she should correct people now that her hiding had imploded.

“Didn’t have you on the list as working tonight,” Don said, pulling his clipboard out. “Haven’t had you on the list for a while, in fact.”

Gloria opened her mouth to explain, but Frankie was faster. “She’s not here to work. She’s with me,” Frankie explained as he wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and hauled her against his side, staking his claim.

“Ohhhh, so this is the one?”

“The one?” Gloria asked.

Frankie’s eyes narrowed in warning at Don… who completely ignored the look. “Yeah, the one that’s had him tied in knots. The one who got him to drop his duties to go chasing after her. The one who got Stephen killed?”

Both Gloria and Frankie stilled. Gloria looked up to see Frankie’s reaction. His face was stone, the planes of his cheeks were smooth as he glared across the small space at Don.

“Sergei Vasiliev killed Stephen,” Frankie corrected, relieving an enormous burden in her chest. Gloria interlaced her fingers with his. “He’ll pay for what he’s done. Would you like me to add your name under his?”

Don chuckled and slapped Frankie on the shoulder. “Sorry, Man. Didn’t mean anything by it. Head on in. Accardi’s in his office.”

Frankie tugged on Gloria’s hand, drawing her in after him.

“Gen’s with him tonight so make sure you knock first!” Don warned.

Gloria’s nerves climbed higher as they walked through the hallway into the club. She’d heard of the new Donna standing beside Accardi. She’d even caught glimpses of her during one or two of her shifts. She’d never spoken to her or been allowed near her. To be partners with the most powerful Don in the city meant she must be intimidating… or crazy at the very least.

The sounds of cheers mixed with boos erupted as Frankie pushed through the final door. A fight was nearing its end in the ring and people were getting antsy for the final result. Gloria pulled her hand away as her eyes swept over the club, earning her a curious glance from Frankie. She laced her own hands together to keep him from reaching for her again. She wasn’t sure who was working tonight and she didn’t want to be asked a hundred questions like, “Where have you been?” “Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving?” “Why are you holding hands with the one guy we warned you about?”

Frankie’s hand settled along her back as he urged her toward the VIP stairs. She felt eyes on her but not in the way she was used to. She glanced around and immediately understood why. No one was looking at her. They were looking at him. She recalled how tense the club would get when Frankie Donati entered the crowd. Everyone was on high alert, waiting for the crazed psycho to make a move no one was expecting. While she’d never seen him exhibit any psychotic behavior… in the club… She’d heard rumors of the many fights he had gotten himself into, the people he’d killed, the things he’d broken, the fight in which he’d nearly succeeded in killing his own boss.

The man at the velvet rope nodded toward Frankie and held it open for him. He was far less chatty than Don. They ascended the stairs. Frankie’s eyes swept over the people sitting at the various tables. She recognized Accardi’s personal guard sitting nearby with the manager of the club, Louis. Frankie held a hand up in greeting to which Leo nodded and Louis waved. Both of their eyes, however, were locked on her.

Frankie took her hand again and led her to the only office on the top floor: Accardi’s office. At the door, Frankie suddenly paused. She watched as he closed his eyes and inhaled slowly as if preparing himself for what he was about to face inside. At last, he turned his head to look down at her. She smiled and squeezed his hand. His free hand lifted and touched under her chin. Then, as if that simple gesture had given him all the strength he needed, he opened the door.

“It’s about fucking time.” Accardi’s voice echoed around the room.

Gloria kept her gaze trained down as she’d been taught to do when in the presence of a boss.

“I’m actually back early from vacation,” Frankie teased, his sarcastic tone of voice back in place for the first time since the hotel in Chicago.

“Vacation?” a feminine voice asked. “Is that what we’re calling killing sprees now?”

Gloria looked up to find the source of the voice sitting on the couch. Her heels were discarded, her legs were pulled up underneath her and a book sat on her lap. She was breathtaking. Dark hair framed a symmetrical face that was offset by startling blue eyes which crinkled with her smile of reassurance.

“I feel more relaxed. Gloria?” Frankie asked, looking down and squeezing her hand once in reassurance.

“I…”

“You said you were going to stalk the fucker. Wear him down little by little. Then you go and blow up his entire house?” Accardi asked.

Gloria watched the woman on the couch as her eyes turned to her husband. The worry etched in her brow made Gloria even more nervous. She looked at her husband as if she had no idea how he was going to react to them standing before him. A dangerous thing: indecision. She finally turned her gaze to the mafia boss in question. His palms were flat against the quartzite desk. His tie and the top few buttons of his dress shirt were askew as if someone had buttoned them back in a rush. His eyes, a bit more green than brown moved from Frankie to her and she attempted a step back… attempted because Frankie’s hand stopped her.

“I actually didn’t blow up his house. I blew up a few cars. Sergei blew up the house,” Frankie informed them.

“He blew up his whole house? Why?” the woman asked.

Both Frankie and Accardi went to answer, but Gloria took the oppurtunity to distance herself from being the meek drag-along. “He wanted to save face,” she said, cutting the men off. The woman’s eyes connected with hers and held. “Frankie killed a lot of men. There’s no way he can just explain that away. So, he created an accident that could justify the mass casualties."

The woman looked to her husband in shock. The mob boss’ eyes softened and he smiled gently. “They were already dead, Weakness.”

“I know,” Weakness answered, her eyes turning sharp as they connected with Frankie. “What’s next then?”

Frankie went to answer when Accardi answered for him. “What’s next is we have a meeting with Sergei to discuss the fallout. He may take money,” Accardi surmised, rubbing his brow.

“He won’t,” Gloria told them, drawing all eyes to her.

“You will need to sit down with him, Frank,” Accardi explained. “Work out a new deal. Figure out how to keep the fucking Russians from waging war against us. We have the meeting with the Phelan family next week too. Plus our trip,” Accardi listed with a jab of his thumb toward his wife who smiled broadly.

“He’ll come. No need to set up a meeting.”

“We need to mitigate this situation. If you don’t do this right, it will leave us open to…”

“Stephen is dead,” Frankie growled, drawing the mob boss up short and causing Gen to shuffle in her seat. “He stole ‘Lilah,’ mistreated her, abused her…” Accardi’s eyes went to her throat and she got the feeling he knew exactly who gave them to her. “Sergei has hired Asher Thompson.”

Accardi sighed. “Fuck.”

“He showed up at the hotel and nearly succeeded in getting the better of me.”

“You don’t say.”

“I said ‘nearly,’” he reminded the smug mob boss.

“Asher Thompson? Who’s that?” the woman asked. Accardi gave Frankie a look telling him to watch what he said next. Gloria made eye contact with the woman who gave her a little smirk and a wiggle of her eyebrows as if to say watch this. “Accardi? Monkey wrench.”

Accardi’s eyes immediately softened and a smirk threatened to pull at his lips. He looked down and shook his head. “He’s an arms dealer. Brutal. Decapitates people. Hangs them from telephone poles. He's also Sergei's oldest friend and...”

"Lover," Frankie finished.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Frankie agreed, happy everyone was up to speed on how dangerous the man was. She wondered if he would tell Accardi he let the murderer walk?

“We need to talk logistics, Frank. I want your plan. Now.” Accardi sat in his chair as if he were presiding over a court room. “Start to finish. No deviation other than the unknowable.”

“And you?” the Donna asked. Everyone looked around, trying to figure out what or who she was talking to. “How are you feeling, Gloria?”

There was something in her voice. A comfort, an understanding. It disarmed Gloria in a way that unsettled her stomach. Her ice-blue eyes watched her, not missing anything.

“I…” She wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m fine, considering.”

The Donna nodded and she met her husband’s eyes. The pair seemed to have some kind of telepathic conversation. Gloria watched with curiosity at the nonverbal exchange. They each had a task they wanted to check off their to do list. Finally Matteo nodded and sat back in his chair as the Donna reached for her heels.

“You’ll stay here, Frankie. Gen will take Gloria to get a drink,” Accardi announced.

Gen got to her feet and brushed her hands down her dress. She walked over and reached for Gloria only for a large body to block her path. Gen’s eyes moved up to meet Frankie’s hostile disposition.

“Frankie?”

“She stays with me,” he told her.

“Frank,” Accardi admonished.

“I’m just going to talk to her right outside,” Gen explained.

Frankie’s eyes swiveled to Gloria and back. “I’ve left a trail of carnage in my wake to find her.” His eyes hardened and he faced Gen. “If something happens to her and you destroy all my hard work, I’ll take it out on your husband in a way that'll make this kid your only. Understood?”

Gen rolled her eyes and looped her arm through Gloria’s. She pulled the younger woman toward the door. Before she could walk out of it, Frankie caught her free arm and tugged her back. He slid something into her back pocket as he whispered in her ear, “The thumb print lock is set to yours. If you need me, call Accardi's phone. It's the first name listed.”

“I’ll be okay,” Gloria reassured Frankie as she stepped back toward the comforting aura of the Italian mob wife.

Her eyes focused on the mob boss and how his glare turned murderous the moment his wife stepped over the threshold.