Chapter 19: Chapter Nineteen

The moment the door clicked closed Frankie felt the familiar edge of a blade imbed in his right shoulder blade. He grunted, staggered forward a step and planted his left palm on the door. He looked over his shoulder at Matteo who was using the glare he reserved just for Frankie when he’d fucked up.

“Don’t fucking threaten my wife,” Matteo growled.

Frankie rolled his eyes and tried to reach back for the knife. He spun around like a dog chasing his tail, only barely managing to brush his fingers across the handle.

“The threat wasn’t for your wife,” Frankie elaborated, hissing as he tried to use his right hand to get the knife.

He felt Matteo grip his left shoulder while his right hand yanked the knife out with a bit more callousness than was needed. Frankie rotated his shoulder as Matteo stalked back to his desk.

“A threat against me is a threat against my wife,” Matteo grumbled, stabbing the blade into the leather guest chair Frankie was meant to take.

“You two really are just so cute,” Frankie mocked. “Just think, only a couple months ago you were some love-sick fool pounding a pack of cigarettes waiting for her to come home from a date with another man.”

“At least I didn’t have to murder fifty-six men to get to my woman,” Matteo said with narrowed eyes.

“Eighty-one, actually. Don’t worry, there’s still time for you to catch up,” Frankie said, taking a seat. He interlaced his fingers in his lap and propped his boots up on Matteo’s desk. “Or has Gen softened you up in more ways than one?”

“Cut the shit,” Matteo growled. “It doesn’t work on me.”

Frankie clicked his tongue. “You’re no fun anymore.”

Matteo sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, telling him that his patience was threadbare. “Do you have any idea what you’ve started?” Matteo asked, behind his hands.

“An inkling.”

“Sergei is out for blood.”

“So am I.”

Matteo knocked his fist against the desk and leaned his elbows against the table.

“Run down. I want to know what the fuck your plan was and where it went wrong,” Matteo announced.

“It went exactly to plan.”

“Bullshit. You think I don’t know your MO at this point, Frank? What happened?”

Frankie sighed and glanced toward the window. He’d made a valiant effort in quelling his desire to check in on her. He’d made it three minutes. Gloria was at the VIP bar with his Donna. Gen was laughing with the bartender while Gloria clocked the room around her as she always did. Her eyes jerked around the club, calculating everyone’s level of threat. She even had the foresight to look upward as if a cougar was prowling in the rafters preparing to leap. She was too on edge, too nervous.

“Everything was going fine,” Frankie began, subtly admitting in his own way that Matteo was right. “I got to the town outside the safehouse. Learned every guard. Found where they were staying. Planted bugs, infiltrated their comms, their security feeds, all of it.”

“Protocol,” Matteo said with a nod, his eyes focused on his second.

“Then I went to the safehouse itself. Out in the middle of fucking nowhere. No Sergei but all of his best toy soldiers standing at attention. I took out the guard tower with the fewest shift changes and the best view and waited. I obviously wanted to wait for the scumbag to get home.”

“Take him out to avoid retaliation,” Matteo surmised. Frankie shrugged. “And?”

Frankie sighed and leaned his head back. He closed his eyes and tried to keep the rage from boiling over. “I watched her. Her routine was stricter than ours was in lock up. Wake up at eight. Breakfast at nine. Snack at eleven. She was allowed to walk the house for an hour at one then lunch. A few activities in her room: board games, books, like she’s some fucking five year old. Dinner at six. Lights out at nine.”

Frankie sighed again and let his head fall forward. Matteo didn’t speak, he knew Frankie wasn’t finished. Frankie relaxed his hand and watched his fingers extend.

“Then, like clockwork, every night at three am, he would come in. Her guard. The one charged with standing outside her door.” Frankie contracted each finger until the knuckle popped and all of his fingers were fisted together. “All he would do is watch her. Hover over her. For four nights I sat powerless while he watched my girl. Then… he touched her. She fidgeted in her sleep making him run off like the fucking coward he was.” Frankie’s eyes flicked up to Matteo. “I could have waited. Tied everything up with a pretty little bow for you… But, that night, as I watched the time tick closer to the three…” Frankie shook his head. “I took my first show at 2:59. What do you have to say to that, Boss man?”

Matteo watched him with shrewd eyes. For a moment, his guard was down, something that had been happening far too often since he’d met Gen. Frankie always prided himself on being one of the few who could read the stone-faced mob boss. It was one reason he got the job he now held. He could read anyone.

Frankie could see the calculation, the gears turning in his boss’ mind, his friend’s. The small quiver of an eyebrow. The lift of a lip fighting back a sneer. The twitch of his nose as he tried to ignore his disgust. The softening of his eyes, imperceptible to most but a flashing neon sign to Frankie that Matteo was thinking of his wife and child. The large, slow, deliberate inhale. Finally after a few minutes of contemplative introspection, he nodded and Frankie knew the man’s mind had been made up. He was ready to go to battle for his second.

“You are aware Sergei is going to come for you,” Matteo said, his mind already sorting through the years of first-hand experience in these matters.

“No doubt.”

“I am guessing your reunion with Thompson didn’t go well?” Matteo asked, sitting back in his chair and glancing out the window to check on his wife.

“Debatable.”

Matteo’s eyes locked back on him. “Did you get your little score settled, at least?”

Frankie smiled. “A life for a life. We’re even.”

“Good, cause the last thing we need is a man like him having any power over you again. Sergei will probably be more angry with whatever shape you left Thompson in than the fact that you have Gloria.”

“A wound to the heart is greater than one to the pride,” Frankie agreed.

“What’s your plan going forward?” Matteo asked.

“Wait for Sergei to come. Woe his woman in the meantime. Bring them both to their knees, as it were,” Frankie explained, his smile pulling wider.

“You remember our deal?” Matteo asked. Frankie rolled his eyes. “The deal was…”

“I let you go on your fucking-moon,” Frankie said.

“The deal was,” Matteo repeated firmly. “I let you go after your girl. You cause whatever havoc you need to get her, I have your back and you check back in to work. I need you here. The meeting with Liam is next week. There are tracks to run, the club, the gambling dens, the casinos, all of these things that I need you to be involved in, Frank.”

“I know what the job entails, Accardi. I’ve been doing it for fourteen years.”

“One week,” Matteo continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I need you here 100 percent. That was our deal. And if you want to add ‘dismantling a psychopathic Russian’ to the list of things you need my help with…”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Debatable,” Matteo mocked.

“All I need from you is her contract.”

Matteo stiffened. His mask went up and he sat back in his chair. Frankie narrowed his eyes at his reaction. “No.”

“No?” Frankie repeated with a raised brow.

“No. That’s confidential.”

“Why? There is nothing confidential between us, Matteo,” Frankie responded. While he’d always known Matteo’s first name, it wasn’t until his woman came along that he’d been allowed to use it.

“This isn’t between us.”

“Bullshit. You think I can’t read you? What are you hiding?”

“It’s confidential and I can’t…”

Frankie slammed his fist down on the quartzite desk. “There’s something in there you don’t want me to see. You’re trying to mitigate my reaction. Worried your trusted little pet is going to go on a rampage, Accardi?”

Matteo’s eyes narrowed. “Eighty-one.”

“You want to be eighty-two?” Frankie yelled.

“Your reaction only justifies…”

“I knew it! There is something you don’t want me to see!”

“Sit. Down,” Matteo ordered.

The door at their backs opened but Frankie didn’t need to look to know it was Leo. The man had a fucking radar for when his original little project got riled up. Matteo’s eyes flicked to his guard and gave a sharp nod that everything was fine. Frankie knew though that Leo would merely take a seat in the back of the office until their confrontation was over.

Matteo’s eyes cut back to him and then sharply to the chair. Frankie sat like the good fucking dog he was. He crossed his arms and stewed. He’d never cared about being number two. He preferred it, actually. It was like he was the Huntsman in Snow White. All the fun, none of the responsibility… until Snow White came along and fucked it all up. Now it was time to take the punishment for having a fucking heart after all.

“I will give her contract to you when Gen and I get back. I need your head in the game right now.”

“One to ten. Tell me,” Frankie hissed.

Matteo swallowed and looked over Frankie’s shoulder for help. He sighed and looked down at his desk. “Fifteen.”

Frankie looked up at the ceiling. He shoved up from the chair and started for the door. “I’ll do your bidding, Boss,” Frankie mocked. Once at the door, though, he turned. “But if what you’re keeping from me is actually a fifteen? If someone fucking hurt her and you’re keeping it from me so you can go on vacation?” Frankie shook his head, knowing he wouldn’t have to lay the threat out for his boss to know he meant it.