Chapter 27: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Frankie kept his arm locked around Gloria’s waist as Nora begrudgingly walked out of the apartment. His hold didn’t relax as the door clicked closed, leaving them alone once again. He inhaled deeply, his chest pushing against her back and his breath fanning her shoulders as he let it out.

“Fuck,” he said on an exhale.

“I take it you know Nora?” Gloria asked.

“Our parents are friends. She grew up a few streets over.”

“And you helped her start the Mafia Women Displacement Program?”

Frankie chuckled, the vibration carrying through his chest into her spine. Her eyes shut of their own accord as the feeling warmed her entire body.

“I like the name, Vixen. I think we can come up with a more fun acronym though,” he told her. His thumb started to stroke the fabric at her hip.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

There was something so intimate about how they were standing. Neither could see the other’s face but their bodies were pressed together in a way that spoke of late nights curled up together in bed. Their heat melded, pulled at them, lured them into giving in to their attraction. His nose skimmed her shoulder and she shivered.

“Yes, I helped her start the MWDP after she… Well, that’s her story to tell.”

“After she was almost sold through sex trafficking to a powerful mobster?” she asked.

He wasn’t surprised. His body remained perfectly relaxed. “Does she tell all you girls that?”

“She leaves you out of the picture. In fact she explicitly warned me to stay away from you,” Gloria told him.

“Not bad advice.” Frankie’s right hand disappeared and a moment later it returned without the gun to take his coffee cup from his left hand and raise it to his lips. His left hand returned to her waist and gripped it more possessively as if to say, ‘Too bad you didn’t listen. There’s no going back now.’

“So? What was your involvement?”

His mouth dipped to her ear. “I’d tell you but I fear you’ve already developed a hero complex towards me. I think telling you would make your panties drop to the floor and we have two reasons why that just won’t do.”

“And they are?” she asked, a little smirk pulling at her lips as she imagined the possibilities.

“One, those are brand new panties and I’d like to get at least one day’s use out of them before I rip them off you with my teeth. Two…” His teeth sunk into her earlobe, sending a zap of pleasure down to her toes that lingered around her belly and made her press her hips more fully against him. “Our vacation is over. We have work to do today.”

Frankie stepped sideways, taking his heat and safety with him.

“Work?” she asked his back as he walked down the hall toward the stairs.

At the bottom he turned and as he started up the stairs he said, “Lots and lots of work, Vixen. Get your coffee and fuel up. You’re about to experience a day in the life of Frankie Donati.”

What a day it was. Gloria had never spent much time with her father’s number two, Sasha. In fact, she couldn’t recall spending time or hearing much about any of the seconds in the circles she ran. That was kind of their deal. While the bosses worked their legitimate nine to five, attended balls and signed deals, their closest henchmen worked on the ground. It was clear by noon that Frankie was adept at his job, but that he took his work very seriously.

They started their day meeting up with various informants in back alleys, gas stations and billiard halls. She would wait, perched on his bike, while he spoke to the informant a few feet away. She became accustomed to the shifty, nervous glare the informant would cast her way and the flippant wave of Frankie’s hand telling him or her to relax before offering a cigarette.

After lunch, Frankie met with Mr. Accardi at his big skyscraper in order to relay what his informants had told him. She’d been instructed to sit on a bench beside a man reading a newspaper. He’d never once dropped the paper from in front of his face, but she’d gotten the odd sense he knew every move she made and had probably counted the number of times her eyes had flitted toward the door Frankie had disappeared through… forty-five minutes ago.

Gloria let out a loaded sigh and as if he’d been waiting until her wits were at their end, Frankie finally reemerged from the building. From thirty feet away, Frankie’s gaze swept over: guarded, calculative, relieved. His eyes moved to the man still sitting beside her and the right side of his mouth twisted into a smirk. He looked back at her with a playful glint shining in his eyes and held his pointer finger over his lips, telling her to not give away his approach. He stopped about four feet away and sighed heavily. He cleared his throat.

“You’re slipping, old man,” Frankie growled, his voice a stark contrast to his normal one. Gloria’s brows furrowed at the ease with which he seemed to mimic Mr. Accardi’s American-Italian accent. The Wendigo-like super power continued as he said, “How the fuck did two men in nothing but banana hammocks make it into my office?”

“It’s an improvement,” the man beside her said from behind his newspaper.

“It was damn near perfect,” Frankie argued, his voice back to normal. He pulled a bag of nuts from behind his back.

“You still can’t get the ‘fuck’ right. The way he says it is far more…”

“Pretentious,” Frankie offered, pointing his finger and nodding his head in agreement. “Italian-Boarding-School-Preppie.”

There was a pause from the other man and Gloria would have sworn on a bible that the newspaper shook with forcibly subdued laughter.

“I was going to say smug,” the man returned.

Frankie shrugged and his gaze cut to her, analyzing her position on the bench. “How was she? Was she good? Other than the fact that she’s apparently shifted four inches from where I specifically told her not to budge,” Frankie challenged with a raised eyebrow of disappointment.

“She’s been good. Twitchy.”

“I see,” he said with a nod of approval. He widened his stance and looked down at the bag of nuts as he sorted out which ones he wanted. “Soooo, what did you two gab about? I hope you at least introduced yourself, Leo.”

“She’s quiet,” Leo surmised from behind his newspaper. “Doesn’t feel the need to talk to strangers trying to read the paper. If only everyone had that good sense.” He turned the page with a flourish that exposed his dark hairline. “I was just about to get a conversation started though.”

Frankie oohed as he found a nut he approved of and threw it in his mouth. “What was going to be your pick up line?”

Leo finally lowered his newspaper and Gloria confirmed it was in fact Mr. Accardi’s formidable personal bodyguard. The large man’s stern expression rivaled some of the deathly glares she’d witnessed Frankie level on his enemies.

“I was going to ask who gave her that ring of bruises circling her throat,” Leo snarled.

Crunch Frankie’s eyes snapped up, locked with Leo’s and narrowed. The tension in the air around them crackled, expanded and pulsed. Gloria subtly shifted her shoulders up, hoping to cover the evidence of Frankie’s brash, emotion-led indiscretions.

“Don’t hide your neck, Vixen,” Frankie admonished, his eyes having not deviated from Leo’s. “It’s far too beautiful for that.”

Gloria lowered her shoulders but they did not relax as the two men continued their staring contest.

“Have you apologized, at least?” Leo asked, his voice still deadly.

Frankie rolled his eyes and went back to his nuts. “Jesus Christ, I have three fathers,” Frankie said with a shake of his head.

“Maybe you’d prefer one bullet,” Leo suggested.

Frankie guffawed. “I’d pop three off before you managed to get your gun from your holster, Life Alert.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed. “I can tell you haven’t slept with her yet. None of ‘em ever stick around after seeing that baby carrot you got between your legs.”

Frankie’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “A dick joke? Really? No build up? You just go there?” Frankie whined, looking exasperated. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend.” He said, his head bobbing toward Gloria.

Girlfriend?

“Girlfriend?” Leo repeated.

Frankie rolled his eyes and went back to his bag of nuts. “Girlfriend. Wet dream come to life. Hostage. Who even knows anymore. Let’s go, Gloria,” Frankie announced, walking off with his bag of nuts, apparently done with getting chastised. “We’ve got some money to blow.”

Gloria stood up, still analyzing everything she’d just heard. “It was nice meeting you, Leo,” she said as the man picked his paper back up.

“Mhmm,” was the only answer he gave. Then, as she walked after Frankie who was already settling onto his bike, “Miss Rubanov,” Leo called. Gloria turned to find him studying her over the top of his paper. “He touches you out of anger again…” He merely shook his head, the threat more sinister in silence than if spoken aloud. Gloria nodded and walked off toward Frankie who already had his helmet on, his hands in his lap and his head thrown backward in annoyance at Leo’s warning.

Gloria shoved her helmet over her head and swung her leg over the bike. Frankie chuckled to himself as he grabbed her knees and pulled her forward. His left hand squeezed her knee while his right slapped her thigh.

“Got something in my back pocket for you, if you’re feeling daring enough to get it,” Frankie taunted through the speakers of their helmets.

Gloria rolled her eyes. She reached into his back pocket and pulled out a bag of pretzels. She smiled to herself and broke the bag open as Frankie revved the engine, flicked off the surly guard and took off.

Before she could get even half way through her snack, Frankie pulled up to a run-down laundromat. He took her hand and led her inside. They walked through a row of washers, and college-aged kids waiting for their clothes to dry. He opened the back door which led to a seemingly innocuous hallway. At the end of said hallway stood a second door which Frankie knocked on to the tune of “Oklahoma.” The slat at the top of the door opened and a pair of bright green eyes looked at them for a moment before the slat closed again.

The door opened to reveal a haggard looking man fresh off a fight. Frankie sucked some air between his teeth in pity.

“Yikes, Luca, I told you not to sign up against Anderson. Dude’s got a chip on his shoulder,” Frankie said, patting the man on his back.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Donati,” Luca growled.

“Don’t need to tell me twice. Come along, Gloria,” Frankie beckoned, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her past the man.