Chapter 36: Chapter Thirty-Six

He was just walking away? Gloria wondered as Sergei turned his back on them. Frankie was just letting him walk away? Her breath came in short rasps that got lodged just below her collarbone. A searing heat settled in that same spot on her chest. A memory surfaced. The last time she’d seen Sergei turn his back.

It was her last appointment with Oswald. She was days away from her escape so for the first time ever… she said no. She fought. She wreaked havoc on that small hospital room. It took five men to sedate her. Then she was forced to watch, restrained to the bed, knees drawn up, gag in her mouth, unable to breathe as Sergei shook his head in disappointment, turned his back and left her there for inspection. Now he was doing it again? How dare he.

Gloria finally succeeded in getting a gulp of air to the bottom of her lungs. She used the influx of oxygen to steady her hand, raise it an inch higher and click. Nothing. The firing pin hit air. Sergei froze and tilted his head to the side. Gloria took several steps forward. Click. Click. Click. She could see the lift of Sergei’s mouth as he realized what she’d failed to do.

“YA ub'yu tebya! –I’m going to kill you!–” Gloria yelled at his back.

Sergei’s lip twisted up further on the side. He turned just enough to allow her to see the arrogance in his expression. “You may try. But before the month is done I’ll have you as my wife…” His eyes ticked to Frankie. “And my pet.”

Sergei turned and Gloria lurched forward only to be caught around the waist by Frankie. As she struggled, he remained steadfast.

“Always check the weight of your weapon, Vixen,” Frankie instructed, igniting her ire further.

“Noted,” she growled, dropping her elbow back into his gut.

Air rushed out of Frankie’s lungs. He dropped his gun and Gloria caught it. She raised it up and aimed at the corner Sergei had disappeared behind. She gasped as she was suddenly upended. The gun left her hand as she flipped. A flat palm hit her chest, accelerating her descent toward the ground. Her lower back hit the ground first. Something snagged her t-shirt and stopped her head an inch before it connected with the marble floor. Gloria stared up at Frankie who had the audacity to not be out of breath after the stunt he’d just pulled. He used his free hand to smooth his hair back and his teeth showed pearly white as he grinned down at her.

“I see you finally let that little devil on your shoulder take the helm? I love the effort but I can’t say I’m impressed. You’ll have to let her see the light of day a few more times before she’ll stand a chance against the army of demons at my back,” Frankie cooed.

“You let him walk away,” she hissed between her teeth.

“I didn’t let him do shit.”

“What do you call him turning his back and strolling out of the building without a scratch?!”

“Strategy.”

Gloria scoffed. “Cowardice.”

Frankie’s grin disappeared and his eyes narrowed. He opened his fist. Her eyes widened and her head hit the ground.

“I’m going to see if Jun is dead,” Frankie growled, walking away in the same manner Sergei just had.

Gloria groaned and rubbed the back of her head as she pulled herself up. It took her a minute to stand on shaky knees. The adrenaline was wearing off and with it came the shivering. She walked unsteadily toward the lobby and found Frankie crouched beside the reception desk in a pool of blood. She could hear the low murmur of his voice. She cautiously stepped around to find him speaking with Juniper who had a bullet wound on her arm. Juniper’s eyes connected with Gloria’s and widened.

“Glor…”

“You know she’s with him, right?” Gloria asked Frankie, ignoring Juniper’s plea. Frankie merely sighed. “I recognized her the first time I saw her. I remember her from when I was a kid. She was one of my father’s…” Gloria swallowed. “We can’t trust her.”

“I know who she is,” Frankie said, still crouched and trying to help Juniper stop the bleeding..

“Do you? Then why are you coddling her? She probably gave away our location to Sergei herself! She’s just like all the…”

Frankie turned his head. Just the side view of his glare was enough to silence her. “I know who she is, Vixen. I understand your anger given what you’ve been through but Jun didn’t do anything wrong.” He pivoted on his toes and stood. He walked toward her until they were toe to toe. “Juniper is one of Nora’s girls. She was sent to us very early on…” He lowered his face until they were eye-level. “By your mom.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, alerting them to the incoming police and paramedics.

“It’s okay, Mr. Donati. Go. I’ll think of something to tell them. It’s through and through, nothing to worry about,” Juniper said, though her eyes were still on Gloria. There was a desperation in her gaze, as if she wanted so badly to explain herself to Gloria but knew she would probably never earn the chance.

“Come along, sweet cheeks,” Frankie coaxed, grabbing Gloria’s hand and pulling her in the direction of the front doors. “God dammit,” Frankie cursed as they strode out.

Gloria noticed his bike perched by the street. Its body had been restored to sleek black. The blood spatter on the rear fender though? That was even more fresh. Ronaldo had been shot in the heart. His throat was slashed. The doorman lay sprawled on the ground beside Frankie’s motorcycle, motionless. Frankie squatted down beside him and put his fingers to the man’s throat. It was clearly habit, a ritual. The man was dead.

“I’m so sorry, Ronnie,” Frankie said on a deep sigh. He stood, shaking his head. “Get on the bike, Gloria.”

She didn’t argue. He avoided eye contact, his jaw ticked, his fists clenched as he got on the bike and for the first time, didn’t yank her forward. His back was rigid as he revved the engine three times. Gloria took the initiative herself and scooted closer until she could wrap her arms around his waist. Her entire body rose with the heaviness of the breath he took in. He tapped her hand in reassurance and then took off.

The streets of New York blurred by as he wove through cars. She thought he might try to take evasive maneuvers, do a few switchbacks, plow through some red lights. Instead he mozied along the roads of New York as if he had an entire morning to kill. They eventually entered a residential neighborhood in Manhattan with beautifully maintained eighteenth-century apartment buildings. They pulled up beside one that was five stories high and featured an Italian gargoyle stationed out front by a waiting SUV.

The gargoyle in question, Accardi’s bodyguard Leo, gave the couple a once over as they got off the bike.

“Your cleaner missed a spot,” Leo commented, his head bobbing toward the blood still dripping down the bike.

“Damn, Gloria, I thought you said we didn’t hit that rat. You know how big those sons of bitches get.” Frankie stood up to the guard with his hands in his pockets. He gave a light shrug, trying to act as though they hadn’t just encountered a Russian mobster set on revenge.

Leo scrutinized the younger man with shrewd eyes. Then he looked back out at the street. “Just fix your face before you go in front of the boss. He’ll see through that transparent shit in a second.”

Frankie gave Leo a mock salute and held his hand out for Gloria. She smiled at the burly guard as she passed.

“Miss Rubanov,” he said with a distracted nod.

“Awww, he acknowledged you. That means he likes you,” Frankie taunted, hurrying away to avoid the guard swiping a hand out to cuff his ear.

They entered the building. Frankie greeted the security guard who sat on a stool just inside the door knitting a baby onesie. They jogged up the stairs. At the top landing, he turned to the door on the left.

“Don’t mention Vasiliev,” Frankie ordered as he raised his fist to the door. His timing was impeccable. He broached the subject when she’d have no opportunity to argue it.

The door opened after the second knock. Mr. Accardi glowered out at them. His dark golden, green eyes shifted between them, missing nothing. He scoffed.

“Vasiliev was at your building,” Mr. Accardi surmised.

Frankie sighed and dropped his head back. “Dammit, Gloria.”

“What?” Gloria asked in shock.

Frankie’s head fell forward and he raised a hand at Accardi. “I told you not to say anything.”

“I di..”

“It was all over your face,” Frankie admonished.

“It was all over your face, asshole.” Accardi opened the door all the way. “Get inside and tell me exactly what happened. Now,” Accardi demanded with a sweeping gesture inside.

“Thank you,” Frankie said with a nod. He held his hand out for Gloria to go first. She crossed her arms and did just that. She noticed a few pieces of luggage beside the door as she walked past.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at the airport by now? Why the sudden change in venue?” Frankie asked, walking toward the kitchen and helping himself to whatever was in the fridge while Gloria waited awkwardly in the living room.

Mr. Accardi glared at Frankie as he pulled out a carton of eggs as if he planned to make himself breakfast. “Genevieve is claiming morning sickness,” Accardi explained, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Tell me what happened.”

“Claiming morning sickness?” Frankie asked, dodging the question.

Accordi lit his cigarette and took a pull. “I have a feeling,” Accardi began, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the back of his thumb. “She believes we should stay in town to help you out of this…” His eyes swiveled to Gloria. “Predicament.”

“I don’t need your help,” Frankie assured him.

“Yes, you do,” Genevieve announced, appearing in the hallway. She smiled at Gloria before her ice-blue glare focused in on her husband. “Matteo. What did I say about smoking in the apartment?”

Mr. Accardi sighed. “Gen. It’s an extraordinary circumstance. Smoking one cigarette inside won’t kill me.”

“You’re right. If our baby has any form of asthma or heart condition due to second-hand smoke I’ll kill you before the cigarette has a chance.” The Donna stood in front of her husband with her hands on her hips and her expression stern.

“Weakness…”

“Put it out or go to the roof,” the Donna demanded.

Mr. Accardi scowled and turned on his heel for the door. “Frankie. Come.”

Frankie smirked as he followed in the Don’s wake toward the door. As he passed beside Mrs. Accardi he dropped his head. “One of these days you’ll have to teach me the proper technique for grabbing his balls to work him like a puppet.”

Gen tried to fight a smile but the urge was too great to repress. She shrugged. “He’ll never let you watch. I’ll draw you a diagram.”

Frankie’s laugh followed him out the door. Then Genevieve swiveled to face Gloria and her eyes flashed determination.

“Okay, Gloria. I just bought us ten minutes. Come with me.”