Chapter 40: Chapter Forty

Frankie couldn’t move. His body was taut, coiled so tight he was genuinely concerned something inside him might snap. His vision tunneled. A ringing reverberated around his skull making him dizzy.  He screwed his eyes shut and tried to rein in his anger. He needed to hit something. He needed blood on his hands, dripping down his arms. He needed to kill. A firm hand gripped his shoulder from behind, immediately grounding Frankie to the Earth.

“Breathe,” Leo demanded.

Breathe? Frankie thought. My girl was sexually assaulted for six years and the man I trust most signed off on it!

“Breathe, Frank,” Leo ordered again.

“I. Can’t,” Frankie finally managed to get past his clenched teeth. His nervous system needed a jolt. He needed pain. “Stab. Me.”

“No. Just breathe,” Leo repeated. “You have a girl out there depending on you. You’re no good to her passed out on the floor.”

Leo patted him on the back and the gesture was enough to dislodge the vice keeping his lungs from inflating. Frankie sucked in a gulp of air that hurt his chest and tightened his fingers in the wood of Matteo’s desk. His entire body shook. He desperately brought air into his lungs over and over as Leo continued to hold his shoulder. Frankie dropped his head forward.

“Did you know?” Frankie wheezed. “Did you know what they did to her?”

“Yes.”

“You read her contract?”

“No. Just because there are only four signatures doesn’t mean there weren’t more people in the room that day.”

Frankie jerked away to stare at the man he considered a mentor. Leo watched him with the shrewd eyes of a man who saw far too much and gave nothing back. How he envied that ability to become completely detached in a moment’s notice.

“You were there? You let this happen too?”

Leo nodded. “I was there. As was Valentina. A few other Dons attended the negotiations as well. He was sixteen, Frank. Accardi did what he could.”

“Bullshit!” He got in Leo’s face. “If he did what he could then she wouldn’t have been subjected to that.”

“Your soul isn’t pearly white either, Frank. We all do shit we aren’t proud of. What matters is what we do to correct our mistakes. Accardi’s been trying to correct this for years and you know it.”

“My soul is not the one standing judgement right now!”

Leo didn’t even flinch. His expression remained calm. He blinked slowly once. “Take a few minutes. When you’re calm, go out and retrieve your woman and leave. Do not start your path to revenge in that living room, Frank. Don’t make me choose between him and you. You won’t like the outcome.”

Leo quietly left the room, leaving Frankie to deal with his anger on his own. He glanced around the room, looking for something to break. Anything small enough to throw had been moved out ahead of their little office remodel. He thought about screaming into a pillow. No, not enough. He clenched his fists at his sides, screwed his eyes shut and trembled in his anger. He inhaled slowly and exhaled. He thought about what he would do to the corpse back in his apartment. He imagined finding the doctor who had violated his woman and in what order he would dissect his organs. Then he thought of Vasiliev and every twisted way he could slowly kill him whilst keeping him alive with shots of morphine and adrenaline. His anger cooled to a brisk simmer. He took in another breath and imagined pummeling his fists into his mafia friend outside.

Frankie’s heart still slammed against his ribcage, bruising it beyond repair. His fists were still clenched and the muscles layering his body were painfully strained. But… he could breathe. He opened his eyes and stared at the door. He waited until it stopped tilting side to side in his field of vision before he went for it. The door cracked against the wall as he strode out into the hallway. The tense conversation stalled as he made his way into the living room.

Frankie ignored the couple embracing on the far couch. He would deal with them in a minute. First things first, he made his way toward his vixen. She was working her chestnut hair through the fingers of her right hand. The fingers of her left hand twitched on the armrest of her chair. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, unsure what she was about to face. Frankie stopped in front of her. She swallowed as she met his gaze. He squatted down, placed his forearms on his thighs, and let his hands hang loosely between his legs. He reached forward and hooked his right hand under her knee. He watched her body relax before looking up to her face.

“The man in my apartment…” Frankie began, his voice hoarse. Gloria nodded. “Oswald. He was the one who…”

Hatred, hot and pure, flashed through her eyes at the name. She nodded again. “He bore witness.”

“Did he ever touch you?” Frankie asked. Gloria looked around the room at the three other people watching their exchange with bated breath. “Don’t look at them. It’s just you and me. This is the last question I’ll ask.”

Gloria’s honey eyes flicked back to him. She shook her head. “He never touched. He would watch and, uh, sometimes when the doctor would leave the room he would say things… make gestures… touch himself.”

The hand he had wrapped around her knee tightened and she flinched. He immediately relaxed his hold and nodded that he understood. “You were right. It wasn’t enough punishment for him. But I promise you, the others? They won’t be so lucky. I vow that to you now. They’ll pay.” Frankie tilted his head to glare at his boss. “Every last one of them.”

Maintaining eye contact with Matteo, Frankie stood. Gloria grabbed his hand but he pulled it back with ease. He stalked toward Matteo who didn’t even give him the courtesy of straightening up in his seat. Gen fidgeted with the hem of her shirt though.

“You aren’t in my crosshairs, Donna. I know what you did. I appreciate it. I’ll send a proper ‘thank you’ card in the mail,” Frankie said, referring to the fact that she’d clearly orchestrated this entire encounter so both he and Gloria could have access to the contract. Frankie kicked the coffee table closer to Matteo and took a seat atop it so they were knee-to-knee. “You, on the other hand?”

Leo stepped up from where he’d been stationed in the shadows.

“Easy, guard dog, keep your muzzle on,” Frankie assured him. He shook his head at Matteo. “The only thing keeping me from killing you here and now is a blood oath.” Frankie looked to Leo. “Two of them.”

“Frankie, look,” Matteo said on a sigh.

Matteo scrubbed his face and leaned forward, not intimidated in the slightest by Frankie’s proximity. He didn’t have a reason to be. Frankie wouldn’t hurt Matteo. He couldn’t. He owed his life to the man.

Matteo sanded his hands together. “I have made many mistakes. Some of the worst happened at the beginning of my career. I should have stopped this from happening. I cannot blame anyone but…”

“I’m fully aware of the position you were put in,” Frankie interrupted. Matteo stared across the nonexistent space between them, his hands still extended in earnest. Frankie sighed. When he spoke his voice was filled with betrayal and something else he hadn’t felt toward anyone but himself in years… disappointment. “I met you back then, Man. I know you’ve been trying to make things right with these girls. Fuck, look at what you’ve helped Nora accomplish over at her place. You got Gloria out before that fucker could make her his eternal prisoner. I feel indebted to you for that.”

“Thanks, Frank. I…”

“I am not done,” Frankie growled. “The fact of the matter is I don’t care.” He felt the emotions he’d stuffed down in the office turn sharp and lethal as they filtered through his vocal chords. “In my eyes, you failed as a friend and a protector. Over and over. Not just this last year but from the start.”

“Frank.” “Frankie.” Leo and Gen warned together.

“I’m genuinely worried about you becoming a father," Frankie continued. "How the fuck you’re going to succeed in this when you’ve seemingly failed in everything else is beyond me. I honestly don’t know how you’re going to juggle more. All I do know is, I’m tired of being your mop. I can’t kill you, but if I have to be shackled to you for the rest of my miserable life and continue dealing with this shit, you’re damn sure going to feel my wrath all the way through it.”

The mafia boss didn’t respond right away. He waited to see if there was anything else his subordinate wanted to add because opportunities wherein someone, even as close as Frankie, could get away with saying that and make it out with their lives came few and far between. But Frankie didn’t keep score. Matteo scared the fuck out of him. The thing was? Frankie scared the fuck out Matteo. No one knew him as well as Frankie. No one was less predictable in the don's eyes. Matteo was regulated power with the might to level the earth. Frankie was a homemade stick of dynamite with a hair-trigger that would blow a kid’s hand off. Together, for whatever reason, they made the perfect team. Frankie had never hidden his feelings from the man and he wouldn’t start now. Not with the stakes this high.

Matteo smirked, the act of brushing off everything Frankie had said represented in the slow blink of his eyes. “Other than my letting you get away with saying that, what did you have in mind as replacement for the death penalty?”

“I want full control of this operation,” Frankie answered without missing a beat. “Anything to do with Vasiliev is filtered through me. I make all decisions. Everything. I don’t want you interfering. This is mine.”

Matteo nodded.

“I want you to cancel your trip so…”

“Done,” Gen interjected.

“Gen,” Matteo warned.

“... So I can focus on bringing down Vasiliev rather than playing babysitter to a bunch of men comparing the size of their dicks to the wads of cash they’re funneling,” Frankie finished.

“Fine. It’ll be postponed,” Matteo negotiated with a pointed look at Gen. Gen winked back. “What else?”

“I’ll be taking Gloria’s contract with me. No more confidential bullshit. Anything to do with Gloria has to do with me, got it?”

Matteo nodded and held his hand out. Frankie stared at it until Matteo let it drop to his thigh.

“And?”

“And…” Frankie stood and put his hands in his pockets. The power dynamic shifted for a moment as Frankie towered over the man who normally looked down at him. “Ten minutes.”

Matteo smirked and hope flared in his eyes. “Ten minutes?”

“In the ring. No gloves. No holding back. You’ll take me full force. If I kill you like you deserve, then so be it. But I want it written that I won’t face any backlash if I do end your 10-karat gold life.”

Matteo’s smile turned to a full grin. Frankie knew his friend. He knew it was hard for the guy to find a match worth his time in the ring. He’d only ever been beaten by one person and Frankie knew he’d been looking for a rematch ever since. But as his second, Frankie had obligations. One of said obligations was to not make his boss look like a fucking pussy. So, he held back. He hesitated. He let the fucker land blows he could have dodged with ease. Not this time. This time he wouldn’t be fighting for his life… He’d be fighting for hers. Matteo stood up and, for the second time, held his hand out.

Frankie grasped his hand and shook it once but then pulled the Don closer. “And I mean ten minutes, Boss Man. Even if you get knocked out at minute three. I get to finish those last seven minutes with your unconscious body.”

Matteo chuckled and wrenched his hand back. He leaned forward. “You’ll get your ten minutes, Donati."