Chapter 41: Chapter Forty-One

Gloria watched Frankie and Mr. Accardi shake hands. The look on Mr. Accardi’s face wasn’t that of a man who was just given a countdown to his end by the reaper of death himself. Instead, Accardi looked… thrilled? Like he’d been waiting for an unhinged cage match with his second for years.

“When?” Accardi asked.

Frankie pulled his hand back. “After the meeting with Sergei tomorrow. When your being debilitated or dead doesn’t interfere with freeing my girl. Who, by the way, may have some conditions of her own.”

Both Frankie and Matteo looked at her and she resisted the urge to shrink beneath their gaze.

“Me? No, I-I’m good. I just want this whole thing to be over so I can get my nursing degree and get out of this life,” Gloria said with a decisive nod.

Both men looked at each other with mirrored expressions of dubious humor.

“Good luck with that,” Accardi said, returning to the seat beside his wife.

“Yeah, sorry, Vixen, ” Frankie told her, walking to her with a stern expression. “I like the nursing degree thing though. That sounds fun.”

Frankie held his hand down to Gloria. She took it and he hauled her up with one swift jerk. He bobbed his head for the door and she obeyed the silent command.

“Keep your phone on, Frank,” Accardi warned.

“Always do,” Frankie muttered under his breath.

The moment they stepped out into the hallway and the door closed behind them, the anger and betrayal Frankie contained inside the apartment expanded outward like a physical being to fill the space. It pressed her back against the wall as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He bypassed her to take the lead down the stairs. He buried his hands deep in his pockets and his back looked rigid enough to iron a rack of suits. His feet moved fast. They thundered against the stairs as if he were trying to rid his anger through the soles of his feet. Gloria had never been afraid of Frankie, but in this moment, she feared for anyone who stepped in their path between here and their next destination.

Though his fury simmered just below the surface, his eyes softened when they met hers while he held the door open for her. She could feel eyes on them from above as they walked to his bike parked on the curb. She silently took her seat behind him and let him pull her forward by her knees. His hand moved against her right thigh in a way that was different from every other time. His fingers smoothed over her skin in a caress that spoke louder than any words he’d ever said aloud. The gentle touch. The reverent lingering of the pads of his fingers smoothing down to her knee as though touching her quieted his mind. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly.

“Are we going home?” Gloria asked him.

His hand disappeared and she cursed herself for breaking the trance.

“No, we have work to do,” he grumbled. He revved the bike’s engine and took off down the street, leaving Gloria grappling for a hold.

Gloria was surprised he didn’t drive recklessly toward their destination. Instead he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, driving by muscle memory which apparently resulted in a much calmer driving technique. There was something different about his anger today. Normally he would unleash it in whatever was close by. Like energy buzzing beneath the surface, he would expel it into whatever activity he was pursuing whether that be a high-speed chase his mind created or a physical confrontation with a man twice his size.

This energy though? It was chaotic, unhinged, threatening to pulse out of him. But he held it in. It was like he was saving it for something, someone. She knew he would be shocked by the contract signing over her life. Betrayed though? Livid beyond the ability to speak? No, she hadn’t accounted for that. And she had no idea what was going on in his head.

They pulled up into the alley behind Valentina’s and the fight club. Frankie parked his bike in the same spot he had done two nights before. Two nights? It was hard to believe so much had happened in such little time. He helped her off the bike and continued to hold her hand as they walked toward the club’s door. The slat opened and the man inside nodded at Frankie, no words required.

The moment the door started to open, Frankie pushed through it. It was early in the afternoon meaning only a skeleton crew would be inside… or so she thought. The club seemed to be filled to the brim with dangerous looking men, more so than usual. Then she remembered. It was Tuesday.

Tuesdays were one of the four days in which the ‘mafia men’ took over the club before it opened. Only certain workers were allowed inside during those times as they were reserved for passing along information, getting assignments, having meetings and… Gloria gasped as a male figure flew from the ring and crashed into a stack of chairs. The men around the room erupted in applause, boos and a few catcalls as the winner pumped his fists in victory.

Frankie guided her through the crowd of men who barely spared her a glance once they noticed who was caging her in. They walked toward the employee hallway and the noise quieted down to a dull roar as they entered the back area. They strolled past the break room where she’d eaten so many meals and stopped at the next door, one she always assumed was a janitorial closet. Frankie unlocked the door and held it open for her. With a raised brow, she stepped inside.

It looked like she’d just walked into a hacker’s secret cove. A chair was pushed up against a desk that had three computer screens and countless security monitors. Several gaming consoles whirred to life in the dimly lit room. A rack of dangerous looking guns and knives far too large to fit in someone’s back pocket stood by the door like a secret arsenal he’d prepared in the event of an apocalyptic raid. It was a sanctuary, a cocoon. It was Frankie’s safe space away from home.

“Definitely not ‘mall cop porno,’” Gloria said with a satisfied nod of her head.

Frankie scoffed. “No.”

As Frankie started logging into his various systems, Gloria started to hear the murmuring of voices. She stepped up to the wall and within a minute the voices had grown loud enough to hear clearly. This wall was the one shared by the breakroom. She looked to Frankie whose stern expression was focused on the screens in front of him as he looked through some sort of digital calendar.

“You can hear people in the breakroom.”

Frankie smirked but the smile vanished quickly. “Yep.”

“Do you ever listen?”

Frankie’s eyes flicked over to her and sized her up before looking back at the screen. “Sometimes.”

Gloria fought the heat that threatened to erupt over her face. “How often?”

The clicking of Frankie’s fingers on the keyboard stopped. He spun in his chair and laced his fingers together as he gave her his full attention. He raised one eyebrow and the smirk he’d quelled earlier resurfaced as a full grin.

“Often enough to know you had the hots for me before you were ready to admit it,” Frankie told her.

Gloria’s mouth dropped open. “What… I… No, you’re such a freaking liar.”

Frankie shrugged. “Not as much of a fucking liar as you, Vixen.”

“I did not talk about you that much.”

“That much?” he repeated, that eyebrow shooting up higher.

“I…” Gloria started. His eyes flickered with amusement and then she figured it out. She closed her eyes. “You set me up.”

“Big time.”

“You don’t listen through the walls.”

Frankie shrugged. “Gossip isn’t really my thing. Now I know you were talking about me though, I might need to go through my feeds,” he told her with a wiggle of his eyebrows before he turned back to the computer screen.

Gloria sighed again and walked to the couch which had a few questionable stains, a pillow-blanket set, and indentions that told her Frankie probably slept there more often than at home. She sat down and crossed her legs as he skillfully maneuvered his way through multiple screens at once: checking security feeds, emails, police reports and news stories.

Over an hour of silence went by as Frankie seemed to forget her existence. She passed the time watching the security feeds as though they were her grandmother’s soap operas. She noticed movement at the bar and saw Nora starting to check off on inventory for the night. Gloria stood up, drawing Frankie’s attention.

“What is it?” he asked, furiously typing away at something with a scowl on his face.

“I’m going to hang out at the bar,” she told him.

The typing stopped and he looked over at her. “You’re what now?”

“Going to the bar,” Gloria said, pointing at the screen.

Frankie followed the path of her finger. He must have noticed Nora because he diverted his gaze quickly.

“I think it best if you stay in here with me,” Frankie said, back to his typing.

“The club is safe, Frank. That’s why Nora sets us up here. I’ll just…”

Gloria reached for the door handle and opened it an inch. Frankie’s palm smacked against the wood beside her head and slammed the door back. He was behind her, the heat of his chest soaking into her back. His breath fanned her shoulder, causing a shiver to race down her spine.

“What makes you think, after the events of today, that I will let you out of my sight?” Frankie whispered.

“You have cameras. You can see me.”

“It takes forty seconds at a run to get to the bar from this room. Plenty of time for someone to sink a knife into that pretty neck of yours,” he said, illustrating by latching his teeth into the soft skin where her neck meets her shoulder. She fisted her hand tighter against the doorknob to stifle a second shiver.

“I can hold an attacker off for that long. Especially with your pack of attack dogs out there. Just tell me their cue and, if there’s any trouble, I’ll release the hounds,” Gloria hissed, not liking how he was trying to keep her contained.

“Fass —Attack—,” Frankie said, turning her around. His dark eyes roamed her face.

“Fass,” she repeated with a nod.

Frankie gripped her cheeks in one hand and pulled her to him for a kiss. She braced her palms against his chest. The kiss left her breathless and soaking before he pulled away.

“Do not leave the bar, Vixen. Do not drink. Do not…”

“Let anyone touch me or talk to strangers. Yeah, I’m a Russian daughter whose purity has been preserved for twenty years. I know the rules.”

Frankie’s expression soured as Gloria turned and wrenched the door open. The dank hallway felt like freedom as she walked toward the main club area. The men in the room were riled up, chanting at the two men sparring in the ring with gloves and safety gear. She kept her eyes on the action as she sidled up to the bar and took a seat. She winced as the larger of the opponents succeeded in knocking his partner flat on his back.

“That’s Don,” Nora said, pointing to the hulking figure smiling proudly at his comrades. “And pour Tommy on the ground. Fellow’s had a rough year.” Nora smiled shyly as she dried the glass in her hands. “Hi.”