Chapter 48: Chapter Forty-Eight

June

Gloria stepped into the house and stifled a shiver. It was clear no one spent much time there. The house felt cold, empty, staged. She watched Frankie walk in and out of rooms, a handgun gripped loosely by his hip as he checked to make sure they were alone. She walked down the hall toward the back of the house. Tall windows framed the walls of the kitchen and living area, looking out onto the beach which stood only fifty-feet off the back porch. Lights flicked on behind her, obscuring the view of the beach and causing her own reflection to stare back at her in the window. Her eyes were red, her hair was askew and her face pale. She looked exhausted. She tried to remember a time when she looked… herself.

“I call the master!” Stephen yelled, the sound of his heavy boots thudding against the staircase as he ran upstairs.

“Check the fucking rooms!” Frankie screamed.

She looked away from the version of herself she’d become over the years, to watch Frankie rip sheets off the furniture in the living room, sending dust flying into the air. With her arms still folded, she strolled to the threshold of the room. She watched him stalk around the space for another moment before she cleared her throat. The only sign that he heard her was a slight twitch of his left eye. He walked past her into the kitchen without a word.

“Hello?” Gloria called, walking after him.

Frankie yanked open the fridge and scanned the contents with a disappointed shake of his head. He then strode toward the pantry.

“Do you have selective deafness?” she asked.

His phone started to ring. He pulled it from his back pocket, rolled his eyes, hit decline and put it back.

“Hello!”

“What?!” Frankie yelled, whirling on her.

Gloria narrowed her eyes and stood firm. “What is the plan?”

“You stay here,” he answered, strolling away from her. As he tried to walk past, she grabbed his arm. He pulled it away from her but remained rooted where he was.

“I deserve answers.”

“And I deserved to know your fiance was Vasiliev,” Frankie said, his voice laced with contempt.

Gloria scoffed and shook her head. “I warned you. I told you that once you figured out…”

“You think I’m afraid of him?” he asked in disbelief.

“You’re certainly acting like it!” she lashed back.

“Hey-o, there’s a freakin’ billiards room up…” Stephen stopped in the doorway carrying a twelve-pack of beer. “Woah, tension.”

“Great observation,” Frankie growled. “Come with me. I have to go,” he said. Gloria took a step. “Not. You,” Frankie hissed. “You will stay here. Right here. You will not step foot out of this house. You will not call anyone, email anyone or think about anyone lest you tip off some fucking psychic. Clear?”

Gloria returned his glare two-fold. “Trust me, I know the rules of being under house arrest.”

Frankie rolled his eyes and walked off. He grabbed Stephen by the collar and pulled him along toward the front door. Gloria waited until the door closed to follow behind. She peeked through the blinds of a window to watch the two brothers deep in discussion. Frankie pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. The two spoke for about five minutes. Frankie pulled Stephen into a hug. He gripped Stephen around the shoulders and smacked his back a few times while Stephen nodded at whatever he was saying. Frankie’s eyes were on the house, more specifically, on the window she was staring out of as if he could see her through the slight lift of the blinds she held up. He shoved Stephen away and took one of the beers before turning to the SUV and climbing back in. Shells were kicked up as he sped down the driveway toward the gate separating them from the outside world.

A minute later, Stephen came back into the house, one beer already empty and a second pressed to his lips.

“What did he say?” Gloria asked.

“That you have to do everything I say,” Stephen said with an evil laugh that followed him through the house toward the kitchen.

Gloria sighed long. How could two men be the exact same yet one infuriated her and the other… infuriated her?

What was meant to be a week at the ‘safehouse’ turned into ten days without a word from Frankie. At least, no word to her from Frankie. Stephen remained tight-lipped and would go outside each time his brother would call for an update. Her days were filled with walks along the beach… with Stephen. Board games… with Stephen. Drinking… with Stephen. Reading on the couch… with Stephen. Hitting golf balls off the back porch… with Stephen. Home cooked meals three times a day… with Stephen. After a few days, Gloria came to the startling realization: she actually liked the guy.

While Frankie was unhinged, unpredictable, intense. Stephen was hopeful, easily excited, fun. It became clear early on that he had not suffered the rough life that Frankie had chosen for himself. Instead, he’d finished high school, played various sports like football and lacrosse. He liked to read romance novels. His dark eyes would lighten to a maple brown whenever he spoke of his family: his loving mother, his strict but guiding father, his loose-cannon of a brother who he worshiped with his entire being.

She grew to look forward to her morning walks along the beach where Stephen would discuss his plans for the future. He wanted to earn enough money through the Accardi family to move to Oahu and open his own seafood shanty. Likewise, Gloria shared her dreams of becoming a nurse. Something Stephen said would come in handy if Frankie had his way and refused to let her go. That comment left her quiet and introspective until he’d shoved her into the cold water of the Atlantic. There was nothing romantic in her feelings for Stephen. It was… a friendship. One she’d never been allowed to experience before.

“So, what are your intentions with my brother?” Stephen asked, causing Gloria to spew some of the wine she’d been sipping on. “Ew.”

Gloria quickly dabbed the red wine off the white carpet, using the opportunity to compose herself and think of an answer. They were watching “Scrubs.” An activity that had become a nightly tradition for them. It was Stephen’s favorite show and when he’d learned she’d never seen it, he’d immediately started streaming it for her. Of course, she couldn’t actually hear the show as Stephen narrated and quoted every scene.

“I don’t have any intentions,” Gloria finally answered.

Stephen snorted. “Right, act like you don’t stalk me and develop a sudden interest in the curtains every time I take a call.”

“I’m not here because I want to be.”

“You’re right.  You’re here because he wants you to be.”

“And?”

Stephen rummaged in the bag of nuts he’d found in the pantry and shrugged. “My brother fucks. He doesn’t save and protect.”

“I’m honored,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“You should be.”

“I should?”

“Yeah,” he said, tipping the bag back so the dust at the bottom would drop into his mouth. He crumbled the bag and chucked it over his shoulder. She sighed, knowing she would be the one picking it up later. “My brother is a good man,” Stephen started again while licking his fingers clean of salt. “A bit rough around the edges but…”

“Rough?” Gloria repeated, her eyebrows rising to her hairline at the understatement.

Stephen raised his hands, palms up, as he nodded. He dropped his hands and ran them over his jean-clad thighs. “But,” Stephen continued. He looked her straight on, his maple eyes turning dark, his expression grave and serious. Gloria was immediately reminded of the resemblance between him and his brother. “He is the most loyal, dependable man you can have in your corner. If he decides to let you in, the man will tear through an entire organization, burn the earth to the ground and dig his way into hell to pull your soul back out.”

“And if you decide to push him away?” she asked, fiddling with the end of the blanket she’d wrapped around herself earlier.

Stephen snorted. “Yeah, right. I may be twice as good looking as him,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “But that makes him at least an eight. Couple that with his salary and weapon collection, only an idiot would turn him down.”

Gloria laughed, something he’d been managing to get her to do more and more often. “You think you’re a sixteen?” she asked as he stood up and stretched.

“I’d say twenty, but I feel like that’s a brag.”

“Right, of course,” Gloria said, shaking her head and sipping what remained of her wine.

Stephen walked in the direction of the kitchen. A light flickered outside, drawing Gloria’s attention. Thinking it must be a boat, she stood up, glass in one hand and blanket held tight in the other, to look out the window. She set her wine glass down and cupped her hand over the window so she could see out. Movement caught her eye. She squinted harder, trying to figure out what she was seeing. The blanket slid to the ground as she placed her second hand beside the first.

An alarm sounded: a shrill ringing that seemed to vibrate the glass beneath her hands. Spotlights suddenly illuminated the yard. Gloria took a startled step back as the shadows on the beach suddenly morphed into full-figured apparitions carrying large rifles. Her breath stalled in her chest while her heart raced. They wore combat gear. Their faces were painted black. They wore helmets and night-vision goggles that most discarded once the lights came on. She knew these men. Sergei’s men. She stood, frozen, as the men sprinted toward the safehouse.

“Gloria! Down!” Stephen yelled.

Stephen’s body impacted with hers, shoving her to the floor and covering her like a shield a second before an explosion shattered every window in the back of the house.