Chapter 86: Chapter Eighty-Six

Gloria rolled to her side as she always did in the mornings. Only this time as she rolled, she fell several feet to the ground. She landed with a thud and a groan. She tried to sit up but found herself tangled in a blanket that had been swaddled around her. Gloria pressed her forehead into the cold wood floor as a pounding headache developed and her stomach threatened to turn. A chuckle from the kitchen doorway forced her to lift her head.

Frankie stood with his shoulder propped against the wall, coffee cup in hand and an amused smirk on his face. He had donned sweatpants that hung low on his defined hips but remained shirtless. She stared at the nakedness of his chest and the tattoos she’d spent the night mapping: dozens of tattoos whose edges were shaped by the defined muscles of his torso, along with a multitude of scars, burns and bullet holes. His stomach tightened and the tattoos shifted again as he flexed his muscles.

“Like what you see, Vixen?” Frankie asked. She looked again at his even more amused face as he lifted the coffee cup to his lips. “You look like you had a rough night.”

Gloria rolled onto her back and sighed. “My head hurts. What did you do to me?”

“What did I do to you?” Frankie asked with a laugh. She could hear his bare feet shuffling toward her but kept her eyes pinned shut. “This, my novice drinker, is what happens when you consume half a bottle of vodka without any tolerance built up.”

Frankie’s knees popped as he crouched down over her. She felt his cold breath fan her face. She leaned her head back and sighed at the sensation. Then something wet and cold plopped on her forehead, and she gagged. Her eyes flew open and she glared up at Frankie who blew her a kiss.

“Cold compress soaked in menthol,” he informed her. He took another sip of his coffee before standing up and turning away.

She heard a loud ping and Frankie hummed as he dug his phone out of his pocket. His brow scrunched together in deep confusion before he typed something out.

“Everything okay?” Gloria called to his upside down figure while he stalked away.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Gloria wrestled her way out of the blanket and stood to her feet only to realize she was still naked under the blanket and wet between her thighs. She wrapped herself up nonetheless and followed Frankie out into the hallway where he waited by the front door with his arms tightly crossed and a scowl on his face. She wondered what could have shifted his mood so drastically. A few minutes later she got her answer when a knock came at the door. Frankie stepped forward, entered the security code, unbolted the locks and opened the door.

Matteo Accardi stood there, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead, skin pale, pupils dilated and fists clasped tightly together. A slender hand appeared on his back, urging him forward. Accardi’s eyes shut hard and his nostrils flared before he acquiesced the hand’s request and stepped inside the apartment. Genevieve Accardi followed in behind him, her hair ruffled, the buttons of her shirt unaligned and her lipstick smeared. Gloria opened her mouth to ask what on earth happened to them when Accardi spoke first.

“I hate your fucking apartment.”

“Why do you think I live here?” Frankie muttered, scowl still firmly in place.

Accardi grunted and placed a flattened palm to the wall. Gen gave Gloria a shy wave as she ran her hand up and down her husband’s back.

“What are you doing here, Accardi?” Frankie asked. Gloria had never seen the man so rigid. Was it so uncommon for his boss to visit him at his home? Ivan would go to Gromov’s house all the time. The same could be said about Sergei.

Accardi clenched his teeth, then squared his shoulders and faced his second-in-command. His eyes flicked to Gloria but did not drop over her appearance, apparently not surprised to find her wrapped in a defiled blanket. When his eyes returned to Frankie, the men went taut as if Accardi had already communicated without even speaking.

“Ivan escaped,” Accardi announced.

Gloria gasped and nearly dropped her hold on the blanket.

Frankie’s jaw ticked and his fists flexed hard enough for his knuckles to pop. “What?”

Accardi nodded. “A few hours ago. Someone let him out from the inside.”

Frankie barked out a laugh filled with absolutely no humor. “Let him out?” he repeated. “No one has escaped the box since your father had it built!”

Accardi’s eyes narrowed but whatever malady was affecting him made him sway. “Imagine how honored I feel that it happened for the first time during my term.”

“Who?” Frankie asked, taking a dangerous step forward that made Accardi’s eyes flick down to Frankie’s feet. “Who is responsible for this?”

Accardi stood impossibly taller, daring Frankie to continue his threatening advance. “Our cameras were wiped but…”

Frankie scoffed and threw his hand in the air before turning away in anger. “Of course they were.”

“But…” Accardi continued. “We canvassed the neighborhood and believe the culprit to be Juniper Harrison.”

There was a pause in the room as everyone grappled with this new information.

“I knew we couldn’t trust that bitch,” Gloria muttered under her breath.

Frankie’s pacing stopped. He rubbed his chin and swiveled to first face Gloria, whose own anger was beginning to boil over, and then Accardi. “How? How does she know where the Box even…”

“Apparently she’s been hooking up with Thomas and…”

“Thomas?” Frankie laughed. “Thomas? The man you plan to make your second has been fucking…”

“Melanie Gibbs, Francesca Libowitz, Jasmine Telorado, Bridget Phelan, Helen Bros…”

“Enough!” Frankie yelled. “I get it. Fuck!” Frankie turned away again. He raked a hand through his hair. He placed his hands on his hips and his shoulders rose and fell with his sharp intake of breath. He shook his head. “Not even twelve hours. I resign for not even twelve hours and your operation falls to shit?”

Accardi shifted his shoulders as if physically shrugging off the insult. “There’s something else.”

“What?” Gloria asked in Frankie’s stead.

“On the wall, written in one of my men’s blood…” Accardi began and waited til Frankie turned to face him. “An address.”

“Whose address?” Gloria asked as the men held another telepathic conversation.

Frankie’s shoulders fell as he sighed. His anger seemed to slide off him to be replaced with something she’d never witnessed creasing his features: fear. “My parents.”

Accardi nodded for Gloria and Gen’s benefit. Accardi looked to his left toward the window at the end of the hall and a sickly green color coated his cheeks.

“Is there a fucking room in this house that doesn’t have a window?” Accardi growled.

“Gloria, close the curtains in the living room,” Frankie instructed as he turned in the same direction.

Gen and Accardi hung back as Frankie pivoted toward the kitchen and Gloria went for the remote attached to the wall in the living room. She turned on the lights and hit the switch that closed the curtains for the two-story windows. Once the whir of the mechanism had ended, Accardi appeared. Gen led him to the couch. Before he sat down, he looked again at Gloria. Now his eyes dropped over her blanket and Gen followed his gaze.

“What?” Gen asked.

Accardi’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Best we chose an armchair, Weakness,” Accardi murmured.

Gloria crossed her arms, refusing to blush at having fucked on her couch in the privacy of her home. Gen giggled as she helped Accardi to one of the armchairs.

“Something to talk about at our next ‘Girl’s Night,’” Gen said with a wink.

Accardi groaned as Gen sat down in the armchair next to his. “Please don’t tell me that’s what you all discuss at Girl’s Night.”

“No, of course not. We discuss the stock market and place over-unders on whether we go to war with Iran,” Gen said, sending Gloria another conspiratorial wink.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Accardi said, though there was the hint of a smirk pulling at his lips as he said it.

“No, that’ll be me,” Frankie growled as he walked back into the room with a new bottle of vodka and four glasses. He handed one to Gloria first. He bent down and whispered in her ear, “This will help with that headache too, Vixen.” The heat of his breath fanned her neck, and despite the fact that her deranged father had escaped and apparently sought revenge through the parents of the man she loved, she felt the wetness between her thighs become slick again.

Accardi nodded and took the offered glass while Gen gave a hard laugh. Frankie shrugged, downed her glass in one swift gulp and then took his own to the couch beside where Gloria had settled.

“Where are they now?” Frankie asked, getting back to the matter at hand.

Accardi set his glass down on the coffee table and leaned forward. “We lost sight of them in a garage uptown. We can assume he’s regrouping, caving in skulls of his own and formulating a plan.”

“He formulated a plan from that chair,” Frankie said, pouring another glass.

“What about the girls?” Gloria asked, remembering how it was Juniper who helped to hide them in the first place. “And Nora?”

“We have men moving them as we speak,” Gen answered. “They’ll be taken to the safe house in Florida.”

Gloria scoffed. “If Juniper knew where the Box was, who’s to say she doesn’t…”

Frankie’s hand settled on Gloria’s knee. “Only Nora and Accardi know where the Florida safe house is. I don’t even know.”

“Is that why Nora…” Gloria started, wondering if that was why Nora intended to send her to Florida those months back. He nodded and kissed her cheek.

“As for Ivan,” Accardi said, bringing the conversation back to his own expertise. “We can assume phase one of his plan will be…”

“Getting to my parents,” Frankie said. “Right. I want Don and Juliano on their house. Ben, Joe G., and Nick on the perimeter.” He rubbed his temple. “I’ll look through the roster for who can take their shift breaks.”

“I’m more than happy to assign some men to your parents but…”

“But what?” Frankie asked, his voice filled with venom. “I don’t work for you anymore so I don’t get the ‘protection of the three families?’”

“No, I…”

“Do your men have some other turf war that is more important than protecting your greatest ally in a time of…”

“Shut the fuck up and let me speak, Frank. You may not be my employee anymore but don’t forget who the fuck you’re talking to. This isn’t just about you anymore. He’s brought my reputation into it and I won’t let that stand,” Accardi growled, his voice thunderous and demanding. Frankie sat back and swallowed another glass of liquor. Accardi sighed and sanded his hands together. “I’m happy to have men stationed around your parent’s house but I think you’ll want someone inside to keep a closer eye on them. Ivan won’t hold any punches.”

“He’ll find a way to get inside undetected,” Gloria added. All eyes turned to her. “They can walk into a store and he’ll have access to old sewer lines or cargo holds dating back to Prohibition. He’ll have them beheaded before the men outside even know there’s a breach.”

Frankie sighed and Accardi nodded, knowing full-well the tactics of the Russian mob and what lengths they’ll go to when they’ve been wronged. And Ivan Rubanov had been wronged.

“Okay, so we double the men. Make sure to have them stationed at my parent’s most frequented establishments and…”

“That’s not enough,” Accardi interrupted.

“Safe house?” Gen offered.

“If the Box is compromised, we have to assume the safe houses are too,” Accardi said, his voice kinder when speaking to his wife.

“Well then what would you do, huh? Cause I need to find this fucking bastard before he finds me. Not to mention Sergei is still out there waiting to make his move. I can’t track those fuckers and do what I need to knowing my parents might…” Frankie didn’t finish. He breathed in deep and let the breath out slow. “What would you do, Matteo? If this were Valentina and Antonio? If you had a chance to do it again and change what happened? What would you do?” Frankie asked. His hands were clasped between his thighs and his right knee bounced in a sign of nervousness she’d never witnessed before.

“I would send someone in who I knew would die before anything happened to the people I loved,” Accardi said, his voice low, dangerous. “I would send my best man in.”

“You,” Frankie said with a nod and an outward gesture of his hand toward Accardi.

Accardi’s brownish, green eyes held Frankie’s gaze, unblinking. One slight turn of his head in negation. Frankie closed his eyes, dropped his head and sighed.