Chapter 9: Chapter Nine

Present Day

Frankie was the perfect patient… he always was. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t need any kind of sedative. Gloria looked at the aged angel tattooed on his left pec where the knife wound had cut deep. The one she’d sutured up before had healed nicely, only leaving a faint pink scar. As her fingers worked in a monotonous flow she’d grown accustomed to while working at a club where men beat the ever-loving-crap out of each other, she let her eyes wander over his tattoos. They covered nearly every inch of his skin. Some were designed around the scars already there, others covered them, a few were ruined by them. Her eyes traveled up to the spot on his collarbone that had been blank the last time she’d seen him. She pulled the thread too tight and Frankie hissed for the first time ever.

“Jesus, Vixen, why’d you…”

“What is that?” she asked first.

Frankie looked down where her eyes were glued. “It’s a knife wound.”

“Not that, that,” she growled, her eyes flicking purposefully to the name scrawled along his collarbone.

Frankie smirked as she tied the end of the suture and clipped it. “It’s Russian.”

“I can see it’s Russian. What the fuck is my name doing tattooed on your collarbone in Russian, Frank?”

“Do you not like it?” he asked, his voice low, sultry, hiding emotions she didn’t dare identify.

She stared at the tattoo of her name emblazoned where everyone could see it. Even if he wore a t-shirt, the first portion would peek out from the hem. It was still red, the ink looked like it was glossy. It was new. Gloria glared at him and snagged the hand towel on the counter. She ran water over it and proceeded to scrub the red skin.

“Hey, hey, hey…” Frankie yelled, grabbing the towel and pushing her back so he could hop down from the counter. She went for another towel but he snagged that one before she could proceed to take the tattoo off using good, old-fashioned friction.

“Take it off,” she yelled in his face.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that,” he informed her with a chuckle.

“I’ll pay for your laser treatment. My name does not belong on your chest!” she said, pushing at his chest for emphasis.

The humor left his eyes and he smiled dangerously. “I don’t believe in taking ink off my skin,” he told her.

She laughed through her nose. “Then I’ll take it off another way.”

Before he could stop her, Gloria went for the scalpel she’d set on the counter in case she needed it. Frankie was one second too late. She grabbed the scalpel by the handle and attacked him. Frankie was strong, he was skilled, he knew her next move before she made it. But, what he didn’t know was that Gloria had been taught how to defend herself in close quarters. She didn’t use her ‘skills’ often but once she got started, it was hard to get her to stop.

She dodged his hands. She maneuvered between his legs. The towel wrapped around her hair fell to the floor. A few well placed elbows and knocks of her free hand and the scalpel broke through the first layer of his skin. Frankie growled, done with their dance. He grabbed her hair and twisted it in his fist, yanking her head back. She gasped but held on to the scalpel as he twisted her entire body, grabbed her wrist and stretched her arm outward, away from his body. He held her from behind in a weird angle with her head all the way back, her arm outstretched, her legs wide and her breathing in long, angered gulps.

“Drop the knife,” Frankie warned her.

“Take my name off your fucking body!”

“Nope.”

“Ugh! Why are you doing this? Why did you even come after me? Why did you put my name on your skin, huh?”

“Because, Vixen, you’re mine.”

She started to laugh. “Not according to the contract signed in blood by my father.”

Frankie snarled and tightened his hold on her hair, making the roots tug painfully at her scalp and bringing her ear closer to his mouth. “Mine,” he repeated. “We have our own deal, remember?” Gloria immediately stopped struggling. His lips trailed over her shoulder and up her neck making her shiver. “Did you forget?” he asked. His hand in her hair loosened. “Do I need to remind you?”

“No.”

“No? You’re sure? A lot has happened since you made that promise to me, Vixen. I don’t chase, remember?”

“Yet you just pissed off a powerful Pakhan. Why would you do that if you don’t chase?”

“The challenge. The fun of it.”

Gloria snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Maybe I have a score to settle. Revenge is best served from a woman’s navel, wouldn’t you say?”

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

“My brother died protecting you. Why on earth would I dishonor his sacrifice by killing you, Gloria?”

She let out a slow breath though her fear didn’t release with it. “What are you going to do to me?”

Frankie chuckled. He knocked her foot suddenly out from under her. She dropped the scalpel at the same time as Frankie flipped her. Her breath left her lungs in a big exhale as he flung her onto the same bathroom counter he’d been sitting on minutes earlier. He immediately shoved her knees to the side and stepped between them before pinning her thighs with his grip. She would have gasped if she had the ability to bring in air. His lips grazed up from her breasts to her throat.

“Don’t worry. I’m not one of those guys who gets hard after a killing spree. I have two requirements before taking a woman to bed. One, they have to want me. Two…” His teeth trailed along her skin making goosebumps rise over her flesh. “They aren’t afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she growled, struggling to get out of his grip. Frankie chuckled, the sound so deep it rumbled through his entire body. Then she realized what she’d done. “I mean, I don’t want you!”

Frankie tsked. “Lying twice? Not very lady-like of you.”

“Let go of me, now.”

“No. I won’t be doing that any time soon.”

“Then what’s your plan, Frank? What’s the next move here, hm? You don’t want to kill me. You don’t want to screw me. Is there a shelf for me to perch on as your useless prize?”

“My plan? You would like to know my plan? I’ll tell you my plan down to the last blood vessel I intend to dissect from your fiance’s corpse. First, I have questions. Let’s start with something easy…” His hands skimmed up her thighs, threatening to wander up under the towel still miraculously concealing her naked body. “Who was the last person to taste your lips, Gloria? Him… or me?”

Gloria’s eyes fell closed as he pressed more firmly between her legs. The heat of his chest soaked through the towel still clinging to her frame. The hands she’d been using to shove at his shoulders now turned to claws, digging into his skin to pull him forward. His breath fanned her skin. He wasn’t even touching her with his lips and she could feel the smoothness of them running over her throat. His attention was so distracting she didn’t notice his right hand leave her thigh. She didn’t see the needle he’d stored in the top drawer. Her descent into the prospect of pleasure was only obliterated when she felt the pinch of a needle and the sting of drugs being forced into her veins.