Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five
Frankie pulled Gloria into his side and let out a breath. “Such a beautiful day for a bonfire.”

“Has it been cleared?” Gloria asked.

“Conor’s doing the last check now,” Frankie assured her, kissing her temple.

As if on cue, Conor strolled out the front door of the mansion and gave a thumbs-up. He winced a bit as he jogged down the stairs and reached inside his shirt to test that the bandages Gloria had wrapped around his torso were holding.

“Stop fiddling with it,” she said as she batted his hand away.

“It itches,” he whined.

“It’s going to. It’s healing,” she said with a shake of her head that made her wince as it pulled on some stitching she’d received in her neck. What had caused the cut, she couldn’t quite remember enough to tell. Probably for the best. What she did remember made his gut twist with fury.

“I just can’t believe out of everyone, I didn’t get shot,” Frankie remarked, holding his hands out in disbelief.

“It’s a fucking miracle,” Conor agreed.

“Yeah, I have to admit, I’m feeling a bit left out.”

“I’m sure you’ll get shot next time, Sweetie,” Gloria cajoled with a pat on his shoulder.

“Not me,” Conor vowed. “This is the last wound I suffer at the hands of the mafia game. I’m officially and utterly done.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about that. If you’re promising sobriety, you may be seeking some other, safer kind of drug,” Gloria guessed.

“Safer?” Conor lifted his shirt to show the bandages beneath. “You think this is safer?”

“Statistically or…” Gloria teased. Conor threw his hand in her direction in dismissal. “Now… If we can all get back to the matter at hand.” She held her hand out, palm up to Frankie.

Frankie dug in his pocket for the lighter. He held it out to her. When she went to take it, though, he retracted it out of reach. “Now, for the last time, are you sure you don’t want me to rig up some more explosives?”

“Frank…” Gloria said with an annoyed sigh.

“Just hear me out, one last time,” Frankie urged.

“Come on, man,” Conor groaned.

“Just imagine, big explosions. Not like the pansy ones Sergei set up. I’m talking big booms and massive piles of rock flying all over the place and…”

“You’ve gotten your explosions,” Gloria chastised, taking the lighter from his hand. She took a deep breath and walked up the driveway to where the line of kerosene started. She squatted down and flicked the lighter. As the line of fuel quickly took off, she paced backward into Frankie’s arms. He wrapped them around her and propped his chin on top of her head. “I want it to be slow, deliberate, painful,” Gloria whispered as the flames licked up the stairs and entered the house. “I want to watch everything my father built slowly burn to the ground.”

“Even better.”

It took about fifteen minutes for the flames to start blowing out what windows remained. Another thirty for the entire building to be caught under the flames’ destructive caress. Gloria melted back into him and let out a breath that seemed to take the stress of her entire ordeal with it.

“It’s over,” she whispered.

“Mhmm.”

“I still think it’s weird we left bodies in there, though,” Conor added as he pulled out some marshmallows and passed them around.

“We gave family and friends a week to claim them,” Gloria reminded him. “What else were we supposed to do? Build a mass grave?”

“You sound more and more like Frankie every day,” Conor said, sticking his marshmallow on a stick he’d found in the woods.

Frankie barked out a laugh. “She decapitated her former fiancé with a letter opener. She’s far more twisted than me,” Frankie said, giving Gloria a deep kiss to show his pride in her handiwork.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. I do feel guilty for most of them. Sergei and Asher, they can freaking burn for all I care,” Gloria said with a nod as she extended her own marshmallow-donned stick toward the heat of the house.

Sergei’s men had been quick to convert to Gloria’s side. They weren’t there out of loyalty, but for the promise of money. A promise easily translated over to Gloria. Most of them wouldn’t make it into their final roster. A man who only seeks money isn’t one you want protecting you with his life. Gloria wanted quality, not quantity, as Sergei had been after in the end.

“You’re right about Thompson, took the coward’s way out. Shooting yourself in the head rather than joining the fight? Who does that?” Conor asked, already too impatient with his first marshmallow, so he stuck it in his mouth, still cold.

“Someone who’s scared,” Gloria supplied. “He figured whoever won wouldn’t be able to trust him. He was clearly deeply in love with both of my men and…”

Frankie turned Gloria slightly to face him. “Did you just say, ‘my men’?” he asked.

Gloria shrugged and looked to the fire. “I’m lumping the two of you together. It’s easier. Anyway, so he knew no matter what side won, he’d be on the outs. His name would mean nothing. He’d have nothing. So…” Gloria’s marshmallow caught on fire, and she jumped in surprise before going to blow out the flame.

“Well, the house is going pretty good. We should probably get out of here soon and head to the airport. Accardi’s plane touched down again about an hour or so ago. We have things to get back to.” Frankie pulled Gloria back against him. “Parties to prep for.”

Gloria chuckled. “Is there something going on tomorrow? I forget.”

Frankie poked her in the side, making her squeal. “Oof, make that sound tomorrow night, and you’ll have me coming before I get the dress off.”

“After the ceremony,” Conor begged, finally getting a marshmallow lit as Frankie and Gloria made their way to the car.

“But before the reception, right?” Frankie asked him with a wink.

The plane ride was quick, uneventful other than the fact that his bride slept with her head against his shoulder. By the time they’d reached cruising altitude, they were already starting their descent. He took the small amount of time in the air to check a few things. They would be landing just in time.

Frankie and Gloria said goodbye to Conor, who had to meet up with his friend, Charlie. All the help he’d been giving them over the last few weeks meant Charlie was handling the bulk of the security company’s clients. Not that Charlie minded, as Conor clearly needed the time to get his mind right… and detox. Little did Charlie know that the way Conor managed to get off the hard drugs was to pump his veins with a natural drug: adrenaline. Chasing bad guys and ending lives was one rather unorthodox way to get clean.

The car that picked them up from the airport drove through the streets of New York with ease. It was late afternoon. The sun would soon start turning the city various shades of orange and red, thanks to the smog that blanketed the buildings. As they pulled up to Prospect Park in Brooklyn, Gloria turned in her seat to give Frankie a questioning look.

“I have a surprise for you,” he told her.

Frankie got out and walked to her side of the car. When he opened the door, she stepped out almost nervously.

“Am I jetlagged or has Frankie Donati taken me to a park?” Gloria asked with a laugh.

He took her hand and laughed as he led her down the sidewalk. He found a bench near where he knew they’d be and sat down, pulling her with him.

“It’s my wedding present to you,” he told her.

“I don’t see a gift,” she said with a smile.

“It would have been difficult to wrap,” he admitted. Without looking, he gestured with his head.

Gloria followed the path toward a family that was celebrating a birthday. There were balloons, presents stacked high, and a large cake with trucks atop it. A boy smiled big as the cake was presented to him. His father beamed as he placed a party hat snugly on the boy’s head. There wasn’t a number on the cake, but Frankie knew he was turning nine.

“A happy family,” Gloria whispered. “I just don’t understand…”

“His name is Ian,” Frankie told him. “I may have bribed Nora. And by bribed, I mean I had my mom sneak into her apartment cause Nora herself is still in the hospital. Normally, the family meets here every Sunday, but as it’s a special occasion…”

“Ian,” Gloria breathed. Her jaw clenched as her eyes misted over. “Juniper’s son.”

“Your brother,” he confirmed.

Gloria nodded. “He looks…” She stopped as the family started to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him. “He looks so happy. So loved.”

Frankie nodded, knowing how deeply this was affecting her. He gripped her hand tighter and kissed the back of it. He didn’t have to ask what her birthdays were like… What Ian’s would have been like.

“She was very brave. Right until the end. She did the right thing by him,” Gloria said. She turned to Frankie and swiped the tear from her cheek. “Thank you, Frankie.” She looked back at Ian as if she couldn’t take her eyes off the scene playing out before them. “George,” she whispered.

“Hm?”

“Juniper. She named him George.”

“George. Eh, I like Ian better,” Frankie said, making Gloria laugh and roll her eyes.

She wiped her face more effectively as the family started to dole out cake. “Now,” she said, smacking her thighs before turning to face him with a conspiratorial smile. “It’s time for your wedding present.”

“Really?” he asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Here?”

She merely rolled her eyes. “Not here, exactly,” she said. She pointed to a bench on the opposite side of the walkway and a bit to the left where a man sat with a newspaper in front of his face. As if she’d pressed some kind of alarm, the man folded the paper down and grinned over at him.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Frankie asked.

“That’s not a very pleasant way to greet someone,” a slight accented voice said behind him.

Frankie groaned. He looked over at Gloria. “What have you done?”

“Your situational awareness needs some work,” Leo said, now standing in front of him, his paper folded back as if he’d just plucked it straight from the stand. “It’s your bachelor party!”

Accardi slapped his hands on Frankie’s shoulders. “A proper one this time.”

“Surprise!” Gloria said, giving him spirit fingers.

Two hours later, Frankie was stationed on a stool in a bar in SOHO. Beside him were Accardi, Leo, Louis, and Conor, who apparently had no plans to meet up with Charlie. Across the room, where the strippers were dancing, were the other men, the single men.

“So, this is a traditional bachelor party?” Frankie asked, chuckling as he knocked back his sixth… seventh?... glass of Glen McKenna and signaled the bartender for another.

Accardi shrugged. “That's what the article said.”

“Article?” Louis asked.

Accardi gave him a look, telling him to tread carefully. “It’s not like I’ve been to many before. I didn’t have one. The night before my wedding, I had to tell my wife she was wanted by the FBI for murder.”

Several of them hissed between their teeth.

“That’s pretty rough,” Louis agreed. “The night before mine, I was helping prep for a funeral.”

Accardi clinked his glass with Louis’. It was the funeral for Accardi’s mother and brother after all.

“Mine was normal,” Leo said. Everyone laughed. “What?”

“Dude,” Louis chimed in. “Lucy literally tried to claw your eyes out when she learned Frankie took us to a strip club.”

“You had to wear sunglasses in all your pictures,” Accardi reminded him.

“Not all of them,” Leo said with a smile as if Lucy scratching out his eyeballs was akin to her knitting him a sweater. “A few of them she made me take them off and then blew up the pictures as a reminder to never do it again.”

“Jesus, man,” Frankie said, downing his eighth glass… ninth?

“Come to the bathroom with me,” Louis said to Leo, dragging him by the shoulder.

“Uh, no. The bathroom is past the strippers,” Leo said.

Louis bent his head down. “Exactly.” Louis started to walk away and grabbed Conor by the collar as he did. “You too, young man. Can’t be a monk forever.”

Frankie and Matteo chuckled as the three of them slowly crept toward the bathrooms while Juliano, Don, and others beckoned them over with the strippers’ garments caught between their teeth.

“So,” Frankie said casually. “How’s the search for my replacement going?”

“Good, good…” Matteo said. “Good.”

“That’s… good?” Frankie said. “Any top contenders?”

“Uh, well, there was Thomas,” Accardi said, pointing at nothing, “But he’s decided to move to Arizona. Open a fucking motel or some shit.”

“He was always a weird dude.”

“You know,” Matteo said, clearing his throat. “If things didn’t work out with Gloria’s family…” Matteo shrugged. “The position is always open.”

Frankie smiled and looked down at his glass for a moment. “You miss me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You totally miss me,” Frankie digged.

“I should have kept my mouth shut. You know what, I shouldn’t have even come tonight.”

“You’re cute.”

“No, my wife will literally kill you,” Leo warned.

Both men glanced over to find Don and Juliano grabbing Leo by the arms and leading him toward the bachelor’s chair.

“We should probably do something,” Matteo said.

“Yeah, we probably should.”

Neither made a move to get up.

Matteo turned back to the bar and tipped his glass to the bartender, signaling for another refill. “After this drink.”