Authors: Crista McHugh
“Fuck off, Malcolm.” She tugged at Frank’s hand, but a member of Malcolm’s party cut off her escape route.
“Ah, is that any way to say hello to me, Boo? How’s my baby girl?” Malcolm reached for her arm, but she shrugged out of his way and moved closer to Frank.
The mixture of both irritation and fear on her face kicked Frank’s protective urges into overdrive. He moved between Kiana and their unwelcome visitor. “I don’t think she wants you around.”
Malcolm replied with a dismissive snort. “And who are you, whitey?”
“The man she was dancing with until you decided to interrupt us.” Frank kept his words low and even, sticking to that line from Hamlet.
Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee
. He didn’t want trouble, but if the guy didn’t take a hint soon, he wouldn’t back down from defending Kiana.
Malcolm’s eyes widened ever so slightly before he laughed it off, his whole body relaxed in comparison to the increasing tension in the rest of his entourage. “I always knew you were more white than black,” he tossed out at Kiana.
She winced, and Frank’s fingers dug into his palms. What he wouldn’t give to punch that smirk off Malcolm’s face.
He took a step toward Malcolm, drawing up every bit of his six foot three, two hundred and fifty pound frame. “I’ll say it simply enough for you to grasp. Leave her alone.”
“Or you’ll what?”
His pulse throbbed through his temples. After getting caught in a compromising position with one of Jenny’s cousins after the engagement ceremony in Seattle a few weeks ago, he’d promised Adam he’d behave, that he’d stay out of trouble. But right now, all he wanted to do was shut that arrogant punk up with his fist. He glared down at Malcolm, waiting for the smaller man to cower. Instead, the expression on the man’s face dared him to bring it on.
A sharp cry jerked his attention away from the staring match. One of Malcolm’s friends had Kiana by the shoulder and was murmuring a string of lewd comments while he ground his body against her.
Frank’s vision clouded red and he swung.
Chapter Two
Kiana’s breath caught as Frank punched at the asshole who’d been trying to feel her up. She’d barely had to time to free herself from his grip before Frank’s fist connected with the guy’s nose with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered her face and dress, and a squeal of disgust mingled with fear escaped from her lips. She added a few more feet of distance between her and the two men exchanging blows, but like much of the crowd gathering around them, she couldn’t turn away.
The night had started out so well. For the first time in ages, she felt sexy, confident, alive. And the more attention Frank gave her, the stronger those emotions became. Dancing in his arms reminded her of those carefree days in college where she could flirt with the best of them and not worry about the consequences when one thing led to another. If Malcolm hadn’t interrupted them, she might have let her guard down enough to indulge in a kiss or two.
But that was all she would’ve allowed Frank Kelly. She knew better than to play with a player. She’d come to the club with only one objective, and that was to secure a celebrity endorsement from Frank Kelly for her foundation. She was willing to go to any length to get it, even if it meant playing along with his flirtations. But her plan went to hell the second Malcolm entered the picture.
The last player who’d burned her stood a few yards away, encouraging his buddies to jump into the fight and beat the crap out of Frank, but not making a move to dirty his own hands in the brawl. He only hit those he considered weaker than him. Thankfully, his entourage saw the beating their friend was receiving and hesitated to become the next person to feel the fury of Frank’s fists.
When he saw none of them were willing to do his dirty work, Malcolm reached into his jacket, and her heart stuttered to a stop. She knew the pissed-off glint in his eye well enough, as well as his habit of carrying a concealed weapon. As far as she knew, he’d never fired the .44 he liked to hide in his clothes. It was more for intimidation, for street cred, than anything else. But the rage twisting his face signaled he might have reached the point where he wanted to pull the trigger. And just like the night he’d pointed it at her, she couldn’t tell if it was loaded.
The dull black grip of a handgun appeared from under Malcolm’s jacket. Her ex’s gaze never wavered from the man who’d challenged him. The man who continued to pummel his lackey. The man whose back was to him.
Something snapped inside of Kiana. If she didn’t do something, Frank would be shot, and it would be all her fault. And then, who was to say that she wouldn’t be next? This time, she refused to huddle in a corner and beg for mercy. This time, she would take control of the situation and act. She darted forward as Malcolm pulled out his gun. Her hand connected with the side of his arm as he extended it. She snapped it up as he squeezed the trigger.
The deafening shot rang in her ears long after the bullet left the chamber. A strobe light above them exploded. Showers of sparks and shards of glass rained down on the crowd. Then pandemonium erupted.
Screams filled the club, and the occupants ran toward the doors. Frank stopped punching his opponent long enough to get up on his knees and spy Malcolm, still holding the gun.
“You stupid bitch!” Malcolm shouted, his free hand connecting with her cheek.
The familiar taste of blood filled her mouth, and she tumbled to the floor.
A feral growl rose behind her, and she lifted her head just in time to see Frank tackle Malcolm as though they were on the football field. Her ex’s eyes bulged when Frank’s shoulder connected with his gut. A grunt of pain escaped his lips. The clang of metal followed, and Malcolm’s handgun slid off in the dark shadows of the dance floor.
“You need to learn some manners,” Frank said before delivering a solid punch to Malcolm’s jaw.
Kiana bit her swollen lip, fighting back the urge to cheer Frank on. For the last two years, she’d wanted to see Malcolm get what was coming to him. She wanted him to feel the pain and humiliation of being hit by someone bigger than him. She wanted him to experience what she’d endured during their stormy relationship. And now Frank was dishing it up for her.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder, and Tre yanked her to her feet. “Let’s get out of here before the cops arrive.”
“But what about Frank?” She nodded toward the red-haired man who was exacting the punishment she’d always wanted to give Malcolm.
“He’s on his own.” Tre dragged her to the back door as the police were pouring in through the front doors. “Better him than us.”
She was halfway to her car before she managed to dig her heels in and stop her brother. “I’m not going to let him take the blame.”
“Will you use your head for a goddamned minute, woman?” Tre pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it against her busted bottom lip. “You could’ve gotten killed in there.”
“We would’ve been fine if Malcolm had just stuck to his restraining order.”
“All the more reason to get out of there.”
“But we did nothing wrong.” She pushed her brother away. “And Frank was the one who almost got killed trying to protect me.”
“Frank’s been known to be stupid like that. Now come on.” Tre grabbed her arm and continued to pull her toward her car. Once they got to it, he opened the door and pushed her into the driver’s seat. “Go straight home.”
“But what about Frank?”
“He can handle himself.” Her brother glanced around, the blue lights from the police cars casting eerie shadows on the worried lines of his face. “Get out of here before someone from Malcolm’s gang comes looking for you.”
“But—”
“For fuck’s sake, Kiana, think of Savannah.”
A shock of fear raced down her spine and locked her muscles. She closed her eyes and shifted her priorities. Tre was right. She needed to go home, not risk her life any more tonight. There were more important things in life. She nodded and inserted her key in the ignition.
“I’ll check on you later.” Tre pressed the lock button before he closed her door and stepped away.
She started her car and pulled out into the street, her hands beginning to shake from what just happened. Her breath came and went in the same unsteady, quick tempo, and the side of her face throbbed. Tears stung her eyes. But she managed to round the corner to get on the main road in front of the club.
She stopped and watched the police lead a handcuffed Frank out of the club and into the back seat of a cruiser.
A new wave of guilt assaulted her and chased away the fear. She’d been a victim once, but never again. She could take action. And she could make sure Frank didn’t have to take the fall. Perhaps, if luck was on her side, she might even be able to get what she’d come to the club for in the process.
She waited until she had driven several blocks away before she pulled over on the side of the road and pulled out her cell phone. A few rings later, a sleepy voice answered.
“Tasha, it’s Kiana. Sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I have a huge favor to ask of you.”
***
Frank sat in the jail cell and pressed the cold pack against his swollen eye.
How the hell am I going to explain this one to Adam?
It had been almost two years since he’d last been in this predicament. Two years since he’d lost his temper and let his fists get the better of him. Two years since he’d beaten the crap out of someone and ended up in jail. He’d thought he’d mastered his anger issues, but the moment he saw that guy feeling up Kiana, he’d lost it.
Only now, he was starting to realize how close he’d come to losing his life.
He’d heard the gun before he’d seen it, and he could only guess that Kiana was the one who’d kept him from getting a bullet in the back. She was the one pushing Malcolm’s arm up into the air when he’d turned around. That is, until the bastard hit her.
Frank’s hand curled into a fist. There was never any excuse for hitting a woman. Ever. And he only wished the police had let him finish beating the crap out of that asshole before they’d arrested him.
His thoughts turned to her. He’d lost track of Kiana once he’d head-butted Malcolm’s gut. He could only hope she was okay. Maybe instead of using his one phone call to ask Adam to bail him out, he’d call Tre and make sure she was safe.
The cold pack was losing its chill, and he lowered it to test his eye. A narrow slit of light came through the swollen eyelid, but the images were too hazy to make it useful.
At least it was the off season. He didn’t need perfect vision until the fall.
He leaned back against the cold cinder block wall and winced. He was going to be sorer tomorrow than he was after a division rivalry game. But as he remembered the way Kiana felt in his arms, he grinned.
Yeah, she’d been totally worth it.
A low buzz came from down the hallway, and footsteps came closer. The door to his cell opened. “Come with me, Kelly,” the guard ordered.
Time to make that phone call.
But instead of leading him to the phone, the guard led him to another guard holding his belongings. “Make sure you have everything.”
A hint of unease crawled up his spine. He’d been arrested enough times to know this wasn’t protocol. “Um, have I been bailed out already?”
“Something like that,” the guard replied.
Frank made a quick inventory of his things. Watch. Wallet. Phone. Valet parking stub. It was all there, and he didn’t intend to linger in the Fulton County jail any longer than necessary. He nodded to the guard and was escorted out.
He stopped short when he spotted a familiar set of curves waiting for him.
“I’ll take him from here,” Kiana said in a tone that permitted no arguments. “Let’s go, Frank.”
“You bailed me out?” he asked.
Her eyes darted around the room, and the set of her shoulders hardened. “I’ll tell you more in the car.”
In other words, he was to keep his mouth shut until then.
He followed her to the parking garage and waited for her to unlock a late-model gold Lexus ES. She climbed into the driver’s seat in silence and started the car. Once he’d crammed himself into the passenger seat, she threw the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot before he could buckle his seatbelt. “Keep your head down.”
He was about to ask her why, until he spotted the media vans waiting in front of the jail. A curse flew from his lips, and he reclined the seat until he was lying in the backseat. He waited for the camera flashes or the spotlights, but Kiana managed to drive past them without inciting the frenzy that had followed him the last time he’d been bailed out.
Once they were safely out of sight, he sat back up. “Thanks.”
She nodded, her cheek starting to show signs of a bruise.
The anger revived in his gut. “Who was that asshole?”
“An ex,” she replied, her two-word reply revealing a hint of caution.
“Where is he now?” Every time he saw that bruise, he wanted to finish what he started.
“Don’t know, and don’t care.” A tremor filled her voice, and she gripped the steering wheel. She swallowed hard, and when she spoke again, the fear was gone. “I wanted to thank you for coming to my aid back there.”