SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) (26 page)

He snorted.
“You’re trying to get me out of the way.”

“What? No, why would I do that?” Never be friends with a
genius. It made you look stupid by comparison.

“Don’t lie to me.” Andy shook hi
s head. “I’ll do it, but don’t think I fell for your lame attempt at protecting me. We can’t hide forever, and I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of Sal and his shit.”

“Lame attempt.
” I snorted. “And here I thought it was a pretty good one. Drew would have fallen for it.” I paused, nodding to Drew and the blonde he chatted up a few feet away. “I promise Sal won’t be a problem for much longer.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.
” Andy straightened from the pillar he leaned on. “Promise me, Ian.”

“When have I ever done anything dumb?”

He sighed as if my doing something stupid was a forgone conclusion. “What about the rest of the crew? How are you going to protect them?”


Drew will be taking a little trip. Mickey and Beth are at one of Billy’s safe houses, and Mark will be staying with Neil for a few days.” I paused, considering every angle. I would do whatever was needed to keep my friends safe. “Frankie’s the problem. If she is with me, she’s in danger. But if she’s not, I can’t watch out for her, and she won’t leave town. Mickey already asked. I’d stash her at Colin’s but I don’t want to involve him. I could have her kidnapped....”

“Good luck with that. If your
life wasn’t already in danger it would be once she found out you were behind it,” he said as Drew strolled over to us, a slip of paper with the blonde’s number clutched in his hand.

I shrugged, frustration spilling into my words.
“I don’t know what to do. Maybe she’s safest with Roberto.”

Drew
laughed. “She’d be safer with a pit of vipers.”

Andy
shook his head. “Frankie needs you, and whether you admit it, you need her. It’s time to face the truth.”

Anger gave my voice a cold edge.
“That’s what I’m doing. The truth is, everyone I give a damn about is in danger. You,” I pointed to Drew, “got shot, and Beth nearly died. What odds are you giving for my continued good health?”

“Two to one.” Andy grinned.

I reached in my wallet, pulled out a hundred and slapped it in his palm. “I’ll take that action.”

******

I dialed Frankie’s cell and thought about what I wanted to say. Right now violence swirled inside me, and I wasn’t sure I could contain it. The thought of Sal using her to hurt me made me crazy, but not nearly as crazy as the picture of Roberto’s hands on her. I needed to end whatever this was between us before it cost one of us our life.

“Hello,
” Roberto answered Frankie’s cell.

My fist clenched.
My jealousy twisted into something much more brutal and ugly. What the fuck did she see in him? “Get Frankie.”

He
laughed. “Sorry, she’s in the shower. Can I take a message?”

“N
ot for her.” My voice turned deadly. “But let me give you a bit of advice. Leave her the fuck alone, or I will end you.”

“That’s if you live long enough.” He laughed again and hung up
. Fuck. The first chance I got I was going to kneecap the bastard. See how he liked the view from a wheelchair. I glanced at my watch. It was a little after seven at night and I had nowhere to go. “Take me to the Purple Palace,” I told the cabbie. He responded in a mixture of Farsi and broken English, but he got his message across—Women broke even the strongest man. I shook my head, leaned back against the hard plastic seat, plotting ways to keep Frankie safe, not only from Sal but from Roberto too.

Twenty minutes later, the cab stopped in front of t
he Purple Palace. A gaudy purple and orange sign promised live, naked—girls, girls, girls. I got out, slipped the driver an extra twenty and pushed through the crowd at the front door. The doorman put out a hand to stop me, but at the look in my eyes, he backed off and let me in.

I paid the ten-dollar cover and ordered
an eight-dollar beer from a gorgeous bartender. I moved in the shadows, taking a seat with my back to the wall and a view of the front doors just in case. My eyes scanned the room, wading through the parade of strippers and businessmen. Finally I spotted my reason for being there. Clair. Beautiful blonde Clair. Lust stirred in my groin. Not the punch in the gut kind I had with Frankie, but enough that I shifted in my seat. Clair danced across the stage toward me.

She nodded, snatching up the twenty I laid on the stage with a wink.
“What happened to your face?”

“Cut myself shaving.”

She shook her head. “What are you doing here? Slumming?”


No, I thought you might like some company. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Rum and diet coke.” She tossed her long mane of bleached hair. “I’
m off at ten.”

I nodded, and she moved off to tantalize some poor businessman from Spokane.
Ten o’clock came and she drifted from the dressing room wearing a tank top and jeans. I handed her a drink and she sat next to me. The sweet scent of baby powder floated around her like a cloud. I licked my lips. Tonight might not be so bad after all.

“So what are you really doing here?”
She took a long sip of her drink.

“No where else I’d rather be.”

She grinned. “God, you’re good. I wanna believe every word.”

“Trust me.” I caressed her cheek. “Besides you owe me the benefit of the doubt after the little bait and switch you and Frankie played.”

“It worked out for the best.”

I shrugged,
throwing back the rest of my beer. “In some ways.”

“Oh, no. She broke your heart, huh?”

“I don’t have one, remember.”

“I’m sorry, Ian.” She
seemed so sincere I started to laugh.

“I’m fine, really. We realized shit wouldn’t work out between us.
No hard feelings.”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“How about we don’t talk about it, and drink ourselves stupid.” That sounded like the best plan I’d had all fucking year. My eyes slipped to her breasts barely contained inside her cotton tank top. I couldn’t think of a better idea.

Chapter
52

 

My bedroom door flew open early the next morning. I grabbed my .38 and pointed it at one pissed off redhead with what looked like a black lace bra in her hand. My first thought: I was never drinking again. My second: Neil had done a hell of a job reinventing Frankie’s nature color. I flipped the safety back on the gun and shoved it beneath my pillow.

“You pig.”
Frankie jumped on the bed, her fist slamming me in the chest.

“Wha
t the hell?” I pushed her off, swallowing the wallpaper taste in my mouth. It was then I realized I was naked and my shower was running. Shit. Clair. I’d forgotten about last night.


I hate you,” Frankie whispered from her prone position on the bed. I leaned over her, soaking in her passion, and rage. I’d never seen her look more beautiful or wild. My erection, poorly timed, suggested I do something about it. A typical male reaction. Beautiful woman. Naked man. A bed. It meant nothing. She’d moved on, and so had I.

“What the fuck is this, Frankie?”
I gave her shoulder a shake.

Tears formed in her eyes. “How could you?”

“How could I? You dropped me for a fucking drug dealer and you’re crying foul?” I shook her harder. Lust and jealousy, a dangerous combination, burned inside me.

“Is that what you think?”
Her fist caught me just below the ribcage. I captured her hands and held them above her head. She struggled against me, yelling, “Sometimes you can be so fucking stupid.”

“Tell me about it.
” Lust trumped anger and my mouth crushed hers. The kiss last thirty seconds or so, a kiss filled with lust, power, and rage. Suddenly the bathroom shower turned off, and Frankie bit my lip. The slap she delivered with force to the side of my face cooled my adore, but not enough to make me regret our kiss.

“You make me sick.
” She punched me in the stomach. I quickly released her as she swung her fist back to hit me again. She jumped from the bed, eyes blazingly with betrayal. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

“Frankie,” I yelled
as she stomped toward the door.

Unfortunately, at the same time,
Clair opened the bathroom door wearing nothing but a towel and holding a pair of panties in her hands. “Have you seen my…?” Frankie looked at her, and then at me. Clair took a step toward Frankie, trying to explain, “It’s not—”

“I don’t care. He
’s all yours,” Frankie screamed before storming away. The slam of the front door rattled the framed poster on my wall, sending it crashing to the floor. Glass exploded. Shards flew across the room.

“Go after her,” Clair ordered.

“For what?” I shrugged.

“If you won’t I will.”

“Why? What’s the point?” I was tired of playing games, tired of losing. Just plain tired.

“Because nothing happened between us.”

“Not for a lack of trying…”

“What does she see in you?”
She shook her head. “Go after her. Explain that we were drunk and ended up here. Tell her we didn’t sleep together. Tell her that I slept on the couch.”

“It won’t matter.” I grabbed
my jeans. “Until she calms down nothing I say will make a difference.”


God, you’re a fool.”

“Fine.” I stood, barefoot and
bare-chested, picking my way through the broken bits of glass. At the front door I turned and winked at Clair. “Good seeing you again.”

Clair shook her head, searching
the room for her missing bra.

******

I rushed down the stairs and into the bar, but Frankie was already gone. I threw open the door and ran into the street. I saw her then, on her hands and knees, vomiting in the gutter. Tears ran down her face, sloppy, snot-covered tears. Tears from something far worse than catching me in bed with Clair. Fear gripped me. I grabbed her around the waist. “Frankie, are you hurt, baby?”

She stared at me blankly
as if trying to place me. Her cell phone laid open a few feet away. Whoever called her hadn’t had good news. Coldness pooled in my chest.

“What happened?
” I wiped her face with my hand.

“Mickey called….He’s dead….”

“Who’s dead?” When she didn’t answer I shook her until her eyes focused on me. My heart beat wildly in my chest. “Who died?”

“Neil…Oh, God…Neil’s
dead.” She pushed away from me and threw up again.

It couldn’t be. T
he doctor’s gave him six more months. We had time left, time to say goodbye. “When?” I asked, my voice raw with disbelief.

“They found him…this morning…
” She gave a choked cry. “Someone shot him…” Her words, delivered quickly, like a blow from a sledgehammer sent me staggering. “Why, Ian? Why would someone shoot Neil?” She seemed to fold into herself, silent tears spilling down her cheeks.

I didn’t have an answer.
A mistake. It had to be a mistake. I stumbled against the cement wall, sliding down until my ass hit concrete. I pressed my hands to my eyes to block out the sight of Frankie’s grief. No, this wasn’t right. Neil wasn’t dead.

I’m not sure how much time passed. But eventually Frankie
’s cries subsided into hiccups and the numbness inside me shifted to raw, unfiltered rage. Frankie crawled to me, her off-white dress stained with dirt, tar, and tears. I pulled her into my arms and willed the pain away. We sat like that for what seemed like hours, drawing strength from each other until her cell phone rang. 

“I can’t answer it.”
She pressed it into my palm.

I
checked the caller ID. Mickey. “Please tell me there’s been a mistake, Mickey.”

“I wish I could.” The sob in his voice brought tears to my
own eyes. I battled them back. Tough guys don’t cry, Billy’s voice echoed in my head.

“What happened? Who killed
...” My voice broke.


We don’t know. It was a hit. Two shots to the back of the head…like Nick.” Fucking Sal had taken his revenge. I’d kill him now, no doubt about that. Make him suffer. Make him beg. Frankie glanced at my enraged expression and lowered her eyes. I felt a shiver pass through her. But I had no comfort to offer, only hard, cold violence and rage.

“Where the fuck was
Mark?” I asked, the full weight of Neil’s death washed over me, making speech nearly impossible.

Mickey sighed. “
Mark went to buy a pack of smokes. Was gone maybe five minutes…”

In those five m
inutes everything had changed. “Where are you?”


I’m here, at Neil’s.”

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