SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) (17 page)

“Ian, are you all right?”
Frankie jumped from her barstool.

I didn’t answer
her, instead I straightened and cracked my knuckles. “Big mistake,” I told man/boy. “I’m not in the mood.” My fist met his jaw. His head whipped back like a crash test dummy, and cold satisfaction filled me.

He staggered against the bar, blood
exploding from his mouth. “Yoou brooke maya toofth.” I assumed that meant I’d broken his tooth. Too bad, I’d hoped to fracture his jaw. Can’t win them all, I suppose. “Soomebody call a coop,” he whined to the bartender, who ignored him.

Again
I reached for Frankie’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“No.” She twisted from my grip. “You never listen.”

“Why is everything a fight with you?” My fists clenched at my side. “If you’d listen to me, things wouldn’t be all fucked up.”

“You’re the one who’s fucked up.” She gave me a shove. “
I know what I want, what’s best for me. I’m an adult. If I want to stay here, and let this idiot,” she pointed to man/boy, “feel me up, I will.”

“Jesus
, what the fuck was I thinking?” I slowly shook my head, rage giving my words added emphasis. “When I think of what I’ve given up for you…”

She
flinched as if I slapped her. “I never asked you to.” Tears formed in her eyes, but she angrily swiped them away. “You should let Sal kill me and be done with it.”

“That’s not what I meant.
” I ran a frustrated hand over my jaw; however, my words came too late, she’d already left. “Frankie,” I called after her retreating back. “Fuck.” I pounded my fist on the bar. Man/boy jumped. I shook my head and walked away.

“The money hit our account last night around eight. I transferred half to the account in German, and the other half into the Amsterdam one. Today, I’ll split it again and send it through the European accounts.” Andy tapped on his keyboard. Drew, Mickey, and I sat in Andy’s hotel room staring at the computer screen, watching as we slowly became millionaires.

“
How long until it hits the New York account?” I could almost taste the cash. Soon it would be all ours. We’d be rich. And free to do whatever the hell we wanted to do. Sadly the only thing that I wanted to do was Mickey’s sister. I tried again to block the vision of Frankie from my mind. Without much luck.

“By the e
nd of the week.” Andy gave a small laugh. “I can’t believe by Friday I’ll be two million dollars richer.”

“
What I can’t believe is that one of Ian’s plan actually worked,” Drew joked.

“To Ian.” Mickey raised his beer. The others followed suit. Since I was drinking water, I didn’t bother to raise my cup.

“We should celebrate. Drink some beers and sleep with strippers.” Drew waggled his eyebrows.

“I’m in for beers, but the strippers are out,” Mickey said, the ever faithful husband.

“Good, that leaves more for the rest of us,” Drew said.

“What about Frankie?
” Mickey nodded toward the door. “She’s a part of this too. She should also get a chance to celebrate our new found wealth.”

“Okay, we
’ll hold off on the strippers, but let’s get this party started.” Drew gulped down his beer.

******

“C’mon sis, aren’t you ready yet?” Mickey paced the bungalow. I sat on the bed, watching him wear a hole in the carpet. “Ian’s been waiting to get in the bathroom for an hour.”

Frankie’s reply was loud and clear through the heavy wood
en door. “Ian can go to hell for all I care.”

“Man, she’s pissed
at you. What happened?” Mickey scratched his chin, eyes suddenly suspicious.

My stom
ach lurched. Tell him the truth the angel on my right shoulder demanded. The devil on the left made far more sense, ‘tell him, and he’ll rip your head off’. “Nothing,” I whispered. “That time of the month, I think.”

Frankie threw open the door
, screamed, “I heard that, you bastard,” before slammed it again.

I gave a sheepish shrug.
“Maybe a night on the town isn’t the best idea.”

“She’ll c
ome around.” The door slammed again and Mickey grinned. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone, to work whatever this is out. Come to the bar when you’re ready.” Mickey turned and walk for the door.

“You’re a prince.
”

“Good luck
,” he said as he left the bungalow. I took a deep breath and tapped softly on the bathroom door. “Frankie, look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about prison. I don’t regret taking the rap.”

She opened the door standing in nothing but a white terry cloth towel. It barely covered her from breast to thigh. My body responded instantly, and my brain began to shut down.
Not that it was functioning at full capacity anyways.

“
You don’t regret spending five years in prison for killing Chris? Don’t regret Sal wanting you dead?” Her eyes raked across my face.

“Better
me than you.”

“No
, it wasn’t. I stood by while they locked you up. While Sal plotted ways to destroy you. What kind of person does that?”

My mind flashed to the day in question, to finding Frankie lyi
ng on the kitchen floor, Chris DeMarco’s body draped over hers. Covered in blood, at first I thought she was dead. Until yesterday, that was the most frightened I’d ever been.

She was in shock, her face pale, breathing shallow.
“Ian?” she asked in a weak whisper.

“I’m here, ba
by. Are you hurt?” I shoved Chris’s body from hers. “What happened?” I pulled her from the ground. She went limp like a rag doll.

“Chris…he’s dead…”

I could see that. “What happened?”

“I killed him, Oh, God. I stabbed him. I didn’t mean to….” She broke off sobbing. I called Mickey, and together we came up with a plan.
I wiped Frankie’s prints from the knife and replaced them with my own. Mickey watched with a growing look of horror at what was to come.

“Sal won’t come after m
e. Billy will see to it,” I told him when he started to argue.

“You could go to prison for life. I can’t let you do this.” Mickey grabbed my arm.

I shook him off. “You have no choice. Your family needs you. Frankie needs you.” After ten minutes, Mickey ran out of arguments and I dialed 9-1-1. “I’d like to report a murder,” I said into the phone.

I snapped back to the present. “It was my idea. I knew Billy’s reputation would protect me from Sal, but who would protect you? He’d have killed you without batting an eye.”

“Maybe that’s what I deserve.”

“No,” I grabbed her shoulder, wanting to shake some sense into her. “Nothing good
will come from the truth.” I paused. “Do you think Mickey will stand silently by? Or me for that matter? No, it will be outright war. It will be them or us. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then stop this.” I pressed my fingers into the skin of her shoulders. “I did what I thought was best. I know it was the right thing to do.”

“That day…,” Frankie stuttered. “He came at me and we struggled. The knife was on the counter. I grabbed it…”

“Hush.” I pulled her into my arms. The towel slipped a half inch, and my body tightened. “I know.”

“Ian...”

“What, baby?” I caressed her shoulders, rubbed away the redness of my fingerprints.

“Make love to me.”
She dropped her towel, and my mouth dropped open.

Resistance was futile. It took me less than ten seconds to snuff my conscience and kiss her like no one ever had before. I gripped her face in my hands, touching my lips to hers. Softly at first. Giving her one last chance to come to her sense. Instead of pushing me away, her hands fisted at the back of my neck and she tugged me closer. My tongue traced the sweet texture of her mouth, and my hand began to roam over her naked body. Her nipples tightened as I brushed my fingertips gently across the curves. With a low moan she wrapped her leg around the back of mine, and slid it up. White-hot heat ignited inside me.

I tossed her on the bed, and came down hard next to her. She gave a throaty laugh that sent shivers down my spine.
Her hands tugged at my shirt, and I removed it without breaking contact. I trailed my mouth down her throat, exploring and slid lower. The whiteness of her skin, the softness of it, drove me to the edge, and her husky moans sent me over it. Frankie slipped her hand inside my jeans, and I nearly came right there. Before she could do any damage, I grasped her hand. “Bad idea if you want this to last.”

“We have all night.” She slid her hand back in place and I lost myself to the feeling of skin on skin.

******

She w
as wrong, we didn’t have all night. An hour later, as I was trying out one of the many fantasies I had about her—a silk scarf, pink high heels, and the shower—the house phone rang. Mickey. Oh, shit, I’d forgotten the crew was waiting. I answered the phone next to the shower. “Hello.” I tried for calm, but didn’t think I’d pulled it off.

“Ian, where the fuck are you? We’ve been waiting for over an hour
. Pedro wants us to head to his bar. Says he’s got some info,” Drew yelled into the phone.

“Something came up.” I grinned as Frankie playful
ly struggled against her bonds. I glanced at the phone and sighed. “Listen, I’ll meet you at Pedro’s in one hour.”

“What about Frankie?
Is she coming?”

“
I’ll make sure of it.” I winked at her and hung up the phone. Stepping into the shower, I said, “Okay, play time is over. We’re on the clock. You have one hour to have your way with me.”

With a laugh
she slipped the scarf that bound her hands from the showerhead, and wrapped her arms around me. “One hour, huh? What can we do in one hour?” As she asked the question, she pulled my mouth to hers, nibbling on my lower lip. The next hour was a sexual frenzy fit for the Animal Planet. By the time we were dressed and ready to hit the town with the rest of the crew an hour and a half later, I wanted nothing more than eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Frankie kissed me one last time—tongue and teeth—the type of kiss you remembered on a cold night. She let me go, and opened the bungalow door. It was time to face the real world, a world where there was no us. The thought depressed the hell out of me.

Pedro’s hadn’t changed since three nights ago. It was still a dive, still smelled like rancid beer and unhealthy appetites. The crew sat at a table toward the back. All heads turned our way when Frankie and I entered. I didn’t have any illusions that I was the one drawing the attention. Careful not to get too close to her, I followed a few steps behind. She must have shared my feelings, because she took a chair on Drew’s right and ordered a drink. I sat down next to Mickey. I didn’t want to, not with the taste of Frankie on my lips, but it was the only one left. I ordered a double rumrunner. Tonight promised to be a long one.

Mickey frowned at me.
“What took you so long?”

Frankie
said before I could, “I lost an earring. Ian got down on his hands and knees to help me look for it.”

Neil
smirked. “Did you find it?”

“Yes,” Frankie answered at the same time I replied, “No.”

Neil’s grin widened. “Interesting.”

“Not the time,” I warned him.

Pedro came over to the table. “My friends, are you enjoying your stay?”

“Very much so,” I said.
“Unfortunately we leave tomorrow.” His eyes flickered, a sure sign that he was up to something. I could feel it in my gut. That itching feeling that everything’s about to go to shit.

“Tomorrow, you say? Well, then let us enjoy tonight.” He snapped his fingers and a gaggle of women rushed forward.

Melinda caught my eye and winked. She was as beautiful as I’d remembered. Shit. This was not going to be pretty. Sashaying over, she sat on my lap. “Care to cook my books?”

My eyes flew to Frankie’s, but her face gave nothing away.
“No thanks.” I pushed Melinda off my lap.

Her gaze slid to
Frankie, and she whispered in my ear. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to finish what we started, but I see you’ve already finished without me.”

“I’m sure you won’t be lacking for company long.”

“I’d be happy to keep you company,” Drew said. Melinda gave me a wink and moved on to Drew.

Mickey leaned over. “What’s wrong with
you?”

“Maybe I’m maturing.”

He laughed. “Sure, that’s it.”

Our drinks arrived.
I gulped mine down in one swallow. The burning eased the guilt of not only lying to my best friend, but also doing things to his little sister that were illegal in several southern states.

The jukebox kicked o
n, playing a song from Cousin Colin’s latest album. Frankie stood, swiveling her hips seductively. “Anyone want to dance?” We all shock our heads. “Fine,” she said, swaying to the music. “Cowards.”