Vendetta: A DeLuca Family Novel (The DeLuca Family Book 2) (5 page)

I
held
the tears in all the way home. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. He’d pulled that shit on purpose to get to me. He didn’t deserve any more of a reaction than he’d gotten.

It was dark and eerily silent in my apartment when I got home. My heart was pounding in my chest as I rushed around turning on every light and double-checking the windows and doors. Once I was satisfied there was no one else there with me and no possible way for someone to get in, I went to my bedside table and pulled out the gun Enzo had given me for protection when I first started working for Carlo.

I’d never had a need for it. My contribution was behind the scenes, and only a handful of people knew that my work for the DeLuca family went beyond my legitimate IT job. Enzo had taken me to the outdoor shooting range Carlo had set up in a clearing far out on his property, so I knew how to use it. I just wasn’t particularly comfortable with it.

Taking a shaky breath, I placed it on the nightstand, along with a box of ammunition. I didn’t keep it loaded, even though I realized that an unloaded gun would do me absolutely no good in an emergency. Having a loaded gun just a foot away from my head every night while I slept freaked me the fuck out. Staring at the gun, I wondered if the situation arose, would I be able to pull the trigger?

A loud banging on my front door caused me to jump. My breath caught, blood whooshed in my ears, and my pulse pounded. I slowly slid the magazine into place, switched the safety off and chambered a round, just like Enzo had taught me. My hands were shaking as I slowly crept to the front door. I had to switch the gun from one hand to the other so I could wipe my clammy hands on my pants.

The pounding on the front door started up again, the sound echoing loudly off the exposed brick walls of the apartment. This time though, the pounding was followed by Enzo’s voice.

“Frankie, I know you’re in there, open up!” he hollered through the metal door.

I let out a huge breath I hadn’t known I was holding and rushed forward pulling off the security chain and flipping the two deadbolts before flinging the door open. I was so relieved it wasn’t someone trying to kill me that I didn’t even think about how furious I was with him just moments ago.

“Jesus!” Enzo exclaimed as he clocked the gun in my hand. “Here, give me that thing.”

He took the gun from me, closing and locking the door behind him. He didn’t say a word as he went around the apartment checking all the windows and locks. My anger from before had rekindled and was burning in my stomach again as I watched him do exactly what I’d done not ten minutes before.

Does he think I’m incompetent?

Finally satisfied, he came back to where I stood. I hadn’t moved an inch since he walked in.

“Why are you here?” I asked abruptly before he had a chance to say anything.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was out of line, but that doesn’t change the fact that I need to keep you safe. This isn’t something I’m going to give on; I don’t want you to get hurt. Your safety is my top priority—always.”

I scoffed, I had to. His words were laughable, because my physical safety was the only thing he cared about. The hurt he’d caused me over the years was immeasurable; just because it didn’t leave physical scars, didn’t make it any less painful.

“I’m serious, Franny— “

“Don’t…” I warned.

Enzo groaned and ran a hand over his head. “Sorry. But I’m serious. Someone came into your apartment while you were sleeping without you knowing. Do you have any clue how fucking dangerous someone like that is? It takes a lot of balls to do something like that, or an insane person. Either way, it’s way too dangerous to let you stay here by yourself.”

I considered his argument. He was right, of course. I’d been determined to not let some crazy person run me out of my home or give into Enzo, but the moment I’d come home to my dark apartment, I knew that staying alone wasn’t going to be an option.

“Fine,” I said choosing what I hoped was the lesser of two evils. “You can stay here, but I have conditions.”

Enzo cocked his head to the side slightly. “What?”

“You sleep on the couch, don’t eat my food without asking, don’t touch my shit, and hands off the Red Bull. Don’t even fucking ask.”

“Done,” he said, a stupid grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

I rolled my eyes. The least he could do was pretend he wasn’t enjoying my surrender. Leaving him standing there, I stalked to my bedroom and slammed the door. I wasn’t trying to act like a child, but he brought out the worst in me—always. After I changed into my pajamas, I realized I hadn’t given him any bedding for the couch.

So much for my dramatic exit.

Pulling a pillow off my bed, I headed out to the living room, stopping in the hall to pull out a sheet and spare comforter from the closet. Enzo had made himself comfortable on my couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table, one hand resting on the back of the couch while the other flipped through the channels.

Just seeing how casual he was pissed me off. It was the only reaction I allowed myself. Because if I wasn’t angry about it, I might’ve found that I liked having him in my space, sitting on my couch and channel surfing like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Here,” I said sharply, throwing the bedding as hard as I could at his face and turning on my heel to storm back into my bedroom. Before I reached the hallway he called out to me.

“Thank you, Frankie. I mean it. Thank you for not fighting me on this.”

I paused for a second. I didn’t have anything to say in response so I just nodded sharply and hurried to my room.

S
he wasn’t wearing a bra
.

Fuck me.

She came out in the tiniest shorts I’d ever seen and an old baseball T-shirt with some kind of comic book character on it. The shirt was so worn it was practically see through. How the hell was I going to keep my dick in my pants when she pranced around the apartment looking like a nerdy lingerie model? Jesus, and those glasses, talk about librarian fantasy.

I turned off the TV and settled into the couch. It was a leather sectional, so it fit my tall frame. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I’d slept on worse. Frankie’s couch was like heaven compared to the cots they gave us to sleep on when I was overseas.

Staring into the darkness, I thought about the promise I’d made Eddie all those years ago, before Frankie and I were even married. He’d made me promise not to take her; it was an impossible request. Anyone who spent any amount of time could see how hard it would be to stay away from her. She was magnetic.

There was a sweetness in her that she didn’t show many people, an innocence that I’d worried had been lost along the way, but I’d seen it in her eyes tonight. She was scared. Even though her words were to the contrary, her eyes were begging for me to protect her, and I always would. Especially when she didn’t think it was necessary, because that was when she needed it the most.

I had a secret though; I was terrified. Not only did we not have any idea who was stalking her, but I knew the more time I spent with Frankie, the more my willpower was bound to crumble until there was nothing left but dust. We’d taken the road of avoidance; we hadn’t breathed a word about being married to each other for six years. Instead, we pretended it never happened. I’d thought about filing for divorce after she graduated from college, but she’d never mentioned it so I held out hope that someday the forces that kept us apart would disappear and somehow we’d find our way to each other.

I’d married the woman I loved eight years ago, but I’d never allowed myself to be the husband she deserved—if she even wanted that anymore

I
was
awake before Frankie’s alarm went off the next morning. I checked the doors and windows again; everything was still secure. What I couldn’t figure out was how the hell someone could get into her house without her knowing it. It just didn’t make sense. There was no sign of forced entry on any of the windows or doors, and according to Frankie, she was the only one that had a key to her place. Since she owned the apartment, there wasn’t even a landlord that had access.

After folding the blanket I’d used, I headed into the kitchen. I was rummaging around in the cupboards looking for coffee when she came in. She was wearing the same thing she’d had on last night with the addition of knee-high Batman socks. Her epic nerdiness shouldn’t get me hard, but it did.

“What are you doing?” she yawned, wiping sleep from her eyes. In her sleepy state, she’d apparently forgotten she was mad at me.

“Looking for coffee,” I said, looking everywhere but at her smooth bare thighs. “Actually, where’s your coffeepot?” I asked.

“Don’t have one,” she grumbled and shuffled toward the fridge.

“Why not?” I questioned as my eyes tracked her ass across the room. She opened the fridge and bent down, reaching to the back of the bottom shelf. I was mesmerized, everything around me fell away as I stared at her tight little ass, all perfect and round, held high in the air, the perfect angle for…

“Because I have this,” she said with her head in the fridge. She interrupted my ogling by standing up with a can of Red Bull held high. Of course, her insane caffeine addiction couldn’t possibly be satisfied by coffee.

“Right, breakfast of champions.”

She popped the tab and took a drink before turning to face me. She blinked a few times and coughed. “Why aren’t you wearing clothes?” she demanded.

I looked down at myself then back up at her. “I’m wearing pants.”

She huffed out a breath and glared at me. “New rule. Shirts are required at all times.”

“But not pants?” I asked with a smirk. A blush was starting to rise on her neck, and I took great joy in the fact that my body was the reason for her discomfort.

“All clothes, all the time,” she gritted out.

“What about in the shower? That could be kind of difficult.”

Her eyes narrowed further. “Don’t be a dick,” she said and stormed off to her room.

I just shook my head and laughed to myself. At least I knew she wasn’t completely unaffected by me. This was going to interesting.

After I dropped Frankie off at work, I headed to my apartment to grab a few changes of clothes. I had no idea how long I’d be living with Frankie, but I figured it would be safer to limit my belongings to one bag. There was no telling how she’d react if my things started taking over her house. I was likely to lose a nut.

We fell into a somewhat easy routine throughout the rest of the week. I’d drop her off at work, go to work myself, and be back to pick her up at the end of each day. We’d order takeout and Frankie would retreat to her bedroom to do whatever it was she did, leaving me with free reign of the TV—which was fine by me.

Friday evening, Frankie went to dinner with Mia to discuss wedding plans, and I was more than happy to let Angelo take over security detail for the night. Instead, I spent my evening sweeping her apartment for bugs and cleaning my guns.

“You guys didn’t need to walk me up. I’m fine!” Frankie said as she pushed the front door open.

“Don’t give me that shit. There’s a fucking psycho peeping Tom out there stalking you. Of course we’re going to make sure you get upstairs and into your apartment safely,” Mia said from the doorway.

“Okay, fine! Good night, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Frankie said waving them off and closing the door. “Jesus, you’d think I was a fucking inmate with the way they’re fucking on me,” she said turning around.

“They’re just worried—we all are—so cut them some slack. Especially Mia, she’s been through enough; the last thing she needs is something happening to someone else she cares about. She might burn down the entire west coast,” I said, returning my attention to the task at hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I raised an eyebrow and lifted the gun in my hand. “Cleaning my guns,” I said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it kind of was. There were pieces of at least seven different guns laid out on the coffee table.

“Why are you doing it in my living room? You’re just going to leave these things laying around? Why do you have so many?” she demanded angrily.

“Where else am I supposed to do it? Besides, I’m not leaving anything laying around, and it’s not like you’ve got kids running around. I’m sure you know better than to play with a gun,” I said, ignoring her question about the number of guns. I was a man; there was no such thing as too many guns.

Apparently I’d said something wrong because her face kind of crumpled for a second, then she set her jaw and spit out, “Fuck you,” before stomping to her room, which she’d just about perfected the past week and leaving me sitting on the couch, gun in hand, confused as all hell.

W
e found
the letter Saturday afternoon. Frankie was sifting through a week’s worth of mail that had piled up on the kitchen counter when an envelope without a return address caught her eye.

“Enzo,” she called out. Her voice had a panicked edge to it which caused me to rush out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, my wet feet leaving a trail behind me.

“What is it?” I asked, my heart rate returning to normal when I saw no immediate danger. My relief didn’t last long once I noticed she was standing completely still, unnaturally so, as if she were afraid to even breathe. She raised a piece of paper in my direction with a trembling hand.

I took the letter from her and read it aloud.

Frankie,

Why are you doing this to us? He should not be there. He’s going to ruin everything. He’ll corrupt you, turn you against me. Do not listen to anything he says, he’s a liar! Your bodyguard will not keep me from you. I’m still watching. You are mine. You belong with me!

I’m coming for you.

“Let me see the envelope,” I barked out. She reached down to grab it from the pile of mail in front of her, but her hands were shaking so badly, she dropped it twice before finally handing it to me.

The envelope was postmarked five days ago from the same zip code as Frankie’s home address. I didn’t want to scare her more—so I didn’t mention it—but it had my stomach rolling. This psycho was close, and he’d been watching her so carefully that he was able to respond immediately after the first night I’d stayed over.

I snatched my phone off the counter and dialed Angelo. He picked up on the second ring. “Enzo?”

“Do you still have that contact in the police department?” I asked.

“Which one? I have a lot of contacts,” he replied lazily.

“Do not fuck with me right now!” I roared, causing Frankie to flinch.

Damn it.

I didn’t mean to scare her. I took a deep breath and continued through gritted teeth. “The forensics woman.”

“Mallory? Yeah, I’ve got her number. What’s going on?”

“He sent a letter.”

“Shit,” he responded, and I heard him relaying the information to someone in the background before he came back on the line. “Do you have any idea who it is?”

“No.”

“Okay. Carlo says to bring the letter to the compound, and we’ll have Mallory come over and check it out.”

“Yeah, we’ll head out there now,” I said and disconnected the call. Turning my attention back to Frankie, I noticed her face had gone white, except for her nose, which was bright red.

Shit.

“Hey,” I said, trying for a gentle tone, but my voice came out rough instead. I cleared my throat and tried again, “Frankie?”

“What did I do to deserve this?” she whispered, her voice cracking on the last word.

I rounded the counter and pulled her into my arms. “Shh, you didn’t do anything. Don’t worry, I’ll find out who it is. When I find him, I’ll make sure he can never get close to you again. I promise.”

Her arms squeezed tight around my waist and she started to sob. “I’m so scared,” she tearfully admitted.

“You’re safe; I’ve got you,” I whispered over and over again as I rubbed circles on her back.

Her tears eventually subsided, and when her breathing returned to normal, she pulled away from me, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. It was big on her, the sleeves falling well past her hands—it was a men’s hoodie. The realization had my jaw clenching painfully.

She sniffed, oblivious to my sudden burst of jealousy. “Dude, the rules still stand, go put some fucking clothes on!” she shouted, and I had to laugh. She may be scared, but she was still my Frankie.

After I was sufficiently dressed, I put the letter in a plastic bag and we headed out to the DeLuca compound to meet the others. Hopefully Angelo’s forensic friend, Mallory, could find something that would lead us to whomever the stalker was.

“I just don’t know who it could be,” Frankie whispered, interrupting the silence we’d been driving in for the past twenty minutes.

“It might be someone you’ve never even met before,” I said, chancing a glance at her. Her head was resting on the window and she was staring out at the trees as we raced down the highway.

“I don’t know. It feels so personal, like the person knows me or something.”

“Well, who knows how long he’s been watching you. You can learn a lot about a person from just paying attention.”

“He sent me roses and lilies, Enzo. Stargazer lilies.”

Fuck.

Dread filled my chest and bile rose up in the back of my throat. Whoever was doing this was closer than I’d thought. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, trying not to sound angry, but I was furious. This could be just as much about me as it was about her.

“I don’t know, there was just so much going on, and then you dropped the ‘hey by the way we’re married’ bomb and I just didn’t think about it.”

“How did you know they weren’t from me?” I asked through a lump in my throat.

“It wasn’t my birthday,” she said sharply.

“Come on, I’ve sent you flowers when it wasn’t your birthday,” I argued.

She sighed heavily. “You use the same florist every time, you would never have them delivered to work, and you always write a card.”