HEARTLESS

by Storm, Franca

  Before I can be accused of staring too long, I raise my eyes back to his. They’re dark, almost completely black. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. I see him do a quick sweep over me, too, as he scratches the thick stubble on his chin.

  “You really do care about your girls, don’t you?” he says in a sexy, commanding rasp of a voice.

  He knows who I am then. “We’re like a family. A lot of these girls come from difficult backgrounds and they don’t have that, so this is the closest thing to a home for them.”

  He smiles. “That’s very admirable.”

  I shrug. “I’m in a position to provide it, that’s all.”

  “Using your power for good.”

  I chuckle. “I guess.”

  “I’m glad you turned down the sleazy fuckers who’d clearly been more intent on making this place their personal playground, than investing as silent partners and allowing the place to continue to be managed in the masterful way it currently is.”

  Oh. There’s only one way he can know about that. “You’re one of the investors I’m scheduled to meet with?”

  “I am,” he confirms with a grin.

  “Masterful, huh?”

  “Even that doesn’t do you enough justice, love.”

  I shift my weight and rest my hand on my hip. “Flattery won’t get you very far with me, I’m afraid.”

  “I have no doubt, Miss Belmont. You are exceedingly smart, despite your attempts to play it close to your chest.”

  “It’s useful to have people underestimate you.”

  He nods and a dark look ghosts his face for a brief moment. What the hell was that?

  “Indeed. I couldn’t agree more,” he says, his enthralling voice sending that slight warning right out of my head. I’m just being paranoid.

  “Thank you for helping Candy.”

  He waves his hand dismissively. “It was nothing.”

  “I’m guessing you’re here tonight to scope the place out before our meeting?”

  He takes a step towards me, flashing me a sexy smile. “Seeing as though my intentions are no longer secret, how does a tour sound?”

  “Hmm.” I make a show of thinking on it. “That sounds like fair payment for you helping out one of my girls.”

  He holds out his hand. “Deal accepted, Miss Belmont.”

  “Call me Halle,” I say, taking his hand. “Your name?”

  We shake firmly. I’m very aware of his fingers brushing over the back of my hand in a lingering caress.

  “Frank Newman,” he answers. “But you can call me Frankie.”

  Chapter 13

  ~Smiter~

  I pace up and down in the shadows as I wait for ˈem to strike.

  Fucking kids.

  They got the best of the prospects I had watching the place for the last two nights.

  That’s gonna end tonight, cuz I’m here now.

  They’ve made enough mess with their fucking tagging already. Gonna shut it down tonight. Gonna put the fear of God in ˈem.

  They ain’t gonna be fucking up this housing development no longer. Ax is real excited ˈbout it, cuz it’s a big project with Reirdon Construction and the club just recently took over it. We gotta put our best foot forward with it to pull in more clients. Can’t have some dumbass kids screwing with that. Can’t have nothing going wrong.

  I do another sweep of the area.

  Nothing.

  Yet.

  I got some time.

  Pulling out my phone, I scroll through my texts, tryinˈ to find the last one I sent to Halle.

  Shit. Four days ago.

  It gets worse as I read over what we’d been saying.

  There’s her text to me. Going to bed. Talk to you tomorrow.

  And then mine. Sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll call you.

  Goddammit.

  My head’s been busy with all this Frankie stuff. Been tryinˈ to figure out how to let it all go after all these fucking years. I only got a few more days before he’s outta Brockford, so if I’m gonna do something, I don’t got a lot of time left. The thing is, if I do, I’m gonna be going against Ax’s orders. Been tryinˈ to figure out a way ˈround all that.

  Didn’t even realize four days had gone by.

  Shit. I better shoot her off a text ASAP, or I’m gonna be a dead man.

  Dinner tomorrow?

  I stare at my phone for a long while, glad nobody’s about, cuz I look like a dumbass just staring and waiting.

  Finally, it buzzes with her text.

  Can’t. Busy.

  Yeah? Doing what, sweetheart?

  Dinner plans already set.

  Your girls?

  Business dinner.

  What business?

  My club. What else?

  Who’s this dinner with?

  A potential investor.

  What? You need money for the club?

  It’s handled.

  Don’t sound like it. What’s going on?

  Leave it alone.

  I suck in a breath to calm down quick, before I text back something we’re both gonna regret.

  What ˈbout the day after?

  Busy.

  You mad at me?

  No.

  Sounds like it.

  I’m not.

  Fuck. Why’s she saying she ain’t, when it’s damn clear she is?

  I try a different tactic, cuz it’s getting into fight territory.

  Miss you.

  Gotta go. See you.

  Sounds like a blow off to me. Hell, no.

  You’re my girl, Hal.

  What a joke.

  What the fuck does that mean? That’s it. I’m done with this. I dial her number.

  It just rings and rings.

  Pick up.

  It’s late. Goodnight.

  Argh! I stuff my phone back into my jeans pocket.

  She’s being fucking ridiculous and real immature.

  It’s clear she’s pissed at me, so why ain’t she saying it? Women!

  Commotion just ˈround the corner reaches my ear.

  It’s time.

  Busting these dumbasses is gonna make my week.

  My job keeps me grounded, keeps me on track. It’s what I need bad right now. With everything up in the air and untameable, I been having a real hard time. I can’t stand things being that way.

  I need control.

  Right now, I got this under my control.

  I sprint ˈround the corner.

  Sure enough, there the stupid kids are.

  Four boys in their late teens, tryinˈ to hide their faces with hoodies. Wearing ˈem stupid-ass baggy pants that slip down past their underwear. Maybe it’s an age thing, but I really don’t fucking get it. How the hell can they walk in ˈem things? They’re ˈbout to find out how the hell they’re gonna run in ˈem.

  They all got their backs to me, shaking cans of spray paint, getting ready to tag the front of another brand-new house.

  I clear my throat loudly.

  They all spin ˈround, caught off guard.

  Taking in the size of me and my MC cut, they throw their hands up in the air, surrendering.

  “What you up to, boys?”

  “Uh… just hanging,” one of ˈem mumbles.

  “Looks like you’re gonna tag one of my properties. That it?”

  “Yours?” another one asks. “Black Thorns MC?”

  “Reirdon Construction’s owned by the club now,” I tell ˈem.

  All their eyes almost bug outta their heads and they start whispering anxiously to each other.

  I step forward and bellow, “Shut it!”

  They all freeze, their eyes going to my gun holstered at my hip.

  I take a step towards ˈem and they all step back, shaking. “Know what we do when people fuck with us and our property?”

  “K-kill them?” one of ˈem squeaks.

  They think I’d murder a bunch of teenagers? They think any member of Thorns would? Even in our more brutal days, we never hurt ki
ds and women. The boy’s probably just saying that outta fear, cuz Thorns don’t have that nasty rep, not like some clubs. Or, psychos like Frank Newman.

  “Ain’t gonna learn no lesson if you’re dead, are you?”

  “P-please. Please, Sir. We didn’t know this was club property.”

  “Shouldn’t be messing with nobody’s property. You got no respect.” I give ˈem a dark glare. “That sorta thing don’t fly with me and my brothers.”

  “Sorry. It’s just something to do. It’s stupid.”

  “Yeah, it’s fucking stupid. Go get yourselves jobs like men, instead of vandalizing shit like boys.”

  They all nod, telling me in a rush that they’re gonna go ahead and do that.

  “I see your handiwork again and I’m coming for you. Got your faces on surveillance. Can find you anywhere. Now get the fuck outta here.”

  I smile to myself as they waddle like fools, clutching their stupid-ass pants.

  Fucking kids.

  They won’t be doing this shit no more now. Fear of God, for sure.

  I call it in to Ax, confirming it’s taken care of.

  I make my way back to my bike, deciding I’m gonna take a long ride to try to clear my head.

  Over the last couple of weeks, things have gotten real complicated.

  I gotta get a handle on it.

  Time’s up.

  Chapter 14

  ~Halle~

  “That’s some major security for a meeting with a strip club owner,” I comment as I take in Frankie’s armed entourage covering the restaurant floor. The restaurant floor that he somehow had the power to have closed to everyone except the two of us. He mentioned that he wanted to meet privately, but this is overkill.

  “They’re here as much for your protection as mine.”

  Before I get the chance to further my line of questioning after that weirdly cryptic response, I’m distracted by him rising from his seat at the small, two-person table, and coming around to push my chair in for me.

  “Wow,” I murmur.

  “What’s that?” he asks, settling back into his seat opposite me.

  “I thought that kind of chivalry was long dead.”

  “Pushing a beautiful woman’s chair in for her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’m sad to hear that, love.”

  I smile. “It was nice.”

  “Well, I do pride myself on my ability to keep a beautiful woman very well satisfied.”

  The intense look in his eyes lets me know that he intended the double meaning to his words.

  “Is that right?”

  Winking slyly, he says, “Absolutely.”

  Oh God. What am I doing? I’m flirting. I’m flirting with a man who isn’t Smiter.

  Who cares? It’s clear he’s only going to be around when he feels like it. He might’ve agreed to take things beyond our booty call relationship, but his actions say otherwise. I was kidding myself to think we’d actually be able to do this, to date. I’m an idiot. He’s made me into an idiot.

  I’m done.

  Frankie clasps his hands on the table and leans forward. “I hope you don’t mind me asking such a personal question, given the nature of our meeting, but I’m curious as to whether you’re seeing anyone?”

  I hesitate.

  His eyes meet mine and the heat there in his gaze doesn’t escape my notice. “I’ve visited Temptress every night this week and we’ve shared a couple of drinks. We’re out at dinner now. In all that time, I haven’t been ripped a new one by anyone.”

  I break his gaze, before the intensity in it scorches me. “I… uh… I am technically seeing someone.”

  “Technically? Very romantic,” he teases. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Apparently,” I mutter.

  “I see.”

  I look out at the restaurant, anything to distract myself from the sudden awkwardness that I’m feeling from his questions. I’m acting like a naïve little girl. Thoughts of Smiter have me off my game. I need to get a grip.

  And I need to change the subject.

  “So, what’s the deal with your armed entourage?” I ask, gesturing to the heavy-set men decked out in tactical gear positioned through the room.

  “An unfortunate necessity.”

  “It sounds like you’re mixed up in some serious business.”

  “If you’re concerned that I may bring trouble to your club with my prospective involvement, I can assure you that won’t be the case. This is merely a precaution. Brockford isn’t a safe place for anyone, especially not a man of my substantial means.”

  “I see.”

  “A woman like you should take similar precautions.”

  “A woman like me?” I question, about to get my back up, assuming his comment is rooted in some sort of sexism.

  But he proves me wrong in the next second, explaining, “Like me, you are also a person of means. Furthermore, you’re a recognizable figure.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “I don’t doubt it, but a little extra help wouldn’t hurt. If you change your mind, I can assist with setting it up for you.”

  “That’s really nice of you. Thank you.” I shift my weight. “Are you ready to discuss business now?”

  He makes a gesture behind us and a moment later, a waiter is at our table with a bottle of wine. He pours quickly, leaves the bottle, then disappears.

  “Soon,” Frankie says, taking a sip from his glass.

  When I hesitate on drinking mine, because I always like to keep a level head when it comes to business, he tells me, “I prefer to discuss business with an indulgence, or two.”

  “Then I suppose I should humor you,” I say, taking a sip from my glass.

  “Glad to hear it.” He takes another sip from his glass and tells me, “You’re one hell of a woman, Halle. I hope you hear that enough from this boyfriend of yours, because he is certainly one lucky man.” He reaches out across the table and covers my hand with his, startling me. “If he doesn’t recognize that, he really should take a step back and clear the way for someone who does appreciate you.”

  I swallow hard at his heartfelt words.

  “Does he, love?” he presses, his voice soft and his eyes kind. “Does he see all that you are? I have known you a week and I already see so much.”

  I know that he does. I know from his many observations and compliments. When I speak, he hangs onto my every word. Every night this week, he’s shown up at my club to have a drink and good conversation with me, despite how busy he is. He makes time.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a relationship, but that’s how I remember it. Both people wanting to be around each other as much as possible. Both people trying, caring, loving.

  Being together.

  Not being a fucking afterthought to someone.

  That’s it, isn’t it? That’s exactly what I am to Smiter. An afterthought.

  Unlike the way it was for Rox and Sarah with their men, I’m not Smiter’s world. I’m barely even a piece of it. The fact that he can go four whole days without contacting me in any way, or even noticing he hasn’t contacted me, says it all. He doesn’t need me in his world. Maybe he wants to need me. But he just doesn’t.

  I should never have pushed him. He told me so many times that he wasn’t someone who could be in a relationship, but when I’d tried to end our arrangement, I guess it came across as an ultimatum. He didn’t want to give up the amazing sex between us, so he thought he could suck up the rest.

  That’s not what I want to be to someone.

  I want someone who needs me like the air they breathe. That intensity. That connection.

  He’s clearly not that guy.

  I’m jolted from my thoughts at the feel of an arm wrapping around me.

  I jerk in surprise to see Frankie has his arm draped over my shoulders.

  “Are you okay, love?” he asks, genuine concern in his dark eyes.

  It takes me a second to realize what he’s
getting at, why he’s asking.

  I’m crying.

  I didn’t even realize, because I was caught up in my head.

  I hastily wipe my tears away. I don’t cry. I don’t do this. I’m not someone who falls apart. Especially not in front of people and most certainly not in the middle of a business meeting. Oh my God. This is mortifying!

  “Is there anything I can do?” he urges.

  He starts stroking my hair. His touch is so unexpectedly reverent that it has my breath hitching.

  “You’re doing it.”

  He smiles and just holds me, continuing to stroke my hair in the sweetest, most gentle way.

  All of a sudden, the floor reverberates.

  Commotion erupts all around us, Frankie’s bodyguards snapping into action.

  Frankie’s hold tightens around me.

  To my absolute shock, a familiar voice thunders through the restaurant. “What the fucking hell? You piece of shit!”

  The next thing I know, Frankie is ripped away from me. He stumbles back, only just managing to catch his balance.

  “Smiter,” I breathe, looking to see him standing beside my chair, a ferocious glare fixed on Frankie.

  He ignores me and roars at him, “You motherfucking psycho!”

  Frankie’s men start closing in, their weapons drawn.

  Oh my God. What the hell is happening? “Smiter! What are you doing? I’m in the middle of a business meeting.”

  He scoffs. “Business meeting? You got no idea, Hal.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  ***

  ~Smiter~

  Fuck.

  Frankie’s glaring at me, daring me to answer Halle.

  The son of a bitch knows I ain’t gonna do that, knows I can’t talk ˈbout it.

  “He’s dangerous, Hal. Get outta here. Go home. Right now.”

  “No. You’re being ridiculous. He’s done nothing to hurt me all week.”

  “All week?”

  What the fuck?

  “That’s right,” Frankie says. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together at her club.” He shifts his weight and eyes Hal. “I assume this is the casual boyfriend you mentioned?”