I pointed to the window. “He’s got her up there. Waiting for me.”
“What’s the plan?” His eyes filled with trust. Frankie’s life was in my hands, and that scared the shit out me. What if my plan went to hell? I filled him in as best I could. He nodded, taking a shaky breath. “We have to save her.” It was my turn to nod. Whatever it took, I would find a way.
“It’s too dangerous.” Drew shook his head. “You’re not fucking Spiderman, you know?”
“It will work.” My assurance, all show, and we all knew it. Nevertheless, Andy maneuvered the Jeep as close to the building as possible while Mickey searched his car for longer cables. Finding none, we tied the two shorter pairs together. “Once I’m in position, get his attention.” I pointed to the window. “But stay low. When you hear the glass break, grab Frankie get the hell out.”
I climbed on the hood of the Jeep and took the jumper-cable rope from Mickey’s hands. With a hiss, I let it fly. It landed on the roof a few feet left of the intended mark. I released the slack until it caught and tugged it hard. It seemed secure. Only one way to find out.
Gripping the hard plastic with both hands, I climbed up using my legs for leverage. Blisters formed on my fingers. The webbed skin between my thumb and index finger shredded. I ignored the pain. This was nothing like climbing the rope in gym class. No safety net or big-breasted Nurse Nancy waited below with a Band-Aid to ease the pain and humiliation of a fall.
Three feet from the window the cable slipped. I fell backwards against the building with a smack. It knocked the wind from my lungs, but I held tight. Taking a shallow breath, I started climbing again. Finally I reached my position, about a foot above the window. My plan from here got hazy. I waved to Andy, letting him know all systems were a go. Gripping the sweat slicked Desert Eagle with one hand; I held the rope with the other. Andy blew the horn once. I kicked off from the building and swung my body at the window.
Chapter 30
My boots made contact with the steel reinforced windowpane about the same time I realized this was a dumb idea. Glass shattered, flaying my shirt and exposed skin, as the rest of my body pushed through the flying debris field. I let go of the cabled rope and rolled across the floor. Oscar crouched against the far wall, shock registering on his face. In slow motion, he raised his weapon. Time wasn’t on my side, so I did the only thing that came to mind. I used my momentum to take us both down.
Unfortunately he held onto the weapon and smacked it into my skull moments after impact. Stars blinked behind my eyes and darkness threatened. I shook it off. If I blacked out Frankie and I were both dead. Before he could hit me again, I latched on to a pressure point on his right arm. His muscles tighten under my grip, going slack as the pressure increased.
He dropped his gun, much to my relief. I smashed my elbow into his jaw. His head snapped back. Breaking free from him, I scanned the room for Frankie. She was lying face down on the floor next to her shattered cell phone, not moving. Was she dead? Rage overwhelmed me as did a sudden and intense fear. I took a step toward her.
Oscar shook off my last punch and charged, headfirst into my healing ribcage. His talon like fingers dug into the tender flesh and fractured bone. Pain stabbed across my senses, and a gray haze clouded my eyes.
Lucky for me Drew and Mickey chose that moment to make their entrance, and I was able to break free. Wrapping my forearm around Oscar’s neck, I applied pressure, wanting to snap the vertebrate like a twig, and rip his head from his shoulders. Out of the coroner of my eye, I saw Frankie move her arm and my rage lessened somewhat. Don’t get me wrong, he was still going to die, but not so painfully.
“Get her out of here.” I gestured to the floor.
Oscar slipped a serrated knife from his belt. The glint of metal blinded me for a second. I tugged harder at his windpipe, hoping he’d blackout before the knife found its mark. Frankie groaned, drawing my attention.
Drew grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her under his arms. “When we get home, you’re going to the gym,” he said to her. Drew balanced her with one arm and trained his gun on Oscar with the other. “C’mon girl, work with me.”
Oscar plunged the knife into my thigh. I twisted to avoid impact, but not enough. Searing pain blinded me. Instinctively I dropped my arms. I did my best to stifle my scream and the pain. The knife blade entered my thigh, high and on the outside. Lucky for me, it didn’t hit a major artery. But blood gushed from the wound like a geyser nonetheless.
Oscar escaped when I had dropped my arms, swinging the knife in an arch for the deathblow. Drew fired his gun. The bullet missed, striking the wall a few inches from my head. I glared at him. He gave me a sheepish shrug. What the fuck? “Shoot him,” I frowned, “not me.”
Again Oscar took a swipe at me with the knife. Sidestepping, I reached for his arm, and we struggled. Drew took aim but didn’t fire, afraid he’d hit me instead, or at least I hoped that was his reasoning. Locked in battle, I slammed my foot on Oscar’s instep and sent a hard jab to his kidneys. If he won, at least he’d piss blood for a week.
Oscar retaliated with a mind numbing punch to my head. Unlike in cartoons, little blue birdies failed to swoop through my vision. Instead, a loud ringing sounded in my ears and I stepped back, losing my grip.
Frankie cried, “Look out.” With the serrated blade Oscar took a couple of jabs at me. One sliced through my shirt taking a chunk out of my right arm. It burned like a bitch, but I’d had worse.
Mickey must have expected me to lose because he jumped Oscar, grabbing and twisting his knife hand. The knife clattered to the floor as I sent the palm of my hand into Oscar’s nose. The crunch of cartilage and bone was like a gunshot in the small room. Mickey fell backward as I wrapped my arms around Oscar’s neck, twisting with deadly force. It snapped with brutal efficiency. I stepped back, and Oscar dropped to the ground like a side of beef—dead—blood leaking from his right nostril.
I glanced on the floor to Mickey and then to Drew. They both wore the same look of stunned surprise. My gaze went to Frankie. Her eyes were wide with horror, face bloodied and swollen. I felt like a monster, more so because I felt nothing at killing him. No remorse or guilt. He deserved to die, and I’d arranged it. Frankie was safe and that was all that mattered. “C’mon.” Mickey staggered to his feet, staring down Oscar. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I agreed, following Frankie and Drew down the ladder. Mickey trailed behind; probably worried I’d pass out or something. Blood seeped through my jeans. The searing pain in my thigh had lessened, and I only considered puking every few minutes. Once we made it to the Jeep, Andy helped Frankie inside and I climbed in slowly next to her. A thin trail of blood ran down her forehead. She looked dazed, disoriented.
“Frankie.” I gently shook her when her eyes started to close. “Open your eyes, honey.”
She did as she was told, blinking at the bright sunlight. “What happened?” She touched her hand to the bloody gash on her head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I wrapped my arm around her as she vomited over the side of the Jeep.
“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.” I turned to Mickey. “We’ll get her to the hospital. You and Drew take care…” I trailed off. He nodded. Oscar’s body would be swimming with the fishes soon enough. “Meet us at the bungalow.”
“You’re bleeding.” Frankie touched my arm.
“Like you should talk.” I took off my shirt and pressed it to the wound on her head, an angry red splotch appeared where the barrel struck her skull. The bastard had pistol whipped her. I wanted to kill him again.
“He’s dead,” she said. It was a statement not a question, so I didn’t bother to answer.
Andy threw the Jeep in gear and we left, alive and damn lucky.
Chapter 31
“I don’t need a hospital,” Frankie said to me with a frown. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Each word sent a grimace of pain across her face.
“Don’t arg
ue.”
Andy cut in, “You might not, but look at Ian. He’s a mess, I’ve seen better looking corpses.”
“Thanks,” I sneered. “Just pay attention to the road.”
Andy swerved to avoid an oncoming car. He didn’t have a license and about drove once a year. In the city, a car was a luxury most of us couldn’t afford to park. Drew was the only guy I knew with a car, but he lived in Brooklyn.
“Hey,” Andy said. “I’m a very good driver.”
Frankie smiled, and I felt instant relief. She’d be okay. “How bad are you hurt?” she asked me, concern replacing the dazed look in her eyes.
“I’ll live,” I said. The wounds were nothing that six painkillers, a shot of whiskey, and a fist full of Band-Aids wouldn’t fix. “But we should get you checked out. Make sure you don’t have a concussion or something.”
“I just want to take a bottle of aspirin and a hot shower.” Her hand gripped mine. “Please, let’s go back to the hotel.”
Looking into her frightened eyes, and against my better judgment, I agreed.
******
Four hours later, Drew slipped me two Vicodin and a bottle of Jameson. Frankie sat curled on the couch with a cup of coffee, cursing us. Andy surfed the web for the signs and symptoms of a closed head injury, and filled us in on the do’s and don’ts. Drinking and sleep were at the top of the do not list, much to Frankie’s chagrin. She pleaded with us for a shot of whiskey, but Mickey ruthlessly refused.
I, on the other hand, drank in hopes of easing the pain of Mickey’s heavy-handed ministration to my assorted of cuts and bruises. The knife wound in my thigh wasn’t that deep. It should have been stitched at the hospital, but knife wounds drew unwanted attention. That was the last thing we needed. A few butterfly bandages later, and I was as good as new. Swallowing another pull of whiskey, I held my breath as Mickey cleaned small slivers of glass from my arms. Each splinter had to be picked out with a pink tipped pair of Frankie’s eyebrow tweezers. After a while my arms looked like freshly ground meat.
“Done.” Mickey pulled the last bit of glass from my skin.
“Good. Get out,” I said, wanting nothing more than to fall into a drug induced sleep.
“What about Frankie? Someone needs to keep her from falling asleep.” His concern was well and good, but she looked ready to scream.
I put a bandaged hand to my heart. “I’ll take care of her, I promise.”
He nodded, leaning in and kissing her forehead. “I love you.” With that, he walked to the door. The rest of the crew followed his lead.
After they left, Frankie turned to me. “Okay, hand me that bottle.”
“For the record,” I said, passing her the bottle, “you forced me, at gunpoint, to hand it over. I was in fear for my life and therefore not accountable.”
“Noted.” She filled her glass half-full of the amber liquid and tossed the whole thing back in one swallow. She sighed and poured another, this one double the size of the last. “That’s better.” A few seconds later, she was yawning—wide, loud, and completely unfeminine.
I grinned. “Go to bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”
I’d rather not be alone.” She was vulnerable and a little scared. How could I refuse her request, or that’s what I kept telling myself. Helping me from the couch, we made our way to the bedroom hand and hand. The temperature in the room jumped a few degrees, and my aches and pains vanished when she smiled, a slow flirty grin. Standing next to the bed, she stripped off her shirt revealing an off-white tank top. The material left little to the imagination, and I could make out the ridged outline of nipple through the thin material.
I swallowed hard and shook my head to clear the image. Hell was too nice a place for me. Here she was, hurt and vulnerable; yet, I could think about nothing but stripping her naked and bending her over the coffee table. I limped to the bathroom, the drugs and booze kicking in. Running the cold water, I stripped out of my tattered clothing and stuck my head under the faucet. Stop thinking about her like that, I ordered. Mickey would kill me, and I wouldn’t blame him one damn bit.
After a few minutes, I was back under control, lust replaced by self-disgust. I made my way back to the bedroom. Perspiration gathered at the small of my back. Frankie had dimmed the lights and lit a single candle. The flickering flame bathed her silken skin in a warm glow as her body lay spread out on the bed. Lust returned with vengeance. This wasn’t going to work.
Frankie patted a space next to her, and with each step I took, the bed appeared to grow smaller. I sat on the edge, willing my body under control. With a sigh I leaned back against the pillow. My arms crossed behind my head as I stared at the ceiling.
We lay side by side, not speaking.
“Are you asleep?” There was a slight tremor in her voice.
I should have ignored her and feigned sleep. “No.” Idiot.
“I was so scared today.”
I wanted to wrap my arms around her and take it all away. “It was all my fault. If only I—”
She leaned over me, cutting off my words by taking my face in her hands. “Why do you do that? You are not responsible for what happened. You don’t have to protect everyone.”
I grabbed her hands. “I swore to Mickey I’d watch out for you. Because of me, you’re here. It was my plan. I dressed you up and paraded you around daring Oscar to make a move…I could have cost you your life.”
She twisted away, anger burning in her eyes. “No, it might have been your plan, but I’m here because of me. No one twisted my arm, as a matter of fact, I forced your hand.” She stroked a cut on my cheek, her voice softening. “I wasn’t afraid of dying. I knew you’d come.”
My brow furrowed. “What were you afraid of?” Sudden comprehension made my body tighten. Me, she was afraid of me. I had killed without regret. “I’d never hurt you.”
This time Frankie looked confused. “I know that.”
“Then what?”
“I was terrified you were going to die, and I couldn’t face that.” Leaning down, her lips were inches from mine. “I couldn’t face never knowing what it would be like to touch you, to kiss you.”
Her words were my undoing. I captured her mouth, wrapping my hands around her waist and pulling her toward me. My mouth crushed hers, taking all she offered. Anything but shy Frankie matched me move for move. She tugged on my lower lip with her teeth, and I nearly lost control. Shifting her long legs, she straddled me. I could feel the heat of her body, and the remaining blood quickly left my head.
In a frenzy of tasting and touching, I explored the tempting sweetness of her body. I traced my finger along the edge of her lips, nibbling at the corners. Her fingers stroked my chest, moving lower over my abdomen and twisting in the trail of hair running into my jeans. My rough hands caressed her soft skin, tracing the line of her neck. My tongue tasted the sensitive skin beneath her ear, and she gave a low moan. My hands flexed, body tight. She was driving me crazy.
My sanity surfaced a few minutes later when she tugged at the button of my Levi’s. Like waking from a nightmare, I realized my right hand clutched the curve of her ass, and the other cupped her breast beneath her tank top. What the fuck was I doing? This was Frankie—the little girl I teased when she’d bought her first training bra. I should be shot. Quickly I dropped my hands and pushed her away. “We can’t…Mickey would….” I rolled off the bed. “You don’t want me…This is a reaction to…”
Eyes clouded with passion, mouth swollen from my kiss, she was the most desirable woman in the universe. I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything thing else. Wanted her more than my next breath. Fuck, when had that happened? “I have to get the fuck out of here.” I glanced at her, blew out a frustrated breath, and ran for the door.
Chapter 32
Way past drunk but still unable to erase the taste and feel of Frankie’s skin from my mind, I knocked on Neil’s hotel room door. Since running from the bungalow two hours ago, I’d sat in the hotel bar cursing myself
, alternating between lust and self-disgust. Ten shots later, the lust and self-disgust were still present, but the pain of a good case of blue balls had eased.
“Ian?” Neil opened the door dressed in a baby blue bathrobe. “What’s wrong?”
“Can I come in?” I stood swaying slightly.
He opened the door wide, and I stumbled into the room. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” I sat/fell down on one of the twin beds. “I need a place to crash.”
“Sure.” He moved to the other bed. “Hiding from Frankie?”
I shook my head. The room spun in response. “When did she grow up? I used to look at her and think, sweet kid. Now when she’s around I’m mentally stripping her naked.”
Neil laughed. “Took you long enough.”
“What’d you mean?”
“Are you kidding me? She’s been in love with you for years, done everything in her power to get your attention. But you’re fucking oblivious.”
“No, that’s not true, we’re friends. “ I snorted. “Hell, she’s like a sister to me.”
“Sure.” He shot me a disbelieving look. “Do you always want to fuck your sister?”
“You’re wrong. Tonight was a fluke. She was feeling helpless after what happened. Adrenaline does that to people, if it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else.” I didn’t believe what I was saying any more than he did. But I couldn’t face the truth. She couldn’t love me. Loving me would only cause her pain. What did I have to offer? I wasn’t the marrying kind. I got hives when the word marriage was even mentioned. I’d fuck her over, and ruin our friendship, as well as my relationship with Mickey. He’d never forgive me for hurting his baby sister, and I’d never forgive myself.
Neil sighed, patting me on the back. “Keep telling yourself that. Whatever gets you through the day, my friend,”
I glared at him. “I’m no good for her. She deserves someone who’ll be there for her, someone who can take care of her.”
SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) Page 11