SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series)

by kazimer, j. a.

  I turned off the water and stood naked in front of the mirror, taking stock. My left cheek, just under my eye, looked like something out of a horror movie. Red and raw. The burns spidered along my cheek, disappearing a few inches from my collar. My left arm got the worst of it though. From fingertip to elbow. I grabbed a roll of gauze and covered the worst of the burned skin.

  Exhausted by the shower and a lack of sleep, I wrapped a towel around my hips and sprawled across my bed. Sleep came instantly, but it was an uneasy alliance. Fragmented dreams and memories raced through my unconscious mind. Bits and pieces of the last few weeks. The taste of Frankie’s lips. The feel of her skin. Oscar’s vertebrates snapping. The look of hopelessness in Roxanne’s eyes. I saw Drew, passed out in a hotel room. Neil’s pale face grinning. The sting of Mickey’s fist in my face and the bone crushing pain of Frankie walking away.

  I twisted in my sleep, flexing my fist against the sheet. Laughter broke through my dreams. Frankie’s laughter. I smiled, picturing her blue eyes sparkling with humor. My own eyes opened, and I slowly returned to reality. I reached for my jeans, pulling them on with care. I couldn’t find a clean t-shirt so I made do with one from the laundry. It didn’t smell that bad. Tired and sore, I stumbled down the staircase in search of Frankie. What I saw downstairs stopped me cold. Frankie sat next to Roberto. His hand touched her shoulder, stroking it like a lover. She shot him a smile and his fingers crawled up the naked skin of her neck. When she didn’t smack the shit out of him, I tore my eyes away, disgust warring with rage.

  Fucking idiot. I had believed her when she said she loved me. But twenty-four hours later, she’s fucking some dirt bag drug dealer. I needed a drink. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and walked out of the door.

  An hour later, I sat at a strip club about a block from O’Malley’s. The club, like the strippers in it, had seen better days. I sipped a whiskey and coke, watching a cracked out girl, probably no older than eighteen, peel away her bikini top. I suddenly felt very old. The girl smiled, scooping up the ten-dollar bill I’d slipped on the stage. She moved closer, shaking pert breasts in my face. I waved her away and finished my drink.

  I turned at the tap on my shoulder. “Mickey? What are you doing here?”

  He sat next to me. “I called the bar. Frankie said you’d left. She’s worried.”

  “No need. Life is good.” No way was I discussing Frankie with him.

  “I have some news. Beth’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father, can you believe it?” His face split into a grin.

  “Congratulations.” I hugged him, slapping him hard on the back. “Waitress, two tequilas.” After getting the waitresses attention, I turned back to face Mickey. “I can’t believe it, you a dad.”

  “I’m a little shocked myself. What the hell kind of father am I going to be? The only thing I’m good at is cons and poker.”

  “And you’re not real good at the poker part,” I joked. “You’re going to be a great dad. Shit, you practically raised Frankie and she turned out all right. Plus Beth is born to be a mom. She’ll even out the rough spots.”

  “I want you to be the godfather.”

  My heart thumped hard in my chest. “I’d be honored.” In addition, to being scared and a little unnerved by the whole thought. The tequilas came, and we toasted to the future. I bought another round, ready to lose myself in the bottle. Two dark haired strippers shuffled over, but I sent them away with a quick word and twenty bucks.

  Mickey drank the second shot, glancing at his watch. “Okay, so we have a half hour before we have to be at the bank. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  I threw back my shot. “Nope.”

  “Is it Frankie?”

  “Leave it alone, Mickey. It’s over between us, so you don’t have to worry.”

  Mickey’s cell rang. He flipped it open. “Baby…slow down…what happened…are you all right?” Mickey listened, his face losing its color. He hung up, and jumped from his seat.

  “What happened?” My pulse raced. Let Frankie be safe.

  “That was Beth…someone firebombed my place. Thank God, she wasn’t inside…someone tried to kill my wife…”

  I grabbed his arm and tossed a hundred on the table. “Where is she now?”

  “At the neighbors. The cops are there.”

  “Let’s go.” I pushed our way through the crowd, and hailed a taxi. Ten minutes later, we pulled in front of what used to be Mickey’s apartment building. Flames shot thirty feet in the air, turning the air around us black with soot. As soon as the cab stopped Mickey rushed out of the door and into Beth’s arms. I moved slower, searching the crowd standing behind the police tape.

  A big man with a gap-toothed grinned at me from the opposite end of the tape. He winked once, and disappeared into the crowd of onlookers. Bastard. Sal had torched Mickey’s place, taking his revenge on me out on those I cared about. Billy had warned me that it would come to this. It was past time to deal with Sal.

  I started forward, ready to rip Gap-tooth to pieces. Nobody fucked with my crew. A few blocks up a Black SUV with tinted windows raced from an alleyway, Gap-tooth at the wheel. The car veered toward me, black glass reflecting the flames from Mickey’s building. I dashed behind a GEO Metro, pulling my .38 and firing a couple of rounds into the driver’s side windshield. Metal crunched as the Metro’s fender shredded under the SUV’s assault. The noise drew some attention from the people on the street, enough that Gap-tooth cut his losses and sped off, sparks and exhaust pouring from the SUV.

  Watched the SUV disappear around the corner, I ducked back down the alley toward the embers of Mickey’s life. Boots scraping on concrete warned me that I had a follower. I cracked my knuckles, excited by the prospect of breaking someone’s head. My stalker kept to the shadows, but twice I caught a quick glimpse of him in a passing window. Time to make my move. I stepped into the entranceway of a darkened building and waited. My eyes watered at the stench of urine and wet dog filling the alcove. A few second later a shadow past the doorway. I jumped from my hiding space, tossing the guy’s body against the bricks.

  I drew my fist back, stopping just short of rearranging the drug-dealing scumbag, Roberto’s face. “What the hell are you doing following me?” My grip loosened, and Roberto pushed me away.

  He brushed off his jacket. “I’m not. I saw you and thought Frankie might be close.”

  I took a step closer, every bone in my body wanted to snap him like a twig. “She’s not, so fuck off. Better yet stay away from Frankie all together.”

  “I can’t do that. She’s something special. I’d be a fool to give her up.” He smiled like a snake after a feast.

  “You’d be even dumber to stick around.” I backed him against the wall, tapping a finger against his chest. “I don’t take to kindly to scum like you putting their hands on her. If you want to keep breathing….”

  He laughed, a chilly sound filled with hate. “I’ll put my hands anywhere I want. You don’t scare me. Besides she’ll never forgive you for interfering in her life again.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that.” My fist smashed into the soft flesh of his stomach, and he dropped to his knees. “I won’t leave a mark.” I slammed my boot into his side. “So Frankie will never know.”

  “Bastard,” he wheezed. “I’ll get you for this.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “You can try.”

  Chapter 51

  An hour later, I rolled up to the First National Bank of New York. The bank resembled a fortress, thick concrete columns and bulletproof glass protected it from criminals like me. The door were locked too, a bad sign. Fuck, I missed the meet. We’d have to wait until Monday to become rich. For some unexplainable reason that thought lifted my dark mood a bit.

  “How’s Mickey?” Andy leaned against the brick building. I’d called Andy, explained the situation, and asked him and Drew to wait for me. They had, neither seeming too upset about waiting a couple of days for the cash. Their concern, like mine,
was focused on our survival.

  “Freaked out. I need you to do something for me.”

  Andy nodded. “What’s that?”

  “I want you to check on Roxanne.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s in danger. Whoever used Billy’s name will be looking to shut her up. Plus, I want you around in case Mike contacts her.”

  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 his 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?”

  “Not 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 the 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.

  “What 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 mout
h 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?”