“Don’t call me that.”
He let her go and smiled. “Francesca.”
“You’re not going to drop this, are you? You’re going to keep reminding me.”
He leaned closer again. “Do you want me to drop it?”
She opened her mouth to say yes, but nothing would come out. He smiled. “I didn’t think so.”
The reporters outside were buzzing again. Grateful for the distraction, she brushed past him. “What are they up to now?”
“Probably interviewing each other. I think that’s what they do when no one else will talk to them.”
She heard a single voice, then the reporters again. “They better not be bugging my kids!”
She ran outside, only to stop at the sight of a man in a suit, his back to her, holding court in front of the reporters. He was average height, with thinning brown hair carefully combed to cover the bald spot in back. When his suit jacket fluttered in the breeze, his shirt was too tight over the spare tire around his waist.
“As the head of DCFS, I’m pleased to see all of you here,” he said. “We need more press coverage of the wonderful things volunteers are doing for our children in Chicago.”
Frankie froze, her hand on the door. He’d come here. To FreeZone.
She was sure it wasn’t to tell her he was resigning.
Why was Doug Bascombe here?
What did he want?
CHAPTER TWELVE
CAL WATCHED FRANKIE RUN outside, full of righteous fury, then rear back as if someone had hit her. He leaped forward, ready to defend her from whatever or whoever had hurt her.
No one was even close to her. But her face was sheet-white as she stared at the pompous, pudgy guy spouting off. Cal hid a smile as he watched the reporters’ eyes glaze over. A few of them exchanged WTF looks.
When they saw Cal, they surged forward, pushing the pudgy guy back. He stumbled, bracing himself on the window, and Frankie recoiled. Cal dragged her inside, away from the door.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, gripping her upper arms.
“The guy out there. He’s…” She closed her eyes and sucked in a ragged breath. “He’s the new head of DCFS.”
The man’s voice rose again, but Cal didn’t hear any questions. “Thinks he’s pretty important, too.”
“He always has.”
Frankie stared out the window, a combination of loathing and fear on her face. He’d never seen her afraid of anything.
“You know him?”
“We’ve met.”
They’d more than met. No casual acquaintance could make her shut down like this. “What’s the deal?”
She turned to face him. “I don’t like him. And he has no reason to show up here. I want to know why he has.”
“Guy like that? My guess is he figured the media would be here and he’s looking for face time on the news.”
“How would he know that? I didn’t expect them.”
“I did. And I’m sure an attention seeker like that would, too.”
“He’ll come in here.” She looked around, and Cal saw the mess they hadn’t cleaned up last night.
“So? FreeZone isn’t a DCFS program, is it?”
“No. I started it and I run it. But I’ve gotten grants from them. And I have more in the pipeline.”
“If he doesn’t like what he sees, screw him. We’ll find another way to raise money.”
We? Was he planning to stay involved after his CS time was up?
“Cal.” Her face softened and her shoulders relaxed. “You’re right. Thank you for reminding me. He has no power over me.”
“Damn straight.” He glanced around the room. “But we still need to clean up. The kids will be here before long.”
“Right.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll wipe off the tables. You sweep the floors. Okay?”
“Got it.”
He kept one eye on her as he swept. Her hands shook as she cleared off the tables, but she worked steadily. The fear was gone from her expression, replaced with resolve. Good for you, Frankie. She wasn’t going to let this guy intimidate her, no matter what his job was.
After she finished with the tables, she tied up the garbage bag and dragged it out the back. Cal wanted to do it for her, but he suspected she needed to keep busy. So he stored the broom in the closet, picked up her bakery box and set it in the deli case.
The door opened and the head of DCFS walked in. His hair was brown, his face bland and ordinary. An anonymous bureaucrat. But his expression as he looked around the room was assessing. And a little angry. Did he resent Frankie’s success with FreeZone?
Cal had met plenty of men like him.
He plastered a smile on his face as he walked over. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Doug Bascombe, the new director of DCFS. I’m looking for Frankie Devereux. You must be Cal Stewart, her community-service volunteer.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re the Cougars’ quarterback. How are you enjoying working at FreeZone, Cal?”
“I’m not the quarterback. I’m a safety.” He managed to keep the scorn out of his voice for Frankie’s sake. “And I’m pleased to be here. I like the kids. I like working with Frankie. This place is needed. It’s a good thing for the neighborhood.”
“That’s great. I came by today to see if you’d like to talk about your experiences here with the media.” He turned to glance out the door at the few reporters who were still there. “We need to publicize places like this to get them more outside funding.”
He was right about that, at least. “I agree. People need to know about FreeZone.” Before Cal did anything with this guy, though, he’d discuss it with Frankie. Especially after seeing her reaction to the man.
“Excellent.” Bascombe beamed and held out his hand. “Give me your card and I’ll call you. Your CS hours would be better spent doing public-service announcements and visiting more of our volunteer centers. You’re wasted in a small place like this.”
Cal had no interest in making this officious bureaucrat look important. He glanced at the man’s hand, but didn’t shake it. “The judge placed me here at FreeZone. I don’t think she’d agree to change my service.”
Bascombe dropped his hand, but his smile didn’t dim. “I can take care of that.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t. I enjoy working at FreeZone.”
Bascombe’s eyes hardened. “How many teenagers come here? Fifteen? Twenty? You could help so many more.”
“There are twenty-two kids,” Cal said coolly. “Kids I can personally help.” Bascombe wasn’t interested in attracting donors to places like FreeZone. The scumbag wanted to milk Cal’s celebrity and bask in the reflected spotlight.
Cal would be damned if he let that happen.
Bascombe opened his mouth again, but Cal heard the back door slam. Frankie was coming in from Dumpster duty.
When he glanced over his shoulder, she was leaning against the door frame, her eyes shuttered and impossible to read. “Hello, Doug.”
Bascombe nodded to her, his expression calculating. “Devereux. I need to talk to you.”
“Fine. Let’s go into my office. The kids will be arriving soon.”
She walked toward her office without looking back. Frankie shoved her hands into her pockets, but not before Cal saw them trembling.
He looked from her to Bascombe. What was the real story here? Why was this guy making Frankie shake?
FRANKIE KEPT HER SPINE straight. Bascombe would see no weakness in her. No fear.
Men like him thrived on fear and weakness.
When they reached the office, she leaned against the desk and gestured for him to close the door, even though it would tra
p her in the too-small room with him.
Show no weakness.
As he took a seat, he said, “Devereux. So good to see you again.”
He smiled, and revulsion rippled through her. She crossed her arms over her chest so he wouldn’t see her reaction. “I can’t say the same. And it’s Ms. Devereux, Doug.” He needed a reminder that she wasn’t a child anymore. That they were equals now.
The slight narrowing of his eyes told her he’d gotten the message.
“I hope you’re here to tell me you’re resigning.”
“As I’ve already told you, that’s not going to happen. I came to get your community-service volunteer.”
It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “You want Cal? Why?”
“I have better uses for him than sweeping floors in this place. He can draw attention to all of DCFS’s programs, rather than just your center. He’s wasted here.”
“Are you kidding me?” Frankie stared at Bascombe, shocked. “First of all, Doug, this isn’t a DCFS place. I started FreeZone and I run it. I don’t have any connection with your agency.”
“We fund you.”
“No, you don’t. I fund myself. DCFS has given me a few grants, which I’ve applied for, following your guidelines. Just as I’ve applied for grants at dozens of other agencies. None of them have the right to dictate how I run my program.”
“As I said a few weeks ago, I can make life very difficult for you. So I’d suggest you play ball.”
“You tried to force me to play ball with you once before, remember?” She felt a vicious kick of satisfaction when he paled. “Didn’t work then, either.
“Besides, you’re in no position to make demands. This time, I hold all the cards.”
“You think so?” He smiled, and Frankie’s stomach twisted. Bascombe didn’t look as if he was afraid of exposure. “You have no proof of anything. So you can go public whenever you want. It’s not going to change anything.
“And just to remind you of that, I’m taking the football player.”
“So this is supposed to be a warning.”
“Be grateful he’s all I want. I could do a lot worse.”
Frankie hadn’t expected Bascombe to be quite so explicit, but she shouldn’t be surprised. He hadn’t risen to the top of DCFS without knowing how to play the game.
“Even if I was willing to give you Cal, I couldn’t. It’s here or nowhere for him. According to the judge.”
“As long as Stewart agrees, I can get the judge to change her mind.”
Frankie doubted Sarah would do that, no matter what this self-important bureaucrat believed. “I think it’s up to Mr. Stewart, don’t you? And he’s apparently already made his choice.”
“Give him up, Devereux. Or…”
“Or what?” She leaned forward, knowing she was in control. “There’s nothing you can threaten me with, Doug. Because if you do anything to FreeZone, I’ll go to the press immediately.” She smiled, although it was hard. “I’ll be going to them eventually, anyway, unless you resign. So it’s your choice. Now or later?”
“Those reporters are still out there, Devereux. How do you think they’d react if they found out you’re a felon?”
“Who would care? Not the parents of anyone here. It might make them more eager to send me their kids. I’m a woman who managed to turn her life around.
“And you forget, I’m not a felon.” She smiled. “You fixed that for me, remember?” She leaned a little closer. “I’m sure you remember why.”
He sucked in a breath. “Don’t screw with me, Devereux. I’m not resigning, and you’re not going anywhere with your bullshit stories that no one would believe. If you do, I will shut this place down. The health department will be here. So will the building department. Sanitation. The city will be so far up your ass they’ll need flashlights. And not only will FreeZone disappear, I’ll make sure you never open another place like this again. I’m the head of DCFS. I can make it happen.”
Doug Bascombe was the kind of person who collected favors. As the head of DCFS, he’d no doubt collected a lot of them. “Go ahead and try. We’ll see who comes out on top.”
Bascombe leaned closer, just as she had earlier, and she had to force herself not to recoil. “Your brothers run a restaurant. The health department can pay them a visit, too.”
“Don’t threaten my family, Doug.” Frankie kept her face cold. Expressionless. But inside she trembled. Business at Mama’s Place was slow. If the health department closed them down, they might not recover.
“I won’t need to, as long as you keep your mouth shut.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Be very sure before you take that step, Devereux. I usually get what I want.”
She held his gaze. “Not this time, Doug,” she said softly.
His mouth thinned as he reached for the door. “I’ll be watching you.”
He jerked the door open so hard that it bounced off the bookcases beside it. His footsteps echoed as he walked out of the center.
Frankie sank onto her desk. She shouldn’t be surprised. She should have known he wouldn’t cave easily. But he’d threatened FreeZone.
Her brothers.
The only thing that kept her from going public immediately was that he wasn’t working directly with children. She’d checked with Emma and found out he’d stopped all visits to juvie and teen centers a couple of weeks ago. Right after Frankie had paid him a visit. Now he sat in his fancy office and issued orders. Cut deals. Preened for the press.
But he still made decisions that affected thousands of children.
She couldn’t ignore this and just hope it went away. She needed to do something. Tell her story.
Your brothers run a restaurant.
She couldn’t let Bascombe destroy her family’s business. The restaurant her parents had built and her brothers had saved.
She would talk to Nathan and Marco. She’d call them right now, before she lost her nerve.
There was a brisk knock at the door. Cal.
“Come on in,” she said.
He paused in the doorway. “What’s wrong, Frankie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She had. It was a ghost she’d buried deep and tried to forget. But like all ghosts, it refused to stay buried.
She couldn’t let Cal see how devastated she was. He’d push and probe and try to get her to spill her guts.
She couldn’t tell him about Bascombe. She couldn’t expose herself that way.
And she knew Cal. Knew he’d go ballistic. Do something he might regret. She couldn’t let that happen.
“A disagreement with a bureaucrat,” she said, struggling to keep her tone matter-of-fact. “Not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”
Cal threw himself into the chair next to her. Their legs nearly touched, and she drew hers onto the desk. “It was more than that,” he said quietly. “I saw your face when you first spotted him.”
Damn it. Her life would be simpler if Cal really was the dumb jock she’d assumed he would be. “He’s been around DCFS forever. I’ve crossed paths with him before.” She needed to steer Cal away from her history with Bascombe. “He wants you to work with him instead of here at FreeZone. I told him no, but that’s not fair to you.”
Cal studied her, a hint of heat in his gaze, and she squirmed. She should never have kissed him.
If they hadn’t connected like that, she wouldn’t be so distracted by him. It would have been easier to let him go with Bascombe and buy herself a little time.
“Is that what you want, Frankie? Do you want me to leave?” He leaned forward. “Is it because I kissed you last night?”
“If I remember correctly, Stewart, I kissed you fir
st. So it would be a little hypocritical of me to toss you out because of it.” She slid off the desk. “Doing what Bascombe wants would be better for you. You’d get more of the media attention you said you needed.”
She paced the office so she wouldn’t have to look at him. He stood, and she edged past him, trying not to touch him.
He grabbed her hand and stopped her. “Is that what you want, Frankie?” he repeated.
“Publicity is important. You’ve said it often enough.”
He drew her closer. “As if I’m not getting enough already.”
“Being Bascombe’s mouthpiece would let you spend more time training. Rehabbing your knee.”
“How do you know I need to spend more time doing that?”
She tried to tug her hand away, but Cal wouldn’t let go. He twined his fingers with hers and held on. She was close enough to feel his heat. Close enough to smell the sharp, fresh-scented soap he used. There was a gleam in his eyes as he watched her, waiting for her to admit she’d paid attention to him.
She stared resolutely into the main room. “There’s stuff in the newspaper,” she muttered.
“You’re reading about me in the Herald Times?” His smile widened. “I’m flattered that you’re interested.” He tried to draw her closer, but she stiffened her arm.
“You’re part of my kids’ lives, at least for a while. Why wouldn’t I be interested in what’s going on with you?”
“So it’s all about the kids?”
“What else would it be about?”
He laughed. “You’re tough, Frankie. I like that about you. You’re not going to give me anything, are you?”
She put her hand on his chest to shove him away. “Do you want me to beg you to stay? Sorry, Cal. I’m not doing that. Yes, you’re helping. Yes, the kids like you. Last night was…it was more than anyone could expect of you. But the bottom line is you’re going to be gone in less than a month.”
“A lot can happen in three weeks. Ask me to stay, Frankie.” He still held her hand, and now his thumb traced a small circle on her palm. His touch shot through her nervous system and made her jumpy.
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