by Mandi Beck
“It’s all okay, baby. I promise. Just stay away from him until I can get out. Make the calls, Frankie. Sonny first—he’ll call my lawyer—and then Mav.” Every word is spoken against my lips, like he can’t bear to pull away, same as me.
I sigh into his mouth on a shaky breath. “I will.” Kissing him one last time, I step out of the way and watch as they push his head in and close the door. The screech of tires for the second time that night has me jumping in fear. Whirling toward the sound, I see Reggie and Trent running down the street to where I stand.
From the backseat and through the window I can hear Deacon scream, “Where in the motherfuck were you two?” just before Flores pulls away from the curb. Deacon is looking back at me through the rear window of the cop car. I somehow manage to stay upright until the taillights disappear around the corner, and that’s when my world goes black. I feel myself falling and he’s not there to catch me.
I can’t think of anything other than how I can keep Frankie safe from where I’m sitting. The pain in my shoulders from having my arms pulled behind me? Who gives a fuck? The spasms from the Taser? Nope. All I care about is the Princess. Now that my adrenaline is waning, my mind and blood feel sluggish. Probably after-effects from being tased as well. Shaking my head, I have to concentrate and think. What the fuck was Drew doing there now? Where the fuck had Reggie and Trent been? I swear to fuck I’m firing both of their asses if they don’t have a good goddamn reason for leaving her alone, and even then I don’t think I give a fuck. Drew. Reggie better make sure that she’s not left anywhere near him. I don’t know what kind of condition he’s in, nor do I care. All I care about is Frankie being as far away from him as possible.
My head feels like it weighs a ton on my neck, and I let my head rest against the cold glass and catch Flores watching me in the review mirror. “Who were those guys that tased me? I heard one say something about being a marshal. That true?” I hope like fuck it isn’t. The EWF lawyers are good, but I’m not sure they would be able to get me off for attacking U.S. Marshals.
The usually stoic detective sighs deeply. “They’re both with the U.S. Marshals Service. Apparently they’ve had Mr. McAvoy under protection since the morning that Miss De Rosa was attacked.” Glancing from the road back to meet my eyes in the mirror again, he looks as grim as I feel.
“You mean the morning after?” Looking to him for confirmation, he just stares back at me and I’m certain that he hadn’t misspoken. “So, if they had Andrew, he couldn’t have attacked her.” It’s not a question, and I’m not even sure I said it loud enough for him to hear. I fucked up. I fucked up big. I know it and so does Flores. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. “Well, good thing I didn’t kill him then, huh?” Flores just grunts in response.
Once at the station, I’m placed in an interrogation room, the cuffs thankfully removed, locked in and left to wait. They offered me my phone call, but I turned it down. No use wasting that shit. Frankie and Reggie will handle all that, and Sonny and Mav will handle the rest. Resting my head in my hands, I tangle my fingers in the long strands and tug. I’m not worried about what will happen to me. I wasn’t lying when I told Flashdance that I would go to prison for Frankie if it meant keeping her safe, but she’s not safe from anything right now. If Andrew presses charges, I’m looking at the possibility of serious prison time. If he’s not the one that attacked her that day, who the fuck did and why? Where are these motherfuckers with my answers? I stand abruptly, frustrated, the chair crashing to the floor behind me. Stalking to what I assume is one-way glass, I stare back at my own reflection and will myself to keep calm. My brothers won’t let anything happen to Frankie if I get locked up. She’ll be okay and that’s all I really care about. I should care more about Drew’s condition and what it means for me, but I don’t. Whether he put hands on her or not, it was his fault she ended up in the hospital. He was her fucking fiancé and he should’ve protected her. So regardless of who actually hurt her, it was on him.
I look up at the sound of the door opening. The two men from Indie’s who claimed they were marshals come in looking none too happy with me, Adams and Flores right behind them, none of their faces giving anything away. Fine. Whatever. I only want to know one thing anyway and the rest can wait until my lawyers get here.
“Sit down, Mr. Love. We have some questions for you,” one of the suits says, indicating the toppled chair.
“Nah. I’m good. Where’s Frankie?” I demand. I look to Adams and Flores because I’m certain that I won’t be getting anywhere with the assholes.
“She’s fine, went to the hospital with her bodyguard to be checked out, Mr. Love,” Adams says to me. She knows me well enough from our few interactions that I won’t cooperate with anyone before knowing Frankie is okay. I’m glad that she went to the hospital—she’ll be safe there and she needs to get her head checked. It looked like she hit the ground pretty hard.
“Don’t you want to know how Mr. McAvoy is?” suit number two asks, and he’s visibly pissed.
Meeting his angry glare, I don’t answer him, instead turning back to Adams. “Are my lawyers on their way?” Her mouth opens to answer me, but she’s cut off by number one.
“Lawyers? Get into this kind of trouble often that you have a team of lawyers just waiting for you to call?” he sneers. Not giving in to his taunts, I ignore him and lean against the wall in silence. Now that I’ve been assured that Frankie is safe and being cared for at the hospital, I have all the time in the world to wait on the cavalry. I just hope to fuck they’re ready to do battle.
Five hours later, I’m finally released, the marshals not pressing charges . . . yet. And Andrew’s condition still not known. They’ll pull me back in once they find out how he fared and if his punk ass wants to charge me. I honestly can’t even think about all of that right now. I just want to get to Frankie and find out if she’s okay; I’ll deal with the consequences of my actions later. Crawling in the back of Bo’s blacked out Rover with my dad, I duck and dodge the cameras flashing, reporters yelling shit from every corner of the parking lot. My lawyers and the EWF are adamant that I speak to no one, not that I have to be convinced of that shit.
Pop looks over at me his face pinched in worry. “Deacon, this is serious, son. What were you thinking?” He sounds so disappointed, and that’s a new one on me.
“I wasn’t thinking, Pop. I saw him knock her to the ground and then drag her into the house, and I just reacted.” Shaking my head, I beg for him to understand. “He was standing over her and her eyes were closed and I just snapped. I thought back to her lying there in that hospital bed, machines keeping her alive, and I fucking snapped.” I scrub my hands down my face and back through my hair. “Is she okay? They released her without any problems?”
He nods. “She has a slight concussion. Reggie has her at your place. He said he’d wake her up every little while until you got there.” On a deep sigh he squeezes my leg. “Guy is meeting with Derek and the rest of the board at EWF headquarters this afternoon. They’ll probably postpone the fight until all of this is cleared up. You need to be prepared though, Deacon.” He pauses before going on grimly, “They might not let you fight for the title after this. We’re going to have to do whatever they say, kiss whomever’s ass they tell us to.”
I just nod, staring out at the city flashing by in a blur. “Does she know that he didn’t attack her that day, that he was in protective custody?” My voice is flat. If she knows, what will that mean for us? Will she go back to him? Will she despise me for hurting him? And what the fuck happens if I killed him? I’m pretty sure I didn’t, but I’m not a hundred percent certain. A somewhat innocent man, dead at my hands? Could she get past that? Could I?
“No. According to Adams, they can’t even put the details of the story on the news. No names or anything because of the case. After though . . .” he trails off.
“I don’t want anyone telling her that it wasn’t Drew. At least until after all of this shit blows over. I don’
t care how we do it, but I don’t want her knowing. Especially if he dies.”
Huffing out a breath, Pop looks at me like I’m crazy—and I probably am. “Deacon, you can’t keep that from her. I won’t lie to her, son,” he states adamantly.
“I’m not asking you to lie to her, I’m just asking you to not offer up any unsolicited fucking information, Pop.” Swinging my gaze back to him, “Can you please just do that for me? You and I are the only ones who know aside from the cops and our lawyers. I just need to get us through this and then I’ll tell her. I promise.”
I’ve been at the station all night, so as soon as we get back to my house, I take the stairs two at a time, eager to check on my girl and then jump in the shower. Once on the landing, I turn toward her room and open the door, peeking in only to find it empty. Fuck, I hope that she didn’t talk Reggie into taking her somewhere else. Dead cell phone in hand, I head for my room to plug it in before I go looking for answers. As I step foot into the room, my eyes are instantly drawn to the bed and the tiny form curled up on the left side, her side of the bed. Walking silently over the hardwood floors to where she lies, I brush the hair from her face, reach for her hand, and place a kiss to my spot on the inside of her wrist, careful not to wake her.
“I just woke her about fifteen minutes ago; she’s fine, Deacon. A little shook up and worried as hell about you, but okay,” comes from the loveseat tucked in the corner. Glancing over, I see Reggie sitting there, keeping vigil, his brown skin paler than I’ve ever seen it.
I nod curtly. “Thanks, you can go, I’ve got her,” I wave him off dismissively.
“Deacon, bro, I—”
I hold up my hand stopping him. I don’t have the energy to get into it with him right now. The way I’m feeling, I really will fire his ass. “Not now, Reg. We’ll talk later.” My need to be near my girl supersedes everything else right now. He must realize it because I hear the door close behind him just as I’m crawling in beside her. Slowly, gently, I pull her into me and wrap around her, breathing her in. Every part of me needs every part of her right now. I pull the covers over us and kiss her temple before laying my head on the pillow next to hers.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner, baby. I came as fast as I could. I’m so fucking sorry you got hurt again,” I whisper to her sleeping form. “He won’t hurt you ever again.”
I’m awoken from a deep sleep by Frankie thrashing wildly, yelling incoherently, both of us covered in her sweat. I try to catch a flailing arm but end up catching an elbow in the eye as she whimpers, “Please stop. Don’t hurt me.” Then on a guttural moan she cries, “He’s not here. Please he isn’t here. I don’t have what you want.” My heart breaks listening to my girl begging for mercy. Breaks and makes me want to kill people. Gathering her in close to me, I talk to her in soothing tones, doing my best to make sure she hears me over her own plaintive wails and pleading.
“Frankie, it’s me. Everything is okay; you’re safe, baby. You’re safe. Hear me, Princess. Feel me. Listen to my voice and come back to me. Nobody is here but me, baby.” Rocking her back and forth gently, I can feel the tension draining out of her little by little. Her trembling body presses into me as I kiss her head, her cheek. Wrapping her in love and soothing her the only way I can. How have I not known she has nightmares like this? How in the fuck have I not realized she has been suffering in silence? Am I that blind that I haven’t seen how deeply affected she is? To think Frankie has been suffering, been hurting from something nobody but she could see . . . I feel like shit. My heart swells at the thought that she felt safe with me before, safe enough to lay these demons to rest for the time being. And it shatters me to hear I’m no longer that anchor, that balm. I make a vow to myself to be that safe place for her again. I just never realized she was struggling this deeply with what happened to her that night.
Finally, she quiets in my arms and falls back to sleep cuddled into my chest, her head tucked under my chin as I trail my hand over her hair and down her back over and over, calming us both. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep now. Staring at the ceiling, I think about how right she feels in my arms, how I’ve missed this, missed her. I think about all that still needs to be done before I can claim my girl fully. We have to get past all of this shit with Drew, figure out how much to tell her, how much to keep from her so she doesn’t worry any more than she already will. We have one more fight, the fight, and I won’t do it without her by my side. I said I would wait, do it right, but its four months away. Four months might as well be four fucking years. There is no way I’m waiting anymore.
She’s about to be wooed whether she wants to be or not. I’m coming for my girl, guns blazing. It’s time to go to war.
I’m on the phone with Guy, reassuring him Frankie is fine, that I won’t let anything happen to her, and listen as he goes on about how much shit I’m in with the EWF. I had been riding a fine line with them as it was, and now add to that these fucking charges hanging over my head and they’re pissed as hell. After telling him that I’m willing to do whatever they ask, jump through as many hoops as they want, I disconnect the call and head up to wake the Princess. Slowly making my way to the bed, I notice the dark circles under her eyes. She slept so fitfully last night I didn’t even bother waking her when I finally got out of bed a few hours ago.
She's been asleep off and on for almost eighteen hours now. I need for her to wake and eat something and then it’s time to break the news to her. Her hair is a mess but looks so gorgeous spread across my pillow, so right. Gently I sit next to her and brush the hair off her face, letting my fingers tangle in the golden mass. My lips find their way to her mouth and I kiss her softly. She makes a quiet mewling sound and snuggles into me. Jesus fuck, what I wouldn't give to be able to wake her up like I used to. My mouth on her clit, teeth nipping, tongue and fingers taking turns stroking the inside of her beautiful fucking pussy as she rides my face, my hand, even in her sleep. She would wake up on a gasp, clutching at my head, pulling my hair, begging me not to stop. The taste of her exploding on my tongue almost enough to make me come. Without even realizing, I've slipped my hand into the front of my sweats taking hold of my now rock hard cock at the thought, the memories of how good things were with us. As I stroke up and over the crown, I pull the covers back and look at my gorgeous girl, asleep in nothing but one of my t-shirts, her tan legs bare, the shirt riding up exposing her barely-there red thong. Groaning, I give my dick one final squeeze before removing my hand. Quietly, so I don't scare her, I lean in and kiss the dark circles under each eye and then bring my lips to her ear,
"Frankie, baby, wake up. It's almost dinner time, you need to eat."
Her face scrunches up as she reaches for the covers. Not finding them, she slowly opens her eyes, “Deac, you’re okay?” she asks softly, scooting over to me groggily and placing her head in my lap. I do my best to make my cock not seem so hard, but it’s no use. Her lashes flutter and she gazes down at her semi-naked form and then I see her gaze go to the bulge dangerously close to poking her in the cheek and then up at me. All I can do is smile shamelessly at her.
“It can’t be helped so don’t even bother giving me shit for it. I know a way to fix it if it’s bothering you, though.” Frankie looks up at me and I can see the need in her eyes. So many days, nights, and mornings, I saw that same look. Growling low in my throat, I tell her now what I did then, “You keep looking at me like that, Princess, and you’re gonna get fucked.”
I mean it just as much now as I did then. I watch as she exhales deeply, a shiver taking over her body as soon as the breath makes it past her lips. My eyes leave her face long enough to notice that her nipples are hard beneath the soft fabric of my shirt, that she has her thighs pressed together tightly like she’s either trying to create friction or stop them from opening to me in invitation.
Turning her face deeper into my lap, her lips nearly touching my cock through the cotton of my pants, she whispers, “Love me, Deac. Love me until I can’t think
about anything else, anyone else. Make me feel good. Make me forget, please. I just need . . . you.” Every word is whispered across my cock, her warm breath turning me to steel. I don’t give her any time to change her mind, because although I’m aware now is not the time for this, I can’t say no. I won’t say no. I need to be inside her more than I need my next fucking breath.
My hand trembles a bit as I let the backs of my fingers trail over her cheek, down her neck, until I’m encircling her throat possessively. I can feel her gaze on me as I hold her in place with one hand while I let the other trail down her stomach, smiling when her muscles shudder as I pass over them. I slip in between her thighs and nudge them apart, groaning in approval as she lets them fall to the sides, leaving her wide open for me.
“You remember whose this is?” I ask in a gravelly voice as I slip my hand into her panties and cup her pussy, letting the heat and wetness slick over my fingers before I brush them lightly over her lips and her clit where I press down and wait for her to answer. Never taking my eyes off of my big hand inside those tiny fucking panties, I press harder when she doesn’t answer right away. “Do you need me to remind you, Frankie? Do you need me to show you who this belongs to?”
She shakes her head no but that’s not what she says, the word “yes” like a plea as it leaves her mouth, her back arching, putting my hand tighter against her, my fingers flexing against her throat and into her pussy. I loosen my hold on her neck when she moves her head trying to burrow deeper into my lap. My whole body jolts when she opens her mouth on my cock, breathing over the wet spot she created in the fabric. Surging forward, I encourage her to do it again, and she does. It’s so fucking hot I’m afraid I’ll come. Fuck me if I care right now though. Our eyes crash together and I’m certain that mine are as glazed over in lust as hers are. There’s no way they aren’t. Dipping my fingers farther, I let one slide deep into her, once, twice, twisting on the third, drawing a moan from her that vibrates against my cock. Wrist and palm rubbing against her clit as I thrust and twist over and over, her panting like a fucking inferno against the dampened head of my dick through the layers separating us. She’s so close, I can feel it, smell it. I bring her closer before pulling my hand from where it’s nestled, causing her to throw her head back in frustration, her legs scissoring, searching for release. I throw my leg over hers to stop her movement and bring my fingers to her lips, painting them with her wetness before slipping them inside her mouth. “Suck, Frankie. Taste what’s mine. Taste how sweet you are, for me. Only for me,” I rasp. Watching as her lips close around them, her tongue gliding over and around as I push them further into her hot mouth and pull out. My control at its breaking point, I take my fingers from her mouth, untangling us enough to lay her out under me. I rise up on my knees in between her spread legs and take a second to look at her. Her skin is flushed with want, just how I like it, her blue eyes flames. She lights me up. Every bit of her sets me afire just by being. I love this woman fiercely. I love her like no one ever can, and right now I’m going to show her. I’m going to fuck her until she believes in my love. Fuck her into remembering. Fuck her like I hate her. Fuck her to claim her because she’s mine. She. Is. Mine. I can’t be without her again.