by Mandi Beck
Glancing over at a sleeping Frankie, I take a second to just look at her. She’s been so tired lately, but thankfully not sick anymore. Her blonde hair is pulled back in some kind of braided thing on the sides and back, leaving her neck bare. Quietly, I place a kiss to that spot, inhaling her scent. I swear that it’s changing the more pregnant she gets. It’s sweeter. Pulling away, I take one last look at her and slip out of the Rover. In the back, I have a radio, blanket, and a picnic that I ordered from the Italian place by the gym. I made sure they added all of her favorites and that fancy ass water she likes. I let her sleep as I take everything to a spot under a tree right near the water.
Once I have everything set up, I carefully open her door so that she doesn’t topple out. “Frankie, we’re here. Come on, baby, time to get up.” I stroke a finger down her bare leg eliciting a little shiver. Smiling, I do it again. Slowly she turns to face me, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“Mmmmm, we there?” Stretching awake she straightens and takes the hand I offer to help her down.
“Yeah, we’re here, little mama,” I chuckle, leading her over to our picnic.
“Oh wow! You did all this?” she asks in awe.
“Don’t sound so surprised; I have some moves,” I say, affronted.
“Oh, I know you do. But you usually save them for the bedroom.”
“My girl, always got jokes, huh? Fine, no food for you then. I’ll just have to eat the cannoli all by myself.” My teasing voice earns me a scowl.
“I will kill a man for cannoli and you know it, Love.” It’s true, she would.
“Come on then, I’ve got a cannoli for you,” I tell her suggestively, helping her to settle on the blanket.
She sighs. “This is so perfect. Thank you for bringing me here and for doing all of this.” I sit next to her and she lays her head on my shoulder. “I miss you, Deac.” I know exactly what she means. With the fight coming up, I practically live in the gym, and when she’s not in the studio, she’s sleeping.
“Miss you too, Princess.” Kissing the top of her head, we just sit in comfortable silence and watch the swans and ducks swim lazily across the lake. When I hear her stomach growl, I know it’s time to feed her. She laughs and looks up at me sheepishly.
I chuckle as I move away from her and start setting up our food. “Okay, we have a salad, some capellini, a stuffed artichoke, and your cannoli.”
“Mmmmmm, all of my favorites. You really have thought of everything,” she says in appreciation.
“Yeah, well. You’re kinda scary when you’re hungry now, so. . . .” Ducking out of the way when she goes to slap me, I toss her a smile and start dishing up the food.
We eat in comfortable silence, the music playing in the background. Once we’ve eaten all the food—well, once I’ve eaten all the food—I pack away our mess and sprawl out on the blanket, my head in Frankie’s lap. She smiles down at me and pulls the hair tie from my hair and gently runs her fingers through the long strands, massaging my scalp as she does.
“You keep that up and I’m gonna pass the fuck out.” No joke, I’m ready for a nap and her touch is hypnotic. “She is Love” comes on and I smile. It reminds me of the Princess so much. I take her hand from my hair and press a kiss to my spot before releasing her to continue with her soothing rubdown.
“Do you think we’re having a boy or a girl?” Frankie asks absently.
“With my luck, it’ll be a fucking girl.”
Laughing, “Why ‘with your luck?’ Why do you make it sound like a bad thing?”
“Have you seen you? I have. Our daughter will be just like you, gorgeous and a giant pain in my ass. You think we were protective of you growing up?” I scoff. “Imagine me and my brothers with a little you. Their niece. My daughter.”
“Yeah, that is kinda scary,” she says and pretends to shiver in fear. “Well, I think it’s a boy. A rotten little Love, just like his daddy and uncles.”
They always say that pregnant women glow and it always sounded so ridiculous to me. Until I watch Frankie talk about our unborn child. She literally glows. Love shining from the inside out. It is so fucking beautiful.
“So what should we name this rotten little Love? Deacon?”
Her hand stills. “Ummmm, no,” Frankie tells me, rolling her eyes.
“What’s wrong with Deacon?” Totally affronted now.
“Oh, shut up, I’m playing with you. But still, no.” She tugs my hair and giggles. “I was thinking something more Italian, like Rocco, Ignazio, or Giovanni.”
“Are we having a baby or starting our own mob?” I laugh, peering up at her. My smile fades when I see that she’s serious. “Princess, Rocco?” My tone is teasing.
“Yes, Rocco. And, no, we aren’t starting our own mob. Those are all family names, Deac,” she informs sternly.
“Yeah, the Godfather’s family. Is he gonna call me Don Love instead of Daddy and come out with pinky rings for the family to kiss and shit?”
She punches me in the chest. “Oh my God. I’m telling my dad you’re making fun of us dagos. He’s gonna whip your ass. Ignazio was his dad’s name.”
Rolling over, I push her to her back and pin her down with her hands over her head. “Yeah? Is he gonna make me sleep with the fishes, Francesca Victoria Teodora De Rosa?” I goad, using all of her wicked Italian names. I’m careful to keep my weight off of her so I don’t squish her and my kid. I dip my head down and place a kiss on her lips, swallowing her sigh when she opens for me. Our tongues brush together in a languid rhythm. Releasing my hold on her wrists, I lace our fingers together and deepen the kiss. Every part of me wants to devour her. Here, outside in the sunshine, next to the lake, and I’m about to when I feel something against my stomach. Frankie lets out a gasp and pushes at my shoulders.
“Did you feel that?” Excited she looks at me in absolute awe.
“I did, what was it?” I ask in confusion.
“It was the baby, Deac! I feel him from time to time, but never that hard, and never when I can share it with you.” She’s beaming with tears in her eyes as she moves to a sitting position, forcing me back onto my haunches. Frankie scoots closer to me. Settling onto the blanket, I sit and pull her so that she’s sitting in front of me, her legs tucked under my bent knees. Taking my hands, she places them on her belly, pressing lightly. We sit in quiet anticipation, both of us looking down at our joined hands, willing the baby to move again. When she does, our gazes lock and the smile that spreads across Frankie’s face is one that will forever be etched onto my heart.
“Holy shit. Does it hurt? It feels like she’s giving it hell in there.”
“No, it doesn’t hurt, but he is giving it hell. It just feels like little pushes right now.” After a few minutes and a couple more kicks, her voice is soft, reverent, as she asks, “Isn’t it the most amazing thing, Deac? We didn’t mean to, but we made a life, out of love.” Looking at me with a watery smile that I return, I can only nod as I take a moment to swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Our Love, Princess.” This moment is so un-fucking-believable I can’t even feel like a pussy for tearing up over it. I raise her hand to my lips and kiss her wrist. I stand and tug, helping her to her feet. Once she’s standing, I crouch down and put my lips to her growing belly and whisper, “Don’t hurt your mommy; she might take it out on me, little Love.” Straightening I smile down at my girl and wipe the tears from her cheeks. “No crying, yeah? Dance with me instead. That ginger dude is on again and I kind of dig him.” Lips kicked up, I close the distance between us and mold her to me just how I like, cuts to curves.
As I sway us back and forth to the sound of Ed Sheeran, I think about everything I can do in my down time from the gym to spend more of it like this with Frankie. I know that she comes first, but the title fight is a big deal, and she won’t stand for me fucking off with my training, even if it is for her. I have to stick to the original plan: fight and then the girl. Stick and move. Stick and motherfucking move.
The sun is starting to go down and I’m lazing with a sleepy Frankie when I see a black SUV barreling toward us with two more close behind. Quickly I stand, yanking the Princess to her feet as gingerly as I can in a rush.
“Baby, get up and get in the truck, now,” I demand firmly.
“What? Why? What’s going on?” she asks, her eyes darting past me. I know the moment she sees them. Stumbling forward, I catch her from falling but it’s too late for anything else—they’re already too close.
I watch the three vehicles split up and surround us, blocking any escape route we may have. Tucking Frankie behind me, I widen my stance, protecting her as best I can with my body. She clings to my back, her body pressed into mine, the swell of her baby bump reminding me of all I have to lose if shit goes wrong here. I’m not sure who has just crashed our picnic, but I have a pretty good idea.
I do my best to regulate my breathing and remain calm. “Princess, no matter what, you listen to me, you got it? I don’t care what happens, if I tell you to do or say something, you do it, you feel me?” Her face buried in my shirt, she nods and lets loose a quiet sob. “Baby, I need you to get your shit together. I need my fierce girl right now.”
With idling engines, doors swing open, almost in synch, and men of various shapes and sizes step out. Jesus fuck, no good can come of this. Six men move toward us while three drivers stay behind the wheels of their Audis. One man stands out, leading the other men, knowing they’ll follow. He stops directly in front of us, the others fanning out and surrounding Frankie and I on all sides. I can feel her trembling against me and my blood starts to boil, rage sending my body into “fighter” mode. Fucking Andrew still putting her and now my baby in danger.
“Mr. Love, we have not had the pleasure of meeting. My name is Kieran,” he says in a thick accent that sounds like it might be Irish. He extends his hand for me to shake. Ignoring it, I never take my eyes off of his soulless gaze. His eyes are black, his coppery hair slicked back and tamed as if it didn’t dare disobey him. “Is that any way to greet a new acquaintance, Mr. Love, or have all of yer manners been beaten outta ya, hmm?” He lets out a low laugh. “I don’t want to make this difficult . . . well, any more difficult than you’ve been making things.” His cool and controlled tone slipping a little as he says that.
My arms crossed across my chest, I stand as tall as I can. I’m sure they’re packing heat, but I have to seem as intimidating as possible if I have any hope at all of getting us out of this.
“I’m not looking to make any friends. What the fuck do you want? I would think by now you would get the message that we can’t help you.” With narrowed eyes, I look down my nose at him, pinning him with an animosity-filled glare.
“Yeah, pity that.” Shifty eyes going to where Frankie is trying to remain as small as possible behind me, he says as if he’s talking to a child, “Miss De Rosa, you can step out from behind him now. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” I can feel Frankie start to move to my side and I wrap my arm around her, keeping her where she is. This defiant move causes him to sigh dramatically, “I was afraid of this. The hard way it is then,” Kieran says in fake resignation.
I catch movement to my left as a man of average height with brown hair comes closer to us, pure malevolence shining from his brown eyes trained on Frankie. Just as he takes the final step, putting us within a couple feet of him, he draws his gun and points it right at Frankie who sucks in a loud lungful of air. I twist her as far from him as I can and push his outstretched arm away forcefully, but it snaps back quickly.
“Don’t you fucking point that gun at her, you moth—” Before I can finish, we have six guns trained on us and Frankie is snatched from behind me. I whirl around and see yet another man with an arm banded across her chest and a Glock to her temple. Frankie’s eyes go wide in fear and a flash of something I can’t name.
“Cherries,” falls from her lips and I know. The man with the gun to her head is the same man who beat her within an inch of her life and left her for dead. That was the one constant in all of her incomplete memories. The scent of cherries and tobacco. Looking at him now, I can understand how she could mistake him for Andrew. The all consuming rage I feel is blinding. I quake with the ferocity of it. I know in my soul that they will not hesitate to kill her. They’ve already killed Drew; what’s one more? I need to keep my head because there’s no way that I can fight us out of this. Muscle ticking rapidly in my jaw, I try to focus on taming my anger for once in my fucking life.
“O’Reilly has already met our darlin’ Francesca here, haven’t you, bud?” He nods in agreement and I’m forced to watch in horror as he palms one of her breasts and squeezes. The growl that escapes me, alarms him, giving him pause, but the weight of the gun in his hand must remind him of the position we’re in. He smiles evilly.
“Yeah, we’ve met, though we never got to finish what we started. Did we, darlin’?” When I see his tongue snake out to lick down the side of her face, I surge forward, but am stopped by the butt of a gun being struck against the base of my skull. Grunting in pain, I drop to one knee. Slowly getting to my feet, I turn toward the asshole who struck me. “That’s the last one you’ll get for free, the next one will cost you,” I sneer.
“Enough for fuck’s sake,” Kieran booms. He takes a calming breath. “Now, darlin’, me bud here asked ya for somethin’ when he visited yer gaff. Ya didn’t deliver, so now we’re here to collect.”
You would think that he’s asking for a cup of sugar with how cool and collected he is, whereas my insides are a tsunami of hatred, rage, and malice. This motherfucker is talking like we’re all going to have dinner after this.
Frankie shakes her head, the gun held there pressing into her tender flesh, making her wince. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have anything. I never have!” she shouts, close to hysterics. As soon as I find a way to get her out of here safely, I’m killing all of these fuckers. I don’t care if I spend the rest of my life in prison for doing it either.
Glancing at Kieran, I see him watching Frankie, eyes boring into her, like he’s trying to determine if she’s telling the truth. I’m not sure what he sees, but whatever it is has him in front of me in two long strides and a nine-millimeter dug into my forehead. Frankie screams out in terror but it’s quickly muffled when O’Reilly covers her mouth. Tears streaming down her face and over his hands, she looks at me with wide, panicked eyes. I don’t look away from her, willing her to stay calm. I can’t take Kieran out without risking her. I need to wait him out and hope to fuck he doesn’t shoot me.
“Since yer not makin’ this easy, bud, shit’s gonna hit the fan.” His face morphs from bored, almost docile, businessman to crazy as fuck killer in three seconds flat. “Ya got two seconds to tell me where the fuck it is or I’ll blow her bleedin’ brains all over this fuckin’ lake. Hand it the fuck over. Now!” he roars, cocking the gun. My eyes close for a beat before opening again and bringing them to Frankie’s blues. O’Reilly’s hand falls away from her mouth and she starts babbling incoherently, the sobs sticking in her throat. When he snatches her hair and wrenches her back, giving her a little shake, I see red, blood red. Not thinking about the gun pressed to my head or the madman holding it, I knock him to the side and charge forward. I make it exactly three steps before I hear the crack and feel the fire burn as fast as the bullet that tears through me. Stopping, I glance down and see the red blossoming, staining my shirt.
My attention is drawn from the spreading warmth of the blood when Frankie screams my name and clutches at her stomach. It’s in that moment I realize how precarious of a situation we really are in.
“For Jaysus sake, shut her the fuck up, already,” Kieran demands.
O’Reilly prods her in the shoulder with the gun he just had to her temple moments ago. She is folded in on herself, her shoulders hunched in pain, her arms wrapped around her swollen belly. Ignoring everything, including the pain, I speak calmly but loudly to be
heard over my girl’s cries. “Princess, baby. Shhhhhh, please. If he puts his hands on you again, I’m going to get us both killed. Please, for me, stop crying. Okay? I need you to stay calm for the baby,” I plead with her gently. My words must penetrate—she stops crying, her breathing coming out in short, little gasps. “That’s my girl.” Doing my best, I smile reassuringly through the pain. Somehow, someway, I will get her out of this safely.
Never taking my eyes off of her, I ask Kieran. “What exactly are you looking for and what in the fuck makes you think that she has it?”
“Her fella was either very clever or a complete fuckin’ tool—”
“Ex—they haven’t been together for the last year,” I interject. I need to remind him of that for my benefit and also to clue him in on just how long it’s been since Andrew has had any influence on her.
“Yeah, well, her bleedin’ fiancé has spent the last couple of years building a case against us and expects us to believe that he doesn’t have a fuckin’ clue where the evidence is. What a load of ol’ bollix,” he spits, his gun now pressed into the tender flesh behind my ear. Frankie shivers, but I give her a stern look, willing her to lock it up. “We know it’s not at his gaff and that he doesn’t have it, Lord rest his filthy soul, so that leaves us with this little fine thing standing right here.” His voice has an air of merriment to it. This fucker is so unstable.
“I have no idea what you think I have, but I assure you that I don’t. He never even spoke about his cases with me,” she says earnestly.
“If that’s the truth, then we’ll have to take you, darlin’, as a pawn until we get what we want,” Kieran says, with a flick of his wrist, putting his men into motion. O’Reilly tugs on her arm and starts to drag her in the direction of the vehicles.