“Bet that bunch believed children should be seen and not heard.” Bull sounded as if he wanted to punch someone. “He probably got punished if he made any noise.”
“All of the children appeared to have suffered from abuse. Some more than others.” Caz turned to the psychologist. “What do you think, Zachary?”
“He was abused by adults, especially men. No matter how much his mother tried, she couldn’t protect him…or herself, either.”
Cazzo, Frankie wanted to go back and pound on every one of those fanatics.
Hawk’s sand-colored brows drew together. “I’m an adult. A man. But he’s latched on.”
“Of course he did.” Zachary’s gray eyes went soft as he studied Aric. “You took down his worst abuser and saved his mother. Then she told Aric to stay with you.”
Hawk shook his head as if he was trying to deny that.
“Even more, Hawk,” Zachary said. “His instincts agree with his mother’s orders. Because you’re strong enough to protect him.”
The poor ex-mercenary looked trapped, and Frankie almost laughed.
“Even before I mentioned your parents, I think Aric already realized you are kindred spirits. You, more than anyone here, understand what he’s been through. What he needs.” Zachary steepled his fingers in front of his chest and spoke to all of them. “The boy is fragile right now. Let him adjust at his own pace. As he gets to know you and learns he’s safe here, his grip on Hawk will relax.”
“Makes sense,” Gabe said.
Hawk protested. “His mother will recover and—”
Zachary shook his head. “Even when she is ready to take him back, she can’t give him the same sense of safety that he gets with Hawk. Not right away.”
“But…” Frankie bit her lip. What had she done? How could she possibly fix this? Pulling in a breath, she faced the one man she’d never have matched with a little boy. “I’m so sorry, Hawk. It’s bad enough I asked you all to risk your lives, but now, I’ve messed up your life completely.”
“Bullshit.” Blue-gray eyes, hard as New York pavement, met her gaze. “If you hadn’t asked, we’d’ve insisted.” Hawk’s gaze was on Aric, and a corner of his mouth turned up. “And you’re not messing up my life, yorkie. He is.”
“But—”
“Kit’s yours. You’re Bull’s. Makes the kid family.” Hawk shrugged. “I can deal.”
And finally, she understood why—although Hawk was so adamantly solitary and taciturn— his brothers never doubted he’d be there for them.
“Are the rest of the women and children settled?” Frankie asked. There were still a few in the municipal building when she and Bull left.
“Everyone has been taken to Anchorage and Soldotna.” Caz had one arm around JJ, the other around Regan.
“What will happen to them?” Audrey asked Zachary. “I saw you talking with the social workers. Making recommendations. Will they be all right?”
“Softie,” Gabe murmured and hugged her.
“Some have families to take them in. The rest will be in women’s shelters, getting help as they figure out how to move on and build new lives.” Zachary’s expression was sad. “Many had been searching for solutions and easy answers, which left them vulnerable to the cult. It will take them time to find their balance again.”
Frankie frowned. “What about the women who stayed at the compound and didn’t come with us.”
“Ah, you probably didn’t hear,” Gabe said. “When the FBI and state troopers got there—maybe a couple of hours after us—the compound was empty of people.”
Frankie stared at him. That was what the Feds meant about the cockroaches scattering.
“I missed that?” Bull glanced at Hawk. “Was everything gone?”
He meant bodies, didn’t he? Frankie remembered Hawk’s expression when he realized Obadiah was dead.
Gabe understood the question. “Yes. All that we left behind and on the trail. There were a few personal possessions, but their weapons were gone. The paranoid bastards had probably planned for when they’d have to abandon the place.”
“But that means they’re loose and can…come after us. After Kit.” Frankie felt Bull’s hand cover hers and realized her fingers had clenched into fists.
“They won’t be free for long.” Gabe gave her a reassuring smile. “There are warrants being written up for the leaders, including Nabera and his lieutenants.”
“I don’t like knowing Nabera isn’t locked up,” JJ said. “He’s not exactly stable.”
Hawk frowned and placed his hand on Aric’s shoulder. “Tighten security?”
“Yes. We’ll keep the Hermitage locked down. Just in case.” Gabe shook his head. “Fanatics are unpredictable.”
“The feds told me they picked up Parrish.” Frankie said to Bull. “I forgot to tell you last night.”
“There’s good news.” Bull squeezed her hand. “Without the leader, everything else will probably collapse.”
Nabera was loose. “Maybe it’s good Kit will be in a hospital and safe until the rest of them are arrested.”
“I’d hoped to meet your friend, but my flight leaves tomorrow morning.” Zachary gave Frankie a long look. “When you’re helping her mend from all this, remind her as often as needed that she wasn’t entirely helpless. That her courage and ingenuity in contacting you was what saved her and Aric—and the other women as well. Her actions—and yours, Frankie—broke the Patriot Zealots.”
He’d called her Frankie. Because that was who she was. She caught the psychologist’s gaze, and his eyes crinkled. Because when he asked her what her full name was, she’d scowled as she told him “Francesca”. He’d chuckled and said he preferred to take the time to say a person’s entire name, but in her case, “Frankie” was less of a nickname and more of a statement of identity. And he liked who she was.
She really liked this psychologist.
Just then, he rose. “I need to stretch my legs, especially since I’ll be on a plane for hours tomorrow. Regan, I hear you have a cat. Might I have an introduction to him? I’m in need of hearing some purrs.”
Regan jumped up. “Sure. Sirius likes getting petted.”
As the two of them headed out the door, Frankie saw Mako’s sons exchanging grins. “What?”
Bull chuckled. “We all remember Grayson’s chats. Because of him, we’re probably less fucked-up than we might’ve been.” As the others chimed in with snorts of agreement, Bull gave her a light kiss and added, “Now, it seems he’s planning to steer the next generation.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching—they are your family. ~ Jim Butcher
* * *
Gusty winds slapped rain against the window of Kit’s hospital room, almost drowning out the beeps of various medical devices in the unit, carts rolling past, and voices from the hallway.
Maybe it was a bit noisy, but to her, all the sounds spelled out safety.
Kit rubbed her face and winced when her fingers ran into the coarse stitches down one cheek. They hurt. Oh, admit it, everything hurt. Her broken arm they’d had to set again. Her belly where they’d had to deal with stuff a broken rib had punctured. And, more than anything, her side with the cracked and broken ribs. The surgeon said she was lucky the fractured bones hadn’t pierced a lung.
She didn’t feel particularly lucky. More like stupid.
Her idiocy had almost gotten Frankie—and lots of other people—killed trying to rescue her from her mistakes. If she’d been smarter, maybe—
“Hey.” Bringing in the scent of rain and forest, Frankie limped into the hospital room and rolled her eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking about, you should stop.”
Kit tried to smile, felt the stitches pull, and sighed. “I’m a mess.”
Tilting her head to one side, Frankie tugged on her chin in an imitation of their elderly, persnickety, college history professor. “Ms. Traeger, I believe you might have a point.”<
br />
Kit giggled, then clutched her side. “Oh, blessings, don’t make me laugh. Please.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Frankie held up her hands. “I solemnly swear to be tedious and boring.”
Trying not to laugh almost hurt worse. Ouch, ouch, ouch. “You’re so mean.”
“That’s me.” Arm pressed to her side in a way Kit recognized, Frankie gingerly settled on the bedside chair.
Because she’d been hurt, too. Frankie’d made light of it, but the FBI agents told Kit that everyone who’d come into the compound had been injured in some way.
Nevertheless, Frankie hadn’t let it stop her from visiting. She wouldn’t, because Kit was all alone here. And scared. Dear God, she was scared sometimes. Having Frankie close was like a lifeline…and one she shouldn’t cling to.
Instead, concentrate on gratitude. “The Feds said a lot of people were involved in the rescue. Since I’m stuck here, could you tell them” —a lump in her throat choked off the words for a moment—“h-how very thankful I am for their help? How sorry I am they were hurt?”
When she was out of the hospital, she’d find a way to repay those amazing rescuers who’d risked their lives for strangers.
“Sure. You don’t need to feel guilty. On the transport team, the injuries were mostly scrapes and a few turned ankles.” Frankie’s eyes lit with laughter. “The diversion team, however, had such bad hangovers the next day that the whining never stopped.”
“They were drunk when they faked the crash at the gate?”
“Not then. Later. Felix said they had so much fun messing with the guards that they partied the rest of the night at his place.” Frankie giggled. “After dropping off the women and children in town, half the transport team joined the party. There were many tall tales of courage told that night.”
Kit relaxed back onto her pillows with a smile. “Well. Okay then.” It was an oddly satisfying picture, a celebration of bravery. And life.
“Did Hawk bring Aric in this morning?” Frankie asked, derailing her thoughts.
“He did.” Her poor baby had almost burst into tears at seeing her stitches. How many times had he seen her after a beating? She shook her head. “I’m worried…he’s still whispering.”
“Naturally.”
“What?” How could Frankie sound so nonchalant?
“It’ll take time to believe he’s safe and even longer to let go of the habits he learned.” Frankie’s gaze was level, her tone even. She was always honest with her friends, no matter how unpalatable the truth.
Kit swallowed. Aric whispered because children who made noise would be switched. “I hate that you’re right.”
Aric would eventually move past his fears. Would she ever move past her guilt? Look at the damage she’d done to her son’s childhood. All because she thought it would be good for him—and herself—to have a strong man in their lives.
Stupid. Yes, she really was.
Thinking of the harm done to others, Kit considered Frankie.
The letter asking for help had brought Frankie running. Leaving her job, her home, her friends. Risking her life. And undoubtedly upsetting her family. “How upset is your family that you’re here?”
Frankie averted her gaze. “A bit. But, hey, I was due a vacation.”
“Way past due,” Kit said lightly. As if this mess had been much of a vacation.
Way to mess up your bestie’s life, Kit. She pulled in a careful breath—because big ones made it feel as if someone was stabbing her right in the side. It was time to put on her adulting cap so Frankie knew she could go back to her real life.
The thought of managing without Frankie here was…frightening. Even so, she owed it to Frankie to let her go. “Did you know, the two women who live next door to Hawk stopped by. They said they’d keep an eye on Aric. Then Hawk actually came into my room for a whole minute today.”
That was one minute longer than he ever had before. For the previous two days, she’d only seen him when he let Aric into the room, then he’d wait outside in the hallway.
“Huh. Progress.”
Kit huffed, which didn’t hurt nearly as much as laughing. “He came in to tell me that Aric still won’t let anyone else take care of him, but it was okay, since his current jobs mean Aric can be with him. What does he do, anyway?”
“He manages the repairs for their family businesses and takes bush piloting jobs.” Frankie’s eyes grew soft. “Aric loves flying and gets all puffed up when someone calls him Hawk’s co-pilot.”
A co-pilot. Her little boy. She blinked back the tears. “He’s getting so big.”
He should start kindergarten this fall—and wasn’t it wonderful that he wouldn’t be subjected to the Patriot Zealot propaganda during their version of homeschooling. He’d go to a real school. Her baby.
“I…” She winced at the patient expression on Frankie’s face. “What were we talking about?”
“Flutter-brain.” Frankie smirked. “I’d blame it on the concussion, only you were like this before.”
“And you’re a total brat.” The insult escaped before Kit thought, and she froze in anticipation of a blow. Dear God, how had she relaxed so much as to—
No, wait…this is Frankie who loves a good insult. Kit used to deliberately annoy her—especially when they were both under the influence—just to see the sparks fly and the hand-waving begin. Sweet heavens, when Frankie started cursing in Italian, everyone loved it.
Frankie’s dark eyes held sympathy, but she simply resumed the conversation. “You were telling me that Hawk came in to say you shouldn’t worry about Aric.”
“Oh, right.” That was where she was going. “The doctor said I’d be discharged soon but have to go to a rehab facility for the respiratory treatments and all the physical therapy and stuff. They don’t trust me not to get pneumonia.”
Frankie made a face. “Girl. Coughing with broken ribs would really hurt.”
It totally did. “Anyway, things are pretty much arranged.” She hauled in a breath and said the words she so didn’t want to say. “Frankie, it means…everything…that you came here, that you got me and Aric out. I owe you so big and—” She caught Frankie’s annoyance. “I know, I know, friends don’t do the owe thing, but I have no way to tell you how much it means.”
“You’d do the same for me.”
I would. Kit nodded. “But, after Hawk came in, I started thinking. I’ve upset your life long enough. With JJ and Audrey helping Hawk with Aric, he’ll be all right.”
Her throat tightened. They weren’t Frankie, and she couldn’t trust them like she did her friend. But…her comfort was irrelevant. The police chief and the doctor lived out there wherever Hawk was. Aric would be safe. “Anyway, I’m going to be in that rehab place.”
She studied the sheet, crumpled in her clenched hand. “I don’t want to get you into too much trouble with your family.”
Frankie’s mother and sisters made Kit want to slap them. All three were rich, famous, beautiful…and entitled. They did work hard; she had to give them that. But with Frankie, they doled out affection only in return for what she did for them…rather like an employer would hand out bonuses. Love should flow like the Mississippi to the Gulf, not turn off and on like a faulty faucet.
“I know I have to go back sooner or later.” Frankie walked over to the window and traced a finger down the glass, following the raindrops. “I’m not sure… But probably sooner would be better. Or not.”
Kit tucked her hand over her sore ribs that had started to throb and burn. “That doesn’t sound like you.” Frankie was the least indecisive person she knew. “What’s going on?”
“I’m just having—” Frankie frowned. “You’re hurting. Are you due for your pain meds?”
“The stuff puts me to sleep. I wanted to be awake to talk to you.”
“Tell you what”—Frankie gave her a wry smile—“take your meds and I promise to be back tomorrow and tell you about my sad, sad life.”
“Story time
.” Kit started to laugh and at the knife in her side and gut, shut it right down. “I love stories. Promise?”
“You’re as bad as Aric.” Frankie smiled. “He demanded a story—and Hawk demanded I do the reading, so he sat in Hawk’s lap while I read one story. And then he insisted on another.”
“Which you read.” At Frankie’s shrugged agreement, Kit’s eyes filled. “You’re the best godmother ever.”
“I am.”
“But, bestie, remember, we’ll manage. If you need to go home, it’s all right.” And if she did, Kit was going to feel incredibly lost and alone. She made herself smile confidently as Frankie nodded and headed out.
The door closed behind her muffling the sounds of nurses and visitors, of carts going past. Kit closed her eyes. In all the bustle of the hospital, how could she feel so very lost and alone?
That evening, Frankie was sitting beside Bull in the big lakeside gazebo. She leaned toward the blazing firepit, trying to warm her cold fingers. Around her, his family chatted, but she couldn’t manage to follow the conversation. No, she was still trying to work things out in her head.
Kit and Aric were rescued. It was difficult to get past that since fear for their safety had been so much a part of Frankie’s days. Now…now, what was she going to do?
I want to stay. Four short one-syllable words. Add two more. I want to stay with Bull. No question, no indecision. Just truth.
What about Mama, Papà, her sisters? Her job at Bocelli’s?
As if her mother could hear her thinking—something Frankie’d been convinced of as a child—her cell rang. She blinked, then remembered that the Hermitage had internet service, and she’d connected her phone.
Yes, it was Mama.
Everyone in the gazebo was watching her. Probably wondering why she didn’t answer it.
With an apologetic smile, she picked up the phone. “Hi, Mama. How’s the company doing?”
As usual, her mother went into how her day had been, what new models had been acquired, the successes she’d had getting her models—especially Birgit and Anja—into choice commercials and events.
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