SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) (16 page)

“I’ll live,
” I said. The wounds were nothing that six painkillers, a shot of whiskey, and a fist full of Band-Aids wouldn’t fix. “But we should get you checked out. Make sure you don’t have a concussion or something.”

“I just want to take
a bottle of aspirin and a hot shower.” Her hand gripped mine. “Please, let’s go back to the hotel.”

Looking into her frightened eyes, and a
gainst my better judgment, I agreed.

******

Four hours later, Drew slipped me two Vicodin and a bottle of Jameson. Frankie sat curled on the couch with a cup of coffee, cursing us. Andy surfed the web for the signs and symptoms of a closed head injury, and filled us in on the do’s and don’ts. Drinking and sleep were at the top of the do not list, much to Frankie’s chagrin. She pleaded with us for a shot of whiskey, but Mickey ruthlessly refused.

I, on the other hand,
drank in hopes of easing the pain of Mickey’s heavy-handed ministration to my assorted of cuts and bruises. The knife wound in my thigh wasn’t that deep. It should have been stitched at the hospital, but knife wounds drew unwanted attention. That was the last thing we needed. A few butterfly bandages later, and I was as good as new. Swallowing another pull of whiskey, I held my breath as Mickey cleaned small slivers of glass from my arms. Each splinter had to be picked out with a pink tipped pair of Frankie’s eyebrow tweezers. After a while my arms looked like freshly ground meat.

“Done.
” Mickey pulled the last bit of glass from my skin.

“Good. Get out,” I said, wanting nothing more than to fall into a drug induced sleep.

“What about Frankie? Someone needs to keep her from falling asleep.” His concern was well and good, but she looked ready to scream.

I put a bandaged hand to my heart.
“I’ll take care of her, I promise.”

He
nodded, leaning in and kissing her forehead. “I love you.” With that, he walked to the door. The rest of the crew followed his lead.

Afte
r they left, Frankie turned to me. “Okay, hand me that bottle.”

“For the record,
” I said, passing her the bottle, “you forced me, at gunpoint, to hand it over. I was in fear for my life and therefore not accountable.”

“Noted.” She filled her glass
half-f of the amber liquid and tossed the whole thing back in one swallow. She sighed and poured another, this one double the size of the last. “That’s better.” A few seconds later, she was yawning—wide, loud, and completely unfeminine.

I grinned.
“Go to bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

I’d rather not be alone.”
She was vulnerable and a little scared. How could I refuse her request, or that’s what I kept telling myself. Helping me from the couch, we made our way to the bedroom hand and hand. The temperature in the room jumped a few degrees, and my aches and pains vanished when she smiled, a slow flirty grin. Standing next to the bed, she stripped off her shirt revealing an off-white tank top. The material left little to the imagination, and I could make out the ridged outline of nipple through the thin material.

I swallowed hard
and shook my head to clear the image. Hell was too nice a place for me. Here she was, hurt and vulnerable; yet, I could think about nothing but stripping her naked and bending her over the coffee table. I limped to the bathroom, the drugs and booze kicking in. Running the cold water, I stripped out of my tattered clothing and stuck my head under the faucet. Stop thinking about her like that, I ordered. Mickey would kill me, and I wouldn’t blame him one damn bit.

After a few mi
nutes, I was back under control, lust replaced by self-disgust. I made my way back to the bedroom. Perspiration gathered at the small of my back. Frankie had dimmed the lights and lit a single candle. The flickering flame bathed her silken skin in a warm glow as her body lay spread out on the bed. Lust returned with vengeance. This wasn’t going to work.

Frankie patted a space next to her
, and with each step I took, the bed appeared to grow smaller. I sat on the edge, willing my body under control. With a sigh I leaned back against the pillow. My arms crossed behind my head as I stared at the ceiling.

We
lay side by side, not speaking.

“Are you asleep?”
There was a slight tremor in her voice.

I should have ignored her
and feigned sleep. “No.” Idiot.

“I was
so scared today.”

I wanted to wrap my arms around her a
nd take it all away. “It was all my fault. If only I—”

She
leaned over me, cutting off my words by taking my face in her hands. “Why do you do that? You are not responsible for what happened. You don’t have to protect everyone.”

I grabbed her hand
s. “I swore to Mickey I’d watch out for you. Because of me, you’re here. It was my plan. I dressed you up and paraded you around daring Oscar to make a move…I could have cost you your life.”

She twisted away, anger burning in her eyes.
“No, it might have been your plan, but I’m here because of me. No one twisted my arm, as a matter of fact, I forced your hand.” She stroked a cut on my cheek, her voice softening. “I wasn’t afraid of dying. I knew you’d come.”

My
brow furrowed. “What were you afraid of?” Sudden comprehension made my body tighten. Me, she was afraid of me. I had killed without regret. “I’d never hurt you.”

This time Frankie looked confused. “I know that.
”

“Then what?”

“I was terrified you were going to die, and I couldn’t face that.” Leaning down, her lips were inches from mine. “I couldn’t face never knowing what it would be like to touch you, to kiss you.”

Her
words were my undoing. I captured her mouth, wrapping my hands around her waist and pulling her toward me. My mouth crushed hers, taking all she offered. Anything but shy Frankie matched me move for move. She tugged on my lower lip with her teeth, and I nearly lost control. Shifting her long legs, she straddled me. I could feel the heat of her body, and the remaining blood quickly left my head.

In a
frenzy of tasting and touching, I explored the tempting sweetness of her body. I traced my finger along the edge of her lips, nibbling at the corners. Her fingers stroked my chest, moving lower over my abdomen and twisting in the trail of hair running into my jeans. My rough hands caressed her soft skin, tracing the line of her neck. My tongue tasted the sensitive skin beneath her ear, and she gave a low moan. My hands flexed, body tight. She was driving me crazy.

M
y sanity surfaced a few minutes later when she tugged at the button of my Levi’s. Like waking from a nightmare, I realized my right hand clutched the curve of her ass, and the other cupped her breast beneath her tank top. What the fuck was I doing? This was Frankie—the little girl I teased when she’d bought her first training bra. I should be shot. Quickly I dropped my hands and pushed her away. “We can’t…Mickey would….” I rolled off the bed. “You don’t want me…This is a reaction to…”

Eyes clouded with passion,
mouth swollen from my kiss, she was the most desirable woman in the universe. I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything thing else. Wanted her more than my next breath. Fuck, when had that happened? “I have to get the fuck out of here.” I glanced at her, blew out a frustrated breath, and ran for the door.

Way past drunk but still unable to erase the taste and feel of Frankie’s skin from my mind, I knocked on Neil’s hotel room door. Since running from the bungalow two hours ago, I’d sat in the hotel bar cursing myself, alternating between lust and self-disgust. Ten shots later, the lust and self-disgust were still present, but the pain of a good case of blue balls had eased.

“Ian?” Neil opened the door
dressed in a baby blue bathrobe. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I come in?” I stood swaying slightly.

He
opened the door wide, and I stumbled into the room. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I sat
/fell down on one of the twin beds. “I need a place to crash.”

“Sure.”
He moved to the other bed. “Hiding from Frankie?”

I shook my head
. The room spun in response. “When did she grow up? I used to look at her and think, sweet kid. Now when she’s around I’m mentally stripping her naked.”

Neil laughed. “Took you long enough.”

“What’d you mean?”

“Are you kidding me?
She’s been in love with you for years, done everything in her power to get your attention. But you’re fucking oblivious.”

“No, that’s not true, w
e’re friends. “ I snorted. “Hell, she’s like a sister to me.”

“Sure.
” He shot me a disbelieving look. “Do you always want to fuck your sister?”

“You’re wrong. Tonight was a fluke. She was feeling
helpless after what happened. Adrenaline does that to people, if it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else.” I didn’t believe what I was saying any more than he did. But I couldn’t face the truth. She couldn’t love me. Loving me would only cause her pain. What did I have to offer? I wasn’t the marrying kind. I got hives when the word marriage was even mentioned. I’d fuck her over, and ruin our friendship, as well as my relationship with Mickey. He’d never forgive me for hurting his baby sister, and I’d never forgive myself.

Neil sighed,
patting me on the back. “Keep telling yourself that. Whatever gets you through the day, my friend,”

I glared at
him. “I’m no good for her. She deserves someone who’ll be there for her, someone who can take care of her.”

“And that’s not you?”

“Hell no.”

“You disappoint me.”
He turned away, looking out at the ocean from the wide bay window.

Now
, not only was I suffering from self-disgust and lust, but guilt crept in. “What about Mickey, huh? How do you think he’d react to my fucking his baby sister?”

“He’d probably kill you,” he paused, “b
ut you know she’s worth it.”

I shook my head. “Why are you pushing
me?”

“Before I die, I want to see you happy. Frankie can give you that.”

I flinched. This was the first time Neil had acknowledged his impending demise to me. It made everything a little too real. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

He smiled, a bit sad.
“It’s true. You can’t save me, Ian. Not this time.”

“
I can’t deal with this right now.” Again, guilt overwhelmed me. Neil saw everything through the eyes of a man counting each day as a blessing while I whined about almost having sex. Life was more than short it was often unfair. “I love you, you know that right?”

He
smirked. “Sorry, you’re not my type.”

******

The next morning, I walked to Frankie’s bungalow, hung over and feeling like an ass. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time I cared enough to try to make amends. I knew my walking out hurt her and I felt bad. She deserved better than that, better than me. Neil said she loved me. I wasn’t so sure, but from now on, I’d tread carefully—no more flirting.

And definitely no touching.

When we got back to New York I’d ask her to move out, keep our relationship on a professional level. Who was I kidding? The only way I’d be able to keep my distance would be if she gained a hundred pounds and grew facial hair, but even then, it might be harder than I thought.

I
should have been happy. We’d just pulled off a twelve million dollar heist. Mickey could pay Sal, and I could leave Hell’s Kitchen, move to some place sunny. Maybe I’d stay here, buy a little house on the beach. Spend my days drinking tiny umbrella’d drinks and rubbing suntan lotion on bikini-clad beauties.

Speaking of bikini
s, Frankie sat at the beach bar in a pink stringed one. It barely covered her, and I wasn’t the only one to notice. She leaned in close to the muscle bound man/boy sitting next to her. He trailed his hand up her arm, and she smiled in response. When he tugged on the strap of her bikini top, my temper flared. I made my way to the bar. “Frankie,” I said and she turned to look at me. Man/boy glared, but I ignored him. “Look, I’m sorry about last night.”

“Forget it.”

“No. We need to talk about what happened.” Her hair covered the bruise Oscar’s pistol had left on her forehead. I reached out and brushed it back to take a closer look.

“Don’t,”
she said. “Please. Don’t touch me.”

The man/boy stood, tossing his chair back for effect. “You heard the lady. Leave her alone.”

I continued to ignore him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I reached for her hand. “I’m—”

Before I finished the sentence,
man/boy took a swing at me. The punch connected with my midsection, catching me off guard and knocking the breath from my lungs. The fucker had hit me in the stomach and the large quantity of alcohol I’d consumed last night threatened to make a reappearance. I doubled over, swallowing back tequila and bile.