“Not what I think?” Tears start streaming down her cheeks, and seeing them feels like someone’s driving a knife into my chest. “I saw it with my own eyes, Bane! I saw the security feed of myfather’s body. I saw the report that says the Sinners killed him, and I know that the Kings covered it up.”
Fuck. She must have hacked into the club’s secure server.
“Frankie, please?—”
“I trusted you!” she screams, her voice breaking as she pounds her fist against her chest. “I gave you a part of me, and you knew what your club had done—what YOU had done!”
“The club didn’t hurt your father,” I say firmly, needing her to understand at least that much. “The Sinners killed him. We just?—”
“No!” she cuts me off again. “You had a week to tell me the truth, and you didn’t. I spent months thinking he didn’t care enough to say goodbye!”
A guttural sob rips from her throat, her small body shaking with the force of her grief. All I want to do is pull her into my arms and hold her until her pain stops. “Please, baby.” I reach out a hand and she shrinks away from me.
“What’s all the yelling about?” my brother asks, coming in the door behind me.
Frankie’s eyes narrow when she sees him. “I’m leaving,” she announces, wiping at her tears.
“No, the fuck you aren’t,” I growl, stepping toward her. “Not until you hear me out.”
“Stand down, Bane,” Tacoma orders, his voice hard.
I whip around to face him. “Fuck you.”
“That’s a fucking order,” he growls back.
“Would you let Foxy leave?” I demand.
Pain slashes across his face. “Yes. If she wanted to go. It’d fucking kill me, but I would.”
Rage boils over inside me. No. Fuck no.
Grabbing the nearest chair, I hurl it against the wall, and it shatters on impact, pieces of wood flying everywhere.
Frankie flinches at the sound, but steels her spine.
Then, without another word, she walks out the door and right out of my life.
Chapter Fifteen
Frankie
“It’s been a week, Franks. Don’t you even want to at least know what he has to say for himself?”
I close my eyes, the pain still fresh despite the days that have passed. My mind keeps replaying what I found on that laptop—the security footage from Pretty Kitties that showed my father’s body in a private dance room. And then Foxy...
I squeeze my eyes tighter and cover my mouth with my hands, willing my stomach not to revolt as I remember watching her wrap my father’s body in plastic sheeting. She didn’t even flinch. It was like… like she’d done it a hundred times, and it was just another day at work.
“Aww, babe. I’m sorry.”
“Bane was involved, Trin.” My voice breaks on his name. Knowing that he was part of everything—the cover-up, the lies—while I slept with him makes me feel like I somehow betrayed my father. Like I danced on his grave with the enemy without even knowing it.
“But he said?—”
I narrow my puffy eyes at Trinity, staring at her through the FaceTime connection. “No.”
Trinity leans closer to her web camera, her expression softening. “You look like shit.”
Some of my anger fades away as my nose wrinkles in mock offense. “With a bestie like you, who needs enemies?”
