Frankie stood near the windows, hugging her arms around herself.
Devin leaned against the bar, pretending to be relaxed. Alex sat stiffly on the sofa, cold and unmoving as ever.
“Alright.” I let my voice fill the room. “We need to talk about what happens next. For your safety, Frankie.”
Frankie looked over her shoulder at me, her expression tired but defiant.
She had a secret firecracker energy to her that drew me in just as much as the sweet innocence did. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Devin said immediately.
Alex added, “It’s not a matter of opinion.”
Frankie’s fingers tightened around her arms. “I mean, I’m scared, but it can’t be that serious, can it? How much harm can a note do?”
I exchanged a look with the guys. We knew damn well how much harm the people who sent that note could do. Maybe someone from Ferrara’s crew, maybe a rogue Antonov grunt, or some entirely unknown threat, which would be even worse.
But we couldn’t exactly tell Frankie everything we were involved in. She’d be safer if she was out of the loop, or at least that was the logic we’d been following until this point. And sure, part of it was that I didn’t want to see the look on her face when she realized exactly what kind of men she’d been sold to at that auction. Somehow, I doubted any amount of mind-bending sex could make her okay with fucking criminals.
Devin tried first. “Angel, you need to trust us on this. There’s a bigger picture here you don’t need to worry about, because you need to letusworry about it. Complications. Stuff that spills into other places.”
It was vague and more serious than Devin usually allowed himself to get. That alone probably set off some alarm bells for Frankie.
“Complications,” she repeated flatly.
“That’s one word for it,” I said. God, this whole thing was useless. A waste of precious time. But the planning I needed to do with Alex and Devin was too sensitive for Frankie’s ears,and none of us wanted to leave her alone yet, so we were at the world’s most irritating impasse.
Her stare sharpened, her own frustration growing unbearable, and I struggled not to get distracted by the attractive flush her emotions painted across her skin. “What kind of complication threatens my mother’s life and mine?” She looked at each of us in turn. “What the hell is any of this supposed to mean?”
Silence. Thick and suffocating. She was too smart and too perceptive for us to keep skating on half-truths, but what other choice did we have?
My rage was threatening to boil over with every second.
Not at her, but at the whole bullshit life I’d allowed her to be dragged into.
She let out a breath, shaking her head. “I swear, the three of you talk like you’re in some kind of?—”
She froze. I saw it hit her, saw the puzzle pieces slam together behind her brown eyes. I almost relished the oncoming disaster.
“Oh, my god,” she whispered. “I knew it. I knew there was something weird going on.” Her gaze bounced between us. “You’re really in—in the mafia, or something”
Devin muttered, “There it is.”
Alex didn’t deny it. He never denied the truth.
I just stared her down, my gaze unwavering even as I uselessly wished for some way out of this mess. Fuck.
Frankie’s breath trembled. I could see a rising tide of panic threatening to sweep her under. But I could see the way she resolved not to let it, too. The girl was a goddamn superhero.
“Of course you’re criminals. Because who else would have been at the auction? Because why would I meet normal men? Why would my life be simple?” She let out a long-suffering sigh, then a half-laugh of a realization. “I work at alibrary.”
I could see the absurdity of it getting to her. It almost made me want to laugh, too, but I still had the knowledge of her life being in danger holding me steady with rage.
None of us had any response, and that pause gave her a moment to shift gears.
Accusation was her next tactic.
Her voice pitched upward as she pointed a shaking finger at me, making my brow raise automatically, a string pulled.
