Walking The Line (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 3)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  After Sophie blew her fit just as Nico had suspected she would, she and Wolf came to the decision that it was in Frankie’s best interest to leave Staten Island. The plan was for him and Sophie to move into some cabin upstate that was owned by the Knights. You see if Sophie went with him, it wouldn’t look suspicious. Frankie would be transferred to a different high school, and he’d not only be able to finish out his football season, but he’d also graduate and maintain his scholarship. This was a big concern for Wolf and Sophie. They feared if my dad found out Frankie was the baby’s dad and pressed charges against him, Frankie’s chances at going to the pros would be destroyed.

  I understood their fears for their son, and if I didn’t feel so alone, I might’ve commended them for being great parents. But that was hard to do, and I hated myself for being jealous. I think what made it worse is that Frankie wasn’t fighting his parents on the decision. It’s like he had officially resigned. There was no trace of the boy who kept promising me everything was going to be okay. The sweet boy who thought we could conquer the world, had finally lost hope. All the promises were dead and were suddenly replaced with fear of the unknown.

  He said he didn’t care about the scholarship or graduating. He’d give it all up, but he was terrified that my dad would somehow get his hands on our baby and if he stayed here, there was no way my dad wouldn’t eventually catch on.

  I knew these were valid concerns and after the call with my dad, I feared he’d somehow go after our baby too. But then I looked around the room and put my hope in Frankie’s family. They’d protect us. They loved Frankie and in turn, would love our baby.

  I also knew if this was ever going to work, if we were ever going to crawl out of this hole, one of us needed a secure future and I was out of the running. So, with my heart cracking even more than before, I tried to remain strong and brave. Frankie made more promises, swearing it was only temporary, that we’d FaceTime every day from the new phones he and Wolf picked up that morning and that he’d be right next to me, holding my hand when it was time for our baby to be born. I didn’t understand how that was possible seeing as I wasn’t even allowed to leave the house. How was I going to go to doctor’s appointments much less a hospital to give birth?

  Still, I pushed all my worries aside and told myself it was only a couple of months. There was no other alternative…and if there was, none of us could see it. It was either, Frankie stay and risk the wrath of my father or he goes, and we rely on Wolf, Maria, Nico and the rest of the Satan’s Knights to protect us and our baby.

  For me, there wasn’t a choice.

  I loved Frankie, and I was head over heels in love with the baby growing inside of me. I could wish a thousand wishes, but that seemed silly even to me. I needed to suck it up until I had the baby and then things would change. I’d enroll in online classes, get my diploma, turn eighteen and everything would be fine. Frankie and I could put this behind us and finally start our life together.

  Ha! Easier said than done.

  Isn’t that Ironic?

  It took Wolf and Sophie a week to make the necessary arrangements for the move. In that time, Frankie spent most of his days with me at the house. Nico wasn’t around much, but there was always someone around. One day it was Riggs, who returned to install a security system in the house. Another day it was Maria, dropping off more food and clothes. I had more clothes in the Scotto home than I had living with my dad. Other days, there was a constant flow of Knights parading in and out of the house. There was Stryker, Cobra, Deuce, and Linc—who rotated shifts and then there was Pipe. He was amusing. In a scary as fuck kind of way. I still hadn’t met the infamous Jack Parrish though, and that’s probably a good thing, considering all the stories I had overheard. And just like Wolf promised, Celeste, came and checked on me. She drew my blood and brought it to the hospital, tagging it under an alias and ran all sorts of tests to make sure everything was good with the pregnancy.

  By the end of the week, I had found out my father had signed me out of school. Someone from the football team had been in the office when my father was there and later in the locker room, he told Frankie what had happened. Apparently, daddy dearest was covering all his tracks, securing his re-election and his image as father of the year, by sending his little girl to study abroad.

  I always felt some kind of resentment towards my mother for leaving me, but never such hatred. I suppose I had subconsciously reserved that for my dad.

  Isn’t that ironic?

  So long as I live, I will never forgive him for all he’s done.

  All he’s taken from me.

  My bravado cracked the day before Frankie moved. Maria had stopped by with her daughter, Lauren and a sonogram machine. I guess when you’re pregnant as many times as she has been, it makes sense to invest in the equipment. Especially when your baby daddy is a geek with electronics.

  Anyway, Lauren showed us how to work the machine and Frankie and I got to see our little baby. Only it wasn’t that little anymore and he or she appeared to be having a party in my uterus. Tiny arms flailed; strong legs kicked, and the rhythm of her heart sounded loudly—it was beautiful.

  We turned to one another and without saying a word, we communicated with our eyes.

  We’re doing the right thing.

  He or she is worth it.

  It will be okay.

  We’ve got this.

  When times get rough, remember what we created.

  Hours after a long debate on baby names we laid in my bed, both of us refusing to look at the clock. Memories of the conversation we had are so vivid in my mind.

  “Confession?” he asked hoarsely, gently pulling me closer against his chest. He moved his hands to my belly, hoping to feel the baby for the first time before he left.

  “Hmm?”

  “I feel like I’m failing you,” he whispered. “Like we’re in this predicament we’re in, and it’s all my fault.”

  Shocked by his admission and concerned he’d ever think that, I turned in his arms. My hands move to his cheeks and I studied him for a minute.

  “I’m only going to say this once,” he murmured. “I don’t regret what we did. I can’t because of what we’re going to have.” He pauses to glance at my belly. “But it was my job to protect you and I failed. I keep failing, turning to everyone and anyone for help, when the truth is, I should drop out of school, punch your father in the fucking nose, and take you away from all this. Tell me that’s what we should do Carina, and I swear, we will do it right now. We’ll get the fuck out of New York, and go somewhere where your father can’t control whether we have a future.”

  A week ago, I wanted him to say those words…well, not those exact words, but a variation of them. I wanted him to tell me we could do this, that he wasn’t going to leave me here. But what if we can’t do it by ourselves? I never thought my father was capable of the things he said, but now that he’s put those threats into the universe, I don’t think we can take them lightly. Maybe we could have taken the gamble if Frankie’s father wasn’t the president of the Satan’s Knights, but even that’s a stretch.

  I close my eyes and think about my response.

  “Carina?”

  “It’s only a couple of months,” I whispered, trying my hardest to sound convincing. “Your dad says once the baby is born, you can come back to me, and we can be a family. I know we didn’t plan for this, but Frankie we haven’t planned for anything.”

  It’s true. There hasn’t been a single decision we’ve made other than keeping my pregnancy a secret. We didn’t discuss how I’d finish high school, or how it would work when we both went to college. There was no plan as to where we’d live or what we’d do for money. Part of me wonders if maybe we were living in denial.

  “I’m terrified,” I admitted softly. “Everything just happened too quickly and with you leaving tomorrow, I just keep telling myself it’s the only option we have.” I lift my eyes to his. “Then, I think this time next year I’ll be holding our b
aby, cheering in the stands as you score your first college touchdown and I swear, that thought alone makes all this worry worth it.”

  He lifted a hand from my belly and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “I can see that too,” he said softly. “I can see us on the field after the game, taking pictures…just the three of us.”

  “We can’t make that come true if you drop out of school.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, the truth of my words settling between us before he bent his head and brushed his lips across mine. Neither of us had the will to pull away and a sweet kiss soon became more as our hands started roaming one another’s body in a desperate attempt to memorize every angle, slope, and curve.

  He undressed me with care until I laid completely naked on his twin bed, watching him remove all his clothes too. Then he climbed over me and he loved me. It was completely different from our first time, there was no fumbling around and neither of us wondered if we were doing it right. We were in the moment, loving one another, taking the time to touch and feel…to explore. Using his tongue, he gave me an unforgettable orgasm, and as I called his name breathlessly a look of pride washed over his face. We may have gotten it wrong the first time, but there was no stopping us that night.

  “I guess we don’t have to worry about a condom this time,” he said with a sheepish smile as he positioned himself between my legs. I covered my belly with my hand and smiled back at him even though tears were filling my eyes. He lowered himself over me, took my face in his hands and gave me a gentle kiss.

  “I love you, Carina Ritzer, and I can’t wait for the three of us to be together forever.”

  “I love you more,” I whispered back.

  Always more.

  The next morning Frankie left with a stack of sonogram pictures stuffed in his pocket and a paper napkin he made me kiss.

  Girl meets boy.

  She finally finds someone to love her.

  They dream big dreams and foolishly think they can survive.

  Then it all comes crashing down.

  Cradle and all.

  It’s a death row pardon two minutes too late.

  Isn’t it ironic?

  Don’t you think?

  -Seven-

  Nico

  If life has taught me anything, it’s that people handle things differently. Some choose to eat their feelings in Italian delicacies, others lock themselves in their bedroom and blast Alanis Morrissette music. Can you guess which type Carrie is? Well, it’s certainly not the first…the girl has no appreciation for the great art of Italian cuisine, but she’s certainly all about listening to music created before her time.

  It started after Frankie left and for the last two weeks, the song Ironic has been on a solid rotation. I didn’t mind much until I found myself singing along in the shower. Now, I can’t get the fucking song out of my head and I swear to God if I ever win the lotto and die the next day, I’m haunting the fuck out of everyone.

  Without bothering to knock, I open Carrie’s door and march straight towards Alexa.

  “Alexa shut this shit off.”

  “What are you doing?” Carrie asks as Alexa fucks me and somehow raises the volume on the goddamn song. Losing my patience, I grab the device and shove it towards Carrie.

  “Make it stop.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “Alexa, turn off.”

  Alanis gets cut off somewhere between it raining on your wedding day and the good advice you just didn’t take.

  “Praise Jesus, silence!” I announce, tilting my head back as I thank the heavens above.

  “Anyone ever tell you, you’re overly dramatic?”

  “This coming from the girl who has locked herself in her room for the last two weeks to listen to nineties tunes,” I retort, giving her a pointed look.

  “What should I do? I’ve read all the books Maria loaded onto the kindle and I’m tired of playing Candy Crush,” she says, pausing to cross her arms against her chest.

  That’s when I notice she’s wearing my goddamn t-shirt again.

  “You can start by getting dressed…you know in the clothes that Maria bought you.”

  Dropping her arms, she diverts her eyes to my tee and pulls it away from her chest.

  “It’s comfy.”

  Yeah, that’s why it’s my favorite.

  “And besides, it makes me feel closer to Frankie.”

  I literally bite my tongue to stop myself from correcting her and I reason it’s because I don’t want to upset her any more than she already is. If wearing my shirt makes her feel closer to Frankie, so be it. She doesn’t need to suffer any more losses and really, I’m afraid of what tune she’ll play if she does.

  “Right, well we’re getting company, so you might want to make yourself a little presentable and less homeless looking.”

  “Well, if the shoe fits, who says it doesn’t?” she mutters. Her eyes slice to the other side of the room. I don’t know why that comment angers me, but before I can think better of it, I take a step closer. Reaching out, I touch a finger to her chin and turn her eyes back to mine.

  “Hey…” I say teeth clenched tight. “You’re not fucking homeless. This is your home. You hear me?”

  Keeping my eyes on hers as she swallows, I wait for her to reply.

  “I hear you,” she whispers.

  Satisfied with that, I jerk my chin and drop my hand from her face.

  “Good. Now, please stop playing that fucking song, my ears are starting to bleed and get dressed. Wear something comfortable…not that, though.”

  “Who is coming over?”

  “Maria’s daughter.”

  “Lauren?”

  “Yeah, I thought you could use some girl time and seeing as she’s a girl and has been pregnant a bunch of times, I figured she was a good fit.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “Yeah, what can I say? That’s me, Mr. Nice Guy.”

  You know what they say about nice guy’s right? They always finish fucking last. It’s fine, though. Every story needs an underdog. That just happens to be me in this story, the guy who promised his brother he’d have his girl’s back.

  It was the night before he left with Sophie and I couldn’t sleep, which wasn’t all that surprising. I had a lot of things on my mind. Jack committing Lacey for a psych evaluation being one of those things. On top of that, I had to listen to Frankie and Carrie going at it like a bunch of rabbits in the next room.

  It was a losing proposition and so, I did what I did best…I fixed myself a hero. None of that grilled chicken crap I fed Carrie. Nah, I was in my feelings and when I’m in my feelings, it’s go big or go home, meaning the famous Scotto hero was on deck.

  Pepperoni sliced extra thing, check.

  Salami, check.

  Fresh mozzarella, check.

  Roasted peppers, check.

  Balsamic glaze…ah hah!

  Realizing that’s what was missing from my work of art, I pulled open the fridge and searched the shelves for what my pops dubbed, Italian liquid gold. Once I spotted it, I sent a silent prayer up to God, thanking him for not allowing Carrie to toss it in the trash like she threatened to do after getting a whiff of it on the sandwich I made for her.

  Who doesn’t like balsamic glaze?

  If she tells me she isn’t a fan of sauce, I’m going to have to send her somewhere…a rehab or something.

  Anyway, I grabbed the bottle of liquid gold and went back to my sandwich. I was applying the final touch of greatness when Frankie strolled into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks, his cheeks flaming as our eyes locked. It was fucking priceless.

  “Oh, hey,” he stammered. “I didn’t realize you were up.”

  Slicing through my hero, I laughed at him.

  “It’s kind of hard to sleep with a headboard banging on the wall next to my bed,” I replied, raising an eyebrow at him as I situated myself at the table, tucking a paper napkin into the neckline of my shirt.
“Kudos though kid, it sounds like you know what you’re doing in there.”

  His cheeks reddened even more and I gotta admit, I loved ragging on him. Brotherly love and all that jazz. Anyway, back to the story…

  “You…uh…heard…” he stuttered, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Dude,” I said as my eyebrows shot up. “Neither of you were quiet.”

  He didn’t respond at first and I start attacking my hero as he quietly took a seat next to me.

  “You wanna talk about it?” he asked.

  Chewing, I lifted my head.

  “Talk about what?”

  “I don’t know whatever has you eating like dad ate before he gave himself a heart attack,” he replied, tipping his chin to the overflowing loaf of Italian bread in my hands.

  “What are you talking about? I eat like this all the time.”

  “This coming from the guy who fed my girlfriend a protein bar because that’s all he had in his house.”

  “That was before Maria went food shopping,” I retorted with my mouthful. “Thanks, by the way…if it wasn’t for your girlfriend moving in, I wouldn’t be eating like a king.”

  “Uh…speaking of my girlfriend…”

  I lifted my gaze to his, watching as he nervously squirmed in his chair. Before Carrie and I had our little truce, and she hooked me up with a dating app, I would’ve immediately assumed she had thrown me under the bus, spilling my secret. Not no more. She and I were cool, and we needed to be because the plan went astray, and it was just going to be me and her cohabitating until she popped out the kid.

  “What about her?”

  “She puts up a good front,” he started, peeling the label off the water bottle he was clutching. “She’s taken all this shit in stride, but I know she’s falling apart inside. Everyone keeps telling me I’m doing the right thing by leaving, but I can’t help feel like I’m fucking ditching her and my kid.”