by Diana Gardin
But before she can completely retreat into herself, I wrap my hands around her wrists and gently tug her hands away from her face. I hold them captive between us, taking a step into her space. “Talk to me, Frannie.”
I keep my voice low, scared that she’ll pull back and run from me. I want her to talk to me, tell me why she’s pushing this issue so hard. There must be a reason.
“I have to work,” she whispers.
She attempts to look away, but I don’t let her gaze drop, following her eyes by moving my head down. “It’s about the money?”
Frannie’s face turns a pretty shade of pink. “I need to work,” she repeats, with more force. “I have rent, other bills to pay. This is my life we’re talking about here. I can’t just stop working until Eli is put away. He took my job away from me once before. I can’t let him do it again.”
Understanding swells inside me. And something more than that fills me up. Pride in the way this woman takes care of herself. Compassion for the way she doesn’t want some asshole with a vendetta to change the way she lives her life. Admiration for how damn tough she is threatens to swallow me up.
My hands squeeze hers. Her eyes drift shut in response. Her breath, warm and fresh, brushes against my face as I lean closer. “No, sweetheart. He can’t. This isn’t about him. But it is about making sure he can’t hurt you ever again. It’s my job to make sure you stay safe. The only way I can do that is if you take a leave of absence from nursing. Just for a little while. Just until we catch the son of a bitch. Can you do that for me? NES has got you financially until then. We have a fund with a stipend for our clients, and Witness Protection has an allowance for you too. You just have to allow us to help you.”
My thumbs caress small circles against the backs of her hands. “Think you can do that?”
Her eyes flutter open, long eyelashes framing pools of ocean blue that strike a place deep in my chest. She’s opening her mouth to respond when a scream ricochets down the beach.
“Help! Help, my son!”
Frannie’s head whips around, but I’m already moving, placing my body between her and the sound of the woman screaming a little way down the beach from us. She’s standing over a little boy lying prone on the sand, and there are a few people milling around like us. Two men are rushing over to help, but there’s no threat that I can detect in our immediate vicinity.
Frannie peeks around me. “Move, Ryder. I need to go see if I can help.”
Her small hands slap my back gently, and I move aside and allow her to move forward, keeping step beside her. We approach at a quick clip, and as we get closer I can see that the mother is frantically trying to hold her son still while he seizes on the sand.
Frannie drops to her knees beside the boy, who looks about six years old.
“I’m a nurse,” she explains to the wide-eyed mother. “Does he have a history of seizures?”
The mother shakes her head.
Frannie glances at me. “Ryder, call 911.”
I pull out my phone and make the call, keeping my eyes on Frannie. She makes all the onlookers move out of the way and asks the mother not to touch the little boy. Frannie rolls him onto his side and explains to the mother that she’s making sure he can breathe in case he vomits while he’s seizing. She says that while she doesn’t have the medication she needs in order to stop the seizure, it should stop on its own, and that help is on its way. “I’ll stay with you until they get here,” Frannie continues.
The mother nods, her eyes glued to her little boy, tears streaming down her face.
Frannie takes the mother’s hand, catching the woman’s eye. “It’s scary, watching your child when they’re sick or hurting. When you know there’s nothing you can do to help them and you have to put their safety in the hands of someone else. But your little boy is going to be just fine. Okay?”
There’s depth to Frannie’s tone, a sincerity that makes me stare at her, my heart picking up speed as I watch the fierce way she talks to the boy’s mom. Something about it burrows down inside me, digging deep.
From Frannie’s other side, I focus my attention on the woman. “What’s your son’s name?”
Her son, who’s stopped shaking, lies still on his side. He appears to be sleeping, and Frannie leans over to check that he’s still breathing. She nods as she sits up, and I continue to focus on the mother, trying to keep her talking to me until the ambulance arrives.
“His name is Diego,” she murmurs, stroking the boy’s black hair away from his face. “He’s such a good boy.”
“Yeah? What does he like to do?”
She glances up at me with a watery smile. “He loves to do tae kwon do. He has a lot of energy.”
I nod, returning her smile. “I’m sure he’s gonna be back at it soon.”
Frannie’s eyes meet mine, tenderness melting me like butter in a pan.
A few minutes later, paramedics are loading the little boy onto an ambulance.
“Thank you,” the mother says to Frannie as she climbs up beside the stretcher. “Thank you so much for being here.”
Frannie nods and smiles at the woman. “Your little boy will be okay.”
The mother gives one last tearful smile before the paramedics close the ambulance doors and drive off the beach.
I look at Frannie. “Have you had enough excitement for one night?”
There’s a teasing tone to my voice, but I can’t hide the note of awe.
She shrugs. “No way. Let’s go do something crazy.” She grins. “Skydiving? Bungee jumping?”
I stare at her, hands on my hips, and then laughter bursts from my lips. Pointing us in the direction of the car, I guide us back down the beach.
“Nah, Pistol Annie. You’ve given me enough excitement for one day. I think we’d better just go on home.”
She snorts. “Snooze.”
Rolling my eyes toward a sky that’s just becoming dotted with twinkling stars, I mutter a curse. She’s a handful and she has me wanting to say yes to her.
When we reach the BMW, I open the passenger-side door for her and then walk around to my side. Once we’re settled in the car, I glance over at her before starting the ignition.
“You were amazing tonight with that little boy. I get that you were made to help people. I’m not trying to take that away from you. I just want to keep you safe. You get that, right?”
She nods. “Yeah, Ryder. I get that.”
And I believe her. She understands my reasons. But I remember the expression on her face when she spoke to the mother on the beach earlier.
“You seemed to have a real connection with that mother on the beach.” I let the words hang between us, waiting for Frannie to reach out and grab them, explaining the strange feeling I got when I watched her speak to the woman.
Frannie shrugs. “Comes with being a nurse, I guess. Or a woman. We relate on another level sometimes.”
Letting my eyes slide to hers, I nod. “Was that all?”
She nods. “Must have been.”
Her explanation makes total sense, and it should clear everything up.
But I still see secrets in her eyes.
* * *
This is a call I’ve been dreading making, but I know it has to be done. As soon as I let Frannie into the condo, I excuse myself into my upstairs bedroom and close the door. Pacing the room, I hear the phone ring only twice before the quiet voice on the other end answers.
“Thorn?” Nevaeh’s clear tone is breathless, like she’s excited to hear from me.
Just hearing the anticipation in her little voice sends guilt coursing through me.
Nevaeh is the only kid at the Boy’s and Girl’s club who is on a first-name basis with me, and I’m about to disappoint her. Something I swore I’d never do.
“Hey there.” A smile crosses my face despite the news I’m about to deliver, because I miss this kid. “How ya doin’, kid?”
She sighs. “I’m good.”
“Yeah? Got your summer read
ing done today?”
She barely swallows a groan. “Yes, Thorn. I always do my homework. You know that.”
Chuckling, I shake my head, because she’s such an eleven-year-old. “Yeah. You’re a good kid. Listen, I gotta tell you something.”
“Okay.”
“I’m probably not going to see you for a little while. There’s something important I have to take care of at work, but as soon as I can, I’m going to be right back at the club. You know I wouldn’t stay away unless it was important, right?”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Something heavy presses down on my chest. I volunteer at the club because a long time ago, I gave up any hope I ever had of having a family. I lost my mother, and then I lost Echo, and my father took off.
Maybe having a family won’t ever be an option for me, but being there for kids who need someone is something I can do. And right now, it feels like I’m letting down someone who’s pretty damn important to me.
Nevaeh’s voice is much quieter when she answers. “How long?”
I swallow. “Not long, sweetheart. You can still call me anytime you need me, and I’ll be there for you. I promise you that.”
“Okay.”
There’s a gruff voice that sounds like it’s coming from somewhere on her end, and I strain my ears to try to listen. “Everything okay there?”
“Yeah. I have to go, Thorn.”
My stomach tightens. “Anytime, sweetheart. Call me if you need me.”
“Okay.”
She ends the call, and I’m left worrying about a young girl, not for the first time in my life.
When I enter the living room a moment later, Frannie is in the kitchen. I stop at the island separating the two rooms and watch as she pulls ingredients from the cabinets and lines them up on the counter. Flour, sugar, butter, eggs. She’s clearly about to throw down, and I pull out a barstool and sit, ready to watch the show.
“What are you doing?” My tone is amused.
“Baking.” She pauses, reading my expression. “Everything okay with your phone call?”
Bobbing my head in acceptance, I drum the fingers of my right hand against the concrete surface of the counter. “Yeah. I had to take care of something, but I’m good. What are you about to make?”
Her lips curve into a soft smile. “You mean what are we about to make? I could use an assistant in here.”
“Why are we baking at all?”
Her expression clouds. “It helps me when I’m stressed.”
I push off of the stool immediately, coming around the island until I’m standing right beside her. “Then put me to work.”
Her smile brightens the entire room, and I take note of the adorable pink blush in her cheeks. It matches the tint at the ends of her hair, which is thrown up on top of her head in a bun. She reaches into a drawer and pulls out a rubber spatula, handing it to me.
“You’re going to mix the batter after I measure the ingredients in. We’re making walnut and caramel blondies.”
“Jesus. That sounds fucking delicious.”
I’ve never considered myself a dessert guy, but my mouth actually waters.
She turns and starts adding butter to a big silver mixing bowl. “Oh, just wait, Ryder. Just wait.”
We find a comfortable rhythm, Frannie giving me gentle orders as we move around the kitchen together.
“Is this something you and Eli did together?” I don’t even know where the question came from or why I asked it.
But I find myself wanting to know more about her. About how she ended up falling for someone like him.
She freezes, the batter she’s pouring into the pan slowly coming to a stop as her eyes skitter to mine. “No. Eli never would have helped me in the kitchen.”
Her words are soft, but there’s an edge to them that I’ve never heard before.
I nod, turning back to the sink, where I’m finishing up washing the bowls and utensils we’ve used. “Seems about right. A man like him would assume being in the kitchen was beneath him. You realize you’re so much better than him, right?”
Frannie is quiet while she finishes pouring the batter that at first I think she’s not going to answer. When she finally does, it’s after she places the pan in the oven. She turns to face me, folding her arms across her chest.
“Yeah. I do now. There was a lot about his personality that he masked in the beginning of our relationship. Within a year of meeting, we were married, and I was only twenty-two years old. He’s eight years older than me, and he had money and prestige in our town. I didn’t know then that he had a criminal background. He hid it all so well.”
Something inside me clenches tight, like a fist is balling up inside my stomach. “When did it turn?”
She takes a breath and holds it, looking up at the ceiling as she lets the air out slowly. Her jaw tenses for just a second before the words pour out.
“It was a New Year’s Eve party. Our first, actually, as a married couple. One of my bridesmaids had us over with some other friends, and everyone was having a great time. They weren’t Eli’s friends, but everyone seemed to like him. I had gone to school with all of these people, and I was dancing with my best friend’s husband, who I had known forever. I didn’t even know Eli was pissed about it until he yanked me out of the party a few minutes later. He hit me, right there in the driveway. Then he choked me and threw me in the bushes.”
Rage, boiling hot, almost overtakes me. My knees buckle when I think of a grown man hitting her.
“Fuck.” I grip the edge of the counter to hold myself up. “I’m so sorry, Frannie.”
Her voice is hollow when she replies. “I never should have gone home with him that night. I should have screamed my head off, called for my friends, and never looked back. But I was in shock, and I couldn’t imagine that the man I’d fallen in love with could treat me that way. So when he threw me in the car, there was nothing I could do but go home. And he cried that night, Ryder. He was truly apologetic. He was sick about what he’d done. And so was I. He promised he’d never do it again.”
My throat thick, I try to swallow around the block. “They always do. But an abuser always repeats.”
She looks at me, and the pain in her eyes is so fresh, so acute, that it’s like not a single day has passed since she experienced that night. “You’re right. It happened again. And again. Until the woman I thought I was almost disappeared completely.”
I turn away from her, because I can’t stand it anymore. I’m not sorry I asked, but damn. I had to know, and I’m glad I do. It explains so much about who she is today, and the path she’s taken to get here.
“But I’m stronger because of what I’ve been through and the choices I’ve made, Ryder. Do you get that? No matter what Eli wants from me now, he’s not going to get it. Not this time.”
I turn back around to face her, and the look of determination on her pretty face proves there’s no doubting her.
6
FRANNIE
Three nights since the incident at the hospital, and everything has been quiet. We haven’t heard from Eli, and there’s been no sign of him from the investigators on the case. The NES guys have been doing their job as security detail perfectly, but as much as I’m grateful, there’s a small part of me that wishes they weren’t quite so good so I could sneak away.
Three days without work and I’m already going stir-crazy in the condo with Thorn, and his irritation with me grows by the minute.
“Jesus, Frannie,” he says with a sigh. He glances at the kitchen counter, now lined with rows of three different types of cookies. “I promise I’m not complaining, but do we have a never-ending supply of butter and sugar?”
I spin around from my spot in front of the stove and point a spatula at him as he sits on the couch, flipping through programs on Netflix. “This is what I do. When I’m stressed, I bake. When I’m worried, I bake. When I’m excited, I bake. And I’m bored to freaking tears in this condo.”
&
nbsp; Thorn’s mouth curves with amusement. “Want to watch a movie?”
I prop my hands on my hips, a frown hovering around my mouth. “No, I don’t want to watch a movie. We watched one last night, and two the day before that. Didn’t you say this community has amenities? Let’s go check them out.”
Thorn’s expression brightens. “Yeah. Okay. Go get your swimsuit on. We’ll hit the pool and clubhouse today.”
I toss the spatula on the counter, biting my lip to hold in my squeal of excitement. Lying by a pool might as well be an Olympic sport for me. Disappearing into the bedroom, I rifle through the drawer where I placed my bathing suits.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing in front of the full-length mirror in the master bathroom, studying my reflection. I don’t have the perfect bikini body. Too many curves in the hips, thighs, and boobs. But my skin is firm and supple, and my stomach is flat enough, even though I’m not boasting six-pack abs. The bikini I’m wearing is one of those high-waisted ones, with a ruffled off-the-shoulder top that shows just a hint of my ample cleavage. The perfect suit for lying by the pool with a drink in my hand.
If I can’t be at work, at least I’m going to be lounging around in style.
Screw you, Eli.
Throwing a sheer cover-up over my shoulders, I shove a pair of sunglasses on top of my head and march myself into the living room. When I cross the threshold, Ryder jerks to his feet. The magazine holding the bullets he was loading into his gun clatters to the coffee table and his hands rise to his hips as his eyes rove over my body inch by painstaking inch.
“You look…” His voice trails away as his gaze lingers at the bare expanse of legs extending from my bikini bottoms. “Ready for the pool.”
He’s now wearing dark red swim trunks and a snug white T-shirt, with sunglasses pulled on top of his head, and little flutters dance in my belly. “You too. Can we go?”
He grabs a messenger bag from the floor beside the couch. Grinning a sheepish sort of smile, he gestures and lifts one shoulder. “Hard to stay armed when I’m in the water, so I’ll bring this bag with my weapons.”
