Once Frankie is cleared by the medics, Officer Linden takes his leave, telling us to meet him at the station in a half hour. Frankie starts heading towards the parking garage, to her car, when Mitch stops her.
“Leave your cars. We can take mine,” he says.
Frankie gives me a look when I start following Mitch and Vivian down the street, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she loops her arm around my waist and shoves her hands in my pockets again.
We’ve just finished giving our statements when the door to the interview room flies open. Officer Linden stepped out seconds before, so I expect to see him coming back for the full cup of coffee he left on the long metal table. All at once, though, Vivian, Frankie, and Mitch are out of their seats as Marco storms in. I’m frozen in place as he comes straight at me, pointing his finger like he’s picking me out of a lineup.
“I hope you’re fucking happy.” His face is all screwed up and bright red, like he’s been holding his breath. “Another day with you and she’ll be dead.”
Without warning, Frankie is flying towards Marco before Mitch can even make a move to stop her. She slams her hands into Marco’s chest and he’s forced back a couple feet.
“Don’t you dare talk to him like that!” Frankie says, pushing up on her tiptoes and yelling into his face. “If there’s a threat on my life, it’s because of you, you bastard!”
Marco looks hurt by her words, but he shakes it off. He’s smooth and calculating when he continues. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Tesoro. Twice now you’ve been hurt because of him. I’ve done nothing but protect you your whole life.”
“You’ve done nothing but ruin my life,” Frankie tells him. Her volume is so low it’s menacing. “You have taken away everything that meant anything to me. Every time I made a friend, you’d scare them away. Every time, Marco. No one wants to know me or be around me because of you. I’ve had enough. You will not take the only man I have ever loved away from me. Do you understand?”
Marco narrows his eyes at Frankie and takes a step forward. “What do you know of love, Frankie?”
She takes a step towards him, and there are only inches between them. I have to strain to hear what she says. “I have learned more about love in the three months I’ve known Corey than in my entire life with you. I have learned that I am important. That what I want matters. That I don’t have to end up a whore like your sister, because it is possible for someone to love me for me. I have learned that that man is more important to me than anything in the world, and if you can’t accept that, then you don’t belong in my life.”
I desperately want to hear Marco’s response, but he’s dumbstruck. Before he can speak, the door swings open and Officer Linden sticks his head inside.
“Is everything okay in here?”
Frankie
Officer Linden’s sudden appearance is a much-needed distraction. I swear, if Marco would have said one more thing, we would have come to blows. But now, with an officer of the law present, Marco is all prim and proper, introducing himself as my loving uncle who cares only for my safety. That is, until the partially open door swings open and a beast of a man steps into the room.
Now, I’m not exactly tall. At six four, Corey’s got nearly a foot on me. But this man’s got another half a foot on top of that. Not only that, but his solid, rock wall of a chest is wider than Officer Linden’s gut. The close-cropped copper hair on his head also cradles his cheeks and chin. Switch out his black t-shirt for a plaid button-up and you’ve got a redheaded poster child for the next paper towel commercial. Even his eyes look menacing as they sparkle like emeralds in the harsh fluorescent lights.
“Who the fuck is this?” Marco becomes a bulldog, even though this man could crush him under his little finger.
“The other half of Frankie’s new security team,” Mitch says, pushing forward and placing himself between me and Marco. Corey steps up behind me, and it’s like I’m the inside of a testosterone sandwich.
“My what?” Of course, my voice chooses this moment to fail me, and I squeak. Corey pulls me back into his chest, and while I’m thankful for his embrace, I hate feeling so helpless. It’s bad enough my lungs and voice are failing me. I hate showing this much weakness in front of anyone.
“Mitch is going to stick around for a while, like you said,” Corey tells me. He’s quiet, but then again, so is everyone else.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” Mitch says without glancing away from Marco. “Lee and I will make sure nothing happens to you and Corey. You’ll stay with us until we fly out next week.”
“Like hell!” Marco says, his volume creeping up. “She’s not going anywhere with you.” He tries to be intimidating, puffing out his chest and standing up as tall as he can. But now he reminds me of a little chihuahua, trying to play with the big boys, even though he’s the shortest man in the room.
“Mr. Leonetti,” Officer Linden interjects, “Even after all that’s happened, I believe Mr. Lucas and Ms. Sarcone will be well protected with these two.”
Marco the smooth businessman all but disappears. He shoves his finger in Corey’s direction and starts yelling. “He’s the reason she’s in danger in the first place! If it weren’t for him, none of this would have happened!”
The beast, Lee, grabs Marco around the waist, lifting him off the ground so my uncle is flailing like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. The eyes of the officers in the squad room are peering in the windows that separate us from them. This is exactly the kind of scene my uncle tries so hard to avoid. Corey tightens his grip around my waist as Mitch and Officer Linden both push closer to Marco, their hands raised in front of them to calm Marco down.
“Mr. Leonetti, I assure you, while we believe there is a threat, Mr. Lucas isn’t the cause.”
“What?” Marco stops struggling and looks at Officer Linden like he’s seen a ghost. “What threat?”
“Sir, if you’d calm down and have a seat,” Mitch says, motioning to the table, “we can explain what’s been going on. Perhaps you can even help.”
I don’t think Marco was expecting Mitch’s calm, respectful demeanor. Not after the manly display, placing himself between me and my uncle. He goes limp in Lee’s arms and walks slumped over to the table to sit by Vivian when he’s released.
Mitch and Corey walk through everything that has happened the past few weeks. The fires. The Porsche. Even my drink being spiked. Up until tonight, I’ve never put it all together, and that shaky sense of security I was feeling back in my hotel room before the fire alarms went off all but disappears. Marco and Vivian are a display in stoicism, both blank slates until Marco asks for clarification on this or that.
The sun is peeking over the horizon by the time we walk out of the police station. Marco takes off in his Town Car, leaving the rest of us behind. I want to crawl back into bed with Corey and fall asleep, but we’re in the parking lot by the time I remember there is no bed to crawl into. Mitch’s beat-up pickup truck sits there like an ugly reminder of all I’ve lost.
“Vivian, Lee can take you wherever you need to go,” Mitch says, walking backwards in front of us with his keys jangling in his hand. “Frankie, Corey, you’re with me.”
“Can’t I come with you?” Vivian asks. “I’d rather stay with Frankie right now.”
I look hard at my cousin. She left my hotel room with Mitch. And she showed up with him after Corey texted him. I imagine she’s more interested in staying close to Mitch right now than to me. But at this point, I’m too tired to care.
Since the cab of Mitch’s truck won’t hold the four of us comfortably, Mitch convinces Viv to go with Lee. His older-model black SUV is a far cry from what she’s used to, but it’s diamonds to sand compared to what Mitch drives.
I curl up into Corey’s chest as Mitch drives up and down random streets for an hour before we reach our destination. The house we stop in front of - hell, the whole neighborhood, for that matter - looks like it should be condemned. I want to tell Mi
tch we’ll stay at a hotel, but Corey wraps his arm around my shoulder and follows my best friend like he comes to places like this all the time. And then I wonder if maybe he’s used to this. It wasn’t until he hit it big last year that he had any money at all. Maybe his home growing up looked something like this. My heart aches at the thought.
Mitch brings us straight upstairs, and I’m glad for the lack of a tour. I don’t even see the t-shirt he offers me to sleep in, and I’m barely coherent enough to help Corey undress me before I fall into bed. All I know is how wonderful it feels when Corey lays down beside me and pulls me into his side before I fall asleep.
Chapter 16
Frankie
“Frankie, darlin’, you awake?”
The quiet rap on the door pulls me out of a wonderful dream. Corey and I were on a beach, drinking in the sunshine and each other. I knew when I opened my eyes I’d be thrown into the harsh reality of my new life. Mitch’s beat-up truck. The house that should be condemned. Gone were the mansions and Porsches, and I didn’t know when I’d get them back.
But when I open my eyes, I feel like I am still in the dream. Corey’s beside me, our bare legs intertwined, my head on his naked chest. Surely this room isn’t where I fell asleep last night. Beneath us are thick, pale blue sheets, nicer than the ones I’d been sleeping on at the Savory for months. Around us are cream-colored walls, thick, pale blue curtains over the narrow window, and a hardwood floor made to look like it came straight out of a cabin on the beach. It appears as if someone has designed the room with ultimate comfort in mind.
“We’re up,” Corey grumbles beside me. He pulls me closer and I grin.
“Come down when you get a chance. We’ve got something to show you.” Mitch’s voice is muffled and he sounds tired. Even the quiet footsteps plodding down the hall as he leaves sound like he’s dragging.
I return my attention to Corey. “At least one of us is up.” I kiss him hard and run my hand down over his chest to the lump against my thigh. “Do you think we have enough time for a quickie?”
“Damn, woman,” Corey mutters against my lips. “Don’t you ever get enough?”
“I will never get enough of you, baby.”
Our clothing options are beyond limited. When Corey and I make our way out of the room, he’s back in the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing the night before, and I’m in my old jeans and the t-shirt Mitch gave me to sleep in. It’s so big it hangs off my shoulder, but it gives Corey easy access to the crook of my neck.
What I see as we walk through the house does not jive with what I saw when we got here last night. Just as in the room where we slept, and the fancy en-suite bathroom where we got ready, everything looks high-end and classy. The upstairs has one other room, the door to which is closed. Downstairs, the living room has an overstuffed leather sofa and matching chairs, a sixty-inch flat screen television, and gorgeous walnut hardwoods. Vivian is sitting on the couch wearing a grey t-shirt much like mine, her legs tucked up under a wine-colored blanket. She’s watching Mitch, who is standing behind Lee at a computer with five monitors over in the corner. When we step up behind them, there are a bunch of black and white pictures on the screens.
“What’s this?” Corey asks.
“Surveillance video from the hotel,” Mitch tells us, pointing at one of the monitors. “Look here. She pours some sort of accelerant, probably lighter fluid, right outside your room, lights it on fire, and runs.”
“She?” I ask as I lean closer to the screen.
“The majority of arsonists are male,” Lee says. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard him speak, but I’m still surprised at how deep his voice is as it rumbles through his thick chest. “So this is rare. We don’t know if she’s the one who started the other fire, but I’d be surprised if there were more than one. There’s probably a personal vendetta involved, some perceived wrong she’s trying to right.”
“Pull up the stills,” Mitch directs Lee before turning back to us. “We tracked her through the hotel, both coming and going. She was careful to keep her face hidden. Looks like the bottles of accelerant were brought in under her jacket. But when she was waiting to board the elevator, we caught her reflection in the mirror across the hall.”
Lee zooms in on a still of our arsonist, and Corey gasps.
“Shit,” he says under his breath. He turns his back to us and grabs his hair in both hands. “He was right.”
“Who was right?” Mitch asks.
Corey turns back to me and wraps me tight in his arms. “It’s my fault,” he says. “Marco was right, it’s all because of me.”
“You know her?” Lee asks.
“It’s Madison Greene. She’s… She was my neighbor. Her apartment got hit as bad as mine.”
“Why would she set her own place on fire?” I ask.
“Because she’s a fucking psycho,” Corey mumbles. “I used to…sleep with her. But I got fed up with her before we got together, Frankie. I swear. I had to block her number. She kept calling and texting. I figured she’s a rich little brat who’s used to getting everything she wants and didn’t understand the word no.”
“Did she ever exhibit any other strange behavior?” Lee asks.
Corey nods against my head. “I never let her into my apartment. I told her I never let any women come in. But back in March, my sister stayed over while she was in the city for some job interviews. Madison was glaring at Jen, freaking her out. She didn’t believe we’re siblings. I had to tell her to back off. Shit, I bet she saw Frankie there, too.”
“Anything else you can remember?”
“I didn’t see her, but Matt told me she was hanging out at the bars we’d been going to. Said he thought we were together because I was cutting out early - to be with Frankie - and Madison always left a couple minutes later.”
“That’s Matt Cromwell?” Mitch asks.
Corey nods again and hugs me tighter. “I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“It’s not your fault, Corey,” I tell him. “You didn’t set the fires.”
“No, but without me, you wouldn’t be in danger.”
“And without you I wouldn’t feel alive.” I say. “I love you. I don’t want to live without you, even if it means dealing with this psycho bitch.”
Mitch chuckles, and soon Corey loosens his grip on me. Lee takes charge, planning out our next couple days and setting out rules we need to follow. After we’re done, Corey kisses me goodbye and takes off with Lee. Since we can’t get back into the hotel for a few days to see if any of our belongings can be salvaged, Corey needs a new suit for the team travel days. He already got fitted for one, since he lost most of his clothes in the fire at his apartment. Lee’s plan is to pick that up and get Corey a change of clothes before bringing him to the stadium for tonight’s game.
Mitch heads to bed to get a little sleep before he takes me and Viv out so I can pick up some clothes and other necessities for both Corey and me. Once he is upstairs, I let my curiosity get the best of me. I wander through the ground floor of the house, trying to understand.
“What is this place?” I ask. The living room, with the leather furniture and fancy electronics, looks like it used to be a formal dining room back before urban blight took over the neighborhood. What should have been the living room, towards the front of the house, matches the exterior. It houses a beaten up old couch and pool table. The walls have holes in them, both from pool cues and what appears to be a fist or two. The kitchen is all stainless steel appliances and granite tile countertops, while the small mudroom at the back of the house has yellowing walls, yellow linoleum, and yellow cabinets.
“I asked the same thing,” Vivian says as she reaches around me to the coffee pot. “Lee works some security jobs when he can get them. When he’s not doing security, he’s a bouncer at Club 5 and some of the other clubs around the city.”
“Well, that explains the space command he’s got set up in there. But I don’t get this,” I say, motioning to the mudroom.
&nb
sp; “It’s crazy, right?” Vivian grins. “Notice how there’s no natural light in the kitchen or living room? The curtains are all blackout curtains so people can’t see in. But the windows back there and up front in the pool room have busted plastic shades and dirty curtains. Mitch says it’s to make the house look undesirable to any thugs who might think this would be a good place to hit. Lee’s got, like, fifty grand in equipment between the living room and the basement.”
“Holy shit.” I shake my head and take another look around the kitchen, noticing the high-end range, double-door fridge, and the spotless little table off to the side of the room. “Why didn’t Mitch ever tell me about this?”
“Would you tell anyone if you lived in this shithole?” Vivian laughs as she turns back to the living room. “Besides, he says Lee uses this as a safe house for his clients sometimes. Mitch helps out when Lee needs him. Guess it helps pay the rent.”
When she’s curled back under her blanket, breathing in the steam from her coffee, she pats the couch beside her. I settle in next to her and sneak my feet under the blanket. We sip our coffee in silence for a while before I can’t hold back any longer.
“Where did you sleep last night?” I ask.
Vivian raises her eyebrow and purses her lips. “Upstairs in Mitch’s room.” I bite my tongue to stop myself from talking, telling her what I really want to say. My cousin smirks at me. “Don’t worry, Frankie. Mitch was down here with Lee all night. If he slept at all, it wasn’t with me. You know I wouldn’t do that to you.”
I nod, but I don’t know that I believe her. I’m with Corey, not Mitch. I can see her justify her play for him like that. If our roles were reversed, I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off Mitch, too. He’s funny, he’s sweet, he’s sexy as hell. And it’s obvious he’s interested in Vivian. I mean, who wouldn’t be? She’s rocking his t-shirt like it’ll be the next big thing in Milan.
Mitch comes downstairs from his nap, looking clean and refreshed, minutes before Lee gets back. Lee hands over a new cell phone he took the liberty of picking up for me. Then he disappears into the basement to do a little research before he heads to the police station to share with them what he’s found.
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