Shadows and Lies

by Eden Butler

  “Her parents were friends with Ryan’s mom.” Frank shook his head and I caught the small frown he tried to hide behind his bottle. “He was going through that ‘what would my mom think of this’ bullshit at the time. He was doing all the things he thought would make her happy, including dating that boring as dishwater Melody O’Keefe. God.”

  Frank took another sip of his beer, this one longer and I lifted my eyebrows up, wondering what he was thinking about, curious if I really wanted to know. “So you weren’t a fan?”

  “I only met her once when Ryan came in a couple of years ago with her for Mardi Gras.” Frank rearranged his cap and I caught a small glimpse of thick, curly dark hair before he pulled the cap back down over his forehead. “She was a big prude and complained about everything—there were too many people on the streets, the Hurricanes were too strong, the kicker of all, she called my mom old fashion for not letting her and Ryan share a room at my folks’ place.”

  “Wow. And Ryan didn’t do anything?”

  Frank looked at me like I was crazy, eyebrows shooting up. “Of course he did. No one insults my mom, not even in front of Ryan.” Again, Frank shrugged. “He put her on a plane and told her he didn’t wanna see her anymore and then that night we took him to…” Frank hurried for another sip as though he didn’t want Ryan in trouble. As though anything he could tell me about the man would shock me of all people.

  “You don’t have to hide shit, Frankie. I’ve lived like a lowlife since I was a kid. I’m sure Ryan fucking some random girl to get over his prudish girlfriend is nothing compared to the shit I’ve done.” When I thought he might apologize I took his half empty beer and brought it to the sink. “You want another one?”

  “No. But I’m hungry. You eat pizza?”

  “I’ll call Angeli’s.”

  “That was you? Are you shitting me?”

  “Girl Scout’s honor.” I decided I liked Frank Auciello. He was a nice man, a little jaded, maybe with a few hard edges, but he’d kept me in stitches while we waited for the pizza.

  “You were not a Girl Scout.” I liked his laugh, I liked how it was deep and rich and warm all at the same time and I wondered, for at least the fourth time that night, why someone hadn’t snagged him up.

  “Nah, I can’t back that shit up, but yeah, that was me on the float with the whole offensive line after the Super Bowl win.”

  “I remember that shit. God, I think Sammy has pictures of you flashing the crowd.” His laughter got louder and I knew it was the blush I felt on my cheeks that had him cackling like a fool. We’d drunk too many beers and I’d learn some of the juiciest details about my Boy Scout that I was sure would require Frank getting his ass kicked when Ryan came back home.

  “Don’t tell Ryan that,” I asked Frank, smiling as I imagined his reaction. He’d barely been okay with Frank staying with me and he was the good brother, according to Ryan.

  “Never,” Frank said, smiling a little too wide and leaning on the table. “Man, how much did we drink?”

  “Almost a case between us.” I looked to the door willing the delivery guy to show up. He was late. “Ryan would be pissed if he knew we didn’t stay in fighting shape.”

  When I looked back at Frank, the smile had left his face. “Yeah, well, I can handle myself.” I had no idea what I’d said to make him defensive. Maybe he didn’t need reminders that he wasn’t whole, but I’d honestly not meant that at all. “I’m gonna get some water.”

  I joined him in the kitchen. “I piss you off?”

  “Nope.” When I just cocked my eyebrow at him the man sighed, leaning his hip against the counter. “Shit, that look right there is why you have Ryan panting after you.”

  “I have a look?”

  “Sweetheart, you have them all.” He scrubbed his face. “I’m buzzed as hell and shouldn’t be.” He looked down at me a little too long, gaze stuck on my mouth, but then stepped back, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. I don’t do that.”

  “What?” I asked, stifling my laugh. Frank was a big, badass Marine and he acted like me looking at him was like detonating a bomb. He was way more buzzed than me.

  “Hit on my boy’s woman.”

  “Is that what I am?”

  “Be glad you are. Ryan’s a good man. He’ll treat you right. You’ll be good for him.”

  “You think so?” I said, laughing. “With my record?”

  Frank slid against the counter in the kitchenette, curling his arms over his chest and I caught the tattoo snaking out behind his rolled up sleeve. “He knows how to read people. It’s one of his gifts and if he wants you, then no damn record or past bullshit makes a difference anymore.” He shrugged, a flippant apology for giving me unwarranted advice. “Just, you know, be straight up with him, honest, and you’ll make it.”

  I wasn’t sure what had brought on Frank’s nervousness. He held a lot of tension in his shoulders and those shoulders were pretty damn wide. But for a guy that had seen combat, who had a lot of ghosts haunting him, he acted as though I was the scariest thing he’d been around. Then it hit me: the beer, the mild flirting, me being friendly and him being buzzed—one guess that Frank hadn’t been with anybody in a long time. But no, that didn’t seem right. Not with that mug. Me being the nosy bitch I was, I tilted my head sliding a little closer to him. “What about you Frank?”

  “Me?”

  I nodded, not paying attention to how he stood up straighter when I placed my beer next to him on the counter. “No Straight Up Honest women on the horizon for you?” When he frowned, staring down at me like I was crazy, I brushed my face, wondering if I had something on it. “What?”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” The poor guy had real surprise on his face—eyebrows up and his pretty hazel eyes wide.

  “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

  Frank taped his prosthetic leg against the cabinet, making a clinging sound. “Not many women lining up to ride the one-legged pony.” He didn’t sound bitter, just plain defeated and I wondered what had happened to him that warranted that attitude. It wasn’t typical for alphas to be self-deprecating, but hell, what did I know about it? I didn’t know too many disabled Vets personally. Maybe this was a phase like adjusting to civilian life. Maybe it took a while to get back to who you were before combat.

  “Wow. You really believe that, don’t you?” Frank stood stone still when I faced him, getting right in his space. Then, when I took his face in my hands, the big man flopped down on the stool next to the counter like my single touch had crippled him. I had no intention of seducing him, only one guy did it for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t show Frank what a catch he was.

  “These eyes are amazing,” I said, moving his chin up. “Haunted. You’ve seen shit most people don’t have nightmares about and you still smile, still laugh. Women love that shit.” He frowned, tried batting my hands away, but I held firm, hoping he knew with my smile and the softness I forced in my voice that I wasn’t messing with him.

  I touched his shoulders, wide and broad, let my fingers dance over each dip and ridge. “This body isn’t perfect, it might be battered and bruised, but this is a man’s body; one that you sacrificed to protect each and every one of us.” Frank had no real emotion on his face. He stared blankly at me, like he’d never seen anything like me in his life and Frank was a man that had seen a lot of shit. Ignoring that stunned silence, I took his hand, ran my fingers over the calluses. “Every woman wants a man that can protect her. One that would do anything to keep her safe. Frank, my friend, that’s you.” I took his face in my hands again, hoping he could see what I did in him. “What woman wouldn’t want you, sugar?”

  The vibration of his groan pushed against my lips when I kissed his cheek and when I pulled away from him, saw that Frank seemed able to only blink at me, I offered him a smile and squeezed his shoulder, hoping I hadn’t completely stunned him. Finally, he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the whole time I spoke. “Okay, I officially hate Neil Ryan a
nd changed my mind. I totally want to steal his woman.” There was a knock on the door and I looked toward it, went for the cash Frank had laid out on the table before he grabbed my hand to stop me. I looked back at him. “Alex Black, you… you…”

  “You’re welcome,” I told him, understanding that there was a thank you lost somewhere in his smile. “Now, let me get that pizza. I’m starving.”

  The delivery guy barely glanced at me when I let him over the threshold and I fumbled with the money, two tens that were old and crumpled. Just then, a gust of wind came through the door and I fisted the cash, waving the delivery guy inside as I fought with the strong wind to close the door.

  As the door clicked shut I heard Frank coming in the room behind me, and then him calling out, followed by a sharp, staticky buzz and a sharp thunking sound. Turning sharply, I was just in time to see Frank’s stiff body collapse into a still lump onto the floor.

  The delivery guy stood over him, a small, black Taser in his hand. “What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, ready to pounce, but the fucker turned quick, slamming another cartridge home before he aimed the Taser at me.

  “Good girl,” he told me before that electric buzz sounded again and I saw his face, those same cold gray eyes, the distinguished, sharp angles of his jaw.

  “You son of a…” and then the world went dark.

  Malcolm Winters was a slick son of a bitch. That had been my first thought when we went through his back door a full hour before we’d planned and still hadn’t managed to catch that asshole. His place—a small cottage just across the highway from the Gulf—hadn’t been wiped, but the man had vanished. There’d still been a warm mug of coffee on his small kitchen table and a half smoked cigarette smoldering in an ashtray. But the man was gone.

  For the third time Alex’s cell went straight to voicemail and I frowned at the instant click of her recorded message, trying to decide if I was being paranoid that she wasn’t answering. Frank hadn’t wanted to stay behind and had been a bastard about the whole idea of watching over Alex, but I trusted him. He’d take care of her. Still, something in my gut told me that the mission, the convenient location of the mark and how easily Davidson handed it over, just felt too easy.

  I tried her number again, rolling my eyes when her recorded refrain of “I’m not answering, assholes” picked up. “Sammy, you get Frank?” I asked my best friend. He wasn’t listening, laughed at something Dean was saying. “Hey, dickwad!” I shouted, not caring that Sammy and Dean jerked their attention to me like I’d lost my damn mind. “You hear from Frank?”

  “Oh, shit, no. I didn’t check in.” I wanted to pop him upside the head. That was protocol as soon as we left a mission. You call home base and give Frank a report, but Sammy hadn’t really taken this business seriously and Dean was more concerned about his stomach and me, well, I’d been trying to reach my girl. God, we were a pathetic security team. Nox was the only one who paid attention to protocol and we had him driving the damn van.

  That clench of worry in my gut burned hard, fell like a stone when Sammy frowned at his phone, getting no answer from his brother on the other line. It was that look, the one that told me my best friend wasn’t joking, was genuinely worried that sharpened the pain in my stomach and had it working its way up my chest. One look to me and then Sammy shouted over the seat to Nox. “Hey man, did Frank check in for a report before we went inside?”

  “No. Last I heard from him was just before we hit Biloxi.” Nox shifted his gaze to the center console and the clock blinking green numbers. “I thought you guys had talked to him or I wouldn’t have left the beach.” He turned around, glaring at all three of us. “You didn’t get the go ahead to leave the target’s place?”

  I closed my eyes, knowing the second Nox’s face went hard and the muscles around his mouth twitched that we’d been set up. Somebody, somewhere had done this shit to get us out of the city. To get to Alex. But Davidson? No, it wasn’t him. He had no connections to me or Alex and except for the almost pick pocketing at the Marriott he’d never laid eyes on her.

  “Nox, put your foot down, I don’t care what you have to do. Get us back in the city yesterday.” Sammy and Dean both scrambled with their phones, each barking orders to the small team we’d left back in New Orleans. They’d been working a private party on the North Shore and it should have ended more than an hour before.

  “I don’t care if you just got off. I’m telling you to get back on the clock,” Sammy screamed into his phone. He wouldn’t look at me and I got why. We’d fucked up. Epically. And now Alex and Frank were in trouble.

  As a last ditch effort I called the office, hoping like a kid that Frank would pick up, that someone would, but line just kept ringing and with each whirl of that tone, my heart beat faster and that burn in my gut felt like it might suffocate me.

  Shit.

  Frank looked ready to kill the kid dressing his wound. That was no surprise, neither was the team who congregated around the office when we finally made it back.

  I didn’t stop to update anyone on the mission or let the two large rough necks standing at Frank’s side stop me when they saw me charging forward. I needed to know what happened, everything, in detail and he was going to tell me whether he was hurt or not.

  “Where is she?” I asked Frank, glaring once at his men when they frowned at me like they wanted me to back off him. These assholes were my employees too. “I’m trying to have a conversation. You wanna keep your job, step aside,” I told them. Both were Frank’s guys, men he’d served with who he’d talked into working on our teams. That was still a sticking point with our business; most of the teams were segregated into the hires Sammy, Frank, Dean and I did individually. There were a lot of men working for us, but we weren’t all a team yet. Just one more kink we had to work out if we wanted the business to thrive. “Well?” I asked Frank. I had to cross my arms to stop myself from jerking his collar. He took too long to look up at me.

  “Ryan, man, I’m sorry.” He pushed away the kid trying to dress his wound. “Leave it for now.” Then Frank exhaled, like he was readying himself for some sort of punishment before he stood to face me. “We drank too much beer. My awareness was off and Alex, shit…” He rubbed the back of his neck and I wasn’t sure what to make of the way his cheeks flushed. Finally, Frank looked at me, right in the eyes. “She’s… we decided to order a pizza. It was the delivery guy, when she went to get the door to let him in… he just came at us.”

  “You let her answer the door.” It wasn’t a question, but Frank nodded anyway and a small ache started to form in my jaw when I clenched it.

  I turned, and my eyes focused on the old landline sitting on the desk, a relic that still had its uses. I picked it up and hurled it across the room, tearing its cord out of the wall and splitting the damn phone in two. Frank just squinted as he looked at the broken thing on the floor, then back at me. “He got in before I could even think. Fucker tased me and I went down.”

  “You passed out from a Taser?” Sammy asked his brother, stopping next to me as he approached.

  “I must have landed on the corner of table or something.” Frank rubbed the back of his head and when he lowered his hand, his fingers were tinted pink.

  “This is why we aren’t letting you do field work,” Dean said, coming up behind Sammy. Of all of us Dean was the most recent from the service. He’d seen action last and I tried not to think about the butt-hurt look on Frank’s face or how that hurt quickly transformed to fury as he glared at his brother. “You’re sloppy. Shit, you’re worse than Ryan was when he first came back to the city.”

  Frank’s jaw worked, but he didn’t respond. Frank didn’t need to explain. He was frustrated, worn out and so mad at himself, that he simply turned away from us and flopped back on the sofa with his hands covering his face.

  Sammy and Dean got called back by the team, talking about the cameras outside of the office and the ones that covered the street but I stayed put, watching Frank as he sat
in front of me stewing.

  It wouldn’t do to let loose on him. It wouldn’t do to let my head fill with too many possibilities. The fear inside choked me. If I let it rise, it would suffocate me. I could release it, scramble around the office screaming at everyone who glanced at me. I could have bashed Frank’s face in for being sloppy, for not protecting Alex. But really, what the fuck good would that do? I needed to think, to plan, to remember that it was my skill that would get her back to me.

  Any other thought overtaking that one and I could lose Alex. That shit would not happen.

  “You get a look at him?” I asked, taking the spot to Frank’s left on the sofa. The second I asked the question, he jerked his hands away from his face, glaring.

  “You will not believe this shit.”

  “So it is him?”

  Frank let his mouth hang open, but then righted himself, like he knew I’d put the pieces together quickly. “How’d you know?”

  “Malcolm got a head’s up. He had to have been the one to give that prick a tip off.” That burn in my gut had not settled, had only intensified and I felt like my leg was going to bounce off my body, the way I moved it, the pent-up anxiety that worked through me. I closed my eyes, praying that Alex was okay. I knew she could handle herself, but I’d seen the sick shit that fucker had left in her apartment. God knew what he was capable of.

  “Because he wanted Alex.”

  “Yeah, apparently,” I told Frank, coming off the sofa because I couldn’t keep still. “I have no idea why or how he even knows her, but clearly, yeah. He wants her.”

  “She’s a hard woman not to want, Ryan.” I wondered where that had come from. Something must have happened recently to have Frank actually acknowledge Alex, let alone notice her like that. But now was not the time to dwell on Frank’s budding appreciation of my girl.

  “I know that.” I leaned beside him, rubbing the back of my neck. “You know where he stays?”