by Mandi Beck
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I lean in and whisper in her ear. “I’m here now, Princess. I told you I was coming. Everyone is just outside the door waiting to love all over you. You know I always get the sugar first though, right? Indie’s lucky I even let her come in with me.”
I’m trying to keep it light. I don’t want her to hear the pain or the straight up fear in my voice.
Indie must’ve been listening because she gives a little snort, “Yeah, right, I let him come in with me, Frankie, and he knows it.”
Before I can say anything else, there’s a tap at the door. Mav’s standing there beckoning me to the waiting room. I look back at the girls, saying, “Let me just see what he wants real quick.”
“Do you need me to come with you, Deac?” Indie says. I think she’s nervous about being left alone with Frankie and her own inner turmoil.
“No. Spend some time with her. Guy should be in here any minute,” I tell her as I give Frankie’s wrist another kiss and walk toward Mav.
“What’s up, brother?” I ask expectantly. I know it must be a big fucking deal if he’s pulling me away from Frankie.
“You’re never gonna believe this, but Andrew’s parents just showed up. The cops called looking for him, I guess,” Mav says, shaking his head in bewilderment.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I seethe, pissed at their audacity. They have some serious balls to show up here.
“Yeah, the detectives are with them now asking them where he might be and shit. They’re adamant that there is no way that he could have done this to her and that it must have been someone that she knew or maybe even a robbery.”
“Someone she knew, like who? A robbery? I wasn’t aware that anything was stolen.”
I’m losing my temper by the second, and I’m ready to charge in there and start ripping people to shit.
“There was nothing stolen, Deacon. It was what it was. Someone beat the hell out of her and left her for dead.”
His words slap me right in the face, burning through me. Hearing him say it out loud like that makes me cringe, causing a physical ache in my chest.
I point at him, demanding, “Get them out of here before I take care of it. I don’t want Guy to see them and have to listen to them cover for their piece of shit son. We don’t want them here. They can go down to the station and pitch their bullshit theories.” I turn on my heel, furious, and stride down the hall back into Frankie’s room.
As soon as I enter, I stop, taking deep breaths to try and collect myself. But it’s no use as I’m met with the sight of Frankie clinging to life in front of me. Never even saying a word to Indie, I just yank the door open and storm out. I stalk toward the waiting room to where I can see everyone standing. The detectives are huddled with the McAvoys talking quietly when I walk right into their little circle, startling everyone. Out of the corner of my eye, I see both of my brothers and Reggie coming toward me, trying to intercept the train wreck they know they are about to witness.
I point my finger in Pete McAvoy’s face and all but spit at him “You and your wife need to leave. You can discuss whatever the hell you need to discuss with them somewhere else. I don’t care where, but you will not fucking spew your bullshit about your woman-beating son here.”
I’m shaking I’m so heated just being near them, saying the words “woman” and “beating” in reference to Frankie. It makes me sick to my stomach. By this point, I’m flanked by Sonny, Mav, and Reggie and I know they are waiting for the moment that I will completely lose my shit.
Drew’s dad chooses that moment to prove that he is as dumb of a prick as his son.
“You cannot possibly think that our son had anything to do with Fran’s attack. That is absolutely preposterous.”
I feel my brothers both grab on to an arm and tug a bit, making both detectives stand up just a little bit straighter. I’m not going to give in to the temptation to do some serious bodily harm. I need to reel it in and I need to do it quickly. No way did I want to find myself in jail and I know that’s where this would end. I take in a deep breath, almost to the point of pain, and slowly exhale.
“I do not want you here when her father gets back to see the damage done to his daughter at the hands of your son.” Acid lacing every word, I stand glaring at him.
Pete opens his mouth, but isn’t able to get anything past his pompous lips by the time my control slips. I have his shirt snatched up tight and pull him in so close that I can’t even see his face. Spittle flies at him as I roar, “Did. You. See. Her? Did you see what he did to her?” I let his shirt go and shove him toward the glass door of her room. He stumbles before he braces himself against the wall. I see him flinch when he catches sight of my girl.
Before I can do any more damage and put my hands on him again, I hear my dad’s voice.
“That’s enough, Deacon,” he says sternly.
I look over my shoulder to see Guy and my pop standing there, looking grieved and shaken. I can’t keep this up, especially in front of Guy. No matter how badly I want to.
“Yes, sir, you’re right.”
Agreeing with him resolutely, I turn back to the McAvoys who are both standing at the door of her room, a look of total shock on both of their faces.
“You two aren’t welcome here. If you don’t leave on your own, I will have you escorted out,” I warn in a deathly low voice. They don’t say anything else as they hurry past us. Just as they are getting into the elevator, I call out, “And her name isn’t Fran; she hates that.”
I don’t wait for an answer or even look in their direction to see if they heard me. It had been more for me anyways.
I tell my dad and Guy that they can go in to see her now, just to send Indie out since only two at a time are allowed. I go back to the waiting room with everyone else, and sit in a chair in the corner away from them all. My head back against the wall, I can feel my body literally shutting down on me little by little before I’m just completely numb from the loss of adrenaline that I’ve been riding for the past few hours. All I can remember thinking before I get pulled into sleep is if I would ever not feel numb again?
Early the next afternoon, after sitting with Frankie for what feels like days, I’m asked to leave the room so that the doctor can look her over. As I’m searching for a decent cup of coffee, I feel my pocket vibrate. I pull out the phone and see that it’s Reggie. He and Trent are at Andrews’ house collecting Frankie’s things. The minute we got the okay from the police I sent them. There is no way in hell she is ever going back there.
“Yo, man. I’m here getting her stuff and there’s FBI all over the place,” Reggie whispers, I’m guessing so no one around him hears.
“What the fuck are they doing there? Are they looking for something?”
“Nah, they just seem to be asking questions and they have some geek squad looking fucker here going through the computer. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Do they have Frankie’s laptop?” I’ve started pacing, thinking about the possibilities and what the hell the Feds want with a domestic violence scene.
“I already packed it before they asked and told them I didn’t know anything about other computers in the house. Do you want me to give it to them?” he asks me, though he already knows the answer.
“No. I don’t know what Drew was into, but there’s no way I’m letting any of it fall back on Frankie.” I don’t care that I’m having him do illegal shit for me. I’ll risk both of our freedoms if it means keeping her safe. I’m sure I’m overreacting, but I’m not willing to take any chances. “Just bring all of her stuff to my place for now; we can decide later what to do with it.”
“You got it, brother. I’m clearing out of here now before they can ask me any more questions.”
“Thanks, man. When she wakes up I don’t want the Princess to know about any of this though, you feel me, Reg?” I know I don’t have to tell him—he’s always had my back.
“I feel you,” he grunts before disc
onnecting the call.
What the fuck did Drew’s dumbass get mixed up in?
Indie is sitting in my usual spot next to Frankie's bed when I come back from grabbing a quick shower over at the hotel that we are all still staying at. None of us wants to be that far from her for any real amount of time.
“Any change?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
It's been a week, and while the swelling on her brain has gone down almost completely and she’s breathing on her own, she still hasn't woken up.
“No, still nothing. I just brushed her hair and braided it for her, painted her finger and toenails. She'll want to look pretty when she wakes up,” she says with as much enthusiasm as she can manage, which isn’t much at all.
“She'll appreciate how well you've taken care of her, Indie. You're right, she wouldn't want to look like shit, and she’d be pissed at us if we allowed that.”
Not that she could ever look like shit, but I was trying to lighten the mood a bit for Indie—hell, for myself too.
“Why don't you go and grab some food? They just ordered Chinese in the room; Sonny said to tell you it’s from that place you love so much. Go, go eat while it's still hot. I've got her.” I smile encouragingly at her.
I know she’s feeling as helpless and off kilter as I am with our girl still out, but I need her to hold it together a little longer. I have to focus all of my energy on Frankie right now, and I don’t need Indie breaking down. Truth be told, I think we are drawing strength off of each other and I'm a little afraid of what might happen to my resolve if she shatters. She looks over at the bed and nods.
“You'll call me if she wakes up, right?”
“You know I will, Jones.”
“Okay, I'll go eat and maybe lay down for a bit. I can be here in two minutes if you need me though.”
I jerk my head toward the door. “I know it. Now get out of here; you’re in my chair.”
“Prick,” she mumbles good-naturedly as she walks by me and out the door.
I sink into the seat she’s vacated and take Frankie's hand in mine, careful of her wet nails. I place a kiss on the inside of her wrist and reach into my pocket with my other hand for my phone, plugging it into the dock that I keep next to her bed. “Hey, Princess. I just talked to Jack. Him and Cara were calling to check on you. I told him that I've been playing music while we hang out. He said he's going to put a playlist together for us, but that I had to play you this new song that he heard. Jack says he has no fucking clue what they're talking about, but he digs it and if I blow him any shit for it, he's gonna junk punch me the next time he sees me, so I'm guessing it's a giant vagina song,” I tell her chuckling.
I tend to ramble when I’m here with her, but the doctors all think it’s good that I talk to her, so I just go with it. Even if they didn't, I'd still do it.
“Let's see what this pussy has us listening to.”
I click on the link he sent me and lean forward, placing my arms on the bed beside her and listen to the song with her. I will never admit it to him or anyone else, but I kinda dig it too.
“You loved the shit out of that, didn't you?” I ask once the song ends, shaking my head.
I’m scrolling through the playlists when Mav walks in.
“Hey, brother, how's the Princess today?” he greets.
“Same. How'd it go down at the station?” I ask since he had a meeting with the detectives on her case earlier today.
They still haven't found Andrew, not a hit on his phone or credit cards; it’s like he vanished. If he’s smart, he'll stay that way, but he proved how stupid he is the day he fucking laid hands on Frankie.
“They've still got nothing. Where the hell could he be? How does a person just disappear like that? It’s like he's a fucking ghost,” Mav says, exasperated.
He doesn’t expect an answer which is good, because I don’t have one for him, so we just sit in comfortable silence with our girl, listening to some of the Italian music that she loves so much. It makes me feel closer to her; I can almost hear her singing the words. I have no clue what the fuck they are singing about. I’m about to turn it up when Mav says, “Oh fuck! Who called him?”
My head shoots up and I whip it around to see who he’s talking about.
“You know who that is, don't you, Deac?”
I narrow my eyes trying to place the guy leaning against the glass door staring at Frankie with a look of total devastation on his face. I recognize it because it's the same look I see when I look at myself in the mirror. I can’t place him right away though and then it hits me.
“Who the fuck told Flashdance? Isn't he supposed to be competing on another fucking continent?”
Maverick just nods. Flashdance, or Cristiano Palomo, as he prefers to be called, had been Frankie's dance partner while I was in the service. He had also been her first serious boyfriend and her “first” everything else. To say I hate him with every fiber of my being would be putting it mildly. My brothers had dubbed him “Flashdance” when they first met him while I was in boot camp. He hated it, so naturally it stuck. This is obviously our thing. He and Frankie were together for two years when he asked her to leave with him to go live in Spain and compete there and in Europe. Clearly he didn't know her if he thought that she'd ever agree to leave her dad. She said no and he left, leaving our girl brokenhearted and without a dance partner. That's when she switched gears and started teaching more than competing and really started focusing on her contemporary dancing.
I see him reaching for the handle when the nurse stops him. He hasn't taken his eyes off of Frankie, so he still hasn't entirely registered Mav and me sitting there until the nurse points us out, most likely explaining to him that only two people can be in here at a time. Cristiano doesn’t look happy and I can honestly say I couldn't give a fuck less. In fact, I'm willing to bet that zero fucks are given by my brother and me.
“Can I trust you alone with him, dude? You know he's not going to leave without seeing her.”
I glare at my dumbass brother.
“I'm not going to start laying people out in her hospital room, Mav. I'll have the decency to at least take him outside,” I say with a smirk.
“You're a bad motha—”
“Shut your mouth,” I finish for him.
We look at each other and laugh. I’m pretty sure it’s the first real laugh we’ve shared since we got here.
“This should be interesting,” he says as he strides toward the door. “I'm just going to grab some coffee for us. I won't be far and Reggie is in the waiting room if you need him,” he calls over his shoulder.
I grunt in answer, my eyes never leaving Cristiano, who is back to watching Frankie. I hate it. I hate this whole situation obviously, but I hate that she is so vulnerable lying here and that people are seeing her like this. My girl isn’t weak or timid, she’s a scrapper, but also so elegant in everything she does. I like to tell her that she’s “Classy as Fuck.” A lady in every sense of the word, but still wouldn't hesitate to cut a bitch if need be or tell you to go fuck yourself. Ergo, “Classy as Fuck.” Just the thought makes me smile. That ends real quick though when I hear him enter the room.
By the time he makes it over to the other side of the bed, I’m so tense my leg is bouncing and I can feel the muscle in my jaw jumping like mad. I glance up to find him scowling at me.
“What happened to your face, Deacon?” he asks in an accusing tone that I do not fucking appreciate. Not one fucking bit. It’s like all of these assholes forget what I do for a living, and why are they all so quick to assume I put hands on her? Just because my job is to hurt people doesn’t mean I’m a monster.
My eyes narrow and that twitch in my jaw takes off as I clench my teeth and count to ten, reminding myself that I told Mav that I wouldn't lay anyone out at her bedside—though when I said it I didn't realize how hard that would be.
“What the fuck do you think happened to my face, Flashdance?” I snarl and he flinches a bit, though I’
m not sure if it’s from the venom behind my words or the use of his little nickname.
“I had a fight the night that she called me for help, you fuck,” I growl, trying with everything I have to reel in my temper. “Don't think that you can waltz your pretty boy ass in here and start making assumptions and accusations. If you think for one minute that I'll put up with that shit from you, or anyone else for that matter, for even one second, you are sadly mistaken. Sadly fucking mistaken. So I suggest you take that bulllshit somewhere else.”
I hadn't realized that I am now standing and leaning toward him over Frankie's bed until Reggie pokes his head in.
“Hey, Deac, bro, you okay in here?” he asks in that scary, low voice of his.
I don’t even bother looking at him, keeping my gaze focused on this motherfucker, when I ask, “We good here, Flashdance, or are you ready to go?”
He looks down at Frankie and shakes his head.
“No, we're good. I'm sorry. I—I wasn't prepared to see her look like this and then I saw you and all of your bruises and I just—just lost my head for a second. I apologize,” he says in a quiet voice.
I don’t acknowledge his apology, leaning in and kissing the Princess on the head, and then on her wrist, whispering low in her ear, so that only she would hear, that I’m sorry for losing my shit and that she can give me hell for it later. I kiss her again and sit back in my seat, taking her hand and placing one more kiss to the inside of her wrist, taking a second to just breathe her in and let her heart pulse against my lips. It soothes me a bit, that soft throbbing telling me that my girl is still here, still fighting.
Cristiano shifts from foot to foot and clears his throat.
“Can I have a minute alone with her?” he asks timidly.
I look over at him, my eyebrows pulled low and give him a dubious look. “Not gonna happen, I don't leave her unless it's absolutely necessary, and I just got back from grabbing a shower, so I'm good.”
