Franklin: A Boston Mafia Romance (The Boston Wolfes)

by Billie Lustig

  “What are you doing, Matt?” I ask him carefully. My palms are pressed against the bar to keep my wobbling legs up while I take shallow breaths to calm my flushed face.

  “He killed my boy,” he growls, cocking his head like a madman.

  I glance at Franklin, looking for any denial or confirmation, but all I meet is a blank expression.

  How does this not affect him at all?

  “Put the gun down, Matt,” I plead, freaking out at the thought of watching someone get shot.

  “He killed my boy,” he repeats while the rest of the bar watches in silence. The delirious look on his face scares the shit out of me; not knowing how far this will go. And I hate to admit it, but even though Franklin’s the leader of the Boston Wolfes, I’m starting to like him. The thought of him getting hurt forms a big rock in my stomach that I can’t deny.

  Why did Franklin have to pick today as one of the days he would come in alone?

  “If you have back-up lurking around, this is the time to make them do something,” I hiss.

  “I don’t.”

  I look at Franklin with wide eyes, silently asking him for I don’t know what, but all I get is a reassuring wink. Clearly he thinks I’m doing a good job so far. His lack of action is replacing my fear with annoyance, wondering if I should be flattered by his trust in a simple bartender or pissed off by the pressure he’s putting on me. I’m leaning towards the latter, but the man holding the gun gives me no time to express it.

  “Matt, just put the gun down.” I press once more, the entire room now silent, everyone focusing on Matt and his gun.

  “I can’t. He killed my boy.”

  “How did he kill your boy?” I ask, thinking about him once telling me he has four young kids. Call me naïve, maybe even a bit biased after the nights I’ve spent with him so far, but I can’t see this man killing a boy in cold blood.

  “Arthur got shot in a gang fight an hour ago. Ghosts and Wolfes shooting on the street. My boy got hit by a stray bullet.”

  My eyes widen at his explanation while I feel my heart weep, feeling for this poor man. I also realize he’s not thinking clearly at this moment, still overwhelmed by his loss. I shake my head, starting to understand what he’s saying.

  “He’s been sitting here the entire night, Matt.” I try to reason with him softly, showing him a friendly smile, hoping it’s enough to make him listen. “How can it be his fault?”

  “Those Ghosts were looking for him!” he shouts suddenly, startling me.

  “It should be him in the morgue with a bullet in his head. Him! Not my boy!” His eyes are starting to well up, and I have to take a deep breath to keep my own emotions in check.

  “I know you’re hurting. I get it. But you can’t blame him. He didn’t pull the trigger.”

  “But he may as well have!” he shouts with force. “It’s his fault!”

  I can keep trying to reason with him, telling him that it can’t be Franklin’s fault since he hasn’t left his damn chair once in the last few hours. But one look at the grief-filled man tells me that would be a waste of energy.

  “How many kids do you have, Matt?” I ask him, trying to use a different approach while Franklin lights another cigarette. I throw an angry glare his way before I put my focus back on Matt.

  “Three b-boys. T-two boys and a girl.” He corrects himself while a tear runs down his pale cheek.

  I close my eyes for a second, trying to keep it together before I open my mouth again.

  “Do you want them to live without a dad?” I ask.

  My hands are starting to feel sweaty as the pressure is rising, and my heart feels like it’s slapping against my rib cage while adrenaline keeps my head as clear as possible.

  His eyes widen, confused by my words.

  “W-what d-do you mean?” he stammers, clearly not able to keep his emotions in check anymore.

  “What do you think will happen?” I try to keep a poker face while being as friendly and direct as I can. “You shoot Franklin Wolfe in the head, and your sorrows are over? Your sorrows would only be beginning, Matt. Because the second you walk out that door, you’d be screwed.” I watch him swallow hard as he keeps listening to my words. “The second you cross that line, you’d better go home, grab your wife and kids, and run as fast as you can. Because in about ten minutes, every single Wolfe in this city would be looking for you. Every single one of them would be aiming for your head.” I see the moment the realization hits him, lowering the gun before covering his mouth with his hand.

  “In fact, standing here now, threatening him while pointing a gun in his face, you’ve basically signed your own death sentence.”

  He gasps for air, terror entering his bloodshot eyes.

  “I can’t die, Kendall,” he cries desperately. “Who will take care of my family?”

  My heart breaks for him, knowing he’s not a bad guy. He got dealt a shit hand and will be forced to live with that. Even though he’s not to blame. But that’s the thing with life. It’s not fair.

  “Put the gun down, Matt.” My voice is a demand this time, knowing Franklin probably won’t tolerate being threatened much longer, even though he’s still smoking his cigarette, as if he’s oblivious to the entire situation. “Put the gun down and leave. Leave if you want to fucking stay alive.” I slam my hand on the top of the bar to spur him into action as tears stream down his face like a waterfall.

  “K … Kendall,” he pleads, probably wondering if he’s still safe living in Boston.

  “Just go, Matt. Go before it’s too late. Maybe I can convince Mr. Wolfe here to keep you alive.” My words bring a hint of hope to his eyes. Then he turns around and rushes out of the bar. When the door closes behind him, I let out a deep sigh, closing my eyes while I let my head hang, trying to comprehend what just happened.

  I’m lost in my own thoughts, the adrenaline still high as it rushes through my veins when the murmur of the rest of the guests has my head raising to look around the bar.

  Not wanting to deal with any more people tonight, I open my mouth, impatience clear in my voice.

  “Everybody out!” I shout. “Right now!”

  I would’ve expected more resistance, but thankfully, everyone gets up without arguing, throwing some bills on their tables before walking out the door. When the last customer exits, I reach for the bottle of tequila and pour myself a glass before throwing it down my throat at once, causing me to shiver as the liquor flows down my gullet.

  Disgusted by the taste, I grab a lemon wedge and sink my teeth in before swallowing the juice down. The acid of the lemon has my eyes squeezing shut while I pull a face. When I finally I open my eyes again, I’m looking straight into the eyes of an amused Franklin.

  “Impressive,” he remarks softly, taking another drag from his cigarette. He looks at me with approval in his eyes, and I’m not sure how to react to it.

  “Thanks for the help,” I snarl, shaking my head at him.

  “You didn’t need my help, Kenny,” he retorts with the same look of approval on his face.

  I bite my lip in annoyance, even though it’s overshadowed by a sense of pride, realizing I did handle that situation pretty well.

  “You know I have rules, right?” He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray. “About people who point guns at me?”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Right.” He nods as he gets up, throwing a few bills on the bar. “Well, have a nice evening, pretty girl.” He walks towards the door, leaving me confused about his next move. Wondering if he’ll just go home and leave Matt and his family alone.

  Surely it can’t be that simple.

  “Franklin?” I call out to his back, causing him to turn around with a questioning look on his face.

  “Yes, Kendall?”

  “Please don’t kill him,” I plead softly, my chest filled with hope as I wait for his answer.

  A small smile flashes on his face before it goes back to being apathetic.

  “I will see y
ou in my office, Monday at eight. Don’t be late.”

  I feel my eyebrows furrow as I look at him, not knowing what he means.

  “I told you I felt lucky today.” He winks, and I suddenly realize what I silently agreed with.

  “Good night, pretty girl.” He walks out the door, leaving me stunned and shaking my head at what just happened, realizing Josie was right.

  I guess I’ve got myself another job.

  Fuck.

  Seven

  Kendall

  I close the door of The Library behind me before I set foot onto the street, starting my walk home. It’s been three days since Matt walked into The Library, gun raised and shit, and also three days since Franklin sat at my bar. I guess he got what he wanted, so no need to keep me company anymore. The thought alone pisses me off. I feel stupid. I’d thought maybe he’d also been sitting there because he’d felt the same connection I did.

  Now all I feel is tricked.

  Josie was right when she’d told me Franklin Wolfe always gets what he wants without even having to use force. I thought about bailing, just not showing up. I mean, if he really wants me to work for him he can come get me, right? But then Matt and his kids crossed my mind, not knowing if they would be safe if I didn’t start working for the Wolfes. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that was the case. Part of me feels excited to see his face every day, but there is also a big part telling me one of these days I’m walking into a pile of pig shit.

  A pile of pig shit just waiting to swallow me whole.

  I shake my head at my own thoughts as I reach into the pocket of my coat to pull out the keys to unlock my front door. Before I get the key in the lock, a warm hand encloses my mouth from behind. I cry out a muffled scream while I’m being pulled into the dark alley next to my house. My heart starts to beat out of my chest, and my eyes widen in horror as a familiar voice enters my ears. A voice that once was part of my dreams yet now only exists in the occasional nightmare.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” He places a kiss on my cheek, still walking us backwards before he pushes my back against the red brick wall, placing his hands beside my head so it’s impossible for me to leave.

  I try to settle my racing heart, looking into his amber eyes that almost looking orange in the night, illuminous as fuck. Like looking at the devil himself.

  “Jesus, Emerson. Why do you have to scare me like that? You could just say ‘hi’ like a normal person.” I scowl, the dryness in my mouth making me swallow hard. His military haircut is hidden under his hoodie, and his dark eyes are making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  I’ve just spent the last week with a Wolfe sitting at my bar, the leader of the crew everyone says is the most dangerous in this town, but standing here surrendering to Emerson Jones makes me believe that’s a lie. Years caught up in his grip, and counting, tell me otherwise.

  “What’s the fun in that?” He brushes his lips against my cheek, making me shiver in the process. I push him off, trying to create some distance between us.

  “Fuck off.” I glare at him, only to be met by an arrogant smirk. “What do you want, Emerson?”

  “Heard you got a job with Franklin Wolfe.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, knowing he’s up to something. After sharing my life with him for seven years, I’ve learned that he’s always up to something. Love should be unconditional, but nothing is unconditional with Emerson Jones. I learned that the hard way, more than once.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I need an insider,” he clarifies with an evil smirk on his face, telling me exactly where this is going.

  Meet the pile of shit I was just referring to.

  I huff in response, not willing to do his dirty work. Whatever scheme he’s got planned, I’m pretty sure I’d be the one who’d get into a shit ton of trouble when any of the Wolfes find out.

  “Nice try,” I reply, boldly holding his gaze. It falls within seconds, the smirk replaced with an angry scowl. I swallow hard to hide my unease while I do my best to not crumble under his piercing looks like I used to.

  I should’ve known it wasn’t that easy. Emerson might’ve agreed to breaking up, but he will never truly let me walk away. I was sixteen when he told me he was taking me on a date, forcing me without me realizing it. Telling me that a girl like me deserved to be walking beside a guy like him.

  That should’ve been my first hint.

  The first sign I should’ve run the other way as fast as I could. But the sixteen-year-old me had swooned over his words, wanting to be possessed by a man like him. It wasn’t until a few years later that I really understood what exactly that meant.

  He grabs my face with force, brushing his lips against mine. I can smell the rum on his breath, bringing back memories I don’t want to recall.

  Not now, not ever.

  “It’s cute, that sassy mouth on you. But it’s best you don’t forget who you’re talking to here, sweetheart.”

  The pain in my chin increases as he tightens his grip just enough to make me groan in agony.

  “Emerson, please, you’re hurting me.”

  “No, sweetheart,” he bites out with the same southern twang as Josie and me before slamming my head against the concrete wall. “You are hurting me. Treating me as if I mean shit to you? Who do you think has been keeping you safe all these years? Or better yet, do I need to remind you who got you and Josie this house? Don’t make me take it all away, little girl. You will gather all the information I want, giving me the perfect advantage to finally kill that Irish fucker. You got it?”

  “He’ll kill me if he finds out,” I whine, my cheek still painfully pressed against the wall.

  A smile appears on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes.

  “Better you than your brother, right?”

  I suck in a shocked breath at what he’s implying. The thought of anything happening to my brother tightens my heart in agony.

  “No,” I whisper, the fear clearly perceptible in my voice.

  “Yeah, I heard he’s back home. I’m so happy he survived his deployment. We wouldn’t want anything bad to happen now that he’s finally home, right?”

  I clench my hurting jaw while my palms get sweatier. Emerson still has his connections back home, and I know he wouldn’t hesitate to use my brother to show me just who’s in charge. I’m literally and figuratively up against a wall.

  “What if he finds out?”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” He brings his lips to my neck, pressing gentle kisses on it before he softly bites my earlobe, knowing that’s the spot that turns me on more than anything. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but this time it’s not from excitement.

  It’s from horror. There were times when he could’ve brought his lips right under my ear, and I would have turned to mush in his arms. But right now, feeling his lips on my skin, all I feel is disgust.

  Finally, he places his lips flush to my ear.

  “I guess you’ll just have to make sure that he won’t.” His hot breaths penetrate my ear before he brings his head back and presses a bruising kiss to my lips.

  Hard, rough, and demanding.

  Just like our entire relationship.

  “Bye, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.” He winks, finally letting go of me, then walks out of the alley, leaving me alone in the dark.

  Once he walks around the corner, I squat down, keeping my back connected with the cold wall, before burying my head in my hands. My lungs are heaving in fear, and my head spins as adrenaline rushes through my body. I bring my head between my knees, taking deep breaths to calm myself down before I look up again, met by the quiet, dark alley. Any other moment, this would be just one of the alleys in Boston that I would avoid, just to be sure. But after looking into Emerson’s evil eyes, there is nothing in this dark corner that can scare me more than the thought of not complying with his wishes. A single tear escapes the rim of my eye as I realize once more that I’m still not released of the demon th
at occupied my life for years.

  I worry he will forever hold me in his grasp.

  Eight

  Franklin

  I’m sitting at my desk, looking at her through the open door of my office. She’s sorting papers while standing in front of the reception desk outside of my office, trying to make sense out of the shithole that David left behind as a legacy. Apparently, he wasn’t just jumping ship; he hadn’t even bothered to dock it before I blew his brains out.

  Shithead.

  She looks up as if she can feel my eyes on her. Instantly, a glare appears on her face before she turns her focus back on the papers.

  I keep a straight face, but I can feel the corner of my mouth twitch in amusement. Her black jeans enclose her legs perfectly, and her white button down is tucked in at the waist, highlighting all her sexy curves. I crane my neck a little to assess her ass some more as she struts around the desk in her high black boots, her brown hair bouncing with her movements. Her eyes find mine again, and she sighs in annoyance, shooting me another vicious glare that makes my dick become wide awake, making me wonder what kind of faces she would make while laying underneath me.

  She walked in like that.

  Glaring, I mean.

  She pushed out a ‘good morning’ with effort, but it was clear as day that she was upset. Still is. She’s been scowling at me the entire time she’s been here and practically barked she would ‘figure it all out’ when I told her where she could find the coffee.

  It’s cute.

  But it’s also fucking distracting. I’ve been meaning to look at the health results of a few of my horses, but my mind keeps wandering towards the cute brunette who's mad for some fucking unknown reason. Once more, I force my focus down, looking at the pages in front of me as I light another cigarette.

  “Oh, well, hello. Who are you, darling?” I hear Reign’s voice outside my office. I look up, noticing my baby brother, cocking his head as he shamelessly checks her out.

  “I’m the latest girl on the list of people your brother manipulated into working for him, I guess.” She gives him a fake smile, waiting for a reply.