I trust him.
I believe him.
And fuck me, I care about him.
Twenty
Franklin
It’s a Tuesday evening when I get out of the car in a back alley in Seaport, a shiver going through me when I’m met by the cold breeze. I enjoy the cold, the blistering sharpness keeping me alert and more alive than I do during the constant heat of summer. Before I can open the door to the garage, it pops open, and Nigel gives me a slight nod.
“Evening, boss.”
“Evening, Nigel. How are you?” I walk past him into the garage, then turn around to face him as he locks the door behind us.
“I’m good.” He smiles with a genuine look on his face, like he appreciates my question.
Connor found him on the street three years ago, a scrawny little junior fighting a group of seniors from the local high school he attended. He knocked them out with ease after they’d cornered him, even though he was greatly outnumbered. Impressed by his boldness, Connor took him to the local gym, providing him a place to train after school and keeping him off the street. By the time he turned eighteen, Nigel wasn’t scrawny anymore, and Connor had developed a bond with the kid. I gave him a job with us after Nigel confessed he couldn’t go to college because he needed to take care of his mother and siblings.
Like I did once upon a time.
“Good.” I nod before I turn on my heel and walk farther into the garage. The space is stuffy and dark, the result of no additional windows, and the hollow space means my footsteps echo through it. In the middle sits the stable boy, tied up to a chair with a scowl. I’m sure he’s doing his best to ignore the pain of his split lip and his swollen face.
Connor is practically fuming as he looks down at him, his arms crossed in front of his chest, only quickly glancing at me when he notices my arrival.
“Anything?” I ask as I move to the wall, where I let my back rest against the hard concrete.
“No,” Connor growls. When Nigel walks in with a hammer, I notice the blood on his knuckles. He gives the hammer to my brother, who playfully throws it up in the air, then catches it with ease. He repeats the move, the boy’s eyes widening more every time Connor throws it up, putting on a small show.
“You did that?” I ask Nigel, nodding at the boy in the chair. He nods as he comes to stand next to me.
“This is Connor,” I tell the stable boy, who quickly glances at me before his focus goes back to Connor and his hammer. “If you thought getting a beating from Nigel was bad, I’m afraid I have some disappointing news for you.” I pause, enjoying the panic in his eyes. “Nigel is a walk in the park compared to what Connor will do to you.”
The boy’s eyes briefly flash to me, but he’s focused on the hammer.
“Do yourself a favor and talk, Roger.”
The blood drains from his face, terror entering his eyes when he hears his name roll off my lips.
“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t find out who you are, did you? Roger Lowell, suspect in a hit and run in Lafayette, Indiana. Missing since January of last year, which just happens to be when Richard Kemp turned up looking for a job as a stable boy at Killimore Down.”
I’m interrupted when Connor unexpectedly punches him in the face, his other hand still gripping the hammer.
“Talk!” he roars. “Or the next one will be with my other hand.”
Roger cries out, hunched over in pain.
“Connor, I was in the middle of something,” I deadpan, while Connor turns his head to me in annoyance.
“I don’t care,” he snarls. “I don’t have all fucking day.”
“As I was saying.” I glare at my brother before I turn my focus back to Roger. “I know who you are. I know where you’re from, and I know why you’re in Boston. You’re fucked either way. So I highly suggest you—”
“Start fucking talking!” Connor slams the hammer down on Roger’s tied up hand, sending the sharp sound of his painful cry echoing through the garage. I let out an irritated sigh, reaching into my pocket to grab my pack of cigarettes before I put one in my mouth and light it.
Without waiting for an answer from Roger, Connor slams the hammer against his knee. Roger throws his head back in agony, another yelp leaving his lips.
I take a deep drag of my cigarette, enjoying the smoke entering my lungs as I look at my brother, who is practically foaming at the mouth.
Connor’s the ‘punch-now-talk-later’ kinda guy, and even though he can be a bit drastic, it saves me from the annoyance of having to convince assholes like Roger to give me what I want.
“Please, Mr. Wolfe. Please.” Roger is squirming on the chair, discomfort dripping from his face.
“Did you kill my horse?” I ask before taking another toke of my cigarette.
“No. No, I swear I did not kill her. Someone just offered me a grand to leave her out of my sight for ten minutes.”
“Emerson Jones?” Connor grunts, still holding the hammer up in a threatening way.
Roger frantically shakes his head.
“No, a girl.”
“A girl?” I repeat, pushing off the wall, slowly moving towards him. “What girl?”
My mind goes to Josie and the weird feeling I had about her. She may be Kenny’s best friend, but I have a feeling she has a shitload of secrets Kendall doesn’t know about.
Connor gives me a confused look before folding his arms in front of his body, the hammer still in sight.
“A girl. She didn’t tell me her name.”
“Black hair?”
“No, she was short. Like 5′1″, long, straight blonde hair, but it could’ve easily been a wig.” His voice sounds hoarse and scratchy from screaming. “She had a little girl with her, in pigtails, and a dog. A husky dog with bright blue eyes. It scared the crap out of me.”
“Are you making this shit up?” Connor takes another threatening step towards him, causing him to flinch back in his chair.
“No, I swear. Check the cameras! I’m telling the truth, I swear.” I take him in, a mix of sweat, tears and blood streaming down his face. I believe him. He’s not smart enough to be one of Emerson’s guys, and considering his past life choices, it’s easy to believe he’d be enticed by money.
I turn towards Nigel behind me.
“Check the cameras. I want to know who she is. Tonight.” I wait until Nigel walks out of the garage before facing Roger again. “You know, lying will make this worse, right?”
“I swear.” He looks me straight in the eye for a beat before he lets his head drop to his chest, and he starts sobbing like a big baby. I bring my cigarette towards my lips, then suck in a deep breath before blowing out the smoke in his face.
“Now what?” Connor scowls, probably disappointed he can’t kill the guy.
I look at my brother, contemplating my next move, before I turn my head back to Roger.
“What am I supposed to do with you, Roger?”
“Please,” he begs, his voice a raspy whisper.
“You fucked up, Roger. You gave someone access to my stables, making it easy for them to hurt my horses. I don’t like people fucking with my horses. That fucks with my livelihood, and I can’t have that.”
“Please—” he begins again, but I raise up a finger to interrupt him.
“Luckily, I’m in a good mood,” I explain while I hear Connor grunting behind me, displeased as fuck. “I’m gonna let you go.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Franky,” Connor huffs.
“I’m gonna let you go,” I continue, ignoring my brother. “You’re going to pack your bags and take the first flight back to Indiana. I don’t want to see or hear anything from you ever again, and I will have someone keeping tabs on you to make sure you do what I say.” I give him a sinister smile.
“B-but they’ll arrest me as soon as I cross the border.”
“Connor here will gladly make you cross a more permanent border, if that’s what you prefer?” At my threat, his eyes bulge.
&nbs
p; “No. I’ll leave,” he promises, his Adam’s apple visibly moving. “I’ll leave.”
“You’ll leave, turn yourself in to the Lafayette police, and never set foot in Boston again.” I take a final pull from my cigarette before I throw it on his lap. He shrieks like a bitch and jerks in his seat.
“I’ll leave!” he pleads, panic coating his voice.
“You’ll leave, and?” I cross my arms in front of my body, a dull look on my face.
“I’ll leave, turn myself in, and I’ll never come back to Boston ever again.” The words rush from his mouth in rapid speed before he starts to let out desperate cries from the cigarette butt that’s now between his legs. “Please, I’ll do whatever you say! I’ll leave! Just let me go! Please let me go! I’ll keep my mouth shut, just let me go!”
“Franky.” Connor shoots me a reprimanding look.
“I’m feeling generous, Connor.”
“It’s that girl. She’s making you soft.” He slowly shakes his head, though I can see a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Shut up.”
“What if he starts talking?” Connor tilts his head towards Roger.
“Nah, Roger here wants to live. Don’t you, Roger?”
“Yes! I won’t say a thing. I swear!” His eyes are wide, doing his best to look as sincere as possible. It’s sad, really. This guy is a pussy. At this point, I could tell him to eat shit, and he’d happily do it.
“See, we’re all good.” A sigh of relief leaves Roger’s lips before Connor gives him another punch on his nose. I silently chuckle as blood spatters fly through the garage.
“What was that for?” Roger cries.
“My own personal entertainment,” Connor answers with a grin on his face before his gaze finds mine.
“What?” He shrugs when I give him a questioning look. “An innocent animal died because of him. He’s lucky to be able to walk out of here.”
I turn around, making my way towards the door.
“Just put him on a Greyhound back to Indiana before midnight.”
“Where are you going?” Connor bellows to my back.
“To see my soft spot, apparently.”
Twenty-One
Franklin
I walk inside the bar with my phone pressed against my ear. After two rings, I’m greeted by a long moan.
“Morning, pretty girl.” I smile.
“What time is it?” she croaks, her voice still sleepy, making me wish I was laying next to her with my arms wrapped around her luscious body.
“Ten.”
“Ten?” she shrieks, sounding more awake now. “It’s Saturday. I need to study.”
“I know, that’s why I’m calling you.”
A tired yawn meets my ears before she responds.
“You should’ve woken me up.”
“Technically, I just did. But I didn’t do it earlier because I felt bad for keeping you up all night.” My words have me thinking back to how she rode me like a fucking rodeo queen. We’ve spent every night together since the day of the races, and even though it has been only two weeks, it feels like she’s always been a part of my life. She fits in perfectly. Well, aside from Killian’s skepticism. She’s been working in the office in the mornings, then she goes home to study until I pick her up to have supper. Most of the time we don’t even make it to the restaurant, ordering takeout after we’ve stripped each other naked and temporarily sated our need for one another.
“You should feel bad.” I can tell by her voice that she’s joking. “I’m exhausted. You’re killing me.”
“Sorry, pretty girl. Told you there’s no stopping me.”
“I never realized the true meaning of those words.”
“Well.” I smirk. “Now you know.”
She hums in agreement before letting out another yawn.
“I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Are we ordering in, Mr. Wolfe?” Her voice is filled with lust, and I can feel my dick twitch in my pants.
“Probably.” I chuckle, loving that I can hear the smile in her voice.
“See you tonight, Franky.”
I hang up the phone and am pushing it back in my pocket when I hear the door behind me opening.
“Weird place to meet, Franky.” Reign’s voice is filled with disdain, and though that’s nothing new after all these years, his derision still punches me in the gut every time it reaches my ears. I turn around, watching my youngest brother walk into the bar in engineering boots matching his brown leather jacket. Since his hair falls in front of his face with every step he makes, he runs a hand through it to keep it in place.
He’s the whole package. Handsome, sweet, smart as fuck. He was ten when I first realized the computer skills he had. At that young age, he’d hacked into the local police station to get rid of some incriminating records, resulting in me being released. He’d done that to protect his big brother, even though it should’ve been the other way around. If you have a heart in your body, it’s hard to resist anything Reign suggests. At least that’s how it goes for me. I can rarely deny him.
Not a problem since he never asks for anything. Reign decided a long time ago that he didn’t need me. He sticks around out of loyalty, but he’d do anything to avoid me.
“Well, look around. Do you like it?” I open my arms and spin around, my eyes roaming the area.
It’s nothing special, really. A walnut hardwood floor that matches the bar, some red bar stools in front of it. The paint on the walls is blistering, and the glass shelves behind the bar are covered in a thick layer of dust. But it has potential.
I can see that.
“I prefer my bars to contain a bartender and to serve me alcohol, but yeah, looks fine. Why?”
“It’s yours.”
His brows shoot up in surprise and his mouth falls open for a few seconds before he asks, “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.” I shake my head as I walk towards the bar to grab the bottle of whiskey I brought. “I know you and Killian want to start a bar. This place was listed for a cheap price.” I grab two of the dusty tumblers from the workstation and hold them under the tap, quickly washing the thick layer of dust off of them before I pour us each a glass.
“Anything to keep me in Boston, right?” His shoulders sag after he takes the glass from my hand, walking farther into the bar to check things out.
“Is it so bad that I want to keep my brother’s close?” I ask his back, following him with my gaze as he walks around.
“The only reason you want me close is to make sure I’m still here to do your dirty work. Let’s not make this prettier than it is.”
My eyes find his, the same green, hypnotizing color as mine, it’s like looking into a mirror.
In a way, I am.
He likes to paint me as the bad guy, and truth be told, I am most of the time. But he fails to see how alike we are, how we fight for the same causes. How we would both go through hell to protect our family.
It’s not worth voicing though. Somewhere along the road, I lost my baby brother and all that we were. Now all I can do is keep him in my sight, keeping him safe until one day he hopefully sees the truth.
“You’re not even going to deny it?” he questions me with an arrogant smirk on his face when I don’t reply.
“What’s the use, Reign? You won’t believe me, anyway.”
I meet his unblinking stare, his lips firm stripes of annoyance.
“Hey, what are we doing here?” Killian walks through the door, giving us both a chin lift.
“Oh, you know, Franklin is buying us a bar,” Reign deadpans, before taking another sip. His eyes never leave mine, and his attitude is pissing me off.
“Hold up, what?” Killian stops in the middle of the bar and looks around, his lips parted in awe. “You bought a bar?”
I turn my head towards him and nod.
“No shit!” he exclaims before taking the seat next to me. “Since when are we in the bar business?”
“S
ince he figures it’s a good way to keep me around,” Reign answers before I can respond.
Killian looks at him for a moment before turning his focus on me. Killian and Reign are two peas in a pod, but Killian has always been more on my side when it comes to the differences between Reign and me. There have been multiple times when he’s begged me to tell Reign the truth, but I’ve forbidden him from bringing it up. I want my youngest brother to come to me, to ask me what happened that day instead of listening to the people around him, to talk to me like we used to before shit hit the fan. He’s my brother, and I miss him more every day, but I’m not going to try to convince anyone of my intentions.
“You know, Reign,” I mock, bringing my glass to my lips. “He’s always figuring shit out.”
I hear him huff beside me as Killian ignores my comment and looks at both of us with a wide grin, used to our banter over the years.
“Where’s my glass?” he asks.
“Here, take mine. I’ve got shit to do, anyway.” Reign moves in between us then slams his glass on the bar while giving me a glare. “Thanks, Franky. And congratulations. You found a way to keep me in Boston.”
Without another word, Killian and I watch him walk out the door. Once he’s gone, I let out a loud sigh as I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“You bought him a bar?”
I look up at Killian, who has a wide smile on his charming face.
“No, I bought both of you a bar. It’s time to start making money legally, and this seemed like a good opportunity. Now I’m not so sure.” I let out another deep breath before finishing my whiskey.
“You know he loves it. He’s just giving you a hard time like always.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He examines my face as I look around the decaying bar. It’s going to need a lot of work, but I do believe this is our future. One bar at a time.
“Why don’t you just tell him, man?” Killian pleads with sadness in his eyes.
“Not going to happen, Kill.” I shake my head.
“This is stupid. He’s mad at you for something that isn’t even true.”
Franklin: A Boston Mafia Romance (The Boston Wolfes) Page 13
