Franklin: A Boston Mafia Romance (The Boston Wolfes)

by Billie Lustig

  Where Emerson scared the living shit out of me, controlling me with his explosive temper, Franklin makes me feel safe, treasured, and confident.

  When I look into Franklin’s eyes, I see a person who knows what love is, a person who feels that love in the marrow of his bones for his three brothers, a person who will go out of his way to keep them safe.

  That’s not evil.

  That can’t be evil.

  He can’t be evil.

  Finally, a grin stretches my face before I grab his hand, craving to be closer to him and to show him I heard him.

  “Are you trying to scare me away, Franklin Wolfe?” I ask with fluttering lashes, making him laugh in response.

  “Are you scared?”

  “Not even a little bit.” I smile as relief swims through my veins.

  It’s true.

  Franklin Wolfe raises a lot of feelings inside of me, but fear isn’t one of them. Not like the fear I feel for Emerson.

  “Good. Because I told you, there’s no stopping me. Now, do you want me to order, or do you want to have a look?” He lets go of my hand and offers me the menu while my heart swoons over his sweet words.

  “You can order. I trust you.” Although the words leave my lips quietly, somewhere deep down inside of me, tucked into a very dark corner, I mean every word.

  I trust him.

  As if the devil can hear my thoughts, my phone starts to buzz in my clutch. I pull it out of my bag while Franklin studies the menu. My smile is instantaneously wiped off my face when I read the name on the screen.

  Emerson.

  Shit.

  Tension hardens my shoulders as my eyes flicker up to Franklin, hoping he doesn’t notice my unease. Thankfully, Franklin is still focused on the menu in front of him, but my mouth becomes dry, wondering what the fuck to do. Making a rash decision, I decline the call as my heart thrashes in my chest, shoving it back into my clutch.

  “You’re not going to get that?” He cants his head a bit with a slight frown, and I swear to God, I feel like he sees right through my scam. It’s like he can see that I’m hiding something that is killing me inside.

  “No, it’s okay. I’m sure it can wait.”

  He keeps his eyes locked with mine for a beat, his face impassive. Finally, he looks around for the waiter, raising his hand when he sees him. I feel like I’m going to puke by the time the waiter arrives. As soon as he finishes placing our order, Franklin offers me a reassuring smile. I wipe my sweaty palms on my napkin, having no clue what he just ordered because the blood was rushing through my ears, making it impossible for me to hear anything.

  My stomach drops when my clutch starts vibrating again. I do my best to keep a straight face, sighing in annoyance, as if that’s all I’m feeling. It’s disgusting how my brain seems to be able to go into lie and deceit mode in just a split second.

  “I guess it can’t wait.” He smirks.

  I let out an uncomfortable chuckle while I open my clutch again, declining once more.

  “Hey,” he leans over the table, his gaze focused on mine, “you can answer that. It’s okay.”

  The corner of my mouth curls into a troubled smile, getting more anxious by the second.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I get up, my fingers tightly wrapped around my clutch, before I do my best to strut away as fast as possible without raising any suspicion. Before I walk inside to find the restroom, I open my clutch and pull my phone out.

  “What?!” I bark with more force than I normally dare to give.

  “What?” His smoky voice sounds amused, but I know that will quickly be replaced if I’m not careful.

  “What do you want, Emerson? This isn’t exactly a good time,” I hiss into the phone as I walk into the restroom and lock myself in one of the stalls.

  “What I want is for you to do what you’ve been told to do instead of playing millionaire’s girlfriend.”

  “I’m doing what you told me to do! You want him to trust me. I have to spend time with him for that to happen. You can’t call me unexpectedly like this. What if he finds out?”

  “You better be more careful, then. Not my problem, sweetheart.” He’s clearly not listening to me. That or he just doesn’t give a fuck. “You’ve always been good at screwing shit up, but you better not screw up this one. You know I care about you, sweetheart, but you better pull this off. I’m not joking, Kenny. Think about your brother.”

  “The only thing I’ve been doing for the last few weeks is thinking about my brother, Emerson!”

  “Have you? Because I don’t think he’s the only one you think about.”

  “God, you sound like Josie.” I huff, rolling my eyes.

  “Well, Josie is probably right.” I frown at his comment before I let out a disheartened breath.

  “Don’t worry, Em. You know where my loyalty lies.”

  “It better, sweetheart. It better.” Before I can say anything, he hangs up. I press my forehead against the cold door, shutting my eyes in despair. My lungs feel like lead weights as I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. With every exhale, tension slowly leaves my body a little more.

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  If one of the men controlling my life doesn’t blow a bullet through my head, I’m pretty sure I will die from a heart attack. I lay my hand on my chest, willing my heart to stop slamming against my rib cage as I suck in another deep breath before releasing it as slowly as possible.

  After a few minutes, I walk out and check my flushed face in the mirror. When I walk out of the restroom, I slam into a hard chest, hands instantly steadying me by my arms.

  Franklin looks down at me, a concerned look in his eyes, while I push out another deep breath.

  God, I really can’t catch a break.

  It’s like the devil and God are tossing me around, wondering who or what will kill me first.

  My conscience or the criminals who rule Boston?

  “Are you okay?” I can see genuine concern on his face, and once more, it kills me a little more inside.

  “Yeah, that was just Josie,” I lie while he examines my face.

  “You look stressed.”

  I feel like he’s calling me out, so I know I have to give him something.

  “Josie doesn’t like you,” I blurt out.

  It’s not a complete lie. She made it perfectly clear earlier that she doesn’t like to see me with him.

  “Because I’m a Wolfe,” he states, as if he expected this from the beginning.

  “Yeah. She’s been giving me a hard time, telling me you’re dangerous.”

  He leans in, brushing his lips against my cheek, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “Do you think I’m dangerous?”

  Automatically, I tilt my head to give him better access to my neck as I close my eyes. His arms snake around my body, and I lean into his touch.

  “Hmm, no,” I answer in all honesty.

  “Then fuck her. Fuck anyone with an opinion about me. Fuck them.” He clasps my hand and walks us back to our table while I keep repeating his words in my head.

  Fuck her.

  Fuck them.

  Right.

  Easy enough.

  Twenty-Three

  Franklin

  The next morning I’m sitting at my desk while Kendall archives some folders on the other side of the office. I’m focused on her luscious curves. Although I should be looking at the documents in front of me, it’s hard to when she’s wearing a gray, skin-tight pencil dress. When she gives me a quick glance, I smile in approval, pleased to see I’m not the only one having a hard time concentrating. Eventually, my head does what I want, and I focus on the medical records I need to check for my old and new horses along with a few potential ones I may buy.

  “What are you doing?” she asks while she rounds my desk and lays her hand on my shoulder.

  “Checking the health records of my horses
,” I explain as she leans in to get a better look at the papers.

  “Hey!” Her finger points at one of the papers on my desk. “Isn’t that the one that won the other day? Lord Calypso? Number eight?”

  I nod my head in agreement before she gives me a knowing look.

  “Wait. That’s your horse?”

  I hum in confirmation, making her brows jolt up.

  “Didn’t Reign win a lot of money betting on him?” Her confusion is written on her face, and it’s kinda amusing, wondering when it will click.

  When I answer by just smiling at her, her eyes widen.

  “I thought you didn’t gamble?”

  “It’s not gambling if you know who will win.” I shrug with a straight face before I grab her waist and pull her onto my lap.

  Her hands circle my neck while I hold her in my arms, my nose brushing against hers as I look into her blue orbs. She cocks her head when she realizes what I said.

  “You fix races?”

  I keep a straight face, not confirming or denying this. I’ve always been fascinated by the races, so when I decided I wanted to grow my money that way, I bought Posey, my first horse, ten years ago. Her father was a world champion, and she clearly had his genes. She won her first three races, and it was by then I realized this was a great way to make money. Quickly, I bought another horse.

  And another.

  And another.

  By the time we owned eight horses, there wasn’t a race where our horses didn’t place in at least the top three. But it wasn’t until I realized I could double my earnings by controlling who won that we started making the big bucks. It was a hell of a lot easier than moving around cocaine.

  When I turned twenty-five, I bought the family mansion and started investing in relationships with the people in charge of Massachusetts.

  It’s amazing what you can do and achieve once you have money. Money literally opens doors and mouths. Now, at thirty-three, there isn’t a politician I don’t own.

  It’s a vicious yet fabulous cycle. Politicians control the city, but since I control the politicians, the city is mine.

  “You do, don’t you?” she asks once more. I hold her frown but keep my mouth shut while a seductive smile appears on her face.

  “You own a shitload of horses, and you control who wins. But then what? You can’t bet on your own horses, can you?”

  My brow quirks up at her unexpected excitement.

  “I could, but I rarely do it. I have people betting for me, and I give them a percentage.”

  “Bookies? Just illegal ones?”

  I smile in response, shaking my head in amusement.

  “This turns you on?”

  Before she can answer, I hear someone clear his throat, and I look up towards the door. Killian is glaring at us, his hands balled into fists beside his rigid body as he clenches his jaw.

  “Kill,” I call out, acknowledging his arrival. His face looks heated, fury practically dripping down his face. Involuntarily, my eyes close for a second, knowing what will come next.

  “Are you serious, Franky?” he questions through gritted teeth.

  I purse my lips in aggravation. His eyes widening as he turns his attention on Kendall, giving her a fake smile that has her straightening her back, clearly making her uncomfortable.

  “Can you give us a second, Kenny?”

  Her eyes move back and forth between Killian and me until I give her a soft nod. She gets up and walks towards the door while I keep my eyes focused on my brother.

  “And shut the door,” he barks behind her back, making my blood boil.

  “Don’t talk to her like that,” I growl with enough force to hopefully make him tone down his attitude.

  “You told her about the races? Have you lost your mind?” he hisses. “It’s bad enough that you took her there.”

  His fair skin gets redder with every word he says as he starts pacing the roomy office.

  “You barely know this girl. But you’ll give her inside info about everything we do?”

  “Not everything, just the horses.” I shrug.

  “That’s enough for felony criminal charges, Franklin.” He clenches his jaw in frustration while I keep the same bored look on my face.

  I trust my brother, he’s right about a lot of things. But he’s not right about this one. There is something about Kendall that tells me I can trust her.

  I don’t know everything about her, and it’s clear that she’s still holding back from me, but she isn’t some undercover cop waiting for my destruction.

  Whatever we have, it’s real.

  I can feel it.

  She can feel it.

  “She’s not a cop, Killian.”

  “Maybe not, but what if she’s worse?” he whisper-shouts at me.

  “What the fuck do you mean?” I ask, getting really annoyed with his suspiciousness.

  “What if she’s part of someone’s crew? What if she’s looking for your weakness to bring you down? What if she’s not, but one of our enemies finds out she is your weakness?”

  “She’s not my weakness,” I snap.

  “Isn’t she?” he growls in exasperation.

  I let out a frustrated breath while I rub my face.

  “Now you’re just getting paranoid. She doesn’t work for anyone. Look, I know you’ve got people skills, but so do I. We can trust her. You can trust her.”

  “Says who? You know nothing about her. You’re not thinking straight because she has a pussy.” He points his finger at me while he steps closer. The anger is seeping out of his veins, and I have to admit, I haven’t seen him this worked up in a while.

  But he’s wrong.

  I slam my fist on my desk to make him shut up before my lips start moving in a vicious tone.

  “You’re my brother, I love you, and I never take your opinion for granted—”

  “Except for now,” he interrupts.

  “Shut up!” I shout, losing my cool. “I always listen to you, and I’m listening to you now. But I’m telling you we can trust her. And I would appreciate it if you trusted me.”

  He stays quiet, glaring at me before he finally opens his mouth again.

  “I’ve seen her with one of Emerson’s guys,” he says, a troubled look on his face.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m shadowing her,” he admits. I close my eyes at his words, he’s taking this too fucking far. “Tuesday night, I saw one of Emerson’s guys walking into her building. I never saw him come out.”

  “You said ‘let me do a check’. I never gave you permission to shadow her. You’re ending that. Now.”

  “Na-ah! We can’t trust her.”

  My mind wanders back to Tuesday night, even though I already know what I’m looking for.

  “She was with me Tuesday night.” I sigh.

  “What? I thought you said she was going to sleep at home.”

  “I did, but after I met Connor at the garage, Kendall and I had supper at the bar, and she decided to stay.” Confusion clouds his features. “She wasn’t with him, Killian. She was with me.”

  He shakes his head in disbelief.

  “I can feel it, Franky. Something is up with this girl. She’s not who she says she is.”

  “Look,” I roar with finality in my voice, sick of this back-and-forth bullshit. “You don’t like her. I get it. Run her through the system and come back when you have proof, but don’t fucking bother me with this bullshit until you have it. You got it?”

  He lowers his head while rubbing his temples. He knows I won’t accept anything other than acquiescence, and the irritation he feels is clearly visible.

  “I’m going to ask Reign to do a background check on her,” he informs me as he moves to the door.

  Arrogant bastard.

  “Do whatever, Killian. I don’t care. But don’t bother me about it. Just stop tracking her.” I focus back on the documents in front of me, silently telling him this conversation is over. Without another
word, he walks out of my office.

  I look up at the ceiling and blow out a deep breath. I’ve trusted my gut my entire life, it’s got me where I am now. And though I trust Kendall, there was something in Killian’s words nagging at me. A niggling in my gut asking me, ‘what if he’s right?’. What if she is hiding something? I never bother to do background checks on the women I sleep with because they rarely stay longer than a night or two. But I’ve been with this girl every single day for the last month.

  What if she really isn’t who she says she is? She’s in the perfect position to get close to me, capable of bringing me down when I least expect it.

  Twenty-Four

  Kendall

  Killian’s arrival at the office has me anxious for the rest of the day. He glared at me as he stormed out of Franklin’s office, his finger pointed at me in a threatening way.

  “I’m watching you,” he’d said before he slammed the door closed behind him. I blinked at the closed door for probably a full minute, knowing I was playing on a cliff’s edge. I could fall down at any moment or be thrown off by Killian Wolfe. Although Reign and Connor seem to really like me, I keep thinking about what the fuck I can do or say to convince Killian he can trust me.

  Because he definitely doesn’t.

  When we get back to Franklin’s apartment, I barely let him get through the door before I put him in a corner.

  Well, figuratively that is.

  “Your brother. He hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you.”

  “Franky.” I pull a face, telling him he’s full of shit, making him roll his eyes.

  I chuckle in surprise. I’ve never seen him actually roll his eyes since he’s usually serious as fuck.

  “He doesn’t hate you,” he presses while his hand cups the front of my neck to softly push me against the wall.

  He’s so fucking hot.

  “He does. I can see it in his eyes.” I try to keep a straight face as Franklin uses his other hand to loosen his tie, not letting myself get distracted because I’m serious about this.