“Shit.” I rub my five-o’clock shadow before I roll my lips. “Yeah, I am,” I finally admit.
“Good.” He nods, a pleased grin on his face. “That’s good. I like her. She’s a good girl.”
“Yeah? You’re not on Killian’s side with this one?” I ask in surprise.
“I want to be. But I have a good feeling about her, and if you say she came clean to you, there’s really no issue. She’s really moving in with you?” He looks pleased as he leans back in his chair.
“Yeah. At least until this whole Emerson thing is done. I need her close, make sure he can’t corner her again.”
“She said yes?”
I cock my head and let my smug expression answer for me.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Franklin Wolfe got himself a girl,” he mumbles with a smile.
“What are we going to do about him?” I nod at the door Killian just stormed through.
“I’ll talk to him. But you gotta keep us in the loop, Franklin. If you find out new stuff about her or you’re setting up meetings with Emerson and her, we need to know.” He gives me a reprimanding look that normally would piss me off. But right now, it actually warms my ruined heart to hear him talk to me like this. Like for once I’m not the enemy, I’m just his brother.
“Alright, Reign. I’ll keep you in the loop.” I continue staring at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Good. You want a drink?”
“Of course,” I reply, taking every moment he will give me.
Twenty-Nine
Kendall
When Franklin got back to the apartment at the end of the day, I knew something was up. I hadn’t heard from him all day since he canceled our lunch plans, and I’d expected him to check in with me after I went to see Emerson. As soon as he explained to me that he was with his brothers and how Killian had been tracking me, I felt like crap. Franklin knew I was going there, but I hate how this is making Killian even more suspicious of me.
‘Don’t worry about it, baby. It will work out, I promise. Come, get your things. I wanna take you somewhere,’ he’d said before he tugged me out the door.
His chauffeur drives us for about fifteen minutes before he stops the car in an industrial area. Franklin gets out of the car before me, then offers me his hand to help me get out.
“Where did you take me?” I ask while I look up at the gray warehouse in front of me.
Louisa’s Shots.
“Shots? I’m not doing shots, Franklin. I’m a cheap drunk, and it’s not pretty,” I admit this while he tangles his fingers with mine and leads me into the building.
“You are? Remind me to get you some wine when we get back then.” He chuckles, making me roll my eyes. We walk in, and immediately we’re welcomed by the deafening sound of gunshots being fired.
My feet halt as I look around the room for somewhere to hide.
There is a bar to my left, but the windows in front of me have my shoulders loosening, giving me the perfect view of the shooting range. A few tables are scattered throughout the area, but other than an older woman behind the bar, a sullen-looking man seated at the bar, and two people shooting at a target behind the bulletproof glass with headphones protecting their ears, it’s completely empty.
“Fraaaaaaanky,” I chant his name as a smile appears on his face, “please tell me you’re here to show me how good you can shoot?” I give him a pleading look, the sexy grin frozen to his handsome face.
“What?” I blurt when he doesn’t reply
“Nothing, I just like it when you call me that.” He shrugs before he tugs me towards the bar and places me on the barstool next to the old man before he stands behind me.
“Morning, love.” The old woman greets me, her smile and heavy Southern accent making me feel right at home.
“Morning, ma’am,” I reply, my normally hidden accent now on full display.
She winks at Franklin before turning her focus back to me.
“What can I get the two of you today?”
“A box of 0.22 bullets and two coffees, please. And can I get the private range?” Franklin moves to my side, throwing a stack of bills on the bar. I rear back and give him a wary look.
“What are you doing? I ain’t gonna shoot.”
“Yeah, you are.” The woman places a box of bullets on the bar before she turns around to pour each of us a cup of coffee. Franklin reaches for the box as I tug at his coat to get his attention back to me.
“I’m not the kind of girl who walks around with a gun,” I explain.
“I know that, pretty girl. But you are the kind of girl who walks around with me. And I need you to be able to protect yourself if I’m not around. You have to learn how to shoot. Especially now that I know your ex-boyfriend is also my number one enemy.”
I grunt in response; he does have a point.
Emerson always told me having a gun wasn’t necessary, that he would protect me. But there were times I’d wished I’d at least known how to shoot.
“I don’t know.”
“What’s your name, honey?” I turn my head to the woman behind the bar.
“Kendall.”
“Nice to meet you, Kendall. My name is Mary-Jane. Where are you from?”
“Clover, Alabama.”
“You’re from Alabama and your daddy never taught you how to shoot?” One of Mary-Jane’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rises up, making me chuckle in response.
“No, ma’am. My uncle was accidentally killed on a hunting trip. No guns were allowed anywhere near us after that. Mama’s orders.”
She blinks her eyes at me, her lips pursed.
“Well, your uncle was thick as a thumb, if that’s how he died. Don’t blame the guns, though.”
“Oh, that he was.”
“Listen, honey.” She places her hand over mine, giving me a comforting smile while quickly glancing at Franklin. “You don’t look like the type of girl who wants to be a damsel in distress, waiting for her Prince Charming to save her all the time, now do you?”
I shake my head in response.
“That’s what I thought. So do yourself a favor, and let this fine specimen teach you how to shoot so you can point his gun at him when he’s pissing you off.” A playful smile appears on her face as I break out in laughter.
“Don’t push it, Mary-Jane,” Franklin teases while he places his hand on my neck in an affectionate way.
“Shut it, Wolfe. You may be the alpha in this town, but I’m still your elder. You better treat me as such before I show you my gun.” She glares at him, her delight evident, as if mocking him is the highlight of her day.
Franklin brings up his hands in surrender before wrapping them around my waist.
“Listen to the old lady, Kenny,” he murmurs against my ears, making me bite my lip when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, thinking about all the different sensations and emotions this man can make me feel.
I look into the sweet, honey-brown eyes of Mary-Jane as she places my coffee in front of me.
“Fine. Let’s go before I change my mind.” I glide off the barstool, giving Franklin a scowl. I’m still not willing to admit that my nervousness is mixed with excitement.
His verdant eyes stare at me in amusement as if he sees through me. He can’t possibly know that I’m just giving him a hard time, and secretly, have always wanted to shoot, but he sure looks like he does.
I roll my eyes, determined to not give him any confirmation, before I open my mouth.
“Where to, Wolfe?”
“Are we back to that?” He pulls a face before he points at a door on the other side of the room. “That way, baby.”
I walk towards the oak door, waiting for Franklin to open it before I step over the threshold. The front part of the room is tiny and small, with a coat rack in the corner. Franklin takes the hem of my coat in his hands before he gently pulls it off my body like the gentleman that he is.
“Thank you.” I smile.
After he hangs his own coat, I lick my lips, his athletic physique more visible now that it’s only covered by his dress shirt. He rolls up his sleeve while I enjoy watching him unveil his sinewy forearms.
“You like what you see, pretty girl?” He smirks.
“Yeah,” I admit without hesitation. “Yeah, I do.”
“Save it for later.” He closes the distance to plant a sweet peck on my lips. Then he places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me towards the door that leads to the private range.
Instead of a row of about ten cubicles, there are only two in here. He pulls a gun out of the holster that’s snug to his body before placing it on the shelf in front of him.
“I’ll prepare the gun, and you can shoot.”
“No,” I disagree with a grimace that has his brows raising in question. “If you want me to learn how to handle a gun, I want to learn everything.”
He gives me an approving look before he nudges his head to tell me to come closer.
“Okay, so this thing,” he points at a small switch, “this is the safety. Make sure it’s off when you want to shoot. Flip it when you are ready, but make sure you keep the barrel aimed in front of you once you do. You won’t be the first person who shoots herself in the foot.”
I hit him with an offended look.
“What?” he chuckles.
“You better watch it, Wolfe, before I shoot you in the foot.”
“Feisty. I like it.” He presses a kiss to my hair that makes me smile before he continues.
“Hold up your hand, palms up.” I do as he says before he places the grip in my palm, then I wrap my fingers around it. It feels lighter than I’d expected as I bring it up towards the target.
“Feels good?” Franklin asks.
I nod in response before he grabs my wrist, tilting my hand.
“Okay, do you see this small button under the trigger? That’s your magazine release. Press that, and your magazine will slide right out.”
I press the button, my other hand under the magazine, catching it when it drops out.
“Good, now fill it with bullets.”
I open the box, putting bullets into the magazine until it’s completely filled.
“Now, put it back in?” He confirms with a nod, so I slide the magazine back in until it clicks.
“Alright, put your earmuffs on,” he tells me while he puts a set on his head. “Now spread your legs a little, flip the safety, aim the gun with one hand on the grip, the other under the grip, but don’t put your finger on the trigger just yet. Just hold it beside it.”
I do as he instructs before he moves in behind me, pressing his chest against my back. The warmth of his body makes me want to lean into his body, though I force myself to stay upright and concentrate on what he’s saying. He folds his hands over mine before he starts to whisper against my neck.
“Shut one eye, and focus on the red dot. Make sure you can see the dot in the middle of the rear sight. ”
A fluttering feeling overcomes me, pulling me from my concentration while the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I clench my thighs together. I let out a frustrated moan before I move my lips towards his, my hands still holding the gun in front of me.
“I can’t concentrate with you whispering in my ear.”
His eyes roam my face in confusion until he gives me a seductive grin.
“Am I turning you on, pretty girl?”
“Shut up and step away.” I mad dog him, suppressing my smile.
He brings up his hands in a placating gesture as he steps back. Then I bring my focus back to the target in front of me. I assess the gun that’s in my hand, marveling at the lightweight, feeling the grips in the palm of my hand. I close my eyes while I suck in a deep breath, completely homed in on the deadly weapon I’m holding.
“Just stay calm. When you’re ready, take a deep breath in, then pull the trigger while you breathe out.”
I focus my eyes on the target for a while until I finally do as he says, pulling the trigger while I breathe out. A loud bang echoes through the space, and I look forward to seeing where on the target my bullet landed.
“I did it!” I screech, jumping in the air when I see a clear bullet hole in one of the target rings.
The excitement makes me buzz while I give Franklin a big smile, making sure I keep the gun pointed at the target like he warned. When his eyes look at me with pride, I pounce on him, bruising his lips with my kiss. I break the connection and chew on my lip, giving him a lingering look before I turn my head back to the target.
I place my feet firmly on the ground and straighten my stance before I pull the trigger again, when I feel like I’m ready. When this one hits even closer to the bullseye, the determination that was previously tucked deep inside me takes over.
Bullseye.
I’m not leaving until I hit the bullseye.
Franklin chuckles when I empty the barrel, then quickly fill the clip once more, anxious to keep going. My fingers easily place the bullets inside as I smile at my own actions.
I’m not the kind of girl who believes in violence or guns, but I do believe in self-preservation, and I feel like this is another step in being me. In learning to trust my gut, in trusting Franklin when everyone keeps saying I shouldn’t. I love that he has given me a way to protect myself. I aim the gun again before pulling the trigger, this time hitting the circle next to the bullseye. My eyes start to ache from holding back tears, getting a bit more emotional each time I release a bullet.
My whole life I’ve been listening to people telling me what I can’t do, yet here is this silent, brooding alpha who’s showing me what I can do. What I’m capable of.
Showing me I’m worth showing new things to. That I can try new things, moving me out of my comfort zone. A comfort zone that wasn’t ever really comfortable.
I take another deep breath, smiling, feeling prouder of myself than I have ever felt in my entire life as I exhale and pull the trigger.
Bullseye.
I let out an excited yelp before I quickly enable the safety, laying the gun on the wood in front of me before I turn around and jump into Franklin’s arms like a happy kid.
“Did you see that?! I hit it!”
“Of course you did,” he cheers, slowly spinning me around, his mouth flush with my ear.
I pull my head back while he lowers me to the floor.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Treating me the way you do.”
He gives me a troubled look, as if the words hurt him inside.
“You don’t deserve any less, Kendall.”
I’m overjoyed as I plant another kiss on his lips.
“Now it’s your turn!” I clap my hands like a seal, excitement still buzzing through me.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to steal your thunder,” he smirks.
“Oh, whatever. Come on, show me what you’ve got.”
“Alright, you asked for it.” He takes the gun, checking the amount of bullets in the barrel before he pushes it back in, flicks off the safety, then brings his hand up to aim at the target.
His head turns towards mine with a smug look on his face.
“Six bullets,” he informs me. I feel confused when he doesn’t say more, just keeps his gaze on mine. “Count to six, and keep your eyes on me.”
I have no idea where he’s going with this, but I start counting.
“One.”
Bang.
“Two.”
Bang.
“Three.”
Bang.
“Four.”
Bang.
“Five.”
Bang.
“Six.”
Bang.
When the last bullet leaves the gun, I turn my head towards the target, and my mouth falls open in awe. The entire bullseye area has disappeared, leaving nothing but a gaping hole, a piece of the rubber wall behind it peeking through.
“What the fuck?”
�
��Told you, pretty girl.” He shrugs while I blink at him.
“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” I gape while he places the gun back in front of him, then leans against the wall, tugging me between his legs. He pulls out his phone, checking the screen for messages before he pushes it back in his pocket.
“My dad,” he answers my question.
“Your parents aren’t around, are they?” I feel uncertainty trying to creep into my body, but I push it away, remembering how he told me I can ask him anything.
His fingers reach up, stroking my cheek in endearment.
“No.”
“Want to tell me what happened?” My eyes plead, hoping he will open up to me.
He lets out a deep breath as he rests his hand on my neck; the warmth soothing my skin.
“My father beat my mother to death, and then he took off with his girlfriend.” The tone in his voice is calm, without an ounce of anger, which is both surprising and disturbing. My heart falls at his words, and I suck in a shocked breath, covering my mouth with my hand.
“Are you serious?” I ask, my voice muffled by my hand, before I place it over his heart.
“Yeah.”
I shake my head in disbelief, wondering how anyone could do that to anyone else. To his children.
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Holy hell!” I cry out in my Southern drawl. “And then what? You took care of your brothers?”
He drags his hand over his face, clearly having a hard time talking about this, the pain on his face tightening my heart.
“Yeah. I took care of all of us. Then when I got arrested, they were placed in foster care since they were all minors. I got Connor out pretty quick because he was sixteen at the time. But Killian spent two years in foster care, Reign four.” He clenches his jaw, almost spitting out the words, clearly affected by the fact that he couldn’t keep his brothers together.
“They didn’t want to give me custody of the younger boys, saying we’d come from a cycle of violence, my arrest not helping that. It took a whole lot of bribery for me to finally get Reign out when I did, otherwise, he would’ve stayed in there until he was eighteen.”
Franklin: A Boston Mafia Romance (The Boston Wolfes) Page 19
