“He told me about Frankie.”
Boom!
Bomb dropped.
“I know that you sent me away yesterday because you’re scared of him.”
That one word ‘scared’ shakes me out of my stupor. Drake’s absolutely right. I am scared of Frankie Rosetti. And if he had any working brain cells, he’d be afraid of him too.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore, firecracker. You’re not alone anymore. Kieffer is doing his thing, and I’ve got Invictus on it. We’re going to find Frankie, and he won’t be able to hurt you ever again.”
“Did Kieffer tell you that Frankie is the Frankie from the Rosetti crime family? He isn’t just some crazy stalker. He’s the boss of the biggest crime family in Chicago. He’s got hundreds of men and an endless supply of money. It’s not just Frankie that’s after me… it’s the whole damn family!”
I’m panting by the time I finish my little tirade. Drake looks slightly confused, and I wonder what exactly Kieffer told him about Frankie. Obviously not enough for him to take this threat seriously.
“Not anymore. Have you not watched the news recently?”
“What? No. What does that have to do with anything?”
“The FBI raided all of the known businesses and residences for everyone in the Rosetti family. There is no Rosetti family anymore.”
I hear his words, but they aren’t making any sense. “Impossible.”
“It’s been all over the news for weeks.”
I sheepishly look at my TV. It’s an older model and isn’t hooked up to cable, satellite, internet, or any other services for that matter. The only thing attached to it is an equally old DVD player. “I don’t watch the news…” I say feeling stupid for not knowing something this important.
“I don’t know how you could’ve missed it. It’s all over the internet. When there were two judges and a mayor implicated, things blew up. It’s possible that the Rossettis even had a senator in their pocket, though they don’t have proof yet.”
“Senator James Talbot,” I say without thinking. My brain is struggling to make sense of everything.
“Talbot, really?” The surprise in Drake’s voice jars me out of my stupor. It doesn’t take long for me to circle back around to why Drake shouldn’t be here. Why I should be on my way out of town as fast as I can be. The FBI may have taken down the family and arrested a lot of the people involved, but they obviously didn’t get Frankie because he’s here, stalking me.
“I shouldn’t have told you that… Frankie will… oh God… he’s going to kill me if he finds out I talked. He’s going to think that I did all this. Kieffer used his government contacts to make me disappear… he’s going to assume I’m working with them.”
Air is sawing in and out of my lungs in heaving gasps. Some small part of my brain tells me I’m hyperventilating. That I should calm down and take a deep breath. That there is enough oxygen in the room, but my body is in panic mode, and that small rational part of my brain can’t overcome the fear coursing through my body.
“Hey!” Drake’s worried voice finally breaks through my panic, and I know it’s not the first time he’s tried to get my attention. “Take a deep breath.” He mimics what he wants me to do, filling his lungs slowly through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. “Breathe, Joselynn. You’re safe.” It takes several minutes, but finally, I’m breathing calmly, my breaths synced with Drake’s. “Good. There is nothing to worry about. I promise you. Frankie isn’t going to touch you. Never again.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Drake. Frankie is a monster. He’s somehow managed to evade the FBI for crying out loud!” My anxiety is ratcheting up again, and I can feel my lungs constrict at not getting enough oxygen.
“Frankie is a monster, no doubt, but he’s a tiny baby monster compared to me. Not to mention Hutch and the rest of my team. And we can’t forget Kieffer. Frankie is the one who should be scared. If he knew what he was coming up against, he would be running to the nearest cop to turn himself in. Behind bars is the only place that he’s going to be safe from my wrath.”
And with that declaration… I throw myself at Drake. Wrapping my arms around his neck and crushing my lips to his. We kiss until my lungs are burning from lack of oxygen, only this time it’s from exhilaration, not panic and fear.
“Now we need to clear up a few things…”
“What things?” I ask cautiously.
“No more fucking pushing me away.”
I let out a little giggle. A real for real giggle. I can’t remember the last time I giggled for goodness sakes. “You’re not very good at listening. It would be safer for you if you weren’t with me…”
“Stop it,” Drake snaps. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re mine now, firecracker. Nothing is going to keep me from you, not even yourself.”
* * *
“I’m totally going to turn into a hermit.” I stretch out on the bed like a contented cat. Drake’s eyes are drawn down the line of my body, pausing on my breasts. I arch my back just a little, liking his attention on me. There is heat in his gaze, and I know he wants me, but the infuriating man is keeping his pants on. Literally.
After our talk about Frankie. My mind is at ease about his safety. Besides he essentially told me he’s not going anywhere no matter how hard I push, so why fight it? He talked me into taking a few days off work. I felt a little guilty taking personal time, but when he reminded me how many double shifts I’ve worked covering for my coworkers, not to mention coming in on days off, I stopped feeling guilty.
We’ve spent the last three days inside my apartment, and it’s been blissful. I don’t have to constantly worry about keeping my identity a secret. I don’t have to be Joselynn Brooks with Drake. I can be the real me. Well, not in name, because it’s essential that the façade stay intact, but when we talk about the past, it’s Angel Tate’s life that I tell him about. Not the manufactured past that I’ve had to tell everyone else.
Unlike Joselynn, Angel grew up in the system. As I talked to Drake about it, I realized that I no longer thought of Angel as ‘me’ or ‘I.’ Angel is ‘she’ and ‘her.’ It made me sad to realize that disconnect. I tell him about how I was shuttled from one foster home to another. That I was lucky that I was never physically abused. So many of my foster brothers and sisters over the years had been. We talk about how the mental scars from not being wanted by my parents played a big part in how Frankie sunk his claws into me.
I was young and naïve. Frankie was older and wealthy. He had a huge family and a great job. He doted on me. Bought me presents and took me to the nicest restaurants. It was like when Cinderella met her Prince Charming. Looking back, it’s easy to see the warning signs of an abuser, but I was so blinded.
Drake was way too kind during that conversation. Telling me repeatedly that it wasn’t my fault and that abusers are good at hiding who and what they are. I’m not so sure I’m willing to forgive myself for that naivety. When I told him as much, Drake made me promise to try. Maybe if he knew everything, he wouldn’t be so quick to ask me to forgive myself. I haven’t talked about the baby. Will he look at me differently if he knows that I not only allowed Frankie abuse me, but I also let him kill my baby?
The answer to that question haunts me enough that I avoid the subject altogether. I might feel worse about that small secret if it weren’t for the fact that Drake is avoiding some major stuff from his past too.
He tells me about everything. Except for his scars. He talked about growing up as a twin, and the tradition of matching names anytime there are twins born in the family. Which seems to happen a lot. He claims it’s a horrible curse. I think it’s a bit of the-lady-doth-protest-too-much… well, man, not lady, but the point is the same.
He tells me all about his grandpa’s cabin and the long summers spent there with Blake as a kid. Then he brags about how, because of him, Blake and Hutch fell in love and are completely happy together. I laugh at how proud he is, especially once I learn i
t was a chance of fate that actually brought the couple together at the same time at the cabin.
My Drake is a romantic, and it’s the sweetest damn thing ever.
The last three days have been the best ever. We’ve spent the daylight hours talking and laughing and the nights sleeping in each other’s arms. It’s been amazing. I know we’re currently living in a bubble and that the real world is right outside my door waiting for us, but for at least one more night, the real world can fuck itself.
Work and the mess with Frankie will be there in the morning.
“Why a hermit?” Drake asks, shaking me out of my thoughts.
“Mmm…” I groan, stretching my lazy muscles. “These last few days have been perfect.”
Drake’s eyes darken as he takes in my body. My nipples tighten under the thin material of my tank top. I subtly shift my body so that my legs part a little. I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling when his eyes drop to my shorts. The smallest shorts I own… more like panties really.
He clears his throat and drags his gaze away from my body. “So, you’re saying crappy take-out food, even crappier movies, and naps are your definition of perfect?”
I smirk at my sexy, sarcastic man. “I’m saying, being holed up in my apartment with you has been perfect.”
He shakes his head and chuckles. I reach out my hand towards him, wiggling my fingers. “If I get back in that bed right now, we’ll get distracted, and I’ll be answering the door with an awkward erection. Again.”
I look at the clock. He just called in an order for enough Chinese food to feed a small army, it’ll be at least an hour before it’s here. There is time for so very many fun things before the food gets here.
“It’ll take at least an hour for it to get here. Come back to bed.” Come fuck me! Is what I actually want to say, but I don’t because I don’t think I could handle out and out rejection. Drake’s been staying with me every night. Sleeping in bed with me every night. Kissing and cuddling and petting me over my clothes until I think I’ll lose my mind. But the man refuses to go any farther.
He refuses to take off his clothes. I’ve slept beside him and don’t even know if he’s a boxers or briefs guy. The first time I got a little overenthusiastic and started lifting his shirt so I could touch his skin, he grabbed my wrists and wrapped them around his neck. Drake then distracted me with his hand in my panties. His slightly dominant side is so frustratingly sexy that it only took him lightly circling my clit with his finger to send me over the edge.
I never thought I would be able to handle having someone with such a dominant personality in my life again, but time and time again, Drake shows me that scars can heal.
It’s been like that every time I try to touch him under his clothes. He stays my hand then distracts me with his mouth and fingers. I have a sneaking suspicion it’s not just him being chivalrous that is keeping us from going all the way. I know his scars don’t stop at his neck. I’ve seen the edges of scar tissue peeking out from underneath his shirt collar. I also know the worst of his scars aren’t on his face. I’m pretty sure Drake is keeping his clothes firmly in place because he’s worried about how I’ll react to his scars. It both breaks my heart and pisses me off.
I want Drake to trust me enough to know that his scars don’t matter to me. I can’t help but wonder if he’s so hesitant to show me his body is because of some other woman’s reaction. The thought that someone else saw my Drake naked and found him anything less than a fucking Adonis pisses me off. Well, and makes me jealous. Claw-your-eyes-out levels of jealous.
“Let’s go find a movie,” he says, grabbing my wiggling fingers and tugging me up from the bed
We decide to watch Miss Congeniality. I’m giggling around a bite of noodles while Sandra Bullock does her self-defense routine, using the S-I-N-G method on her partner. Why is it so funny when people get hurt? I mean not seriously hurt, but a little hurt.
“Have you taken self-defense?” Drake asks.
I look at him with a Cheshire Cat worthy grin. “Do you want to know if I can make you sing?”
He chuckles. “I have no doubt that you could make me sing, firecracker.”
I set the noodle container back on the coffee table and rub my stomach. Holy food baby Batman. “Kieffer had me enroll in self-defense classes shortly after I moved here. I did a few months of kickboxing classes but got bored… until very recently I was taking Krav Maga.”
Drake’s eyebrows raise at that. I can understand why. Krav Maga isn’t for the faint of heart. I walk away from the practice mat battered and bruised most times. But it makes me feel powerful and strong to know that I can take down men twice my size.
“I’m also a great shot,” I add just so he knows I’m not naïve enough to depend on hand-to-hand skills as my only line of self-defense. “Knives scare me though.”
“How often do you shoot?”
I shrug. “Kieffer has a range at his house, but I’ve not been in several months. It’s not something I like to do in a public situation. I’ve got permits to own and carry my guns, but I don’t like people knowing I have them. I guess I’ve always planned on Frankie finding me one day and the fewer people that know I can defend myself, the better the chances that Frankie won’t find out.”
“I hate that you have to worry about stuff like that.” Drake pulls me across his lap and kisses the top of my head. I settle into his chest, soaking up the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around me. “Are you ready to go back to work tomorrow?”
“Eh… yes and no. I love my job, but I’m a little worried about bringing my troubles to the hospital. What if Frankie does something while I’m there?”
“You could take a few more days off,” Drake suggests almost hopefully.
Kieffer called this morning to tell us there’s been zero luck locating the hole Frankie crawled into. He also said that he wants me to go back to work and my normal activities. That having Drake, and I quote, “up your ass” isn’t going to help in tracking him down. So, it was decided I go back to work tomorrow, and Drake goes back to Blake’s house. To say Drake isn’t happy about the situation is a big understatement. It took a lot of yelling on Kieffer’s part and a bunch of coaxing on mine to convince Drake this was this right thing to do.
I want Frankie found… even if that means they have to use me as bait.
* * *
It’s been a week of working long hours, and spending as much time as possible with Drake. We date. He takes me to dinner, the movies, we even went to the zoo on my day off. It’s been amazing. I’m falling more and more for Drake every day. The only black cloud in my otherwise sunshiny happiness is that the notes and gifts started the day I went back to work.
The first one was the same message as before: I miss you. Accompanied by a shiny red apple left for me with my lunch. Of course, no one saw who put them there, the breakroom is a busy place, and there are always employees from other floors sneaking in because we have the best vending machines. Flowers were delivered to me at work. The person paid cash, and the florist’s description of the customer didn’t match anyone I recognized.
Frankie is obviously not done playing with me. It’s pissing me off. I wish he would just get on with it, whatever he has planned. This waiting is driving me crazy. I’m jumpier than usual and the old paranoia I had started letting go of over the last three years is back with a vengeance. Drake helps with that. He takes my safety very seriously. When he’s not with me, some unseen guard is watching over me.
“Mmm… thanks for dinner.” I lay my head back against the headrest on my seat. Drake’s got one hand on my thigh and the other on the steering wheel as he guides his truck through traffic. Downtown Charlotte is no joke.
“You’re welcome, firecracker.” He smiles over at me and my stomach erupts in butterflies. The ever-present low hum of arousal pulses through me. We still haven’t sealed the deal. In fact, Drake hasn’t touched me since the last night he stayed over. I’m going a little crazy. I know he wa
nts me as badly as I want him. Every night when he kisses me at my door, his erection presses against my belly. I don’t understand why he’s torturing us both. I’m starting to question if he’s a sadist or maybe a masochist. Can you be both at the same time?
All I know is that if he doesn’t give me what I want soon, I might just have to tie him down and fully express how much I need him.
Like every night, Drake does a thorough walk-through of my apartment, checking to make sure everything is as it should be. So far, nothing seems amiss. I’m not sleeping nearly as well as I did while Drake was staying here, but I’ve got locks on all my doors, I have escape plans in case my exit out the front door is blocked. I’ve got my gun. I’m not helpless. It’s become my mantra.
I’m not helpless anymore.
“All clear.” Drake’s deep baritone rumbles through my ear as he wraps his arms around me from behind.
His mouth skates over the sensitive skin on my neck, and I shiver. Goosebumps erupt on my skin, causing my nipples to harden to little peaks. My pussy—already wet from just his nearness—seems to flood with my arousal. I turn in his arms and capture his lips with mine. I kiss him so fiercely it feels like I’m trying to crawl inside him.
My hands run over his chest, down his abs, touching him over his clothes isn’t nearly as satisfying as it would be to touch his bare skin, but I know better than to try. I don’t want him to pull away yet. In fact, I want him to pull me in closer. I want him to strip me down and push me against the wall. To thrust his big cock inside me until we are as close as two people can be. He’s told me over and over again that I’m his and I want him to prove it with actions not only words.
He lets out a low, almost pain-filled groan when my hand grips his cock through his jeans. I move my hand over him. There is a desperation to how passionately he’s kissing me. Good. I’m desperate too. I don’t realize Drake has been slowly moving us until my back hits the wall. My pussy clenches because I just imagined this exact scenario.
His Firecracker: Sassy Girls Series Page 12
