The monologue gave Frankie time to limp down to the wooden dock and maybe out of hearing. The Hermitage was awfully quiet.
“Sounds wonderful.” Frankie paused. If she’d been talking to a friend, now was when she’d get questions about how her day had gone. Her month. What Alaska was like.
Frankie frowned, an uncomfortable feeling growing inside her.
No one in her family had ever asked about her trip. Or how she was doing.
In fact, did they…ever?
Her mother’s voice grew louder. “Francesca, did you hear me? I asked what day you’re coming back. When can I expect to see you at your desk?”
That was the only question her mother ever asked on these phone calls. Frankie sighed. “I’m glad to hear everything is going so well.”
“Until it isn’t. We need you back here, Francesca. Birgit has lost two bookings and Anja’s favorite hair stylist said she won’t work with her any longer. I want you back here tomorrow.”
What a great incentive to return. Not. “Actually, I think I might stay in Alaska. I like it here.”
Mama’s gasp was horrified. “You can’t. Absolutely not. Your job is here.”
“I have a job here. One I like better.”
Rather than asking what the job was, her mother gave a flat, “No.” Then a screech came over the phone followed by shouting.
Frankie suppressed a laugh. Mama must still be at work, and from the noise, a model was having a meltdown. The shouting was Jaxson and an outraged female.
Frankie almost laughed. “You better go deal with that.”
The phone went silent.
Frankie considered her cell. Despite the small size, the device felt heavy, weighed down by uncomfortable conversations, expectations. The dark lake water seemed to be issuing an invitation: toss it in and break that connection.
Such an appealing thought, but that connection was to her family.
She looked toward the gazebo and sighed. Did she have the courage to fight her whole family to make a life here?
A life with Bull?
He was watching her, then came down the slope to join her on the dock. Putting her jacket around her shoulders, he settled beside her. As their feet bumped together, dangling over the water, he put an arm around her.
Up in the gazebo, the conversation continued in a low murmur. Gabe and JJ were discussing where the PZs might have holed up and what the town might need to worry about.
Leaning her head on Bull’s arm, Frankie watched Aric. The little boy was sound asleep in Hawk’s lap. His little face still had the shadow of a bruise on one side, but the strain was gone from his expression. He felt safe.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Bull brushed her hair from her face. His hand was so big, so powerful. So gentle. “Was it bad news?”
“No, not really. My mother wants me back in New York.”
“There’s no surprise. Do you want to go back?”
“No. No, I don’t.”
After a pause, Bull said very quietly, “Stay. Be with me.”
Happiness rose inside.
He took her hand. “I realize your modeling agency job is more exciting and fulfilling—”
Her snort cut him off. “It’s not that. I like working with people, but not in the fashion or advertising industries. It’s so sexist. If men’s clothing changed like women’s, your dress pants would be above your knees some years.”
Bull’s laugh rang out, and Frankie grinned reluctantly. “The whole industry is designed to manipulate women into spending more money—by making them think they’re not attractive enough as they are. I guess I have an ethical problem with pushing that agenda.”
“Then why haven’t you changed jobs?” Bull asked.
“My family needs me.” She shrugged. “I’m good at what I do. Things run better when I’m there.”
Bull studied her. “You’ve been in Rescue quite a while. Has your family been calling and putting the pressure on?”
“Oh, have they. I just told Mama I wanted to stay here. She and the rest, they won’t understand not returning to them and my job… They’ll see it as a betrayal.” Her voice cracked with the last word. “I don’t want to lose them. I don’t want to lose you.”
His arm tightened around her.
“Bull, I don’t know what to do.”
No, that was a lie, wasn’t it? She knew what she wanted to do. With a sigh, she leaned her head against his wide chest. In the lake shallows, a mother duck was teaching her fuzzy babies to swim.
My mother was never that attentive.
Yet… they were her family. What would they do if she left? Would she get cut away completely?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Diplomacy - the art of saying “nice doggie” till you can find a stick. ~ Wynn Catlin
* * *
A few days later, Bull dropped onto the couch. What a fucked-up world, dammit.
“Dios, ’mano.” Caz strode in, followed by…Jesus, everybody except Hawk who’d taken Aric to the hospital to see his mama. “We saw you put your fist through the railing.”
The doc sat down, tsked, and started pulling splinters out of Bull’s knuckles. “What set you off?”
“Frankie.” The heat of anger couldn’t compete with the chilling cold of loss. “She called to say her family is here, staying at the Swan B&B. They want to take her home with them tomorrow.”
“But she wants to stay here.” Gabe smiled at Bull’s raised eyebrows. “I’m not blind, bro. She loves you.”
“Typical move,” JJ said. “If phone calls aren’t enough, it’s time for in-person pressure. They brought everyone so they’ll out-number her.”
Audrey frowned at the officer. “Was your mother manipulative? I thought you said she was wonderful.”
“She was.” JJ shook her head. “On the Weiler police force, I got stuck with family dispute problems. I learned to recognize the tactics used to strong-arm a rebel into line.”
“Strong-arm?” Bull’s jaw tightened. Over my dead body.
“Bro.” Gabe sat down on the woodstove hearth. “How serious are you about her?”
“Very serious.” Bull scrubbed his hands over his face. Dammit, he’d thought they’d have a little more time to work things out. “This is your warning. If she goes back to New York, I’ll follow her.”
Gabe and Caz nodded in complete understanding.
“I think JJ and I are seeing a different side of this.” Audrey leaned forward. “Will Frankie really be content in New York? Or is she being guilted into returning—and she’d be happier here.”
He knew the answer to that—or was it merely his own wishes? Because his thoughts had been going in a circle for days now. And what he’d decided was… “If she loses her family by staying, I doubt she’ll be happy.”
“Sí, your Frankie is the kind to sacrifice herself for her family.” Caz tilted his head. “But ’mano, does that family realize what they’re asking her to give up? A job she loves, a man she loves, a life she loves?”
Setting his fears to one side, Bull considered. When Frankie spoke of her family, they didn’t sound particularly loving. More like they were oblivious to anything unrelated to modeling. Since Frankie didn’t fit into their worldview, they discounted her opinions as unimportant. Did the same with her, too, he thought.
So…if they actually loved her, perhaps if they saw what Frankie would be losing, they might halt the pressure.
If they didn’t love her, then showing them they’d have a fight on their hands might also work.
Gabe had been watching Bull, and now he smiled slowly. “Let’s do some planning. Caz and JJ, you’re in charge of the psychological warfare. Audrey, identify the personnel and resources available. Hawk will probably remain here with Aric and Regan, so don’t include them in the mission. Bull, pick the field of battle.”
“Frankie said they’d eat at the roadhouse,” Bull said, feeling the rightness of his decision. “Let’s set up on home ground.�
�
Gabe nodded approval.
“Felix will want to help,” Audrey offered.
“Perfect.” Bull gave her a smile. “He can do a sneak and peak.”
“Good.” Gabe had a pad of paper in his hand. “That’s advance recon nailed down. What do we know about Frankie’s family?”
“I’m going to get my laptop,” Audrey called, already on her way out the door.
The blood started to move faster in Bull’s veins. Frankie’s family didn’t understand her. Didn’t value her.
He did. And so did his family.
At the roadhouse, Frankie smiled at her father. “While you wait for the hostess to set up the table, I’m going to run out and get my jacket. It’s chillier in here than I thought.”
Before he could respond, she slipped out the door into the quiet night. Cavolo, but her ears needed a rest. Did Birgit ever stop talking?
Still, it was wonderful to see them all. She really did love them.
Crossing the parking lot, she grabbed her coat out of her little car.
After her time in Alaska, Frankie could see her family more clearly…her very work-obsessed family.
Papà loved her but couldn’t think of anything except his photography for longer than a few minutes.
Her sisters’ lives revolved around their modeling careers. That was a given. Still, they could be loving siblings at times. Birgit was always delighted to fix Frankie’s makeup before an event. Anja loved being asked for help when deciding on what to wear.
Pulling on her coat, Frankie leaned against the giant chain saw-carved moose at the corner of the building. Her heart ached as she considered the fourth member of her family.
Mama had a reserved, chilly personality. Bemoaning that was futile. Her mother’s priority was—and would always be—the business she’d built from scratch.
With all of them, relationships came second.
Frankie needed to accept that what she wanted from them was something that wouldn’t happen. Something she needed to stop trying to get.
Being here with Bull’s family had let her see that the lack wasn’t her. She was who she was, and she really was quite lovable. There were just some people who measured love out in smaller portions.
Unlike Bull, who poured out love like a wide river.
She smiled as just the thought of him renewed her resolve.
The night wasn’t going well. Mama’s dedication was to her company, and that meant she was pushing Frankie to return with all her might…because that was what was best for her business.
Just before they left for the roadhouse, Mama mentioned how they’d supported Frankie in college…and with the expectation she’d pay them back by working at the company.
Another wave of guilt swept over Frankie. So far, she’d managed to stand her ground, but…it really was difficult. Was she being as ungrateful as Mama said?
She told them she had a job here, a life…and a man she loved. They ignored or discounted everything she said.
After all, Birgit had said in a disparaging voice, Frankie didn’t have good taste in men. Look at what’d happened with Jaxson.
“Francesca, we’re being seated,” Anja called from the door.
“Coming.” Frankie patted the moose’s huge head and strode into the roadhouse.
Shortly, Amka, the night’s hostess, took them to their table. “Enjoy your meal, Frankie and family.”
As Amka moved away, Frankie frowned at the large round table they’d been given. Yes, it was in a quiet corner, but…the table seated twelve and was reserved for people who wanted to conduct a meeting and eat at the same time. Her family wouldn’t even fill half of the table.
But no point in asking Amka what she’d been thinking. Papà’d already sat down with Mama on his right.
“Hi there, everyone. Welcome to Alaska.” Felix gave the group his most charming smile. “I’m Felix, and I’ll be your server tonight.”
“Felix?” Frankie raised her eyebrows. “Since when have you waited tables in the restaurant?”
“Girl, I lost my waitstaff-virginity over here in the restaurant section.” He tucked an arm around her and kissed her cheek, then firmly seated her where she had an empty chair on each side of her.
He kept talking as he handed out menus. “Bull—the owner of the restaurant—heard our Frankie’s family was here. He plans to come over and say hi. When you see a huge guy with a shaved head, don’t panic. He’s ours.”
“That’s very kind of him.” Papà’s expression was pleased. “I’m sure he’s a busy man.”
“Oh, very. He has another restaurant in Homer and one in Anchorage. We’re gratified he prefers to live in Rescue.” Felix beamed at them all. “Who wants a pre-dinner drink?”
Her mother and sisters ordered wine, but Papà loved beer. “I’ll have a Beartooth from Bull’s Moose Brewery. Is there any connection to this roadhouse?”
“Excellent choice,” Felix said. “And yes, Bull owns the brewery.”
As her sisters and parents opened their menus, Frankie looked around the roadhouse. So familiar, so dear. No, she didn’t want to leave it.
How was she going to get that through to everyone?
Would they hate her forever if she stuck to her resolve?
But…just the thought of saying goodbye to Bull left her feeling as if her heart and lungs had been scooped out.
Her jaw tightened. I’m going to stay here.
Operation planned. Contingencies accounted for. Advance recon done.
An hour later, having debriefed Felix about his impressions of Frankie’s family, Bull studied the group from across the room.
Probably in her fifties, the mother was still a spectacularly beautiful blonde. Her two daughters, also blondes, had inherited her high cheekbones, pointed chin, big blue eyes.
Frankie’s heritage obviously came from her dark-haired, brown-eyed father.
They were all chattering away while Frankie sat quietly. Seeing her so subdued pissed him right the fuck off.
Ignoring the momentary wish for his old assault rifle, Bull strolled across the room. Stuffed full of good food, the opposing force sat, pinned at a table, square in his sights.
“Sweetheart.” Leaning over, Bull kissed the top of Frankie’s head—warning shot delivered across the bow—and ignored her parents’ startled expressions. “Welcome to Alaska, Bocelli family. I’m Bull Peleki, the owner of this establishment. How’s the food?”
After listening to their compliments—sincere, to his surprise—he smiled and initiated the attack. “You must be Frankie’s mother.”
When he glanced at Frankie and raised a brow, her color deepened. “Oh, excuse me. Bull, I’d like you to meet my mother and father, Sigrid and Giorgio Bocelli.”
Before she could introduce her sisters, Bull interrupted. “It’s good to finally meet you. Frankie has talked about you all quite a bit. I’m sure she’s told you she is staying with my family out at our property—what we call the Hermitage.”
Giorgio appeared surprised.
Sigrid didn’t. So, the mom knew about Frankie being with him, and dad didn’t? How much had Frankie told them about Mako’s sons and the Hermitage?
“When we heard you were here,” Bull continued, “my family hoped to meet you.”
Her mother was frowning at Frankie, but her father, who, from all reports, had a personality like Frankie’s said, “We’d be delighted.”
They were probably thinking a meeting would happen sometime in the future, but nope. Bull raised his hand and motioned.
Time for the psychological warfare.
From the bar where they’d been waiting, his family sauntered over. They were missing only Hawk and the children; Aric was still uncomfortable away from the Hermitage, and Hawk already had too many internal scars from family conflict.
Gabe and Audrey took seats directly opposite the parents; Caz and JJ sat down across from the sisters.
Bull slid into the empty chair next to Frankie.
Felix was an excellent conspirator.
Reaching under the table, Bull appropriated Frankie’s cold little hand.
After studying his family, she narrowed her eyes at him.
Yes, sweetheart. The sarge’s sons are conducting a rescue, using words instead of bullets.
Rising, Bull launched into introductions. “On the New York side, we have Sigrid Bocelli—owner of the Bocelli Modeling Agency. Giorgio Bocelli, renowned for fashion photography. Anja”—he nodded at the oldest sister—“and Birgit, world famous models.”
He managed to suppress his smirk when Frankie’s siblings realized he knew who they were without any introduction. Audrey was truly excellent at research.
He continued. “On the Alaska family side, we have Audrey Hamilton who runs our library. Gabe MacNair, Chief of Police. Police Officer Jayden Jenner. And Caz Ramirez who runs the town’s health clinic. We all live out at the Hermitage.”
“You live together in one house?” Birgit asked in confusion.
“No, we own a fair amount of acreage on Lynx Lake and built our houses there with a shared courtyard,” Gabe explained. “Frankie came to live with us after her rental cabin was torched.”
“Torched.” Her father almost stood. “Merda, my daughter’s house was burned?”
Nope, she hadn’t told them about the arson. And here was where Frankie’s temper and emotions came from. He leaned into Frankie. “I like your father.”
Her eyes shot sparks at him. “Deficiente, what have you done?” Her voice dropped. “They didn’t need to know that.”
His grin widened. Yep, one Italian temper.
Across the table, JJ asked Caz, “Did she just call him an idiot?”
“Francesca, you will explain this torching. Now.” Her father pointed to Frankie.
She kicked Bull’s shin hard enough to make him wince. “Papà, Kit’s husband was abusive and involved with a horrible cult, and he dragged her into it. I came here to help get her free, and the cult burned my cabin to make me leave.”
What You See: Sons of the Survivalist: 3 Page 33
