Chapter Five

They drove around for another hour or so in the dark on back roads through the Illinois country. Gloria was only able to stay awake due to the cold whipping along her exposed skin. Every once in a while Frankie would tap her leg to warn her he was increasing speed or was about to take a sharp turn. She started craving those little touches, those little offerings of warmth.

As the sun neared the horizon, artificial lights started to brighten up the sky. She craned her neck over his shoulder and fought a gasp as the buildings of Chicago came into focus. Chicago? What were they doing in Chicago? Why would Frankie decide to ride into the city under Sergei’s thumb whilst running away from said Pakhan?

“Frankie, is that Chicago?” she asked through the helmet speaker.

“It sure does look like it,” he mocked.

“Why are we going to Chicago?”

“We need sleep, don’t we? I’m zonked.”

“Sergei lives in…”

“Vasiliev is in Russia. Heading home, but still. By now all of his men are racing across the country toward New York. Not all of them, but his best. It’ll take them two days to realize I didn’t head straight for home. The last place they’ll expect us to go is the city that’s only an hour away from his hideout.”

Gloria didn’t question his logic. He’d clearly thought this through. She knew he was right. He wove dangerously through the early morning traffic. Gloria kept herself glued against his back, careful to not look into the car windows at the business men and women gawking at her odd choice of clothing. He pulled up to a large hotel and drove his motorcycle into the parking garage below the building. The roar of his engine revved, piercing her ears as he looked for a good parking spot.

Her legs wobbled as she got off the bike and stretched. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his visor but she knew he was looking in her direction as she twisted and elongated her body. She could care less if her nightgown was riding up, her body had been locked tight for hours. He slowly loosened the strap of his helmet and pulled it off. He was still wearing the balaclava from the events earlier in the morning, but with his helmet off, he couldn’t hide the path his eyes took over her shivering body, particularly where her nipples poked through the velvet of her bodice.

He grabbed the bottom of the balaclava with both hands and pulled it up over his face. The paleness of his chin, cheeks and forehead stood in stark contrast to the black paint he had smudged across his eyes. The gash she’d given him on his left cheek looked like it would need stitches but at least the bike helmet had acted as a compress of sorts.

“Your face. You may want to wipe it off if you don’t want to scare people,” she suggested as she tried to get her own helmet off.

Frankie kept his dark eyes on her as he used his free hand to run his fingers through the shaggy hair falling into his eyes. Gloria turned away to break the intense gaze he had on her as she continued to yank at her helmet strap. As the clip finally came free she felt something touch the back of her nightgown. She jumped slightly as Frankie’s fingers grazed the soft flesh of one ass cheek. Her eyes shot downward to find Frankie using the bottom of her nightgown as a face wipe. The white fabric became a dusty black as he took her advice to get the dirt from his face. Once he was done, he looked up at her with eyes that couldn't possibly get any darker.

“Better?” he asked.

Was his voice deeper? Did he have a frog stuck in his throat? More importantly, why did the sound he just made make her pussy pulse?

She cleared her throat. “Depends who you’re looking at,” she said, ripping the gown away from his grasp.

He stood to his full height and smiled wickedly down at her. “Then I shouldn’t have worried about it at all seeing as how everyone is going to be wondering why the fuck you’re in your nightie.”

Frankie chuckled, pulled the black duffel from the back of his bike and walked toward the elevator. Gloria glared after him for a moment, letting the anger boil in her stomach. “You couldn’t have brought me clothes, or lent me a jacket?” she called after him.

“You could have grabbed clothes. We were in your house after all. Plus, I don’t have a jacket and I’d hate to get you hot and bothered by giving you my shirt and forcing you to hold onto my sick abs all morning,” Frankie joked.

The elevator dinged and Frankie stepped on. “It wasn’t my house. If it was my house, you could have rang the doorbell not blown it to smithereens,” Gloria growled, folding her arms.

Frankie looked sideways and raised a brow. “You would have answered for little ole me?”

There was a cockiness in the way he asked but she could see the genuine curiosity in his eyes. She never knew black eyes could be so expressive, show so much emotion. She tightened her arms and looked at the number flicking on the elevator telling them they were nearly to the lobby.

“If I had any say in any aspect of my life I wouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

“Hmmm.”

The elevator dinged again and the door opened. Frankie preceded her out, heading toward the lobby desk as though he were a regular and had his own penthouse suite. The women behind the desk balked at the sight of the man heading toward them. Two girls actually ran through the door toward the offices while the two remaining fidgeted with their pens and readjusted their hair as if those nervous gestures could save them from the imposing man walking toward them in all black with mysterious stains that luckily didn’t show their true color. Then their eyes cut to Gloria and one of the girls went for the phone.

“No need for that, Sweetheart. I called earlier for a room. Name’s Donati,” Frankie said, dropping the duffel to the floor before leaning heavily over the counter and flashing the same smile that made any girl go from quivering in fear to trembling in need.

The girl holding the phone blushed crimson and Gloria rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, Sir. Yes, Donati.” She set the phone down and typed away on her computer. “We have you down for the penthouse for two nights?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he cooed.

“Two keys?”

“One,” he said, his voice brokering no argument.

The girl’s eyes flicked to Gloria and skimmed down her appearance. “Okay then, there are complimentary drinks in the room. Room Service has just started breakfast. If you want, you can just call down and we will place an order for you. We also have several services available to you such as massages, skin care treatments, a sauna and…”

“That won’t be necessary. Just give me the key and we’ll get going. We’ve had…” Frankie’s eyes flicked sideways and he sighed. “Quite a night.”

The girl’s eyes filled with pity and she nodded. “Sure thing, we just need a credit card.”

Frankie dug in his back pocket and deposited a sleek black card on the counter. Gloria gasped and grabbed his arm, startling both him and the girl across the counter. “Frankie, that card has your name on it.”

Frankie’s eyes went to the card and back to her. “Yes, I do believe you’re right.” He flipped the card over and gasped theatrically. “Igad, it does!”

Gloria’s nails dug into his skin making him hiss. “Sergei can track that.”

His face smoothed as his smile pulled at his lips. He knocked her hand free and wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her up against his chest so quickly it made what air was left in her lungs rush through her mouth. He leaned down toward her ear, most likely to keep the hotel girl from hearing.

“What if I want him to track me?” he whispered, his breath fanning her skin making her knees weak. “What if I want him to come here to find me and see that he’s too late. That he sent his men on a wild goose chase when I was here all along. In his town. In his hotel. In his bed. In his…”

“Is that what this is all about? Showing him up?”

“Revenge is a part of it, yes.”

“And the other part?”

Frankie’s thumb skimmed the soft material at her hip. He opened his mouth.

“You’re all set, Sir,” the girl beamed, sliding the card back over to him.

“Thank you,” Frankie said, grabbing the card and key.

“You’ll use the private elevator there,” the girl announced, pointing toward a gold-encrusted elevator. “It’ll take you straight up without stopping.”

“Fancy,” Frankie said. “Oh, and my friend here needs some clothes.” His eyes raked down the girl’s uniform. “You’re about her size. Maybe a bit bigger. Could you get us something?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed at his ‘bigger’ comment but smiled tightly and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Frankie said, walking off.

Gloria went to follow.

“Oh, ma’am, I’m sorry, you dropped this,” the second girl at the counter announced, pushing a folded piece of paper toward her.

“That’s not…”

“Sure it is,” the girl persisted, pushing the paper toward the edge.

Gloria took the paper and unfolded it.

If you’re in danger, call us at #0. There are phones in every room. If you need help, just call. Don’t say anything. We’ll see what room you’re in and we’ll call the cops or our boss.

Gloria swallowed knowing who owned this hotel and which boss they were referring to. She nodded and walked toward Frankie who waited at the elevator with his back to them. He pulled out his phone and appeared to be accessing some kind of security system.

“What did the note say?” he asked, still looking at his phone.

“They seem to think I’m in danger for some reason.”

Frankie smirked and chuckled. “They aren’t wrong.”

The elevator opened and Frankie stepped on, leaving her reeling with his words.