Chapter Eight

April

It had been three days since Gloria witnessed Frankie Donati getting his dick sucked by Polly. Each time she saw the blonde tramp smiling or flicking her hair, she was assailed with images of bashing her skull against the bar. What made her so special? Gloria dropped her head back and inhaled slowly. She counted down from ten as her mom had taught her and went back to wrapping the gauze she’d just used on her latest patient. Luckily the “m&ms,” as the waitresses loved to call them, had been gone most of the weekend so she hadn’t been forced to face Frankie again. She shivered as she was reminded of the way his eyes looked at her like he wanted to devour her whole. She certainly imagined him doing just that when she’d gotten home that night… and every night since.

“Can I get some help?” a velvety, smooth voice asked behind her. There was an edge to the way he said it, like he knew just what would make him feel all better.

“Yeah, sit down, I’ll be right with you,” she told the man.

She finished wrapping up the gauze and grabbed a new pair of disposable gloves from the box. “Is it broken, cut, or…”

Gloria froze halfway through her turn. Frankie Donati flashed her a crooked smile that made her stomach twist into seven different knots. She dropped one of her gloves and his dark eyes followed its downward path. His gaze slowly climbed back up her naked legs and over her tank top before his eyes returned to her face, far more heavy-lidded than when they’d dropped. His pupils dilated and in that moment she realized his eyes weren’t black at all, just the deepest brown possible.

She spun back around and grappled with the box of gloves, using the task as an excuse to take her time and get her fucking bearings back.

“To answer your question…” he began, his voice like molten lava seeping from her ribs downward. “I’ve been stabbed.”

This got Gloria’s attention. She turned back to face him, ready to save his life. Her fingers probed over his arms, up his abdomen to his throat. She heard a low rumbling noise and glanced up to see Frankie’s head back, exposing the scar along his throat. His eyes blinked open a few times as if he’d just surfaced from a daze.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” she asked.

His head fell forward. He blinked hard as if drunk. “Not at all. Here,” he said.

Using the hand with the compass on it, Frankie took her fingers and guided them to the muscle of his left pec. She noticed blood appear on her gloves. She shooed away his hand and tenderly prodded the inch long incision. She hooked her fingers in the black cotton shirt and pulled, ripping the fabric so she could get a better visual.

“Holy shit,” Frankie groaned at the action.

Gloria was completely oblivious. She was focused on the stab wound. She touched his shoulder and leaned him forward to prod his back. Goosebumps rose up on his arms, drawing her eye. She shook her head and then let him sit back. She grabbed some gauze, cut a small strip and doused it in alcohol.

“This may hurt,” she warned under her breath.

“Not from you.”

Gloria wasn’t surprised he didn’t so much as flinch when she pressed the alcohol to his chest or when she started cleaning the immediate area.

“You’ll need a few sutures. Do you want a local?”

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lilah,” she answered automatically. She put the thread through the freshly sterilized needle and prepared her work area.

“And your real name?”

Gloria glanced over her shoulder at the man whose eyes were focused on the spot where her ass meets her thighs. “Lilah,” she repeated.

She stepped in front of him and kicked his combat boots. He spread his legs with a wicked grin that sent heat to her cheeks.

“It’s just so I can get close,” she explained.

“You can sit in my lap, if it’ll help,” Frankie offered, that wicked grin turning into one with a dangerous promise.

“Do you know how many guys use that line every day?” she asked with a shake of her head as she cleaned the site one more time.

“How many? Do you know their names?”

Gloria looked up to find his smile gone. His eyes were calculating as they swept the club as if meeting a man’s gaze was enough to declare him innocent or guilty.

“It was a joke,” she said, trying to placate him. She shook her head. “Most men who come through her are passed out or babbling like babies,” she said. She turned to get her needle and thread ready.

“Is that what I have to do to get you to wrap your thighs around my neck?” he asked.

She froze for a moment and tried to ignore the way his voice made her pussy throb. She closed her eyes and inhaled but rather than help, it brought back images of him coming undone. Gloria decided to ignore his question. She cleared her throat and returned to the space between his legs. She set her materials down on a tray beside him and started working: no medication administered for the pain. She could feel his gaze on her as she worked. After a few minutes of silence, she felt his hands settle against her hips. She punctured the needle too deep causing him to groan and clasp her hips tighter.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not daring to look up.

“You’re tougher than most of Nora’s girls,” he observed, sounding thoroughly amused at the fact that he was throwing her off balance.

This made her look up. “I don’t know what you’re…”

“Accardi helps fund her mission. I already know full well you are,” he told her before she could finish the lie. She narrowed her eyes at him. He may be hot, but he wasn’t hot enough to make her spill her secrets. His eyes sparked amusement as if he’d caught the lick of defiance race across her eyes. She went back to work, no longer caring about being gentle.

“How old are you?” he pressed.

“Twenty-four.”

He scoffed. “Doubtful. I’d guess you’re much younger than that.”

Gloria ignored him. It was true. Twenty-four was the oldest she’d ever been able to pass for. She’d tried to say she was twenty-seven, but Nora laughed her ass off at that.

“Lilah,” Frankie said as if he were calling her. She peeked up to find him studying her shrewdly. “Nora always gives you names similar to your own. Close enough so that if someone calls you, you’ll answer automatically. Based on your response, I’d guess something ending in ‘-ah’ and a hard ‘i’ somewhere in the middle. Maria?”

Gloria picked up the scalpel and before she could think through the idiocy of her decision, she pressed the cold sharp metal against Frankie’s throat.

“Look here, I didn’t get to where I am… Go through what I went through to have some guy who thinks he has a few extra brain cells come along and ruin it. You don’t know me,” she hissed, pressing the blade deeper. “You don’t care about me more than a passing interest. A passing interest I have no desire to pursue. Leave. Me. Alone. Got it?”

Frankie watched her for a minute with a look of approval etched across his smug smile. He stood up, causing the scalpel to cut into his throat and draw blood. He dipped his head down, drawing more blood.

“I’ve never wanted a Russian this bad,” he whispered.

Gloria gasped and yanked the scalpel away from his throat. “How… What… No, I’m not…”

Frankie secured his hand around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. Heat radiated between them, desire pooled hot and thick as their bodies connected. His eyes slid down and back.

“Your accent slips when you’re angry, Sweetheart…” He lowered his mouth toward hers. “Careful with that, hm? There are dangerous men afoot. Ones who may not be okay with you simply watching them from afar any longer.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she dared to ask.

He smirked and licked his lips, bringing his tongue dangerously close to her own plush lips. “It means the next time I catch you watching… I’ll make you show me what you’ve learned.”

For a moment she thought he might kiss her. She held her breath, waiting for him to drop that last inch and seal their lips together. Then a loud, shrill alarm sounded. Frankie sighed and glanced down at his belt. He looked back up at her, his eyes filled with longing and regret. The next moment his handgun appeared next to his head and he fired two shots into the air. Gloria didn’t so much as flinch. He raised a brow, impressed, before he released her and jumped into the shocked, cowering crowd.

“Get the fuck out of my way or the next one goes through you!” he yelled as he shoved through the crowd at the same time as Accardi and the manager, Louis, came barreling down from the VIP section. She released a breath and fell back against the railing, wondering what the hell just happened.