SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) (19 page)

Compared to the night before
the flight was relatively uneventful. Andy typed away on his computer in the next seat over. Drew thumbed through a magazine left by a passing tourist, or maybe he stole it, with Drew you never could tell. He gestured to a picture of a blonde model draped across a Mercedes. “What are you gonna do with all that money?”

“I haven’t thought about it.” I rubbed my
eyes, gritty from lack of sleep. “I honestly never thought we’d pull it off. I figured we’d be in jail about now. What about you?”

“I think I’m gonna retire. Move away from the city
, maybe buy a farm somewhere.” Drew set the magazine down and poured his fifth miniature bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Sure.”
I laughed, not buying it for a second. Drew was New York. He thrived on the excitement, on the grit. I couldn’t see him living in some small town tending cows.

He grinned. “Okay, maybe not. But I tell you
what; I’m done living like this. Nobody is gonna tell me what to do from now on.”

“You got troubles?”

“Fuck,” he shrugged, “you know how it is. I owe everybody. Hell, I even owe Billy. Been working off that debt for a year now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have loaned you the cash.”

Drew grinned. “You don’t have the kind of money I’m talking about. Hell, two million ain’t gonna get me clear. But it’s a start.”

“Jesus
Drew. What are you into?”

“I had a string of bad luck
. Trusted the wrong guy. I wanted more and for a while, I was at the top of my game. Then the bottom fell out...”

“Man, I’m sorry…” What more could I say?

“Hey, no worries. By Friday I’ll be rich and this shit will be a fading memory. Speaking of fantasies, does Frankie live up to yours?”

My head turned so quick, I felt a vertebrate pop. “What?”

“Do you think we’re stupid? It doesn’t take two hours to find an earring.”

“Does Mickey know?”

Drew grinned. “I think he’s in denial where Frankie’s concerned. Not unlike yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“You both think she’s this pure, sweet, and innocent little sister. But I tell ya, she can be a stone cold bitch. But hey, I’d risk it too. What’s the worst thing that can happen? You catch two in the back of the head like Nick?” He shrugged. “Not a bad way to go.”

“You
’re so full of it.”

Drew
laughed. “Seriously though, sleep with one eye open because there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

It was late when I finally made my way home to O’Malley’s. Since our plane landed at a little after noon I’d spent the rest of the day gathering intel. Someone was looking to hook me up for Nick’s murder and it was time to find out who. My first stop was Colin’s. “Ian?” Colin opened the door looking every bit not like the rock star he was. He wore torn jeans and a black t-shirt that had faded to murky gray. “What the hell are you doing here?” He pulled me into the apartment, glancing quickly up and down the hallway. “Burgess has this place staked out.”

“I know. I saw two uniforms in a car outside.” I moved to the window. “They
didn’t see me. Don’t worry.”

He frowned.
“Famous last words.”

“How’s Zoë?”

Colin’s face fell and he sat on the couch with a sigh. “You talked to Clair.” At my nod, he continued, “Some days are better than others.” His fist hit the coffee table. “I hate this. She’s suffering and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. It’s like my mom all over again.”

My aunt Irene
died when Colin was eighteen. Many a nights, I sat next to her hospital bed with Colin playing poker for matchsticks and listening to the steady rhythm of the respirator. At one point she was in so much pain I considered ending it. Taking the hospital pillow and smothering her until the look of pain left her face. I couldn’t do it though, and she had lived for six more days. Six days that morphine couldn’t ease. If I had one regret in life, it was those six days.

“S
he’s not your mom.” I sat in a chair across from him, taking in his haunted eyes. “Zoë will beat this. She will fight and beat it. Look how she wore you down.”

Colin nodded, looking a little stronger. “
Thanks. Today’s just been a hard one. So how was Grand Cayman? How’d Frankie do?”

“I can’t believe you let Zoë do that to me.”

“I had nothing to do with it. I came home and Clair was here, Frankie wasn’t. Zoë filled me in. That doesn’t mean I don’t think it hilarious.”

“Funny.”
I shrugged. “It worked out, so I’m not too pissed. By the way, thanks for sending Clair to warn me.”

“Wasn’t my idea. S
he wanted to go.” Colin stopped. “I think she has a thing for you.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not like that.”

It was his turn to shrug. “Doesn’t matter. She’s not your type.”

“What do you mean? She’s exactly my type. Hell, if sh
e hadn’t fucked me over once before, I’d follow her around like a puppy.”

Colin laughed. “N
o, no you wouldn’t. Smart assed redheads are more your speed.”

“Fuck you.” I took a breath. “What is it with everyone? Can’
t you see I’m not right for Frankie?”

“Why?
” Colin appeared honestly perplexed. “You’re not Billy, you know. Just because he was a lousy husband and father, doesn’t mean you will be.”

“That’s exactly what it means.” I
stood to pace the room. “Yesterday I saw Frankie with the same look my mom always wore. The one that wondered if she’d ever see Billy alive again. I put that look on Frankie’s face. Me.”

“So settle down
. Get a real job. It’s not too late.”

“It is too late. What else do I know? I’m not talented like you. I got
one thing going for me—brutality. I’m a thug. That’s it.”

Colin stood
and thumped me in the chest, hard. “God, you make me mad. Fine, have it your way. Frankie’s too good for someone as stupid as you are. She’d be better off with some stockbroker on Long Island.”

“Hey.
” I pushed him back. “Fuck you.”

Colin grinned.
“Admit it. You want her.” He hit me again, and I seriously considered punching the grin off his face.

“Fine, b
ut that doesn’t mean I’m what’s best for her.”

“Why don’t you let
her decide?”

Good question.

******

“What’s shaking, J
oey-Dean?” I grinned at the kid, noticing he’d lost yet another tooth. Soon he’d look like the toothless crackhead sleeping a few doorways up. He perched on the stoop next to the bar, his thin legs pale in the moonlight. It was a little after midnight, much too late for a ten year old to be roaming the streets, but who was I to judge. Joey-Dean’s mom did the best she could. She worked three jobs to support seven kids. Joey-Dean’s father had left the family when Joey was two and his mom went to work. It was the way of life in the Kitchen. You did what you had to survive.

Joey-Dean motioned to the window.
“The new glass came today. I saw your dad putting it in.”

I
shook my head at the window, with no cracks or chips, it just didn’t feel the same. “Have you seen Frankie?”

He
smiled. “She looks real pretty with blonde hair, but I miss the red.”

“Me too, kid.” I shrugged. “You wanna a soda?”

His eyes lit. I opened the bar door, and ushered him in. The bar looked the same, but cleaner. Broken glass and busted tables replaced with newer, cheaper versions of the same crap. The regulars sat uncomfortably on the new stools. One or two called out a greeting, but for the most part, they ignored my entrance in favor of lukewarm beer. Frankie stood behind the bar, pouring drinks in hip-hugging jeans and a form fitting t-shirt. She looked hot and I felt the rush of lust I’d long associated with her.

Joey-Dean and I sat at the bar.
I nodded to Frankie, flipping a few Cayman dollars onto the bar. “I’ll take a beer and my friend here will have a coke with extra cherries.”

Frankie gave me a smile and a wink. “I was getting worried about you.”

“No need.”

She shrugged. “The three unmarked patrol cars cruising the neighborhood say differently.”

“They’ll never take me alive.”

“Funny.” Frankie’s expression told me it was anything but. “You need to leave town before
your ass winds up in the joint.” She placed our drinks on the bar and handed Joey-Dean four quarters. “Go play pinball, honey.”

He
grabbed his drink and ran off, a smile splitting his young face.

“
I’m not leaving town. Not for a long time,” I said. “And what I really need to do is figure out who wants me out of the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone used the gun you left to kill Nick. You think that was random?”

“It wasn’t?
Of course it wasn’t.” She put a hand to her mouth. “The call at the bank. That wasn’t random either.”

“Nope. Someone wants me in jail
and out of the way. I just can’t figure out why.” I took a drink of beer. “Why not kill me outright?”

“I’ve wa
nted you dead plenty of times, but you’re not an easy man to kill.” She reached up and caressed my face.

“Frankie, we need to talk…
,” I started.

She
dropped her hand and pulled away. “No, we don’t.”

I
reached for her, taking her palm in my hand. It felt warm and soft, much like the rest of her. “What happened on the island….”

“If you say it was a mistake, so help me, I will kill you myself.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” I grinned. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. It can’t happen again.”

“Right.”

I’d expected some argument, so when she readily agreed, it pissed me off. “Fine. Good.” I smacked my beer on the counter with more force than intended. A volcano of foam shot up, and spilled over the bar.

Without a word
she wiped it up. “So what are you going to do about Burgess?”

“I’m
not sure. Maybe I’ll call Billy. See if he knows anyone on the inside.”

“What about Sal? O
nce he hears you’re back in town, it’s war.” Her eyes bore into mine, searching for what I wasn’t sure.

“I have some thoughts about that. The important thing is to
keep you and Mickey safe. Once Mickey pays him, I’m going to look him up. Sal needs to know I didn’t kill Nick.” My face hardened, and Frankie dropped her gaze.

“What makes you think he’ll believe you?”

“I don’t.” I cracked my knuckles. “I plan to give him the guy who did.”

“That’s not going to be easy.”
She moved down the bar to pour a beer, her hands shaking.

“I have two million dollars that says it won’t be as hard as you think.”

She laughed. “You’re on. What’s your brilliant plan?”

I winked. “I’m going to make killing me too imposs
ible to resist. If I get to Sal and can convince him I didn’t kill Nick, this guy’s dead. So it’s in his best interest to stop me from reaching Sal. Who this guy is will fuck up because, as you know, I’m like a cat. I always land on my feet.”

“Let’s hope you haven’t used all nine lives.”

“Got to die sometime.” I shrugged and finished my beer. In my line of work, survival was the nature of the game. You live or you die.

Helping Frankie close the bar that night was torture. My desire burned like a firestorm, hot and violent, but in the end uncontrollable. Frankie’s easy acceptance us not having sex again had had the opposite than the intended effect on me. It drove me fucking crazy.

Watching her bend over the pool table, h
er jeans taunt across her ass, had me praying for divine intervention. I counted to ten, and when God didn’t strike me dead, I took a few steps toward her. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and licked her lips.

That was it, t
he final straw. My mind blanked. I grabbed her around the waist, and spun her to face me. She gasped in surprised, but came willingly enough. I brought my mouth to hers, crushing her lips against mine.

Game over.

She threw her arms around my neck, pressing her breasts to my chest. Her nipples tightened beneath her shirt. My hands slipped under the thin cotton, stroking the sensitive nubs. She moaned, low and deep, her tongue warring with mine, in a dance for dominance. Before I knew it, I had her half-naked on the pool table. My mouth explored the curves of her jaw, throat, and breasts, tasting and teasing her heated skin.

A few seconds later, s
he put a restraining hand on my chest. Her voice shook with desire. “This doesn’t change anything. Tomorrow we go back to being friends.”