Cold gray walls narrowed and stretched ahead of me. An exit sign flashed in the distance. My legs moved impossibly fast, but the doors to freedom remained out of reach. Footsteps echoed around me. I skidded to a stop.
Hot breath blew across my shoulder, sending erotic chills across my skin. A heavy hand pressed against the small of my back, then wandered upward to stroke my hair.
“I protect what’s mine, at any cost.”
My eyes jerked open. Yellow light from the dingy bulb in the ceiling played tricks with my vision. It took too damn long to focus. A soft blanket covered me from chin to toes and my head rested on a fluffy pillow. The familiar scent of lemon-lime, lavender, and orange pervaded the air. His smell. Had he been here?
Sadness pressed on my chest like a road roller. I couldn’t breathe.
Out. I had to get out.
Every muscle protested when I jumped from the couch. I banged on the door, rattled the handle. I needed air.
Keys rattled outside. The door opened and a grumpy, disheveled Detective Waters greeted me. “Have a good sleep?”
I shook my head and drew a deep breath.
“C’mon.” He stepped aside and gestured for me to follow. “You look like shit.”
So did he, but I refused to respond. I walked behind him through the windowless hallway. When we stepped into the open area of the police station, bright sunlight scorched my retinas and shot minuscule razors straight through my brain.
Ow! I covered my eyes. “How long did I sleep? What time is it?”
A familiar voice called my name from behind. “Tatum, is that you?”
Leland clamped a hand around my arm before I could turn to look.
“Is that her?” I heard Nan shriek. “No. Let me go. Is it true? Tatum. Look at me. Did you murder him?”
I glanced over my shoulder and two officers held her steady. If looks could kill, there’d be nothing left of me but a bloodstain on the tile floor.
“Get her out of here,” Leland bellowed and hauled me into his office. “Jesus Christ. This place has turned into a goddamned circus.” He slammed the door and pointed at the chair. “Sit.”
He plopped a brown paper bag on his desk, shoved it my direction and with a grunt, ordered me to eat.
“Thank you.”
A warm breakfast croissant smiled up at me from the bottom of the sack. It smelled of bacon and buttery heaven and my stomach rumbled in agreement. I dove in with manners comparable to a wild animal. “Where’s yours?” I asked with a mouthful of greasy goodness.
He smiled as if amused at my lack of social graces. “I ate already. You want coffee?”
I nodded. “I’d blow Bigfoot for a coffee right now.”
His lip curled on the left side but he didn’t crack. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
I savored another bite and forced myself to slow down. Why was he being nice? Did something change overnight? Damn, the croissant was delicious.
“Tate?” Lizzie’s voice crackled from the doorway. “Oh, thank fuck.”
“Lizzie! What are you doing?” I’d never been so happy to see anyone and sprang from my seat. “Are you supposed to be here?”
She looked at the door, then back to me. “No. I had to make sure you were all right. I’ve been here for hours trying to flirt my way into seeing you. So”—she elbowed me—“last night, huh? Don’t get to see action like that every day.”
She must be an adrenaline junkie.
“Lizzie, they think I killed my boss.”
“Yeah, right,” she snorted, smacking my arm in a playful gesture.
I shoved the rest of my breakfast back into the bag. “I’m not joking. They locked me in a room.”
Lizzie gave me a once-over then pulled me into a hug. “Motherfuckers. In a cell?”
“Not exactly. I slept on a couch.”
She grabbed my hand and turned to peek out the door. “This is ridiculous. Have you been arrested?”
“Well, no.”
“Then what the hell are you hanging around for? Come on, I’m taking you home.” Lizzie tugged me out of Leland’s office.
“I can’t just leave. Can I?” I whispered, digging my heels into the floor.
She stopped, fists to hips, and quirked an eyebrow. “Did they order you to stay?”
“No.”
“Then we can leave.” She extended her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Follow my lead.”
My skin prickled, my head itched, I needed the little girl’s room desperately, and I was sure I had the world’s worst case of raccoon eyes. Leaving had to be wrong, but staying wasn’t doing me any good.
We snuck down the hall. Everyone went about their business. Leland was nowhere to be seen and nobody paid us any mind. Lizzie and I walked right out of the building and didn’t draw so much as a sideways glance. Wow. Who knew?
She led me to a beefy green Jeep parked close to the entrance. I climbed in and buckled up. In no time, we rolled away from the station. Cool and casual. Easy-peasy.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” I gasped, cupping my cheek and glancing out the rearview.
Her bright green eyes grew larger and she flashed me a million watt smile. “Oh. My. God. It’s adorable how sweet and innocent you are. What happened last night?” she asked, pushing the gas pedal harder than necessary.
I slunk in my chair. “Someone shot at us. Real bullets. Franklin threw himself on top of me, then went berserk. He had two guns. Two guns, Lizzie. They came out of nowhere and he looked like a damn assassin. He told me to run upstairs. I don’t know how I didn’t get shot. I should be dead right now.”
Lizzie’s jaw couldn’t have dropped any lower, but she held her gaze to the road.
I wanted to tell her about Franklin’s bedroom and share my agony. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to divulge his secrets.
“Then I heard sirens. When it was safe, I came out. They put me in a vehicle, questioned me, and took me to the station. I didn’t argue because I just wanted to be far away from there.”
Lizzie shook her head back and forth and pursed her lips as if processing my words. “Franklin was a mess.”
Nervous energy burst through my veins. “What do you mean?”
“His face looked like raw meat.” She smirked. “Someone beat the shit out of him, which I find hard to believe. I’ve seen him in action. I can’t imagine anyone getting close enough to do that kind of damage.”
I looked down at my bruised knuckles. Why had he let me assault him anyway?
“He nearly ripped my head off after everyone left.”
“Why?” I asked.
“He barged in after the parking lot cleared. Said he needed to see the photo. You know, the one I took of your stalker.”
Oh, no.
“I showed him and by his reaction, he had to know the guy. He yelled…” Lizzie lowered her voice and scrunched her face, mimicking Franklin. “That motherfucking piece of shit. This time, I kill him.” She paused and downshifted to make a sharp right. “He handed my phone back, grabbed a bottle of Jack off the wall and left.”
“Where’s your phone?” I asked. A flood of urgency burst through me.
“In my purse.” She pointed over her shoulder. I reached back and rummaged until I found her cell.
“Do you mind?” I didn’t wait for her to answer and pulled up her photos.
“It should be the first one.”
I pulled it up and zoomed in. My intestines knotted. I knew the face on the screen, too. Jay Masters. The kid my father had given a beating to in high school because he’d teased me. Jay Masters, who had steered clear of me from my freshman year through graduation.
“What the hell?” I asked, looking at her as if she’d have the answer.
Lizzie shot a nervous glance from her rearview to the road ahead and back again. “Do you know him?”
“Yeah. We went to school together.”
“Hey, Tate?” she whispered.
What was with the hush-hush?
“I think we’re being followed.”
I jerked around in my seat. Sure enough, a man on a black Harley followed two cars behind. The same black Harley I’d seen three times too many.
“What do I do?” she asked, more excited than nervous.
I was so done with the bullshit. “Pull over.”
“No!” she barked, pushing on the gas pedal.
“Pull over, Lizzie. Now.” I yanked on the door handle. She grabbed my left wrist and pulled me toward her.
“Okay, Jeez. Don’t kill yourself.” She veered into the dilapidated parking lot of a vacant building. The motorcycle followed and rolled to a stop on the opposite end. I jumped from the car and marched straight for him.
“Jay!” I screamed. “Is that you?”
The man on the bike gripped the handlebars and revved the engine.
“Take off your helmet, you coward.” I had no idea what I’d do when I reached him. Hadn’t planned that far ahead. A burning ball of tired, pissed, and scared female emotions churned and swelled inside me, and so help me God, I wanted to unleash it on his pathetic ass. “Show me your face,” I commanded, waving my hands in the air like a crazy beast.
I was ten feet away when he reached into his pocket and drew out a pistol. He flipped up the visor on his helmet and smiled. “Get on the bike or I’ll shoot you dead, right here in front of your friend.”
I dug my toes into the pavement and stumbled. The false bravado that’d carried me this far waved bye-bye and flipped me the finger. My knees buckled. Lizzie screamed my name. My field of vision narrowed to only his cocky mug. He wore a pleased grin and gave all appearances of being one hundred-percent calm and in control.
Tires squealed behind me. Jay’s glare darted from my face to over my shoulder. A wide smile spread from cheek to cheek. “Well, look who we have here.”
A vice clamped around my waist and a deep, throaty voice groaned in my ear. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Franklin lifted me off my feet and twisted to station himself between me and the threat, yet again. “Get in the car,” he ordered, then fired a shot.
Jay bellowed in pain. His gun flew out of his hand and slid under a rusted, windowless van.
I stumbled and caught myself on the car door. It was a black, sporty get-up. I dove into the driver’s side and climbed over the console.
I peered out the window to Lizzie. She jumped in her Jeep and I motioned for her to drive away. The spunky, little thrill-seeker smiled and tore out of the parking lot.
I turned back to Franklin. He fired two more shots, hitting each of the motorcycle tires. Jay’s Harley sunk beneath him and teetered, throwing him off balance. He held a bleeding hand to his chest, swung his leg to clear himself of the bike, tripped and fell hard against the pavement.
Franklin slunk into his seat, shifted gears, and squealed tires down the street, closing his door only after we’d cleared a whole block.
“Jesus fucking Christ! Why the hell aren’t you at the police station?” he yelled, spraying spittle across his steering wheel. Wow. Not so pretty when he was pissed off.
My heart pounded triple time. “I wasn’t under arrest. I left. What the fuck do you care?” I didn’t like using the f-word, it never burst from my lips with enough conviction to make the right impression, but sometimes it was necessary.
Franklin cranked the steering wheel hard to the left, turning onto a side street. My shoulder slammed against the door.
“That dip-shit let you walk out of there?”
“No,” I yelled back. “Slow down. I’m getting carsick.”
He eased off the gas pedal. I lowered my window for some precious air.
“What do you mean, no?” he asked, darting his eyes back and forth from me to the road.
“I left. I wasn’t under arrest. I didn’t want to be there anymore.”
“Shit.” He snagged his cell from its dock and fingered his screen. “Waters. Yeah, I have her. No. How the fuck did she just walk out? I asked one goddamn thing. Fuck no, I’m not bringing her back. I don’t give a shit. That’s classified.” He rambled Jay’s location to Leland. “She’s my responsibility. I’ll be in touch.”
Franklin tossed his cell at my feet, rolled down his window, and took a deep breath.
Classified? “Who are you?” I swiveled to face him.
His grim expression softened. Barely. “You know who I am.”
“Who are you?” I asked again, more a demand than a question.
“The man who keeps saving your ass.” He looked my way, and I got my first glance at his face. The skin surrounding his eye boasted several shades of purple and blue. His nose definitely didn’t look right, and three large scratches stretched from his left eye to below his cheekbone. Not bad for my first shot at kicking someone’s ass. Instinct urged me to reach over and offer comfort. I tucked my hand under my leg to keep it from such betrayal.
“Why were men shooting at you?” I asked, unable to cloak the seething anger in my tone.
“They weren’t.”
“Now you’re not making sense.”
“You have to trust me.”
“How in the world can you ask me to do that? Why is there a collage of me on your wall?”
Franklin’s lips drew into a tight line. The muscles in his jaw protruded.
“Classified?” I asked, fed up with the way the conversation was going.
“Yes.”
My pressure gage blew. I buried my face in my hands and screamed. “Take me back to the police station. I can’t be near you. I’d rather rot in a cell.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” His voice remained calm.
I pulled on the door handle. “I’ll jump out if you don’t start talking. Why were men shooting at you?”
“They weren’t aiming for me, Killer. You were the target.”
Franklin pulled a syringe from the pocket of his jacket and jabbed the bugger into my thigh. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s for your own good.”
A flush of heat spread through my leg. I yelped, searched his eyes in confused shock, and wrapped my hand around his as he pushed the plunger of the needle. He blurred. “I hate you….”
* * * *
It took some effort and time to bring my surroundings into focus. A violent shiver forced my eyes closed. My teeth rattled. Warm hands rubbed my arms and back. “Relax. The anesthetic should be out of your system soon.”
What? I tried to push away but my muscles wouldn’t cooperate.
“Don’t fight me right now, love. Just let me warm you.”
A surplus of vehement retorts bubbled at the back of my throat, but my jaw clenched tight with the shudders tearing through me. Heavy blankets cocooned both me and the man holding me with fierce resolve, yet I’d never been so cold, like I’d plunged naked into a tub of ice.
“Why?” I forced the question through chattering teeth.
“To keep you safe.”
He lied. It didn’t make sense. He knocked me out to keep me safe?
“B-b-b-astard. K-k-kidnapping.”
“Jesus, baby. I didn’t kidnap you. You shouldn’t have left the police station. You were safe there. You left me no choice but to bring you here.”
I hadn’t been safe since our first weekend together. Through the drug haze clouding my head, one truth sliced through the fog—he’d saved my life. Jay had pointed a gun at my face and Franklin Reed had appeared from nowhere to rescue me. My heart hurt, rage boiled in my guts, but I lay protected and unafraid in this stranger’s arms.
Franklin rubbed my skin fast and hard, the friction warming my outsides. His scent, mixed with that heady voice, thawed me from the inside. “I know you’re confused.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get you warm, then we’ll talk.”
Oh, we were going to talk, he could be damn sure—as soon as I could move my mouth again, and force my mind out of the gutter, which wasn’t easy considering the large erection tucked against my belly.
I shifted my hips away from him in protest. “M-my d-daddy would-d k-kill you,” I managed to sputter.
Franklin sighed and trembled himself. “He would. But not for the reason you think.”
What was that supposed to mean? More cryptic mumbo jumbo spurting from his lips. I couldn’t take anymore. I’d been spied on, shot at, lied to, accused of murder, witnessed gruesome acts of violence, deflowered, and now kidnapped in the course of two short weeks. How much was a girl supposed to take?
I dug deep and forced my arms and legs to move. Inside our tight blanket burrito, I kicked and shoved and wiggled out of Franklin’s embrace. “Get off me,” I screamed. “Let go.”
I wrestled myself free and shoved the shirtless man off the bed. He landed with a hard thud. “Goddamn, Tate,” he shouted and pushed to his feet.
I rolled off the other side and stood on wobbly legs, wrapping the comforter around myself. My throat closed up tight when I noticed a trail of blood oozing down his left arm. He cupped his shoulder with the other hand and slumped against the wall behind him.
“Why are you bleeding?” I asked, not sure if I was happy or worried to see him in pain.
“It’s nothing,” he grunted.
I looked around the unfamiliar room. “Where are we?”
“Safe house.” He nailed me with a murderous glare.
“Why in the hell are we in a safe house? What have you gotten me into?” I struck back with an equally fierce scowl.
Franklin’s chest rose and fell in rapid bursts. Face pale, his steely eyes shot daggers straight at my heart. He pushed off the wall and stalked toward me.
“Don’t come any closer,” I warned as I backed away.
He grabbed a shirt off the bed and pressed it to his arm. “Sit down.”
I shook my head no.
Franklin pointed to a chair in the corner of the room. “Sit the fuck down, now.”
I jumped at the fierce snap in his tone but stood my ground. The door was only a few feet away. Could I reach it fast enough?
“That wouldn’t be a wise move, love.” He nodded toward the only exit. “It’d only piss me off, and right now, I’d have no problem tying your ass to this bed.”
Franklin reached for the door, slammed it shut, and pressed his back against the dark wood. Then he slid to the floor and draped his arms over his knees. He didn’t take his eyes off me for a blink.
I couldn’t peel mine from him, either. Shirtless and bleeding. What a sight. Muscles low in my belly warmed. Fire danced across my cheeks. It was unsettling, the power he had over me.
I licked the dryness from my lips. “Why are you bleeding?” I asked with a whisper.
“Bullet grazed my shoulder,” he snapped.
“Last night?” I asked, choking down unwanted emotions.
His eyes softened and he nodded. “It’s not bad. Didn’t even need stitches.”
“I’m losing my mind, Franklin. You have to tell me what’s going on.”
He glanced to the ceiling, then rested his gaze on me again. “There are people after you.”
Absurd? Yes. I almost laughed in disgust, but I needed to hear his explanation. “Why?”
“Leverage,” he mumbled.
“Leverage for what?”
“To use against a man who held the power to destroy them. A dead man who knew too much.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Rumors surfaced months ago that this man faked his own death. If the rumors were true, the one sure way to get to him is through those he loves.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Are you on crack? Mentally unstable? This isn’t an action movie. This is my life, and from the moment I let you in, it’s gone to shit. Why are you doing this to me? Why?”
“I’m protecting you.” Fury backed his words.
“From you? Because from where I’m standing—”
“From them,” he cut me off.
“You’re being cryptic.”
He dropped his head between his arms. His fist clenched and unclenched, causing a rippling of muscle from wrist to elbow.
I growled in frustration, drew the blanket tighter around my body, and stormed toward him. “Who’s the man? Who’s the dead bastard, Franklin? Stop dicking around with me.” I dropped to my knees in front of him.
I’d remember that moment for as long as I lived. Franklin raised his head. Eyes glistening with raw emotion. He grabbed my chin and captured me with a gaze so full of anguish my heart stopped beating.
“Tony Wood,” he rasped. “Your father.”
A nauseating swirl of shock and fury churned in my psyche. The room darkened, and my line of sight narrowed to Franklin’s eyes. Eyes that burned with fierce resolve.
I hated him. I hated him. I hated him.
“Don’t you dare bring my father into this sick perverted game you’re playing.” I slashed my hand across his face. He grunted, then caught my wrist in his powerful fist. Before I knew it, I was flat on my back, straddled by hard thighs, with my hands pinned above my head.
“Stop hitting me,” he warned, lips hovering dangerously close to mine.
I turned, unable to bear the ominous force of his glare, and bucked beneath him.
“Look at me.” He pulled both my wrists into one hand and pulled my face back to his with the other. “Look at me. I’m tired of the fucking secrets, too. I’m done hiding from you.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. When they opened again, something in me broke. The pain he wore wrapped around my soul and squeezed until it burst into a million minuscule pieces.
“Tony taught me everything I know. Everything I am, is because of him.” Jagged breaths warmed my face.
“I’m a killer, Tate. Like your father.” He searched my eyes. He’d just ripped my world apart. What did he expect to find other than devastation? I tried to hold the tears at bay. They refused to cooperate.
Franklin continued. “Tony recruited me the day I graduated high school. He said I had a fire that few people possessed. The agency didn’t hire people so young, especially with no military background. Tony fought for me. Went over a few heads, promised them I’d be the best. He was right, too.”
“You’re lying,” I cried. “My father didn’t kill people. He was a business consultant. He didn’t have a secret life….” A memory crashed down on me like a tidal wave. One I’d tucked away and had long forgotten.
When I was ten, I’d walked in on mom and dad having a heated conversation. I’d been sleeping but had gone downstairs for a drink. Mom’s face was red. I remembered because she had pale, flawless skin, and I’d never seen it so flush and blotchy before. Her hands had twisted the sides of dad’s shirt. “How long have you been seeing her?” Mom’s voice had trembled, like she’d been on the verge of tears.
Dad had combed his fingers through Mom’s hair. His voice had trembled, too. “It doesn’t matter, it’s over. But the boy needs me. I can’t abandon him”
“You’ve put us at risk, Antonio. Especially Tatum. How could you?” Then she’d pressed her forehead into his chest and started to cry. I’d slunk back up the stairs and hid under my covers. I hadn’t understood what they’d been talking about. When I’d woken the next morning, they had laughed and talked and kissed each other goodbye. I remembered thinking that maybe I’d just had a bad dream.
“You’re the boy.” The words barely made it through the clog of emotion stuck in my throat. “You’re the boy he was talking about.”
Streams of salty liquid poured down the sides of my face, catching in my ears. I no longer fought to contain them.
Franklin didn’t ease his hold on my wrists. He only stared with sad longing. “I loved your dad. I owe him my life.”
“He’s the man you told me about? Your mom’s boyfriend?”
Franklin nodded.
“You’re hurting me.” I wiggled my fingers. Franklin let go and sat back on his heels.
“I swore on my life I’d protect you. On his death bed, his sole concern was you.”
Jealous rage churned through me. I should’ve been by Dad’s side when he died. I was his flesh and blood. “Death bed? You were with him?”
“Yes.”
“I hate you.” I sobbed and punched at his chest. “Do you hear me?”
Franklin sighed. He leaned forward, rubbed a hand up my belly and let it rest below my breasts. “Don’t say that, baby. You don’t hate me.”
Oh, no. He was not going to sugar-coat this conversation with sex. I raised to my elbows and tried to scoot away. My brain and body were not on the same page. Instead of fleeing, like any sane person would do, my body flushed and I shuddered for a reason that had nothing to do with temperature.
He nudged a knee between my legs, prompting them to spread. The cursed traitors opened, allowing him a nice cozy spot to nestle. He positioned himself between my thighs, then brushed away my tears with the pad of his thumb.
I focused on the scratches and bruises marring his perfect face, and reminded myself that I was furious. “You’re lying to me.” I dug my heels into the carpet and pushed away.
He crawled right back over me. “No, I’m not.”
“I hate you. This is wrong. Let me go.”
“I’ll die before letting you go.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?” I asked, balling my fist. I wanted to strike him again.
“To protect you and…” Franklin paused. His gaze darted from my face, to my breasts, my throat, then he swallowed hard and found my eyes again. “Because I love you. I’ve loved you my whole fucking life.”
How could those three simple words both disintegrate and make me feel indestructible all in the same breath? Everything about this was wrong. “Don’t say that, please.”
“You want the truth? That picture in your back pocket? The woman is my mom. I was ten the first time I saw you. Tony pushed you on a swing at the park. He didn’t know I was there, watching. You saw me, though. You looked right at me and smiled. God, the way your hair blew in the wind, you looked like an angel.”
“Stop talking.” I couldn’t breathe. His words squeezed my heart like a vise.
“No,” he continued. “In grade school there was a boy, a few years older than you. Always dirty, clothes too small, hair too long. Always had a black eye or a cut lip. All the kids stayed away from him.”
I knew that boy. The floor spun beneath me, the only thing holding me steady were the set of piercing eyes hovering above.
“Do you remember?”
I nodded. “He always looked so sad.”
“He wasn’t sad. He was angry. All the kids were afraid of him, except for one. A brave little spitfire with golden pigtails and bright blue eyes.”
Oh God, what was he saying?
“You asked me if I wanted to play. I said no—”
“I don’t play with girls, I protect them.” I finished his sentence. My voice weakened under the weight of memories washing over me. Franklin was that boy who always got kicked out of school for fighting, who one day didn’t come back and became a faded memory, like so many others.
I reached up to cup his scruffy jaw. “That was you?”
“You were the only girl who ever spoke a kind word to me.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I wanted to tell you that I knew your dad. I wanted to play. I wanted to push you on the swing….” His voice broke and he dropped his head between his arms.
How did I not recognize him? Then again, I was young and I never saw that broken boy after he left our school.
Franklin lifted his head. A new fire burned in his eyes. “Nothing can make me stop loving you. I didn’t stop when your dad threatened to beat the shit out of me for stealing your pictures from his wallet. Not when he caught me spying on you and did beat the shit out of me. I loved you through middle school, high school, my shitty sham of a marriage. You didn’t know I existed and it killed me. I hated that I couldn’t touch you, hold you, bury myself in you….”
He dropped his lips to mine and pressed his hips against my pelvis. My back arched and I moaned, savoring the pressure between my legs, his heat.
He kissed my chin, my jaw, then nuzzled my neck. “I’ve stayed away from you for too long.” His fingers dug deep into my hips. He spread my legs wider and rubbed harder against me. “I want every inch of your flesh to belong to me. I want you consumed, mind, body, and spirit with want for me, for us.” He pressed his forehead to my temple and whispered, “I’m going to spend the rest of my goddamned life making you crave me the way I’ve craved you.”
* * * *
I woke naked, sweaty, and sprawled like a drunk skank on top of Franklin. My head bobbed with the rise and fall of his chest. His heart pulsed a seductive rhythm under my ear. I pressed my nose to his skin and inhaled as much of his scent as my lungs would hold. Sweat, sex and cologne—what a potent combination.
My body ached, especially between my legs. We hadn’t made love. We’d fucked. Rough, angry, I’m gonna pound you until I feel better sex. He‘d known what I’d needed. He knew me. I’d matched his pace and ferocity, unleashing my anger and hurt with every thrust and grind, and had, much to my chagrin, started to feel better.
I pushed up from him and the hard floor and went in search of the bathroom. I found it down the hall and had never been happier to see a toilet. I relieved myself and then cranked the shower to just below scalding. It was stocked with expensive soap and shampoo, and I took my time, washing and shaving away the grime from the last twenty-four hours. The steamy water relaxed my sore muscles so I sat and let it rush over my head and back.
Could everything he’d said about Dad be true? Had my whole life been a lie? My father had always been such an overwhelming presence in my life. How could he have possibly carried off such a charade? What about Mom? Did she know? Who was Antonio Wood?
I ruminated until the water ran cold. When I stepped out of the shower, a plush robe hung on the hook right outside the door. The gesture, although sweet, only put a small dent in the cast iron shield protecting my bruised heart. Franklin had so much explaining to do.
His husky voice greeted me from the bottom of the open stairwell. “Hey, Killer.” He stood, propped against the banister with no shirt and baggy sweats that hung low on his waist. Even bloodied and bruised, the man was a sight to behold.
The uncertainty in his smile was almost a comfort. This was hard for him, too. Good. That made me feel better.
“Want some coffee?”
Caffeine. Damn, the guy knew how to get to me. I nodded and made my way down to him. “Thanks for the bathrobe.” I wrapped it tight around my body and tightened the belt. When I reached the last step, Franklin pulled me into his arms and squeezed hard. Although I didn’t have it in me to reciprocate, I let him hold me.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone gruffer than usual. “Was I too rough on you?”
I mumbled “no” against his chest. He dropped his arms and I followed him to the massive, sprawling kitchen. He filled two mugs, added cream to mine and led me to the living area. The moon shone bright through the floor-to-ceiling window and I could see an outline of trees in the distance.
“Where are we?” I asked after I cozied into the corner of the overstuffed sofa.
He sat next to me and handed me a cup. I curled my fingers around the mug and savored its warmth against my cheek.
“We’re an hour outside of Seattle. That’s all I can tell you.”
I rolled my eyes and cut to the chase. Didn’t have the patience for small talk. “Talk to me about the wall of photos.”
Franklin slunk into the couch, laid his head back and closed his eyes. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asked, like he was giving me one last chance to change my mind before diving headfirst into a pool of horse manure.
“I need to hear the truth. Like you said to me, no more lies.”
He rolled his head my direction and stared at me long and hard before continuing. “You were my mark.”
“Mark,” I repeated, because I couldn’t have heard him right. “Like target?”
“Yes. Tony was training me, only I didn’t know it at the time. We used you as a mark. It was his way of having an extra pair of eyes on you and keeping me out of trouble.”
Could things get any more ridiculous? My cheeks heated and I fought the urge to assault him again. “Do you know how absurd that sounds?”
“I was a fucked-up kid. Tony assumed responsibility for me because he….” Franklin’s eyes glazed, and he drew a sharp breath as if recalling a painful moment. “My mom was ill. Couldn’t take care of me. Your dad stepped in. I’d be dead or in prison if it weren’t for him.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “That doesn’t explain the wall.”
Franklin set his coffee down, roughed his hands over his face and sighed in exasperation. “Every day after school, Tony gave me an assignment that involved you. He made it a game. I’d have to follow you home from school and not be seen. I’d have to gather intel about what you did during the day, about your friends. He gave me a camera to take pictures, said it would help me stay focused on my target. I know it’s fucked up. But I was a kid and I would’ve done anything to make your father proud.”
“You grew up. You got married. Moved on. Why are they still hanging on your wall?”
He scratched his head and lowered his gaze to the soft beige carpet. “I never moved on. Like I said, I’ve loved you since the day I watched Tony push you on the swing. He recruited me the day I graduated high school. I fucking loved it. More than I should have. I could’ve easily lost myself in that world. You kept me grounded. When I struggled to navigate the hell surrounding me, I’d concentrate on you until my mind settled. You kept me sane in a world of chaos. I needed that wall. I needed you. Your face helped me sleep at night. It still does.”
I didn’t know what to say. I stared, searching his eyes for signs of crazy. Because that’s what this was—crazy—and I was loony for considering any of this to be truth.
“Why were you with my father when he died? I was told it was a heart attack. He was found in his car a few blocks from home.”
Franklin’s body tensed. “It wasn’t a heart attack.”
Oh, God. Did I want details? My imagination tortured me enough. “Just tell me it wasn’t you.”
“No.” He shook his head and released an agitated breath.
“Who then?”
Franklin shifted uncomfortably next to me. “Your father took down several leaders of a human trafficking cartel in Venezuela. He got his hands on a list of clients. There are powerful people here in the States that would lose more than their fortunes if that list were made public. The Salazar Cartel will do anything to make sure their clients remain anonymous.”
“What happened to the list?” I asked, knowing he wouldn’t tell me.
“I don’t know.”
“But now they’re after me? Because they think he’s alive?”
“The cartel is after the list. Threatening you would force him out of hiding.”
“He’s not hiding, right? He’s dead. Because if he were….” I choked back a sob. Daddy couldn’t have done that to me and Mom. That would’ve been unforgivable.
Franklin pried my mug from my fingers and set it next to his on the ornate side table. He lifted me into his lap and cradled me. “Tony died in my arms, baby. He wasn’t alone. He didn’t suffer. I held him until the end. He cried for you, made me promise to keep you safe, and died with his head against my chest just like this.”
I wanted the truth and I got it. Trouble was, I wasn’t emotionally ready for it. As tough as I pretended to be, I couldn’t handle the God-awful reality I’d fallen into. I slid off Franklin’s lap, went to bed, and mourned for Dad again.