red, feeling an embarrassment only an older brother knows. She screamed and stomped her cubby legs in frustration. “My dolly. He took Ginger.” Mickey continued to ignore her so she enlisted my aid. Pulling on the sleeve of my sweatshirt, she pleaded through trembling lips, “Please.” It was the first but not the last time that I’d gazed into a woman’s eyes and agreed to do anything she asked.
Fifteen minutes and several bruises later, I st aggered back to the stoop with a terrifyingly ugly doll clutched in my hand. Frankie had failed to mention there were four boys who’d taken her doll, and two of they were DeMarcos. The fight had been brutal, but I’d come out on top. I handed the sad looking doll to her, and her face split into a wide smile. She was missing her two front teeth. “You’re my hero,” she said, tears drying on her cheeks. It was the first time in my short life that I’d felt like one. It was a feeling, like a drug I would chase for years.
Chapter 13
I punched the too soft pillow under my head for the hundredth time. As tired as my body was sleep would not come. Lying next to Frankie, listening to her deep even breathing was driving me crazy. I wanted her, wanted to feel her skin pressed against mine. Wanted to taste her lips and bury myself between her cream-colored thighs. I was one sick bastard.
When her leg touched the back of my thigh I shot from bed as if it was on fire. I paced, listing excuse after excuse for my desire. Reactionary lust. It had been six weeks since I’d been with a woman. My desire was nothing more than physical need. A no strings attached one-night stand would fix whatever it was that made me want her. It wasn’t about her….
She cried out in her sleep. “No...No…please no.”
My stomach rolled, lust replaced with guilt. I sat on the bed next to her and gently shook her awake. “Frankie, it’s okay.” Tears stained her cheeks. I wiped them with the edge of my hand. “It’s a dream. He can’t hurt you.”
She shot up from the bed, breathing harsh in the quiet room. “Ian?” She squinted at me in the dark.
“ Yeah. I’m here.”
“Did I wake you?” S he blinked, rubbing her eyes. Her ashen face colored with embarrassment.
“No, I was getting a drink.” I lied. “How often do you dream about it? About him?” I searched through the mini-bar. Guilt and anger filled me. Five years had passed since the morning I found her, beaten and bloody. If I’d only gotten there sooner…
“Not often.” It was her turn to lie as her fingers gripped the thin sheet to her chest. “Is it that easy to forget the last five years you spent in prison? Or the smell of death?” Seriousness descended on her as if my answer would heal the past.
I weighed my words. “I did what I had to do. We all did.” Ripping off the top to a miniature bottle of Jim Bean, I drank deeply. The stinging liquid slid down the back of my throat, killing the sourness that surfaced.
“Did we?”
“Yeah.” The end justified the means whether Frankie realized it or not. Even at my lowest point, after being shanked in the ribs by a crazy eyed Aryan, I knew I’d made the right choice.
“I sometimes wonder.”
She looked so small and fragile in the overly large bed. I hated to see her like that. I wanted the fearless little sister, not this complicated female with vulnerable eyes. “It’s over,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended. “There’s nothing you do can do to change what happened.”
“It’s not over. ” Her voice broke. “Sal wants you dead, and he’s using Mickey to accomplish it. I can’t go on acting that the last five years haven’t happened. That it’s not all my fault.” She threw a pillow across the room. “Not anymore. I’m done pretending. When we get back I’m going to Sal.”
I moved to the bed, grabbed her shoulders, dread and fear ripping through me. My fingers dug into her upper arms leaving red
Fifteen minutes and several bruises later, I st aggered back to the stoop with a terrifyingly ugly doll clutched in my hand. Frankie had failed to mention there were four boys who’d taken her doll, and two of they were DeMarcos. The fight had been brutal, but I’d come out on top. I handed the sad looking doll to her, and her face split into a wide smile. She was missing her two front teeth. “You’re my hero,” she said, tears drying on her cheeks. It was the first time in my short life that I’d felt like one. It was a feeling, like a drug I would chase for years.
Chapter 13
I punched the too soft pillow under my head for the hundredth time. As tired as my body was sleep would not come. Lying next to Frankie, listening to her deep even breathing was driving me crazy. I wanted her, wanted to feel her skin pressed against mine. Wanted to taste her lips and bury myself between her cream-colored thighs. I was one sick bastard.
When her leg touched the back of my thigh I shot from bed as if it was on fire. I paced, listing excuse after excuse for my desire. Reactionary lust. It had been six weeks since I’d been with a woman. My desire was nothing more than physical need. A no strings attached one-night stand would fix whatever it was that made me want her. It wasn’t about her….
She cried out in her sleep. “No...No…please no.”
My stomach rolled, lust replaced with guilt. I sat on the bed next to her and gently shook her awake. “Frankie, it’s okay.” Tears stained her cheeks. I wiped them with the edge of my hand. “It’s a dream. He can’t hurt you.”
She shot up from the bed, breathing harsh in the quiet room. “Ian?” She squinted at me in the dark.
“ Yeah. I’m here.”
“Did I wake you?” S he blinked, rubbing her eyes. Her ashen face colored with embarrassment.
“No, I was getting a drink.” I lied. “How often do you dream about it? About him?” I searched through the mini-bar. Guilt and anger filled me. Five years had passed since the morning I found her, beaten and bloody. If I’d only gotten there sooner…
“Not often.” It was her turn to lie as her fingers gripped the thin sheet to her chest. “Is it that easy to forget the last five years you spent in prison? Or the smell of death?” Seriousness descended on her as if my answer would heal the past.
I weighed my words. “I did what I had to do. We all did.” Ripping off the top to a miniature bottle of Jim Bean, I drank deeply. The stinging liquid slid down the back of my throat, killing the sourness that surfaced.
“Did we?”
“Yeah.” The end justified the means whether Frankie realized it or not. Even at my lowest point, after being shanked in the ribs by a crazy eyed Aryan, I knew I’d made the right choice.
“I sometimes wonder.”
She looked so small and fragile in the overly large bed. I hated to see her like that. I wanted the fearless little sister, not this complicated female with vulnerable eyes. “It’s over,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended. “There’s nothing you do can do to change what happened.”
“It’s not over. ” Her voice broke. “Sal wants you dead, and he’s using Mickey to accomplish it. I can’t go on acting that the last five years haven’t happened. That it’s not all my fault.” She threw a pillow across the room. “Not anymore. I’m done pretending. When we get back I’m going to Sal.”
I moved to the bed, grabbed her shoulders, dread and fear ripping through me. My fingers dug into her upper arms leaving red
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