Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Joey
“I’m sorry. If I could take back that day,” Frankie whispered.
The tone he used wasn’t anything I’d ever heard from him before. Apologetic, yeah, but more than that. Sad? Yeah, okay, but that wasn’t it either. Fuck.
“What are you talking about?” Bravado seemed like the way to go. Of course I remembered the fucking day. Every time I looked at him, I remembered.
“It’s not that I’d take your place. I’d have never let it happen.”
“So you’re telling me twenty years later you regret kissing me?” I asked. Hopefully, I was hitting nonchalant. Bored would be good too. “Cool story, bro.”
“Shut up, Joey. Considering I fucked you last night, you know that’s not true.”
“Fucking me yesterday doesn’t have shit to do with today.”
“I’m sorry I pushed you away and didn’t tell my dad to get fucked.”
Frankie said his piece like it was a goddamn option. It wasn’t.
The son of a rat didn’t get to fuck around with the son of the bodyguard.
I wasn’t to be trusted any more than my dad.
Of course Frank Sr. lost his shit when Frankie got caught hanging out with me.
Shit, he didn’t even learn that Frankie was gay until later.
I earned my place with Matteo because…because he knew I was fucking loyal to him, because I knew how much disloyalty cost.
“Your dad was right.”
“The fuck you say?”
“You heard me. We had no business being friends then, and we ain’t friends now.”
Getting off with each other was a different problem, but I didn’t have to talk to him for that. Shit, it was better if we didn’t. He kept my mouth stuffed anyway, and that was good enough.
“My dad was an asshole to everyone, including you. You’re not your dad, and I’m not mine. Yeah, we have to figure out who is messing with Connor, but after that? We’re not going back. You belong to me. You have since we were kids fucking around in potting sheds.”
Before I could stop him, that fucker reached up and gently traced the scar that traveled the full length of my cheekbone.
“I knew it wasn’t on purpose.”
“Doesn’t matter. I hurt you, and you never told anyone it was me who did it.”
“Who the fuck am I gonna tell? My old man? He was hiding in prison. Complain to your dad? Fuck that shit.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
The air of the car was charged with goddamn feelings that needed to stay dead and buried. That was the day I decided to keep my place in the family, and I did. It wasn’t all bad.
“Christ, Frankie. Let go of me.”
His fingers had stopped their tracing and cupped my cheek instead. The rough stubble must’ve tickled his palm, but it was hard to say. As usual, Frankie looked composed and fucking serene like a goddamn rock garden come to life.
“I’ve been trying, but it hasn’t worked, so I’m giving up.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means I’m done trying.”
And then the fucker tightened his grip on my neck and yanked me forward.
Our mouths fused, and I gave up trying to pretend that I didn’t want him.
Frankie’s tongue explored my mouth as if he’d never been there before.
He tasted like mint and a hint of the espresso he’d had earlier in the day.
Each stroke of his tongue was a reminder of how quickly I forgot to be me when he touched me.
Frankie was in control of the kiss from the moment our lips touched.
I was along for the ride, but I wasn’t ready to demand myself back.
He could keep me for a while, and I could pretend the shit he spouted was real.
The stroke of his tongue sent a cascade of sparks through my veins, and not super fucking conveniently, straight to my cock.
What started as a semi, because I was always a little hard when he was around, skipped all the steps in between and landed straight on rock hard and wanting more.
His fingers flexed at my nape, and I found myself trapped and needy at the same time.
A shiver ran through me at the sensations of feeling his fingers and mouth sweeping over me like an ocean wave crashing on the rocks.
Need threatened to overwhelm me, but if I could stay exactly like this forever, I’d be down for it.
Someone who was definitely not me made a sound that was clearly not a moan when Frankie pulled away.
“Fuck me, Jojo, we can’t do this here,” Frankie said. Rude.
“Do what here? It’s our job, asshole.”
“Don’t be a smart ass, Jojo. Making out with you happens to be my favorite thing, but we need to do our real jobs first.”
I chose to ignore the nickname for a second. And ignore the warmth that spread through my chest at hearing it said all growly. Unpacking all that shit could wait until later.
“Do you want to talk to Matteo or see what we can find before that?” Frankie asked.
His voice had lost the sexy-as-fuck gravelly tone, and he was back to the clipped speech that made me want to punch him. It always made me feel like he was too busy to breathe, and I was a fucking idiot for whatever question I had.
“Look first,” I answered immediately. “There’s no reason to bring it up if there’s nothing to the hunch.” After Frankie’s nod of agreement, I added. “Let’s go see what we can find in the files.”
“Check this out.”
After heading back inside to the office and making a quick phone call to the computer guy who handled all the shit I didn’t understand, we got a file dump onto the encrypted drive.
Dropping a tracker was easy-peasy, but poking around a bank’s internal systems was a good way to trip alarms neither of us wanted to deal with.
Even Frankie, who could hack better than most, knew when something was above our pay grade. And this shit was way above it.
“Yeah? What is it?”
“Sam was paid a shit ton of money in the second and fourth weeks of the month. He was using goddamn Cash App.”
“You’re lying.”
“I fucking shit you not.”
“There’s a number?”
“Yeah, here.”
I pointed it out on the screen, and Frankie started searching. He stared so intently at the laptop that he didn’t notice that I couldn’t stop staring at him. If my luck held, I’d get a few seconds of satisfaction and move on before he noticed.
“Why are you still looking at me?”
“I’m not.”
“Liar,” he answered like we were talking about the damn weather.
There was almost affection in his voice, which was…strange. And weird. And really fucking nice. I hated it.
“Fuck off. If I’m looking, it’s because there’s nowhere else to look in this shoebox.” I tried to keep the defensiveness out of my voice, but his chuckle told me I’d failed. Asshole. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
His office wasn’t all that small, but the walls were closing in on me. He stood too close, and his aftershave smelled a little like my favorite orange-spiced tea that I never drank in public. It messed with my head.
“You’re welcome to bullshit yourself as much as you’d like, but you’re not going to lie to me.”
The hard edge of his voice stirred my cock, and that pissed me off more than any other part. I fucking loved, and hated, how much his being so…so…himself turned me on. Even without turning my head, the expectation he’d laid down was unmistakable.
“Sorry,” I choked out grudgingly.
Even to myself, the words sounded awkward and rusty, but it was the best I could manage. When I felt the brush of his fingers on my nape, I fucking melted and hated myself a little for it. If our quarters felt close before, now they were claustrophobic.
“Jojo, you’re the most stubborn man I know, except for one. And there’s no damn way you’ll outlast me.”
Stillness was the best answer I could manage.
What I wanted to say and what I would say were a gulf-sized difference, so the best option was to keep my mouth shut.
There was no telling what would come out right now because the stupid part of me wanted to be back at that damn cabin again.
I’d lay my head on his thigh, and he’d read his smart-people books about art and geography and shit.
So annoying. I shook my head and forced myself to concentrate on the job in front of me.
The best thing I could do for myself was keep my damn mouth shut.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I gasped.
His mouth replaced his fingers on my neck, and sparks shot through my veins like fireworks in the summer.
Heat pooled in my stomach, but I wasn’t sure what to do other than let it wash over me.
He fucking paralyzed me. Always had. I’d always hated how much he could still stop me with a look or a touch.
When his lips traced the column of my neck, I thought I might dissolve into my chair, leaving a mess on my keyboard.
My instantly hard dick made me think of a few other ways I could make a mess.
“What I should’ve done years ago,” Frankie muttered. “Shoving you that day was fucked up. Pretending I didn’t give a shit about you was worse. I’m not doing it anymore.”
And then that absolute asshole of a man straightened up. My body felt the beginning of his withdrawal before my brain processed it.
“But I can’t distract you when we’ve got a hit.”
Sadly, that jolted my attention back to my actual job. Fuck me, my brain was getting whiplash.
“Goddamn, Frankie,” I groused.
He leaned back down, sucked my earlobe, grinned against my skin, and pulled back again. While I was practically panting, he stood there all smug like it was no big deal. This man annoyed me so much.
“Let me do my job.”
“Not stopping you.”
It sounded like he was laughing at me, but I wasn’t going to get pulled into another distraction. I just needed to get through this, and then I’d figure out what the fuck was going on in my barely working brain.
“Who is this?” I whispered to myself.
Frankie nudged me aside, and his fingers flew over the keyboard. I pushed myself back, but he blocked me with his body.
“Stay here.”
“Just trying to get out of your way.”
“No thanks,” Frankie said simply.
His fingers flew over the keyboard, and it scrolled faster than I could understand, but after a few screen changes, the writing narrowed to one name.