22. Chapter 22
Evan
“Opening up isn’t easy for either of us, is it, little thief?” Frankie rested the washed plate in the dish rack, viewing Evan expectantly.
“I guess not.” Evan’s cheeks flushed, still finding it difficult to believe just how attentive Frankie was.
When they were together, no matter what they were doing, she gave Evan her undivided attention.
Her cell phone was usually in her bedroom or her purse in the hallway, so that her focus never wandered.
If someone needed her downstairs, they knew to ring the landline.
“How about we play a game, one that will help me get to know you, and you, me?” Frankie’s hand, still damp and warm from the dishwater, settled on Evan’s bare arm, making the skin prickle with goosebumps. Their eyes met. “Because I want nothing more than to get to know all of you.”
Evan’s mouth went dry. “O-okay. What kind of game?”
“How about we start with … two truths and a lie? It’ll give me a glimpse of your creativity at the same time.”
Evan’s mouth went dry. They weren’t ready for this.
At all. Evan had been lying for what seemed like forever some days, about small, unimportant things, and big, heavy, character-shaping things, but this game Frankie wanted to play felt like a landmine.
One wrong step and it could be all over for Evan.
“You look pensive. What else is hidden behind those intriguing eyes I adore so much?” Frankie’s fingers grazed Evan’s cheek, reining their thoughts back in, and they blinked up at Frankie.
“I’m not.”
“Here, I’ll go first. Try to pinpoint the lie.” Frankie smiled, turning back to the waiting dishes in the sudsy water. Her hands sank past the bubbles, and she washed their supper glasses before speaking again. “I love to hike, I’m adopted, and I hold a black belt in Krav Maga.”
An unexpected pang of guilt hit Evan in the chest. It didn’t seem fair now that they knew more than they should have about Frankie. They’d have to lie just to seem less suspicious. “I’ll say the black belt is a lie. You practically live at the pub.”
“And you would be wrong, honey.” Frankie grinned, leaning into Evan so that her lips brushed theirs in a soft kiss. “I hold a black belt in Krav Maga and a brown in Muay Thai. The lie is my love of hiking. Nothing sounds worse than huffing and puffing in buggy woods or up a mountain.”
“Wow, that sounds … That’s impressive. And hot. Also, you’re adopted?” Evan feigned surprise. “Since you were born?”
“Now, we wouldn’t want you to discover everything about me all at once, would we?” Frankie kissed Evan again, murmuring, “Your turn, little thief.”
Fear skittered up Evan’s spine, and for an agonizingly long moment, their brain drew a blank.
What parts of them did they want Frankie to discover?
Most of their life brought shame to the table, no matter how it was sugar-coated.
Good deeds were few and far between, and honestly, hobbies were the same.
Nothing had been the same for Evan after prison.
They’d been out long enough to realize all their previous friends had moved on or disappeared.
And while on the inside, the only passion had been for drawing, unless they counted their penchant for pickpocketing the occasional inmate or prison guard.
“Don’t overthink it,” Frankie said softly. “This should be fun. I want to get to know you, but only as far as you’re willing to let me in.”
Evan nodded, their thoughts drifting to Cecil. He had to be wrong about Frankie. The woman didn’t have an evil bone in her body. After living with her for over a month, Evan should know that better than anyone else.
“Use your words, Evan. A nod doesn’t go far with me, I’m afraid. I want verbal consent, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and ‘I understand’.”
“I understand.” Evan licked their lips, daring to look at Frankie. Her stunning brown eyes were full of warmth and desire. For Evan. “I…um, used to play hockey, my favorite color is green, and I never went down on a girl before.”
One of Frankie’s brows shot up, and she stared at Evan, no doubt trying to figure out if that was their lie or not. Her lips twitched. “I had a feeling you’d be good at this. But I’ll have to call it. Surely, the third is the lie.”
A blush warmed Evan’s cheeks, and they broke Frankie’s intense eye contact.
“Actually, my favorite colors are black and blue.” What possessed them to divulge such an intimate, honest fact?
What happened to making something up on the fly to keep the game going long enough so that Frankie spilled something useful?
Frankie commanded Evan in a way no one had before.
“You’ve never …?” Frankie trailed off. Shaking her head in wonder, she dried her hands off and headed into the living room.
Evan followed, a strange kind of apprehension sinking low in their belly as they sat on the sectional beside Frankie.
Had Evan’s fact been too honest too soon?
Fuck, was Frankie now having second thoughts about them together?
But why would it matter when she doesn’t like —
“Why haven’t you?”
Evan gave her a small smile. “Now who’s prying?”
Frankie’s eyes widened, and she bit her lip. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just … I want to make sure you’ll be satisfied with me, if giving wasn’t an option. Confiding in me makes it sound as if giving to your partner has been on your mind often.”
“No, it’s not that. Not really.” Evan glanced away, embarrassed at how much they’d let slip.
Why was it that their brain got all scrambled around Frankie?
Was it because she was a Domme? “I-I just have a type, I guess. No one’s ever let me …
do that. I dunno why. Maybe I don’t look like I’d be good at it. ”
“I doubt it’s that, little thief.” Frankie’s strong fingers gripped Evan’s jaw, and she turned their face toward hers.
Her sympathy was etched plain as day onto her face.
“Offering yourself fully is a terribly vulnerable thing for some. I would never demand someone to go out of their comfort zone if they weren’t ready.
And I would never push back against a hard limit.
Respect in the bedroom must go both ways. ”
“I understand, Daddy.”
Frankie’s nostrils flared, and her voice dropped several octaves, her husky reply floating over Evan in a gentle caress. “Three times you’ve called me that.”
“Do you want me to stop?” Evan swallowed, their eyes trained on Frankie’s full lips. As if their wishful thinking had willed it, Frankie’s tongue darted out to lovingly trace the bottom one.
“No, I find I rather enjoy hearing you call me Daddy. It makes me want to do … certain things to you.”
Evan licked their lips. “Y-yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” Frankie smirked, relaxing further into the sofa. “I believe it’s my turn, two truths and a lie.”
“Huh?” It took a minute to remember the game, and Evan’s shoulders slumped. They could think of at least five other things they’d rather be doing with Frankie that evening. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Very good. Now let’s see.” Frankie tapped her finger on her chin, and the longer she took, the more serious her expression got.
That vulnerability she spoke about flickered in her eyes but was gone so fast Evan wondered if they’d imagined it.
“I’ve never been bowling, I don’t have any tattoos, and … I-I took a life in the line of duty.”
Evan reeled back, slack-jawed at Frankie’s confession. Their pulse began to race, and it felt as if their heart had lodged itself inside Evan’s throat. Their voice cracked. “What?”
“Two truths and a lie, little thief. I used to be a cop, so which one is the lie?”
Evan could barely hear Frankie over the buzzing in their ears. They clamped their hands over them to muffle the sound and flinched away from Frankie when her hand landed on their thigh.
“That bitch cop killed Caleb. Get rid of her, or I will.”
Cecil’s cruel voice penetrated Evan’s chaotic whirlwind thoughts, the threat to Frankie’s life causing their stomach to lurch.
It’s true. It’s really fucking true.
With as much force as they could muster, Evan schooled their features in front of Frankie.
Later, when they were alone, they could fall apart.
They ignored the concern shadowing Frankie’s gaze and choked out a laugh.
“Offing somebody, obvs. Gotta admit, it’s a solid way of filtering out your possible submissives. ”
Frankie studied Evan for what seemed like forever, an unreadable look in her eyes. Finally, she bowed her head slightly before getting to her feet. “That’s right, but hey, I just remembered there’s something I need to finish up in the office. I won’t be too long.”
“Okay.”
Evan watched her go, their hand sliding over the still rapid beating of their heart. Evan’s stomach churned violently, and they feared the delicious tacos Frankie had made would soon come back up.
She cooked you food, touched you, with the same hands that killed your brother.
Forbidden tears stung Evan’s eyes at the reminder. They hated it when Cecil was right. They hated it even more that Frankie was the one who had to die.
Why couldn’t Frankie have been anyone other than Officer Katheryn O’Rourke?
It was so quiet in the apartment that Evan could just make out the constant ticking of the grandfather clock outside the guest bedroom.
It’d been late when Frankie returned to the apartment, so late that she didn’t knock on Evan’s closed door as she passed to the bathroom.
With the lights off, Frankie probably assumed that Evan was fast asleep.
Not fucking likely.
They gripped the handle of their hunting knife tighter, the serrated blade gleaming under the streetlamp.
Evan’s bags were once again packed, but this time they were resting on the bench in front of the bed.
Dressed all in black, Evan had lain in wait for hours, first listening for the telltale signs of Frankie readying herself for bed, and then for any sign of activity in her bedroom.
Tonight, Evan was going to do what they’d sworn to their old man. They’d make Cecil proud, avenge Caleb’s death, and leave their new friends behind. It was the right thing to do. It was the only outcome for Evan, and they’d been fucking foolish to think otherwise.
I wish I wasn’t gonna miss them.
Evan swiped the sweat off their forehead with the hand not gripping the knife.
Every single time they thought of sinking the blade through Frankie’s soft, silken flesh, their body cramped up.
Evan’s heart and mind warred with one another, tearing them to shreds in the silence.
The darkness grew suffocating, and Evan deserted the bed on weighted, trembling legs.
Bile burned the back of Evan’s throat, and as they padded barefoot to the closed door, light-headedness made their vision spotty.
“Fuck,” Evan whispered, leaning against the wall to gather their bearings.
They fumbled with the lock on the door, wincing at the loud click of its release, and crept out.
When they reached Frankie’s bedroom, the door was ajar slightly, which was nothing new.
She always left the door partially open, almost as if she hoped Evan would join her.
They would join her tonight, just not in the way she’d been expecting.
Evan’s gut twisted even tighter, like an ulcer ready to burst, and they gagged on the acid forming in their throat. Don’t you dare get sick before this is done!
Evan shut their eyes briefly, drawing slow breaths in and out, trying desperately to calm down. Frankie, no, Katheryn , was only getting what she deserved. If it wasn’t Evan, it would be Cecil taking her life. Evan was doing her a favor.
They pushed the door inward, an inch at a time, and immediately took in Frankie’s still form under the covers of her queen bed. She looked dead asleep, and Evan hoped to all hell she remained that way. The last thing they needed was an angry black belt fighting for her life.
By the time they reached Frankie, Evan’s whole body shook.
Dread consumed them, but they’d gone too far to quit now.
She slept soundly on her back, completely unaware.
Evan peeled back her covers carefully, just far enough to gain a clear opening of her throat.
Or should they stab her in the heart, like the bullet that had pierced Caleb’s?
A sob wracked Evan’s shoulders, but before they could chicken out, they raised the knife high in the air and brought it down with all their might.