40. Chapter 40
Frankie
The bullet whizzed past Frankie, almost clipping her ear, and landed in the brick behind her.
She dove for cover, not waiting for a second attempt.
“Cecil, I’m guessing?” she called out, her pulse thumping loudly in her head as she crawled into the kitchen.
The faint, pain-filled moan from Evan made Frankie’s heart sore. “Baby, I’m here! Hold on for me, okay?”
Another shot rang out, the acrid odor of gunpowder trickling over her senses like a memory she’d forgotten. She both loved and loathed the pungent scent. “‘Baby’,” Cecil sneered. Another shot was fired, this one shattering the vase in the entryway. “You two disgust me.”
Like you’re one to talk, asshole.
“What’s with your family striking first and asking questions later?” Frankie panted, reaching up and blindly searching her counter for a knife. She had a gun, but it was locked away in a safe in her bedroom.
“No questions. I just want you dead.” Cecil sounded too close for comfort, and he had Frankie cornered. “Don’t bother looking for a weapon, either. I threw ’em out before you got here.” He laughed, a cringe-worthy, boisterous sound that raised Frankie’s hackles.
Celebrating before the win. Pathetic .
“F-Frankie …” Evan moaned again. Fear had overtaken them, Frankie could hear it in their voice. And yet she couldn’t get to them. I have to end this.
Frankie took a trembling breath, her knees quaking as she got to her feet, hands in the air.
“And here I thought you’d want to play with me a bit first,” she boasted, silently praying Cecil took the bait.
“Evan talked you up, about how you like a little torture now and then. Surely you won’t just shoot and be done? ”
“Stay right there or I’ll put a bullet in that pretty face,” Cecil warned, his wide frame stiffening as Frankie came into view.
Her eyes flared a fraction as she faced him head-on.
Cecil was a big man. Not in a “so wide that he couldn’t fit through the window he’d no doubt crawled through” way, but in a “several inches taller than she was with a build like Dwayne Johnson” way. Fuck him , I’ve fought bigger.
Cecil waved the gun in her direction. “Get into the bedroom. I saw handcuffs on the bed.”
Frankie’s breath caught but she did as he instructed. At least in there, they’d be safely away from Evan. “Not on the bed. Attached to the bed,” she managed to say, and half a dozen ways she could subdue him while restrained on her back began to form. If she could get her legs wrapped around his—
“Get a move on,” Cecil snapped, shoving Frankie. He was a lot closer than she’d anticipated. It was humorous how often a criminal with a gun assumed they had the upper hand.
Frankie spun around and disarmed him before he’d registered what happened. “No, I don’t think so. How about you get on the bed? I’ll cuff you and then call the police. I’m on a roll today, what’s one more?”
Cecil’s smile was full and missing a couple of teeth. He reached up and slowly removed a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He lit one, taking a long drag. “Not gonna happen, ya dumb bitch. Not ‘til I get a reason for what you did.”
Frankie scowled, and then, in what felt like one of those slow-motion scenes in the movies, she watched in horror as Cecil flicked the lit cigarette onto the bed.
The sheets began smoking immediately, and the distraction cost her.
Cecil tackled her to the floor, and Frankie winced as a fist got her hard in the ribs.
The gun slipped out of her grasp, skittering across the floor as she and Cecil traded punches.
Cecil got his hands around her throat and was laughing again. “You’re gonna die tonight, copper. And my wife’s traitor of a kid along with you, if my dagger hasn’t done the job yet.”
Frankie’s heart stuttered. Evan had been stabbed?
Her mind flashed back to the blood she’d seen.
Fear slipped into her veins, but instead of letting it control her, Frankie focused on the rage burning a small inferno inside her.
She grabbed hold of Cecil’s face with her fingernails and jabbed her thumbs into his eyes as hard as she could.
It worked to slacken his grip on her throat, and Frankie wrapped her legs around his waist in a grappling move, locking him in place.
She tried flipping them over, but his arms still had too much range and ended back at her throat again.
He was choking her, and as she stared up into a pair of feral eyes, she saw the gleam of flame illuminating in them.
My bed.
Her bed was on fire!
“Ack …” Frankie struggled to breathe. She batted at his arms weakly. Her strength was waning, and her vision became spottier with each gasp and gurgle. The fire’s heat felt closer than before as Frankie started to lose consciousness, and all she could think of was Evan. Please, let them get away …
Bang!
A loud gunshot pierced the air. Frankie blinked back to awareness, gasping still. She wheezed, sucking in greedy gulps of air as the grip around her throat vanished. For an incoherent moment, she thought Cecil had shot her, but then he fell on top of her.
“F-Frankie.” Her blurry gaze flew to where Evan stood a few feet away, their gun hand noticeably shaking. Their other arm dangled limply by their side. “Is he dead?”
Pushing down her own discomfort and pain, Frankie jumped into action, shoving Cecil off her even as flames licked up and down her bed, getting closer to the floor.
She checked his pulse, croaking out, “Not yet.” Grabbing Cecil by his jacket collar, Frankie felt half out of it as she pulled him from the room and yanked the door closed.
Then she reached for Evan, pressing a gentle kiss on their busted lips. “Watch him, okay?”
She left them in the hallway to grab the fire extinguisher from the stairwell, trusting that Evan could handle it if Cecil woke up.
“I called 911,” they said as Frankie ran back into the apartment. Tears and smoke burned her eyes and throat, but she gave Evan a grateful nod.
“Good work, baby. Now stay back.”
As she entered her burning bedroom, Frankie hoped it wasn’t too late to salvage most of it.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” she whispered hours later.
Cecil had been taken away long ago, statements were given, and then Frankie and Evan went to the hospital to have their injuries looked at.
It was now nearing noon, and they were both exhausted and sore, Evan more so.
Frankie had helped them in the shower and tucked them into their bed.
Her room was temporarily off-limits as it aired out from the fire.
Frankie got upset every time she looked at Evan’s wounds, angry that she hadn’t been there to protect them in the first place, and devastated that they’d been almost killed by a man who should have been a father to Evan.
Now, her little thief sported a broken arm and stitches on their forehead and side.
The dagger had entered muscle and tissue and missed anything vital, thankfully.
Still … “The doctor said your concussion requires lots of rest and to keep that cast in a sling.”
“I am, and I will.” Evan was pale, though, and their jaw was clenched. They were clearly in pain, and the permitted acetaminophen was doing little to help. It was driving Frankie insane that she couldn’t make it better.
“I can’t believe you shot him.” She gathered Evan’s hand in hers.
It hurt like a bitch to talk, but she didn’t care.
Frankie would take the heavy bruising and sore throat and neck any day if it meant Evan was still there with her.
She brought their hand to her lips for a soft kiss.
“You protected me. I didn’t think I could love you anymore, and yet . ..”
“I told you I loved you,” Evan said, as if that explained everything.
Frankie huffed a tired laugh, climbing into bed beside them. Her throat still ached from the fight and the smoke inhalation, but she and Evan were safe. Despite the bedroom renovation that would now need to happen, her pub and apartment were still intact.
Snuggling into them, she rested her head on Evan’s chest and draped her arm across their stomach.
Tilting her face toward Evan’s, Frankie kissed them gently.
“I love you too, my good boi. And I’m glad you’re safe.
” The way Evan had earlier described their escape from the bondage frame had been almost comical.
It was good that the self-release latch had come in handy.
“Ditto.” Evan’s newly-taped glasses slipped down on their nose as they yawned. They’d been broken at some point during the struggle with Cecil.
“Go to sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Frankie watched as Evan drifted off, but didn’t move from her position.
It felt wondrous being so close, a small act she feared she wouldn’t get again when she’d come across Evan strapped to the A-frame and bloody.
So much had gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours that for just a moment, she wanted to breathe Evan in and thank her lucky stars nothing worse had happened.
The chime of her doorbell pulled Frankie from her thoughts. She groaned, not wanting to leave Evan’s comforting warmth just yet.
“Maybe they’ll leave if I ignore it.” She traced her index finger along Evan’s collarbone.
The pub wasn’t opening until five today, so Frankie wasn’t sure who could be gracing her with their presence.
She would have preferred to close completely today, but she had staff to pay regardless.
Might as well make a little income to help with that.
The doorbell rang again.