30 - Frankie
30
Frankie
—
Clutching the phone to my ear, I explain to Monty what happened in the restaurant.
As I finish answering his questions, the paramedics carry the injured drunk out on a stretcher.
“The victim will live.” Dullness fills my chest, a heaviness I can’t escape. “But he probably has a concussion, head wounds, and broken bones. He’ll sue.”
“He assaulted you,” Monty says. “We’ll get him on that.”
“He was drunk.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll call my legal team. They’ll take care of it.”
“Not Melanie?”
“My local attorneys will handle it faster. You said the guards are injured? Are they with you?”
“Jasper’s here.” I glance at the older man hovering a few feet away.
“Put him on the phone.”
Monty’s hurried movements rustle through the connection, the shuffle of clothes, footsteps, and quickening breaths. I assume he’s coming, but I need to know for sure.
“Monty…” I tap my chest, trying to loosen the tightness as I say the words that feel so right and so wrong at the same time. “I need you.”
Silence.
It lasts so long I wonder if he disconnected.
Then his deep baritone whispers in my ear, “You have me.”
He’s gorgeous, rich, and offering himself in no uncertain terms. What more could a girl want?
She wants his brother and nephew, that’s what.
He clears his throat. “Just got out of the shower. Almost dressed. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Another pause of silence. “I’m sorry, darling. I should’ve been there.”
“No. That’s not…” Lowering my voice, I tighten my grip on the phone. “Something else happened. I received a call after the assault.”
I repeat what the caller said and describe the synthesized voice.
“Goddammit! Fuck!” He makes a dangerous sound in his throat. “Put Jasper on the phone. Now.”
I hand off the phone and stand there, shivering in the wet breeze and scanning the darkness for an unknown enemy.
Who is it? What do they want? Why do I attract psychos? What is it about me that draws them in? Is it because I married Monty and got entangled with the Strakh family?
If Denver is to be believed, it started long before that, when I was in Anchorage.
I met so many people during my residency, befriended dozens of members of the hospital staff, had one-night stands and ongoing sexual relationships with some of them. If the stalker is connected to my past in Anchorage, they could be anyone.
“Yes, sir.” Jasper nods. “I understand.”
Ending the call, he returns my phone and gestures through the window at Carl.
“What did Monty say?” I ask.
“We’ll escort you to the station and wait there until he arrives.” He nods at Carl as he steps outside, relaying the same information.
Carl opens an umbrella, holding it over me as we walk along the dark street in the rain.
One block later, we enter the police station, the stagnant air leaden with empty sadness. A holding ground for lost souls.
Leo and Kody don’t belong here.
Since I don’t see them, I assume they’re getting processed in a back room.
The thought of them being handled roughly, possibly still in a state of feral rage, makes me stabby. I can’t stomach the idea of them in a cold, impersonal cell, trapped behind bars.
They’ve been imprisoned their entire lives.
A lone officer sits behind a worn wooden desk, his eyes glazed with the monotony of paperwork.
The space reeks of disinfectant and stale coffee. Bleak fluorescent lights throw an unwelcoming glow over the linoleum floors and metal benches, the room largely empty, save for a few people in the waiting area, their expressions vacant and tired.
A clock on the wall ticks loudly, each second stretching into an eternity.
Nothing here is meant to be comforting.
The officer behind the desk looks up as I approach, scrutinizing the guards behind me. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here for Leonid and Kodiak Strakh. They were just brought in.”
“They’re being processed.” He returns to his stack of papers, dismissing me with a bored flick of a hand at the metal chairs along the wall.
I take a seat with Carl and Jasper standing on either side of me, drawing every gaze in the room.
The minutes slowly pulse by like the ache in my chest. Stress pummels every organ, nerve ending, and brain cell. The quiet hum of ceiling fans, the rustle of paper, the static of florescent lights—all of it grates, adding to the coil of fear, guilt, and worry in my stomach.
Just as the anxiety becomes unbearable, the door to the station swings open. Monty strides in, his dominance commanding immediate attention.
His wintry blue eyes instantly home in on me, flooding me with relief.
As the most powerful man in Alaska, he dresses the part. A crisp white shirt clings to his muscular body, his suit pants molding to his sculpted ass as if tailored by Satan himself.
Dressed to kill, he looks fucking sinful.
I really need to stop admiring him. My desperation to see Leo and Kody is much more pinching.
He crosses the room with purposeful strides, his powerful gait exuding control and unshakable confidence.
“Frankie.” He lowers to his haunches before me, inspecting me for signs of a panic attack or physical injury.
His hand gently cups my face, shooting electricity through my body as his thumb brushes my cheekbone.
For a moment, I allow the touch, needing it.
“Thank you for coming.” I lean back, breaking the connection.
“Always.” Concern and love radiate from him, twisting me up and introducing more problems. “Stay here.”
With a pointed look at my guards, he strides to the officer behind the desk.
“Mr. Novak.” The cop recognizes him immediately, sitting straighter in a show of respect.
It always amazes me how easily he can have everyone jumping and doing his bidding. He doesn’t even need to open his mouth. His authority and notoriety precede him.
Within seconds, he has the chief of police on the line and bending over backward to meet his demands.
“Yes, I understand the situation is complex,” Monty says into the phone, quietly yet intensely. “But I need to speak with my family immediately.” He listens, head cocked. “Very good. Thank you.”
Monty disconnects and relays the chief’s orders.
“Of course, Mr. Novak.” The officer behind the desk nods. “Right away.”
Monty turns back to me, his hand extended in a wordless command.
I rise, closing the distance and placing my palm in his. My entire body tingles as he curls those strong fingers around mine.
The officer leads us toward the holding cells, and I’m grateful for Monty’s strength and his ability to take control of the situation. But I don’t need hand-holding through this.
Even as the thought of seeing Leo and Kody behind bars wrings my chest with pain, it’s not like I’m going to pass out or hyperventilate.
I won’t break.
Twisting my arm, I free myself from Monty’s grip.
He shoots me a dark glare but says nothing.
We reach the jail, and another officer opens the door to the cell block, leading us down a dimly lit corridor. My breath catches in my throat when I see Leo and Kody in a private cell together.
Leo paces like a caged animal, his bicolored eyes flashing with helpless rage. Kody sits on the edge of the cot, an intense brooding shadow. They both look up as we approach, their expressions shifting from anger to relief.
“Frankie.” Leo reaches through the bars, his hand grasping mine tightly.
“Are you okay?” Kody rises, his gaze roaming over me.
Then he peers into my eyes.
My God, I feel raw under the pressure of his glare. Seen inside and out. No one looks at me the way he does. This closely. This deeply. Like he knows my feelings for Monty have changed.
Everything has changed.
“I’m fine.” I swallow. “We’re fine. Monty is handling it.”
Monty grips one of the bars, his fingers tapping in a methodical, controlled rhythm. Everything he does oozes dominance. It’s who he is. A personality trait that runs in the family.
His drumming fingers halt, his scowl leveled on Leo. “Fix your hair. You look like a smacked ass.”
“Blow it out your dickhole, you uptight cunt,” Leo snarls.
“Did you eat a bowl of dumbass for breakfast?” Monty unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt like he’ll fight him through the bars.
“Stop it.” I push at his chest. “Both of you.”
“We’ll get you out of here.” Exhaling slowly through his nose, Monty rolls up his sleeves. “My lawyers are working on it right now. But you need to keep your mouths shut and cooperate until we get this sorted. No more violence.”
He speaks to them like a scolding brother, but it’s the husband who turns to me with frightening slowness. His eyes take me in, narrowing with an icy warning.
“I’ll give you a few minutes.” He ambles away, lifting his phone to his ear.
A few minutes to what? Not make out with them through the bars? Is that what the warning was for?
Since he didn’t tell them about the threatening call, I guess he’s leaving that up to me.
Rubbing my lips together, I know I’ll tell them, even if it makes their jail time more excruciating. It’s what I would expect from them if our positions were reversed.
At least I can assure them I won’t be alone on the island with my stalker. The cameras proved Monty’s innocence.
I shift back to two pairs of livid eyes.
“What the fuck happened?” Leo clutches the bars. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”
How the hell do they read me so easily?
“Everything will be okay,” I whisper.
“Doesn’t answer my question.” His face moves closer.
So close I can count the specks of blood on his cheeks and smell the vodka on his breath.
He’s blood-soaked and brutal, ready to kill anyone who touches me. But as I stand in the laser focus of that vicious, otherworldly gaze, I’m wildly, inappropriately turned on.
Inappropriate, considering what I’m about to tell them.
“The stalker called me.” My tongue thickens in my mouth as I describe the call, the threats, and the computerized voice.
Shadows unfurl and seethe around them, their gazes flying to Monty.
“It’s not him.” I lean in until our mouths hover a hairsbreadth apart between the bars. “I checked the cameras seconds after the call ended. Monty was in the shower. When I called him, he left the bathroom to answer the phone.”
“So you trust him?” Leo asks through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You forgive him,” Kody states. It’s not a question.
My emotions have been through the wringer so many times tonight that I’m surprised my heart hasn’t called it quits.
“The man you assaulted is in the hospital,” I say. “There are too many details to work out tonight. But Monty’s lawyers should have you out by tomorrow.” My voice fractures. “I love you both so much.”
“We love you, too.” Kody’s eyes soften, and he reaches out to touch my other hand. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be okay.”
“We’ve survived worse.” Leo sighs. “At least this prison has heat and indoor plumbing.”
“Let me see your hands,” I say.
They extend their busted fists through the bars, and the sight makes my chest ache.
Their knuckles swell beneath bruises and broken skin. Patches of dried blood surround the cuts, and their hands tremble from the pain and adrenaline still coursing through them.
The damage could be worse, but all this could’ve been avoided.
“You need to wash your hands and keep them clean from infection.” I nod at the sink behind them.
“You’re going to stay on the island alone with him.” Kody glowers at Monty, who stands out of earshot, talking to someone on his phone.
“Where else would I go?”
“You need to stay in the main house.” Leo bites out the words as if they pain him. “Don’t stay in the guest house by yourself.”
“There are guards.”
“Don’t risk it, woman.” Kody flexes his jaw. “If Monty’s not the stalker, he’s the only one who will protect you as fiercely as we do.”
“Okay.” I shiver, goosebumps erupting across my skin. “I’ll stay in the main house.”
“Not saying we trust him.” Leo scowls at the man in question.
“We trust he won’t hurt you,” Kody says quietly.
“We just don’t trust his dick.” Leo makes a menacing sound.
“Do you trust me ?” I curl my hands around the bars.
They both nod and wrap their fingers around mine, dwarfing my hands.
“Time’s up.” The officer signals from the doorway.
Monty ends his call and strides back to us, giving Leo and Kody a stern glare. “Behave.”
“We’re not children,” Leo grumbles.
At twenty-five and thirty, Kody and Leo are definitely not boys. They’re more manly than most men. They’ve lived harder lives. Their bodies endured the harshest conditions. Because of that, they’re stronger, braver, more chiseled, more aggressive, and more ruthless than anyone I’ve ever met.
Except maybe Monty.
The three Strakh men together? They’re masculinity on steroids.
“Let’s go.” Monty takes my hand, his grip firm.
It doesn’t feel right to leave without kissing them.
It doesn’t feel right to leave them here at all.
A riptide of anxiety crashes through me, quickening my pulse as Monty guides me away.
At the door, I glance over my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.”
Leo’s hand tightens around the bars. Then he lets go and turns away.
“Be safe.” Kody’s gaze remains steady.
Monty gently tugs on my hand, pulling me around the corner, taking me from them.
The separation feels like a physical wound, each step away a sharp blow to my chest. My breaths come faster, louder as the panic rises, the fear of leaving them clawing at my composure.
“Hey.” Monty pauses, scanning my face. He peers so closely that his breath fans my lips, coaxing me to look at him. “They’re okay. They’re safe. Do you need to sit?”
I shake my head and resume walking.
“Let me carry you.” He grips my elbow.
“My legs work just fine.”
With a sigh, he hooks his fingers around mine and leads me back to the dock with the guards on our trail.
Sitka’s harbor stretches before us, the streets empty, devoid of the usual bustle. No footsteps, no voices, just the distant sound of waves bouncing against the dock.
The silence feels eerie, pressing against my skin like an unseen hand. I glance around, every shadow a potential threat, every alley harboring danger. My heart beats faster.
Monty walks beside me, his black hair gleaming in the streetlights. I cling to his strength, giving him more trust than I’ve given him in a long time.
Do I believe he’ll physically hurt me? Will he climb into my bed and stab me while I sleep?
It’s unthinkable.
But will he betray me again? Lie to me? Smash my heart beneath his shoe?
Not if I keep it locked far away from him.
We continue walking, the dock now in sight. Buildings loom on the waterfront, their windows like dark, empty eyes watching us pass. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being followed, that someone lurks just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
My gaze darts left and right. Every movement in the corner of my eye makes me flinch. I see shadows where there are none and hear footsteps that aren’t there. The night plays tricks on me, twisting my memories of captivity with the present terror of that phone call.
Monty’s grip tightens, his thumb stroking the back of my hand in a rhythmic, calming motion.
“Look at me.” He stops in his tracks.
I turn to face him, my eyes meeting his frosty blue ones. Wolf’s eyes, but older, wiser, filled with a depth of emotion that anchors me.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises.
Monty Novak, my husband, my guardian. Despite the betrayal, despite the separation, he’s still the man I once loved deeply.
We resume walking until a sudden scraping from a nearby alley makes me jump. My heart leaps into my throat, my grip on Monty’s hand turning vise-like.
He doesn’t flinch, his gaze fixed on the source of the noise.
It’s just a cat scurrying away from us. The appearance and disappearance cut the tension, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling foolish for my fear.
Monty squeezes my hand and pulls me along.
We reach the dock, the wooden planks groaning under our feet. Boats bob in the water, their ropes creaking softly. I try to focus on the pace of our steps, matching mine to his.
One step at a time, Frankie. One step at a time.
As we board the yacht and prepare to depart without Leo and Kody, my body trembles with the effort to hold myself together.
It’s just one night. I’ll see them tomorrow. There’s no reason to freak out.
I measure my breath, chasing away the burn in my sinuses as I sit beside Monty at the helm.
“Nothing will happen to them.” He drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close as he navigates the yacht into open water. “I promise. We’ll get them out and hunt down the sick fuck who’s stalking you.”
He senses that something’s changed, something’s shifted between us, because he’s touching me, invading my space, inching his hands down my body.
The one caressing my exposed knee grows bolder, teasing the hem of my dress and the valley between my thighs.
“Monty.” I stiffen, squeezing my legs together and halting his fingers. “I love them.”
He yanks his hand away with a hiss.
“I will never leave them,” I say.
“Yes, you will.”
“Really?” I sneer. “How do you know? Because you know everything?”
“Watch that fucking tone.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fucking you is a start.” Low and velvety, his voice rubs against my overheated skin. “Bruising, claiming, ramming, burning, breaking, insides spilling, guts melting, spread open, ass up, crying out in the dark while you come on me, and I come in you. That’s where we’re headed.”
By the time he finishes, he has my feet off the floor, my thighs around his hips, and my back against the bulkhead. He grips my hair, yanking my head back and forcing me to look at him.
As he stares into my furious eyes, he realizes what he’s done.
“Fuck.” He drops me to the floor and staggers back.
The panic on his face conveys more regret than words could. Though it’s hard to forgive him with that raging boner tenting his pants.
I aim my glare at it.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He runs a hand through his dark strands, flexing the veiny muscles in his forearm. “I’m sorry. I’ve been celibate for so fucking long. My endless goddamn need for you is wearing me down.”
He turns, bending to grab a water bottle from the mini-fridge, drawing my focus to places I shouldn’t be looking.
The man knows how to wear a suit. Especially those pants. Tailored to his exact measurements, the expensive fabric makes his ass look delectable. I mean, he’s always had an incredible ass. It should be illegal.
He offers the water, and I take a greedy drink. As he guzzles down the rest of it, his free hand swiftly opens the buttons on his shirt, exposing the results of two months in the gym.
All V -cut abs, bulging pecs, and narrow hips. Shiny shoes. Five o’clock shadow. Beautifully chiseled face, crafted by God.
Six foot-five inches of psychological warfare in a designer suit.
Heat burns my cheeks, and I avert my eyes, cursing my thoughts.
I don’t need reminders of why I fell in love with this man.
“Remember what we were like together?” He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Like hormonal teenagers in a constant state of hunger. I was hard for three years, living with you, living inside you, fucking you every day, on every surface, in every hole and position. Best three years of my life.”
“It doesn’t matter how happy we were.” Releasing a breath, I hide beneath the veil of my lashes. “That was then. We’re different people now.”
“You still love me.” His thumb slides over my bottom lip. “If you ignore that feeling, it will only end badly.”
“Badly for whom?” I lean away from his touch. “You, them, or me?”
“Yes.” His frosty eyes glint with danger, whispering warnings from his scarred soul.
He’s suffered loss—the pregnancy, our marriage, the son he never met, his evil brother—and he’s still fighting. Ambitious and fiercely passionate, he will raise hell and shatter heaven in pursuit of his ultimate desire.
And that desire is me.
“I can’t get you out of my head. I wish I could. But I can’t.” He edges closer, lifting his arms to grip the overhead above us as he leans in.
Level with my face, his waistband slips dangerously low on his lean hips, revealing every inch of his rippled abdomen.
It’s impossible to look at him and not feel like I’m cheating.
“Christ, I want you. Your mind. Your body.” He lowers a hand from the overhead to stroke my cheek before sliding down to caress my throat. “You’re so goddamn pretty. Let me play with you.”
“Nope.” My ears inflame as I jump up, backing toward the door. “You got your dirty talk in. Now we’re done.”
“We’ll never be done.” He prowls toward me, caging me against the door. “You used to love dirty talk.”
I still love it. With Leo and Kody. I can’t love it with Monty.
“I won’t let you go.” He dips his head, his deep voice caressing my ear, conjuring erotic memories of his flesh against my flesh.
“If you don’t step back…” I lift on my toes and meet his molten, sapphire eyes. “I’ll show you what you paid for in my self-defense course.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, just barely, and his brows knit together before smoothing into a blank slate, erasing any readable signs.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, he returns to the helm as if the interaction never happened.
Immediately, I miss his body heat, and I hate myself for that.