Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Frankie
I’m trying to process everything that just happened.
The Kings didn’t kill my father.
They’re fighting human traffickers.
And I just agreed to help them.
My brain feels like it’s swimming through molasses, struggling to keep up. I glance at the clock on the wall.
2:17 a.m.
God, no wonder I’m dead on my feet. I’ve been up for.
.. I mentally count back. Almost forty-eight hours straight.
My sleep schedule has been nonexistent since Dad disappeared, working nonstop to drain Bane’s accounts without getting caught, and the emotional rollercoaster of the last few hours.
I feel like I’ve got nothing left. Zero. Nada. Zilch.
But I need to keep going, to get started helping Cyber. Those traffickers are out there right now, hunting women like me. Women like Journey’s sister. The horrors that are out there—
I cover my mouth and yawn. “I just need some coffee,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes beneath my glasses.
Bane’s arm tightens around my waist as he stands, lifting me with him before setting me on my feet. The sudden movement makes my head spin, and I look up at him questioningly.
“Come on,” he says, jerking his head toward the door.
I hurry after him, my legs still feeling wobbly. “Where are we going?”
His tired eyes flick to mine. “To get some fucking sleep. I’m beat.”
Right. Sleep. Sleep’s a good idea. I’ll catch a quick catnap, then help the cute tech guy find the bad guys. That’s a solid plan.
Following him into a big open room in the main part of the clubhouse, I glance around. It’s a large open space with a bar along one wall, pool tables, and mismatched couches. A few bikers are still hanging around despite the late hour, drinking and talking in low voices.
My eyes catch on a beautiful brunette with bedroom eyes who’s watching Bane like he’s her next meal. When she notices me trailing behind him, her expression darkens. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.
“Is that your girlfriend or something?” My eyes go to hers as we pass. “Because she doesn’t look very happy with you.”
“Who?” he looks over his shoulder, following my gaze, and scoffs. “She can get the fuck over it. And no, she ain’t my girlfriend.” He pushes open the back door. “I ain’t handin’ my balls to any woman. Fuck that.”
My nose wrinkles in disgust. “You really are an asshole.”
“You have no idea.” He opens the door wider and motions for me to go ahead of him.
“Well, aren’t you chivalrous?” I roll my eyes and step out into the cool Florida night air. The smell of sand and salt blows across my face in the breeze, and my eyes close.
God, I’ll never get tired of that smell.
“C’mon.” He grabs my arm and tugs me beside him.
“Hey!” My eyes fly open and drop to the tattooed mit wrapped around my bicep. “You don’t have to keep pulling on me, ya know.” I try to pull my arm free, but it’s pointless. He ain’t letting go. “I said I’d help find whoever these people are. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You tried to take my head off with a bat. Excuse me if I don’t trust you not to run away, Troublemaker.”
Throwing my head back, I laugh out loud. He has no clue. I was gonna beat the living crap outta him. I mean... stranger danger and alla’ that, right?
“You had it coming,” I finally get out around the giggles.
He grunts.
At least we’re in agreement about something.
We walk in silence, his hand still wrapped around my arm. The compound is bigger than I thought. Several acres at least, surrounded by a high chain link fence topped with barbed wire that screams stay out.
“Most of us live here,” Bane says, breaking the silence when he notices me checking the place out. “Either in the clubhouse or somewhere on the property. We keep our family close.”
I nod, a pang of envy hitting me in the chest.
Family.
I wouldn’t know what that feels like. To have people around who loved me and were always watching my back. My dad wasn’t the fatherly type, and we sure as heck never had family around. He couldn’t wait to ship me off to boarding school.
Bane’s voice breaks into my thoughts, and I look up to find him staring at me with a look of concern on his face.
“Huh?”
“I asked if you were okay. You zoned out for a second there.”
Forcing a smile, I wave off his concern. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
His brow pinches like he’s trying to figure me out. He can look all he wants, but there’s no way I’m letting him see behind the curtain. I’m all kinds of messed up, with enough daddy issues to fill a dump truck.
I blink innocently.
“You don’t have to tell me, Frankie,” he sighs, “But don’t fucking lie, yeah?”
I bite my lip, feeling properly chastised. “Yeah. Sorry.”
His eyes flick between mine, then he juts out his chin. “We’re here.”
Glancing over, my jaw drops. “No way.” I giggle. He’s got to be kidding. “You live in a barn?” That’s actually kind of cool.
“Above it, actually,” he corrects.
“How am I not surprised?” I mumble, following him up the wooden steps.
“Smartass,” he mutters, unlocking a red metal door and pushing it open.
The moment the door swings wide, two massive shapes come barreling toward us, and I frantically scramble behind Bane, clutching the back of his shirt.
“Jesus!” I yelp.
He laughs, the sound vibrating through his back. “They’re friendly.”
“Friendly, my ass. They look like they could rip me to shreds.” I peek around his arm, using him as a human shield.
That’s when I see the scars all over their faces and bodies.
Deep ridges across their muzzles, missing patches of fur, and what looks like healed puncture wounds across their shoulders and chests.
“What happened to them?” My voice breaks as I meet Bane’s eyes.
His jaw tightens. “Assholes happened to them.”
He steps into the loft, and I stay velcroed to his back, still not trusting that the dogs won’t decide I look like a chew toy.
“This is Peter Parker,” he says, pointing to the bigger dog, a gray pitbull with one of its ears half missing. “And this is Pepper Potts.” The smaller pit, also gray but with a white patch on its chest, wags her tail so hard her whole back end wiggles.
My eyebrows shoot up. “Marvel? Seriously?”
I cautiously move around Bane and hold out my hand, letting Peter sniff me. His wet nose tickles my palm before he gives it a gentle lick. I do the same with Pepper, who seems even more eager for attention.
“It’s the better franchise,” Bane says, narrowing his eyes like he’s daring me to disagree.
Challenge accepted. “As if,” I scoff. “DC is way better. Hello? Batman?”
He shakes his head solemnly. “I don’t think I can let you stay here. You’re clearly crazier than I thought.”
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. He’s kind of funny when he’s not being an asshole. My stomach suddenly growls loudly, reminding me I haven’t eaten in... I can’t even remember when, honestly.
“Hungry?” Bane asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Starving,” I admit.
He pulls out his phone, thumbs flying across the screen. “Noble’s on it.”
I want to ask who Noble is and why he’s bringing us food in the middle of the night, but I don’t. Instead, I take the opportunity to look around Bane’s living space.
It’s an open concept loft with high ceilings and exposed beams. A small kitchenette with a fridge and stove sits in one corner. There’s a dresser against one wall, and a big bed in the opposite corner. No sofa, no table, no chairs. Nothing but the bed to sit on.
Bane moves to the fridge and pulls out a beer. He holds it up, giving it a little shake in the universal ‘want one’ gesture.
I cock my head to the side. “I’m only nineteen, ya know. I’m not old enough to drink.”
He stares at me for a long moment, then bursts out laughing. “You’ve stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars from me. You broke who knows how many laws doing that,” he adds more to himself before hitting me with an accusing stare, “but you’re worried about underage drinking?”
My cheeks are on fire. When he puts it that way, he makes me sound like the bad guy.
“I’ll pass,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “I have standards.”
“Sure you do, Troublemaker.” He takes a long pull from the bottle.
My eyes drift around the room again, and a sudden realization hits me. “Where exactly am I supposed to sleep?”
Bane cocks his head to the side, like the question doesn’t make any sense. “What do you mean?” He thumbs at the bed. “In the bed.”
My brows snap together. “If I’m sleeping in the bed, where are you sleeping?”
He shakes his head, his lips twitching. “You’re cute.” He sets down his beer and pulls his shirt over his head in that sexy way men do, grabbing the back of the collar and tugging it forward.
“You didn’t answer my—oh holy shit.”
My mouth waters at the sight of his bare chest. He’s got washboard abs.
The kind that I was sure only happened in magazines because someone photoshopped them to look like that.
His tan skin is covered in dark tattoos that my fingers itch to trace.
Dragging my eyes across the canvas that is him, my brows snap together, and I squint. Does that say… Oh, good lord, it does.
In dark script, the words Promised Land are inked low on his stomach with an arrow pointing towards his...
I feel the heat rush to my cheeks.
“Did you lose a bet or something?” I blurt.
He laughs, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “Or something.”
Wow. Poor guy. I shake my head. He doesn’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed, but he sure is pretty.
To stop myself from staring at his too-perfect body, I glance around the room again and spot a door I hadn’t noticed before. Has to be the bathroom.
“Can I take a shower?” I ask, desperately wanting to wash away the last twenty-four hours.
“Sure.” He jerks his chin toward the bathroom. “Towels under the sink.”
“Thanks.” I shuffle toward the door, eager to escape his presence and have a moment alone to process everything.
Once inside, I lock the door and lean against it, letting out a shaky breath. I catch my reflection in the mirror and wince.
Yikes.
He’s out there looking like a Greek god, and I look like death warmed over.
My hair is a tangled mess, dark circles under my eyes make me look like a raccoon, and there’s a smudge of something orange on my cheek.
Sighing, I start the shower, strip out of my clothes, and step under the hot spray.
Heaven.
I close my eyes and let the water cascade over me, washing away the fear and adrenaline of the night. I run my hands through my hair, getting it wet, then reach for his 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. “This is going to do wonders for my hair,” I groan.
I squirt some in my hand, rub them together, and work my hair into a lather. The masculine scent surrounds me, and I find myself inhaling deeply. It smells like him. Like mint, spice, and something else I can’t put my finger on.
Once I’ve worked the tangles out, I rinse out the suds, then squirt more shampoo into my hands and quickly wash my body. No way am I using the single bar of soap on the rail. By the time I’ve scrubbed every inch of my body, I feel almost human again.
Almost.
My eyes catch on Bane’s razor. Biting my lip, I glance down at the forest on my legs.
Fuck it.
Giggling, I snatch it off the rail and get to work. If I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well be comfortable.
Clean and smooth, I step out of the shower onto the bath mat and reach for the towel hanging on the back of the door. I quickly dry off and reach for my—
Shit. Shit. Shit!
Damn it to hell! I don’t have any clothes!
I stare at my pile of dirty clothes on the floor. The thought of putting them back on makes my skin crawl, but what choice do I have?
Embarrassed, I wrap the towel tightly around my body and open the bathroom door.
Why me?