Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Frankie
T ears soak my cheeks as I hide in an alcove and cry like the little bitch that I am. I’m supposed to be made of tougher stuff than this, but it seems I’ll always melt under pressure. My strength can only carry me so far, and I’ve reached the outer limits.
The implications of King’s words grind salt into festering wounds. I grimace and open my mouth in a silent scream. I envy women who cry loudly. My emotional pain yearns for a voice.
It’s the finality of it all that’s affecting me so much.
I planned to quit when we got back, but seeing King just set me off.
Being reminded of the way the department used me and lied to me struck a match beside a powder keg, and there would be no more waiting.
I had to rip off the Band-Aid and allow the explosion to occur.
But if quitting was the right decision, why do I feel so terrible?
Wrapping my arms around my midsection, I clutch myself and try to slow the rapid beat of my heart by breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. It’s not working. The finality of tossing the ashes of my life off the side of a cliff has registered, and I feel as if I’m grieving.
I glance at the clock above the bar in the lounge across from my hiding place. Twenty minutes have passed since I raced out of the room. Surely Maverick has run King off by now, and I can think of no better place to heal than in my lover’s arms.
After a quick stop by a bathroom to splash some water on my swollen eyes, I hurry to the elevator and make a beeline for the room. The sooner I can take a deep breath and feel safe, the better.
When I enter the cabin, Maverick is seated on the bed, facing the balcony overlooking the ocean.
The parted curtains let the afternoon sunshine into the room.
In the distance, a small boat ferries a group of people toward a gaggle of jet skis.
They’re too far away to make out details, but I hope it’s the girls.
And I hope they’re having an amazing time.
I’m a little sad that I missed out, but there will be other trips.
Thinking of what I have to look forward to in my new life softens the blow a little, but fuck, this still hurts.
I step closer to the bed. “Where’d the asshole go?”
“He went to see Jim.” Maverick doesn’t turn around as he answers me, and I don’t like the flat tone of his voice. “Said he’d be in his room when you were ready to depart.”
“He’s lost his mind if he thinks I’m going anywhere with him. Even if he didn’t send the order down the pipe, he could have told me the truth about the mission.” I open the closet to grab my bag, but it isn’t there. “Where’s my shit?”
“King already loaded your things into the helicopter.”
I roll my eyes and go to the bed. “Well, he can unload them. I’m not leaving this ship until the final?—”
“You should accept the promotion.”
I drop onto the bed and bury my face in a pillow so I can scream. “Why won’t anyone listen when I speak? I don’t want to be a fed anymore. I want to be a fucking serial killer, and I’m not changing my mind!”
He finally turns to face me, and I don’t like that look in his eyes.
I don’t even recognize him. “You want to be a serial killer because I’ve made you believe I have feelings for you.
In truth, I don’t. Like you, I was simply following orders from a superior, and now that the mission is over, I can stop pretending. ”
“Maverick, you don’t mean that.” I sit up and laugh because if I don’t, I’ll cry. “I profile people for a living. I can tell when someone is lying.”
“I do mean it, Frankie.” He turns back to the window. “Let’s stop pretending now. For both our sakes.”
Tears prick my eyes again, but I swallow them down.
“You are so full of shit. My pussy is still sore from you dicking me down a few hours ago, so don’t try to feed me some bullshit about how you don’t have feelings for me.
I’m not stupid. You’re trying to do something you feel is selfless, but you’re only hurting both of us. ”
“I’m sorry you’re struggling to accept?—”
“Fuck you!” I throw the pillow at his head, and he rocks forward when it connects with the back of his skull. It’s not enough, so I grab another and start beating him with it. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you !”
He sits stoically and takes his beating, which does nothing to dissipate the rage roiling through my veins.
I want him to hurt as badly as I hurt right now, but his face is a blank mask.
Short of stabbing him to death, I don’t know what I can do that will allow him to feel what I’m feeling.
Because this heartbreak feels like dying.
“You want me to leave? Fine. I’ll fucking leave.” I get off the bed and smooth my shirt, giving him a few extra seconds to change his mind. When he keeps staring at the water, I realize I’m fighting a losing battle. Maybe he’s telling the truth and this was all imagined on my end.
With my heart shattering into millions of pieces, I turn and leave the cabin again. I pause just outside the door and close my eyes, all while screaming in my head. I mentally beg him to come for me, to save me from the anguish.
He doesn’t.
My life is currently in pieces, and if Maverick won’t help me put the pieces back together, I’ll just have to do it myself.
And it starts with King.
With each step I take toward Jim’s room, a bit more confidence ebbs into me. The pieces of armor fall into place, and the emotional pain recedes to make way for the stoicism my line of work requires. I shift, becoming the unfeeling creature I guess I’m forced to remain.
Maybe it’s for the best. Feeling things hasn’t exactly worked out for me.
I take the elevator and wind through corridors until I can rap my knuckles against the large wooden door.
Jim says I may enter, and as I step into the room, I’m assaulted by a thick cloud of cigar smoke.
King and Jim recline in large leather chairs by a fake fireplace.
Each man clutches a long cigar, which they seem to chew more than smoke.
“Frankie, my dear girl,” Jim says as he sits forward. “Come, take a seat, take a seat.” He motions toward a delicate pink chaise lounge against the wall.
I stroll toward it and sit, all while wishing I’d worn my black pantsuit to this meeting. It’s hard to take myself seriously when I’m dressed in a baggy shirt and joggers, but I didn’t exactly have a choice since someone spirited away my things.
“Have you had a chance to think about the promotion?” King asks. He plucks a glass of something golden from the side table and swirls the liquid. “If you’re concerned about things you’ve done on the trip, consider it water under the bridge.”
“And what if I want to keep doing these things?”
King sips his drink, then slides the glass onto the table. “I was hoping you’d find these activities less than desirable, but given your breeding, I suppose this was to be expected.”
“My breeding?”
“Your father,” Jim says. “Terrible business, that.”
“Terrible...” I look between them. “Do you know who my father is?”
King sits forward now. “Of course we do. You’ll find there isn’t much we don’t know.”
“Who is he?”
“If you want to know that, you’ll have to ask your mother. In fact, I think you’ll find she has the answers to so many of your questions.” King drags his finger around the lip of the glass on the side table. “I hear she’s quite cunning.”
“You’re that high up in the bureau, and you’ve only heard of my mother?” My eyebrow rises. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Oh, we’ve spoken a few times.” He smirks and raises his glass toward me. “Do you drink, Frankie?”
“Where are my manners?” Jim stands and fetches another glass. While he’s busy at the side table, King leans forward and speaks softly.
“I apologize for getting you here under a guise, but it really was the best way to give you the insight you need. This decision wasn’t made lightly, Frankie.
When you learn who your father is...” He shakes his head and leans back in his seat.
“You’ll need friends when you fall from high places, and I was merely setting you up with a soft place to land. ”
“Can you stop being so goddamn cryptic and just come out with it? Who the fuck is my father? Why the fuck was I sent here? You say you went along with it, but who sent the order? And if I wasn’t meant to die?—”
“Tell her that part, at the very least,” Jim says as he places the glass into my hand.
“You don’t think it best she hears everything from the nag herself?” King asks.
Jim blows out a breath and drops into his chair. “Maybe not that bit, old man, but it all ties together too tightly to untangle now, doesn’t it?”
I’m not a big drinker, but I’d chug a bottle of vintage Ball inger if it were in my hand right now. Anything to ease the burgeoning annoyance in my soul. I tip back the drink and swallow the liquid in two gulps.
“You’re driving the poor thing to drink,” Jim says with a cluck of his tongue.
“I’m glad you two find this so entertaining.” I stand and move to the side table to pour another glass of something strong. “Meanwhile, this is my fucking life. You send me here and completely upend my world, then swoop in and expect it to turn right-side up again.”
“Maybe not right-side up,” King says. “More like giving you a new perspective. You can stroll along a slightly tilted axis while remaining upright, you know. How do you think I’ve managed for so long?”
I knock back another glass, then fill a third. “So you’re a killer too? Will wonders never fucking cease.”
“Does that bother you? Considering your new hobbies, I wouldn’t think it would.” King studies me over the rim of his drink.
A wave of dizziness sweeps through me, and I push the glass aside. I’ve had enough—in more ways than one.
“Whatever. None of this matters. I came here to tell you—” I go to take a step forward and nearly fall when my legs don’t want to cooperate.
Gripping the edge of the table, I gather myself and wobble to the chaise lounge.
“I came here to tell you I meant what I said. I quit, and I have no desire to continue my employment. I?—”
The room spins, and I nearly collapse on the small couch. I take a seat and suck in a deep breath as I try to appear more composed than I feel.
“I suppose I can give her that much.” King’s voice filters through a haze as a black vignette creeps over my eyes.
He leans closer, and his dark eyes become pits I’m falling into.
When his voice comes out in a ragged whisper, the words freeze the blood in my veins.
“You weren’t sent here to die, Ghost. You were sent as bait. ”