Chapter 45
FORTY-FIVE
FRANKIE
The days pass in a whirl of activity—behind the scenes.
Lessons are a mere distraction as we work on The Claiming in our spare time. There is a lot to organize and Ali steps up to arrange the security.
It’s been a pleasurable week in other ways and I savor the memory of having a slave for the duration.
Cassie has stepped into the role perfectly. Not that she’s a pushover, just hungry for experience. My slave is a sex one and I have not compromised her reputation among her peers. Outwardly, she is still the sassy, opinionated woman I wanted as mine, but behind the locked door of my attic rooms, she is learning a valuable lesson in submission and obviously loving the experience.
This week has been intimate, compelling and revealing. I’ve learned a lot about Cassandra King and she has discovered a side of me that nobody else has ever seen. The part I want her to see, anyway.
I dodge her questions about my life, my wishes and hopes, and dreams. They are for fools. Life is not built on hope and dreaming won’t bring you happiness. Careful planning and manipulation is the only way to get what you want in life, and I am learning my craft well.
As I park the car in the parking lot, I note the rather shabby diner I’ve been summoned to and I roll my eyes. Today I ride alone. I told nobody of my meeting and they believe I’m at a dental appointment. I’m not. I am meeting my uncle and I understand he has something for me and I love the excitement a meeting with him always brings with it.
Of all my uncles, he interests me the most. Cool, calm and collected on the outside. An enigma perhaps, but his mind always plotting, always questioning and always corrupt and Machiavellian.
Yes, I’ve learned a lot from my Uncle Malik over the years and his attention to detail is a quality I want to sharpen into my own set of skills, so it’s with anticipation that I push my way inside the deadbeat diner.
I smile to myself when I spot him immediately. He looks more out of place in here than a flower on the ice caps. Well dressed, bleeding money with disdain for his surroundings and he would look more at home in the finest hotel or five star resort.
I know he loves to frequent places like this. To get down and dirty with the rest of humanity who never catch a break. He says it keeps him grounded, sharpens his mind and reminds him of what humanity will do to catch a break. Not that there is anyone else in the diner. He won’t allow curious ears anywhere near his business. And that’s what this meeting is—business. This is his office at grass roots level and as I head his way, his obsidian eyes follow my progress.
“Frankie.” His smile is genuine as he stands and pulls me in for a hug. There are no pretenses between us—we are family, after all.
“Uncle.” I note the huge ribboned box on the seat beside him and grin.
“How is Aunt Eliza?”
My heart softens because she is my second mother. The woman who kept me safe from a maniac and was responsible for my reunion with my parents. She is special to me and to the man who is already smiling at the mention of her name.
“She sends her love and a care package.”
He nods toward the box and we share a grin.
“Of course she did.”
“She is visiting her brother and is angry she missed the opportunity to come with me.”
I chuckle softly, picturing the fiery anger she would have directed at my uncle when he revealed his agenda.
“I will see her soon.” I shrug. “And mom, dad, have you seen them?”
“Of course.” He shrugs as we settle down in the booth that is facing the door and overlooking the parking lot. Standard procedure for any public place we visit and I didn’t miss my uncle’s guards who are strategically placed around the parking lot in their black gleaming cars as they protect their don.
Mafia is a way of life. The oxygen we breathe and the black blood in our veins. We live a certain way because we make many enemies. Protecting the organization is taken extremely seriously and when I saw the familiar black cars on my approach, a wave of homesickness caught me by surprise.
“Your father is conducting business with your Uncle Flynn and your mother is visiting with Aunt Louisa.”
As I picture my parents, my homesickness grows because my family is everything to me, and being away from them cuts me deep.
Malik waves his hand and a startled server heads our way, gazing at us with curiosity as Uncle Malik orders half of the menu for us.
I let him. He has already selected what I would order, and that is no coincidence. He makes it his business to plan ahead, which is why I turned to him with my current problem.
The server heads off and soon returns with a jug of coffee and she fills our mugs before leaving us to conduct business. That is why we’re here after all and now the pleasantries have been dealt with I am interested in what he has for me.
“Rockwell Academy.” His sinister smile comforts me as he deals with the shit going on there right now.
“It sits above a network of tunnels that runs inside the perimeter wall and allowed the monks who created it to move effortlessly around the entire complex undetected.”
“Why did they build it if they were the only ones who lived there? It’s a little extreme because it would have taken them years to complete.”
“Because they were a target for every thief in the district. They had great riches and didn’t possess brute force as part of their armory. They used their minds instead, which I find particularly thrilling.”
His white teeth gleam as he nods his respect for the monks.
“They used their prisoners to dig out the tunnels by hand. It was hard labor, and they were controlled by shackles and iron bars.”
I have a new found respect for the men of God who, as it turns out, were more brutal than the men who targeted them.
Uncle Malik removes a manila envelope from behind the care package and his eyes light with interest.
“I printed the plans out for you to study. It’s a blueprint of the entire network of tunnels which should help with your planning.”
His eyes flash and his tone drops an octave, and I lean forward as he whispers.
“Now to your main problem.”
It’s as if his words electrify my soul as I sense a bigger problem about to reveal itself.
“The unknown centurion may not be what you think he is.”
“I think nothing.”
My answer causes a rare smile to light my uncle’s face. He will appreciate my response because he has always taught me not to guess at life because the only way to win is through the facts.
I lean forward, waiting for him to speak, knowing any words I utter at this point will be surplus to requirements.
“Have you heard the name Christian Duprey?”
“No.”
He nods, the only sign he is excited to reveal his information, evident by the gleam in his dark hooded eyes.
“He runs what many call a cult, but it’s way more sinister than that.”
“A cult?”
My heart beats faster because I love shit like this.
“He is the founder of The Serpent Society. The members of this group have a serpent tattooed on their wrists. The symbolism signifies an impending, deadly attack.”
“And you believe the unknown centurion could be one of them?”
I raise my eyes. “Why?”
He shrugs. “They could be connected to the society through parentage and attend Rockwell as a student or–”
He leans forward and whispers, “Or they could be operating on their own outside of the society, which is my educated guess.”
“Why do you come to that conclusion?”
“Because it’s unusual for them to operate outside of their protected walls. Your problem could be a lone ranger perhaps, or coincidence. Either way, it’s an organization that has held our interest for some time, and taking one of their members would help with our investigations.”
His meaning is clear as I ask the burning question. “You want us to capture him and hand him over to you?”
“No, Frankie.” Uncle Malik’s eyes flash with dark danger as he says with a husky whisper, “We want to trap him and when you run your next challenge, the centurions in the passageway will be my guards.”
I say nothing because what the fuck? He is tripping on my territory and he knows it.
I make to speak but he cuts me off with one flash of his dark, fearsome eyes. “You do not have the army or the resources right now. You will. I am certain of that, but not at this moment in time. I applaud your desire to capture this man for yourself, but you must also learn when to accept help.” He leans back and says nonchalantly. “If you captured him, what then?”
I heave a sigh, knowing he is right, and he continues, sensing my acceptance of the situation.
“It is best this way. We will remove the problem from Rockwell and use it to our advantage. Your newly formed army will grow over time and you will get better at it.”
He leans forward with a twisted grin. “Expand your operation, cultivate its membership and learn how to amass an army, Frankie. All of this will help sharpen skills you will need in your future. I applaud your ingenuity in this and admire your execution, but sometimes accepting help is the sign of a great leader. Only fools attempt something they are ill-equipped to follow through and you already know that.”
I nod, hating that he’s right and accept I have no other option. My uncle’s men will locate the unknown centurion by way of elimination, all while operating in the shadows. The predator will not escape, of that I’m convinced, and The Claiming will continue undetected, the threat of exposure having been removed. I know he’s right, but I don’t have to like it and as our food arrives, my uncle sits back in his seat and conducts the rest of our meeting just like any uncle visiting his nephew and taking him out to brunch.