Chapter 146

I blink with surprise when I see that I’ve missed everything – that Frankie and Nico are already dragging two dazed, cuffed men away to the little sedan as Christian punches a third, the fourth laid out unconscious at his feet. God, but they work fast.

When Christian steps into the Arby’s about three minutes later, he huffs a laugh when he sees me leaning against the counter, sipping my drink.

“Do you want a fry?” I ask, casual, gesturing towards the tray next to me.

He laughs again, harder, and steps close to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him, running a hand over my ponytail. “You actually ordered food?”

“Girl’s gotta eat,” I say, smiling up at him. I’m playing it very cool right now, forcing myself to, because I know that it will be better for him if he thinks I’m calm. But inside, I’m basically screaming with anxiety, desperate to get out of here, and almost sobbing with gratitude that at first glance it looks like we got away with it and none of my loved ones are hurt.

Christian smiles down at me, stroking his thumb across my cheek, before turning to the two women who stand behind the counter. They stare at him almost slack-jawed, and half of me wonders if it’s because they just saw him commit an act of extreme violence? Or if it’s just because he’s so damn hot.

A little swell of pride rises in me.

“Did you call the cops?” Christian asks, stepping away from me and towards them.

The women glance at each other and then look back at him, surprised and scared. “No,” says the first one, the one who served me my food.

“Good,” Christian says, pulling something out of his pocket and slapping it down on the counter. My eyes go wide when I see that it’s a great deal of money – at least a thousand dollars for each of them. “Don’t. And if I find out that you did, we’ll come back here and take that money back. With interest.”

The women both look at him wide-eyed and then nod, terrified.

My heart sinks a little – because they really were nice to me. It’s not their fault we picked their parking lot at random.

Christian nods back to them and then comes and takes my hand, tugging me with him towards the door.

“Bye!” I call to the women, snagging my fries with my pinky finger as Christian pulls me away. “Thank you so much! I hope you have a nice day!”

They just stare at me like I’m crazy as we move fast for the door.

As we get to the parking lot, Christian looks down at me, laughing. “Why did you say that to them?”

“They were nice to me!” I protest. “It doesn’t cost anything to be polite.”

“Go on,” Christian sighs, dropping a kiss to my cheek and pushing me towards the car I arrived in, where Frankie is waiting by the passenger’s side door.

“What,” I say, grinning at him as I walk up. “You’re not going to insist on driving now, for old time’s sake?”

“Nah,” he says, shrugging casually. “As much as I’d love to, I can’t.”

“Why?” I ask, frowning at him and reaching for the driver’s door.

“’Cause,” he says, reaching for his own door handle. “I got shot.”

I gasp, dropping my coke, the drink splashing everywhere as it hits the ground.

“Iris,” Frankie groans, looking mournfully over the roof of the car, “I wanted some of that –“

“Frankie!” I gasp, starting around the car, frantic.

But he puts up a hand to stop me. “Would you just get in the car?” he snaps, pointing towards the door. “I’m fine! Obviously, I’m fine! It’s just glancing – I’ll sew it up in four seconds at the warehouse.”

I stop in my tracks, gaping at him.

“Iris!” he snaps, glaring at me, his unusually harsh tone breaking me out of my daze. “Drive! Now! We’ve still got to get out of here!”

I groan, and turn towards the driver’s door, realizing that what he says makes sense. As fast as I can, I get into the car and put it in drive, glancing over at his bloody leg the moment he sits down.

“You’re seriously going to be okay?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“I promise, Bambs,” he murmurs, putting on his seatbelt. “I’m not dying today – none of us are. I’ve suffered worse than this – way worse. Honestly, I don’t even need a doctor. So?” he gestures out the windshield. “Can we go?”

I groan and shove the container of french fries at Frankie’s chest before gripping the wheel with two hands, making myself concentrate hard on Nico’s car, which has pulled in front of mine. The car with Nico, my husband, and four of what we hope are Bonetti’s men bundled in the backseat.

I start to drive, and when Nico sees me pull up behind him, he goes too. We’re out of the parking lot in what feels like an instant, leaving the whole scene behind us.

I glance back, kind of baffled by it – the speed with which it all happened.

“These are good,” Frankie says, his voice surprised, and I look over at him briefly before turning my eyes towards the windshield.

“I can’t believe you’re eating,” I murmur, shaking my head as I grip my shaking hands tight on the wheel, concentrating on Nico’s bumper ahead of me as we move fast down the road.

“Bambi, I must keep up my strength,” Frankie says, deliberately dramatic. “It’s for the wound, not for me.”

I turn my head to roll my eyes at him, but I also can’t help but laugh. He grins at me, and I realize that it’s deliberate. That he’s hurting, and probably freaked out too, but for my sake he’s putting on a show.

“Okay, Frankie,” I say with a sigh, relaxing my shoulders and settling back in my chair. “You win. I’ll calm down.”

“Good,” he says, still munching on the fries.

“What do you need?” I ask, brisk. “Do we need like…medical supplies? For when we get to the warehouse?”

“Nope,” he says, equally brisk. “They’re already there. Nico planned for it in case there were any casualties. I shot one of Bonetti’s men too – we have to patch him up as well. His is way worse than mine. Obviously.”

“Why is it obvious?” I ask, glancing over at him.

“Because I’m a better shot,” Frankie says, giving me a wink.

I laugh again, shaking my head at him. “How do you know that, Frank? Maybe you just had the element of surprise.”

“Nah,” he says, dead casual. “I’m a better shot than most people. You’re lucky to have me on your side, Bambs.”

“Damn right I am,” I murmur, making a turn when Nico does, shaking my head at the craziness of my life.

“I don’t know why you’re all worked up,” Frankie says, a little distractedly, as he looks out the window at the passing city. “It all went really well – completely according to plan.”

“I’m not sure it’s ever according to plan if someone I care about gets shot,” I say, sending him a little glare.

“We got the guys, Bambs,” he murmurs. “And we’re all alive. That’s what really counts. It’s good.”

I nod, agreeing, and we drive in quiet for a few moments.

“Want some?” Frankie asks, holding the fries out to me.

I turn a little glare on him. “Of course I do,” I snap, grabbing one out of the container. “They’re my fries, Frankie. I just gave them to you to hold – not to have.”

“But Bambi, I am injured,” he protests, his mouth falling open in mock horror.

“Yeah, well, I’ll give you my fries when you’re dying. Not before.” I snatch another from the container, shoving it in my mouth.

Frankie laughs along with me, his eyes crinkling up with his true pleasure, and then the two of us sit quietly, sharing the fries as we head off to the warehouse, our next destination. Where Christian says things will really get started.