Chapter 182

Frankie and I drive for a long, long time.

As soon as the adrenaline of leaving the Romano family home leaves my system I immediately begin to feel ill again, the affects of…whatever Elio gave me still ravaging my system. Frankie gives me a water bottle from the back seat and apologizes that he doesn’t have any food – god, when’s the last time that I ate? He promises to get me a meal as soon as he can.

I just nod, and close my eyes, and curl up as best as I am able with the water bottle clutched in my hands, letting my body heal itself. I drift in and out of sleep and Frankie has to pull over twice so I can vomit by the side of the road – not much comes up, I’m empty, after all – and by the time I come back to myself enough to fully pay attention to my surroundings the sun is well up.

I don’t say anything, taking small sips of the water and wishing desperately for the opportunity to brush my teeth. Frankie doesn’t say anything either – not a word until he slows his car in what looks like a very small, mostly abandoned town.

“Just stay in the car, okay, Bambs?” he says as we pull into what looks like…a junkyard? An auto shop attached to a junk yard? I don’t know.

I just nod to him as Frankie parks the car and gets out, heading into the garage and having a quick chat with some guys. I watch him carefully as best I can, seeing the charming smile on his face, the jokes he tells that makes the guys laugh. And I admire, as I always have, the easy mask that Frankie wears to convince others that he’s not a serious person, that he’s just some silly guy.

But I know now that he…is anything but. He’s an incredibly skilled hitman and someone who has great hesitations about the life that he’s been living, the world that took a troubled, bright child and handed him a gun and taught him how to use it.

Taught him that his best path in life was tying himself to a Mafia prince like Chrisitan, serving him loyally until the end.

I sigh, resting my head back against the headrest, wondering about that world which I still barely understand, but fully knowing that it’s one that takes and takes and takes. A world designed to manipulate people, to strip them of their freedoms, to put them into service to one man, or one family, and give their entire lives to it.

A world that rends and tears, with only one man at the top.

And that man is now…Christian. My husband. Who I’ve just left.

God, fuck. What are we going to do?

I jump a little when the driver’s door opens. “Come on, Bambs,” Frankie says, bending down to peer into me. “We’re making a swap.”

I frown at him a little, confused, but then do as he says – climbing out of the car and following him across the driveway to another car – a much junkier one, red and rusted with one grey door that clearly came from another car.

“She’ll run,” a guy says, looking at me with interest as Frankie hands him the key to the car we took from the Romano garage. I don’t miss the fact that Frankie shifts the way he stands, blocking the guy’s eyeline.

“Thanks,” Frankie says, putting out his other hand and accepting a huge wad of cash and another key from the guy. “Good doing business with you.”

“Anytime,” the man says, a little bored, turning back to the garage and heading back inside.

“Switching cars?” I ask quietly, remembering when Christian did this as well, though he – of course – already had his cars bought and waiting.

“Yeah,” Frankie replies, gesturing towards the other side of the car as he opens the driver’s door and slips inside. I move around to the passenger’s side and likewise climb in. To my pleased surprise, the interior of the car is very comfortable – the kind of plush leather seats that were popular in the 1950’s and which have gone out of style today.

“Is it…just because the other car was too conspicuous?” I ask as Frankie starts the car and begins to pull it out of the lot.

“That, and we need money,” Frankie murmurs, concentrating on getting on the road for a second. He nods down at the cash sitting on the bench seat between us. “Luckily, the Romanos buy fancy ass cars that any junk yard will be happy to pay half price for.”

“What will they do with it?” I ask, looking over my shoulder as the little town disappears.

“I let them know it was stolen,” Frankie says, “not that they care. But guys like that – they know how to strip a car down, sell its parts or reuse it to create something that can’t be traced. I know the place didn’t look like much, but people who work in yards like that live and breathe cars. They’ll make it so that car disappears fast – which is what we really want.”

I nod, understanding, my face going a little grim as I do.

“They threw in some coffee cake,” Frankie says, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “One of their moms made it. I asked if they had anything to eat and since I gave them such an insane deal on the car, they were more than happy to provide.”

My stomach rumbles almost audibly as I eagerly turn, reaching for the little package in the back seat and pulling it forward and then into my lap. I open it and almost moan in my eagerness when I smell the powdered sugar and the cinnamon and the butter. I take a huge bite and moan again, my eyes fluttering shut, because I’m so hungry.

And it’s just so, so good.

“You want some?” I murmur, my mouth still full, holding out a square slice Frankie’s way.

“Nah, that’s all for you,” he says, laughing a little at the eagerness with which I take another huge bite. “You need it.”

“Frankie,” I scold, holding it out further and then swallowing what’s in my mouth so I can speak properly. “You need to eat too. This can’t just all be for me.”

“Sure it can, Bambs,” he says, glancing over at me with a smirk.

But I just glare at him, still holding the piece out. “I am offering you a piece, not even halfsies,” I sigh. “So, please? Will you eat it?”

He sighs too, glancing at me again, working hard not to smile as he takes the piece from my hand and eats it all in two bites. More content now that I know he’s eaten too, I get to work on the rest, tearing off little pieces with my fingers and eating them more slowly than my first huge bite, hoping that my poor ruined stomach can handle it.

We drive quickly down the country road again in companionable silence as the day slips by. But when the sun starts to rise towards the midpoint of the sky, Frankie sighs and turns his face to me again.

“We’ve got to talk, Bambina,” he says quietly. “We need to…make some plans.”

I nod once, turning towards him, ready for it now. “Okay, Frank,” I say, studying his calm face. “Where do we begin?”