Chapter 188

Suddenly, as Frankie just watches me quietly, waiting for me to tell him what I want, I sigh in frustration, kind of pissed at him for putting all of these stupid choices on my shoulders. “Frank!” I growl, my teeth together a bit as I pull my leg up and give him a soft kick with my bare foot.

“Ow!” Frankie says, flinching away even as he laughs – because we both know it didn’t hurt him. “What!?”

“Why are you putting this all on me – always asking what I want!?”

“Um, because this is your escape, Bambina,” he says, still laughing and spreading his hands out in front of me. “I am at your command!”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who knows how to do it,” I growl, leaning hard against the headboard and pouting at him a little. “You ask me what I want but I don’t even know what the options are.”

“Okay, good point,” Frankie sighs, shifting his body so that his back is flat against the headboard and opening an arm to me. I shuffle closer and he wraps that arm around my shoulders as I rest my head on the soft space between his shoulder and his neck.

“So?” I say, lifting my cheeseburger again to my mouth and taking the last bite. “What’ve we got?”

“Well, as discussed before,” Frankie says softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my arm as he thinks aloud, “the Romano family is…not going to stop searching for you. So, I think our best choice right now is to keep running.”

“Okay,” I say quietly, nodding. “Run where?”

“Best not to have an end point just yet,” he murmurs, reaching for his soda on the bedstand and taking a long sip as he considers it. “If we have too much intention…our trail could show where we’re going and they could cut us off at the end.”

“Are we leaving a trail?” I ask, looking up at Frankie with raised eyebrows.

“There’s always a trail, babe,” he says quietly, offering me his drink, which I gratefully take, enjoying a sip of the icy cold, sugary coke. “And the Romano family has deep pockets – they’ve got PI’s all over this, I’m sure. I mean, I’m good too but…” he shrugs. “Eventually they’re going to find this club, and they’re going to ask the manager, and he will tell them that two people matching our description were here. It’s just…a matter of time.”

I sigh, considering it, wondering…what that would look like at the end.

For me, capture, certainly. And being returned to that house, to Christian to…god, I don’t know what.

But for Frankie…

There’s only one end, I know. And I press my eyes shut against the thought of it.

Quietly, I think sensing the direction of my thoughts, Frankie takes his drink back and places it back on the nightstand, letting me have a moment.

After a minute, I sigh, long and low. “So, we keep running. Um. Do we have any options about like…which…direction?”

“Sure do,” Frank says, nodding again to the money bag in the corner. “That…opens doors for us, Bambs. Big doors. I have a contact at the Orlando airport I can use but…” he exhales slowly and I look up at him again, watching his brow knit together. “I think you need to decide if you want to stay in the states or…go to Europe.”

A slow smile starts to spread on my face. “Europe?” I whisper.

Frankie grins. “You look way too happy about that, Bambs.”

I bite my lip a little, trying not to look so happy about it, but he just laughs at me – letting me know it didn’t work. I just shake my head, a little awed at the idea. “I’ve always wanted to go to Europe.”

“It wouldn’t be a luxury trip to Paris, babe,” he says quietly, his face falling slightly into apologetic lines as he tightens his arm around me a bit. “I can’t…give you that, at least not now. But…” he shrugs, “there’s work there, in Europe. Small villages, maybe by the sea, where they might not ask too many questions, where two people could blend into the background. Beautiful landscapes. It could be…a good life.”

He looks down at me, hesitant.

“And…what does life look like if we stay in America?” I ask, not really knowing if I need to hear this answer because…well. The life he just spelled out…

It sounds amazing, doesn’t it?

“Life in America?” Frankie gives a dry shrug. “Cornfields. Trailer parks. You know, a lot of…meth…”

I start to laugh as Frankie lists more horrors, shaking my head at him. “You’re so biased.”

“I am not!” he protests, laughing too as he presses a hand to his chest. “I am just laying out the stark realities of what life could be like!”

I cuddle a little closer, grinning at him. “So, that’s what you want to do then? With this money? You want to go to Europe?”

He turns to me a little more completely then, reaching out his other arm as well, cupping my elbow in his hand and looking at me quite seriously. “I have been thinking, Bambs, and I…really do think it’s our best bet. I think the Romano resources are the most strained there. Plus,” he shrugs, trying to downplay his words a bit. “I heard tell that…a certain girl always wanted to see Europe. And since we blew her life up completely the day we hauled her out of a strip club…maybe, for once, we should do what will make her happy.”

I melt a little at his words, touched to the depths of me that Frankie…honestly takes what I want seriously.

“Europe, then,” I murmur, reaching up and trailing my fingers over the short length of his hair, curling my hand gently around the back of his ear. Just slightly, Frankie leans into the touch, his eyes drifting shut.

“Europe,” he says, giving a slight nod. “Though where in Europe…is going to be a bit up to fate.” He smirks, opening his eyes a bit to look at me. “You cool with that?”

I bite my lip again, eager as I nod. “Yeah, Frank,” I whisper. “I’m cool with that.”

The next day Frankie really gets to work and I just sort of…hang out in bed eating chips.

I have to laugh a little as I do, because as I watch daytime television he does all sorts of useful things – going back to the little truck stop down the street, buying some burner phones which he brings back and uses to make a couple of shady phone calls.

I mean, it’s not really funny but…just seeing Frankie back in his mafia mode? Getting to work, pulling our plans together, making his calls? It’s just…kind of cute, and a little nice to fall into our familiar rhythms.

As the day passes, though, I run out of chips and it starts to grow dark outside the windows. Frankie gets more tense as the hours pass, even though he assures me it’s all coming together.

Then he takes the car somewhere and I sit by the window for a long time, peeking out of it even though he told me not to, terribly anxious to see him come back. When I finally do spy him hopping out of the cab of some sixteen-wheeler that he apparently caught a ride with, I have to laugh again.

Frankie stops a little short when he sees me peeking out the window, but then he just laughs and shakes his head at me and trots for the door. When he comes through it I’m already back on my bed, grinning at him, pretending I was nowhere near the windows.

He laughs, grinning at me as he tosses the wad of cash he got for selling the car onto the bed at my feet. “You ready, girl?”

“Really?” I ask, anxious, looking up at him.

He holds out a hand towards me and picks up the single backpack I packed for us with whatever clothes we’ve been able to scrabble together for our trip, which is not much after I put on the novelty “Florida” zip-up sweatshirt and track pants that we bought me at the truck stop, as well as the women’s flowered flip flops that I exchange for Christian’s overlarge sandals.

“Really,” Frankie says, leaning forward, holding his hand closer to me. “Now or never, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” I say, exhaling a long breath. And then I take Frankie’s hand, and he pulls me to my feet, and together we leave the motel for…whatever is happening next.