Page 73 of Frank
“She’s safe.”
“Where, Enigma?” King growled.
“Um... I don’t want to say.”
“Brother, you better say before I give Valhalla an actual reason to save your life.”
Gulping, Enigma whispered something I couldn’t decipher when King’s phone rang and Claudia slowly sat up. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“What? It was the only place I could think of in a crunch.”
“You’re not two years old anymore, you moron!”
Enigma shouted back. “I’m a genius. Ain’t no one gonna find her.”
“Found her!” King grinned, right before he narrowed his eyes at our flustered, yet cowering, brother. “Seriously. You hid her under your bed at the clubhouse?”
“What?” Enigma muttered. “No one would ever look under my bed.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Claudia deadpanned.
After Valhalla checked Enigma over and assured us the idiot would survive, I got Lidi out of there. She was dead on her feet and needed rest. I took her to her place. She refused to be far from the hospital in case one of her patients needed her.
Always caring for others was a commendable trait, but now it was my time to look after her. With everything she’d done in the last forty-eight hours, she needed to decompress and sleep. Right after she showered and ate something.
Ushering her toward her bedroom, I sat her on her bed before walking into her bathroom and starting the water. Once that was done, I returned to her and asked, “Do you need any help getting undressed?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll be outside if you need me.”
“Who’s with Charlie?”
“He’s with my granny and the ladies at the clubhouse. He’s safe and well looked after. King offered to bring him here unless you want him to stay at the clubhouse.”
“I want him home.”
Nodding, I quietly closed the door behind me, leaving her alone. While I wanted so much to stay with her, to help her, my gut was telling me she wasn’t ready for all that yet. I didn’t claim to know the turmoil her mind was in right now, but I knew she needed some space.
Hearing her bathroom door shut, I had just entered the kitchen when I heard a knock on the door. Answering it, I found a tall skinny man in a well-tailored suit standing on her doorstep, holding a file in his hand. “Hello. How may I help you?”
“I’m looking for Dr. Claudia James,” the man said, glaring at me.
“She’s indisposed at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?”
The man looked past me and asked, “And you are?”
“Franklin Steiner.” I stood firmly, crossing my arms.
There was something about this man that didn’t sit right with me. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“Do you live here, Mr. Steiner?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Just answer the question,” the man snipped, writing something in his folder.
“Not asking you again, mister. Who the fuck are you and what do you want with my woman?”