Page 77 of His Girl Hollywood

“Mr. Martino?” the detective asked as he moved forward. Frankie nodded, still disoriented by the scene before him. “You’re under arrest for extortion, aggravated assault, kidnapping, and racketeering.”

The detective produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and strode toward Frankie, who drew his gun, something wild in his eyes.

“I’ve been tricked! Bamboozled,” Frankie shrieked. “They’re the ones blackmailing me. They set me up.” He waved his gun haphazardly in the air, and Don moved forward, ready to tackle him. But the detective caught his eye and shook his head with a move that was almost imperceptible.

“Boys,” the detective called. A shot rang out. The soundstage erupted into chaos as Don leapt toward Arlene, tackling her to the ground, trying to protect her from any stray bullets. His shoulder and chest seared with pain as he hit the floor, placing his body over Arlene’s. He lay still, trying to avoid getting hit by a bullet. Joan screamed from her perch high above them.

“Quiet!” bellowed the detective. The soundstage went silent at his order. The smoke from Frankie’s and the officers’ guns was clearing, and the detective wrestled Frankie into handcuffs. The danger was through. But that didn’t mean everything was okay.

“Lena, are you all right?” Don ran his hands all over her, looking for anything that was bleeding or hurt. If Frankie had harmed even a hair on her head, he’d tear him limb from limb. Personally.

“I’d be fine if you got off me,” she mumbled, her voice muffledby the weight of his body atop hers. He exhaled in relief. If she was making sarcastic retorts, she was fine. He met her eyes.

“I thought you liked this position,” he whispered.

She rolled her eyes, but he could see the upturned curl at the edges of her lips, a telltale sign that she was barely suppressing her smile. “You’re impossible.”

He chuckled and rolled to the side, letting her sit up. His hand reached for hers, and she took it, squeezing it tightly, indicating she’d been more scared than she was letting on. He was startled to find her eyes glassy with tears.

“I told you before that I was afraid that you’d abandon me again. That I had to be careful with my heart because I didn’t want to give it to someone who’d been so careless with it in the past. But you protected me. You physically knocked me down to push me out of harm’s way. You were ready to risk your life for mine.”

He tugged at her hand and pulled her to his chest, embracing her. She clutched at his back, burying her face in his shirt. He murmured into her hair, “I’m sorry I ever gave you cause to doubt me. I will never abandon you. I will throw myself in harm’s way every day if it means keeping you safe. Because I love you.” She answered by nuzzling at his neck.

She snuck her hand between the space between his coat and his shirt, wanting to embrace him, but he winced as she grazed his side. “Oh, God, your ribs, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think it’s my ribs,” he said, looking down at the clear mark of a bullet hole in his jacket with a look of horror on his face. “It must’ve happened when I jumped in front of you. I thought the pain was from the impact of hitting the ground.”

She gasped and tore his jacket open, looking for the entry wound to stanch the flow of blood. He followed the path of her hands in confusion. There was nothing there. Not a hole in hisshirt. Not so much as a drop of blood. All they could find was a hole in the back of his jacket. He felt around and found the bullet on the ground, a foot or so away from where they’d landed. Arlene looked at him utterly perplexed.

It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. Don reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out Lena’s lucky penny. The penny, once flat and solid, was now bent at the top, nearly curving in half. It seemed the bullet had hit it and changed direction, passing through Don’s jacket and landing on the floor without hurting anyone. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

He held it out to Lena so that she could see, and she burst into hysterical giggles. “It couldn’t be!” He dropped it into her hand and she examined it, peering at the worn silhouette of Abraham Lincoln faded from years of his touch. “Lord, this man has terrible luck with actors and guns.”

Don burst into laughter at that. She, hell,theymust be okay if she could crack such a terrible joke. “I guess it really was lucky.” He bent over and kissed the top of her head, eternally grateful that they’d both been spared in the confusion. Thankful that none of the people who’d put their life on the line today to help him trap Frankie had been hurt.

Another officer approached Don and Lena, still on the ground. “Did the bullet hit that?” They both nodded. “I’m going to need that for evidence.”

The officer held out a small paper envelope, gesturing for Don to drop it in. “But—” he started.

“Don, give it to him,” said Lena.

“It’s my good-luck charm,” he protested. And so much more than that. A tether to Lena; he hadn’t even realized how much it had meant to him until the other night in his parents’ old bedroom. All that it had signified to him subconsciously.

The officer cracked a smile. “Seems like it’s done its job.” Lena and Don both laughed at that.

“I’ll get you another one,” she told him. Finally, he begrudgingly relented and dropped it in the envelope. The officer thanked him.

He watched with satisfaction as the detective led a scowling, handcuffed Frankie to the police car parked outside the soundstage. They’d done it. Frankie Martino was going away. Hopefully for a long time. He wouldn’t ever threaten them or any other unsuspecting dancer with a head full of dreams and a song in their heart with his predatory ways again.

Content that Frankie had been effectively disarmed and carted away, Don looked down at Arlene. She was so beautiful, the light dusting of freckles across her nose more visible as her face was still pale with fear. Her green eyes reminded him of spring grass, freshly cut.

He brushed his thumb across her jaw and leaned down to dot her face with kisses, moving across the gentle slope of her brow to her eyelashes, the tip of her nose, and then dotting a line of kisses along her jaw.

She entwined her fingers behind his neck and moved her head, bringing her mouth to meet his. He opened for her and groaned as her tongue found his. But then, he broke away and searched her eyes. “Lena, no, your crew, your boss—I’d never forgive myself if I ruined things.”

She cupped his cheek with her hand and stole a quick kiss, murmuring against his mouth, “If anyone asks, I’m thanking you for saving my life.” He grinned against her lips and she seized the opportunity to capture his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging ever so gently. She tasted of cinnamon and shortbread. No, it was something more ineffable than that. She tasted of home. A homehe couldn’t deny and would never turn his back on again. Because he’d finally realized that home wasn’t a place. It was a person. Arlene was, and had always been, his true home.

He returned her kiss passionately, cradling her in his arms until an amused cough interrupted their clinch. They broke apart and looked up from their spot on the stoop’s steps to see Harry Evets’s rotund and jocular figure casting a shadow over them. Nuts, this was what Don had been afraid of.