Page 17 of His For The Keeping

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Page 17 of His For The Keeping

“Frankie.”

“You said you would tell me when we got here.”

She had peppered him with questions all the way from the gas station to Brad’s house, growing angrier with his refusal to answer. The thing was, he didn’t know how to tell her that her entire family was dead. Telling her while driving wasn’t a good idea, especially since he didn’t know how she would react. Would she have a violent outburst? Faint? Become hysterical? He wanted a controlled environment when he dropped that emotional bomb.

“I will. Let’s get you a shower and get some food in our bodies, then I’ll tell you.”

“You keep putting it off. I know something is wrong, so why don’t you just fucking tell me?”

He reached in and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her face still as he looked deep into her eyes.

“Listen to me right now, Francesca. That stunt you pulled at the gas station where you ignored my orders and blatantly disobeyed me, and now this disrespect, isn’t going to fly. You will go inside, take a nice hot shower, change into comfortable clothes, and get some dinner into you. Then we will talk, and I’ll answer everything.”

“I am not one of your soldiers! You can’t just order me around.”

“First, I’m not in the Army, and I don’t have soldiers. I’m in the Navy, and I have sailors. Second, none of my men would ever talk to me the way you just did. Third, I am doing what is best for us. I need to get a few more answers before I tell you anything. I’m going to make a few calls while you shower. I don’t want to give you the wrong information.”

“You could have just said that, to begin with.”

“The thing is, Frankie, there might be a time when we are in a life-or-death situation, and I can’t stop and explain my actions. You’ll to trust me, obey without questioning me, and do what I tell you without hesitation.”

“The thing is, Shane, I don’t know you well enough to trust you, and I’m pretty sure this”—she splayed her hands out—“is not a life-or-death situation.”

“AndIam pretty sure you’re trying my patience at levels it hasn’t been tried. Get out of the truck.” Not waiting for her to obey, he lifted her out, pausing for a moment to enjoy her curves against his body before letting her go.

“Now, we are going to go inside, you are going to get a shower, then Brad will be back with dinner. I promise, Frankie, I will let you know everything before you go to bed tonight.”

“She’s showering. I laid out a couple of your things for her,” Shane said to Brad when he returned to the house.

“No problem, what’s mine is yours. You’ve had a hell of a day. Grab her sizes and make a list. I’ll have Mak make a run.”

“Much appreciated. I already threw her clothes in the wash, but I snagged the sizes first,” Shane said.

“Here,” Brad handed him a glass with golden liquid. “Let’s talk on the porch.”

“Sounds good.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of the crickets chirping in the distance, interrupting their thoughts.

“How are you going to balance being the leader of a crime family with being a SEAL?” Brad asked. Shane had told him about his childhood and his family. “I can’t imagine the toll that would have on a person.”

“Both lives take a toll. They both have lines that are crossed. Sometimes, the similarities between the two are chilling. In the military, we’re taught not to think, just follow orders. When we are sent to take out a terrorist, we don’t ask why. We don’t ask to see the evidence, and if we take out his brother or son, well, that’s just the cost of doing war.” Shane paused, taking a long swig of his bourbon, allowing the smooth liquid to slide down his throat.

“My father ran a tight ship. It was much the same. The order was given, and we didn’t ask why. He was a good man. My family didn’t deal in drugs or sex trafficking. Pa was about removing bad men from our streets—the violent, those dealingdrugs out of our communities, gangbangers—even if it meant going beyond the law.”

“Vigilantes, a Robin Hood of sorts.”

“Of sorts. He was a big believer in unions. My great-great-grandfather was one of the very first union presidents. My family’s early power came from the union and our local Catholic Parish. We aren’t from old blood money like Frankie’s family. When my ancestors came over on the ship, they had nothing but the muscles on their bodies and the brains in their heads.”

“What made you leave that life for this one?”

“I wanted to get away from the town where everyone knew me, and my life was planned out by other people. I needed to do it without disappointing my dad. Just up and leaving wasn’t an option. If I wanted to go to college, I would be expected, like my brothers, to stay nearby. I used my family’s history to sweet-talk Pa into letting me join. Sure, it was my choice, I was eighteen and all, but in my family, nothing was done without Pa’s permission. My great-grandfather was in the Navy during World War II, my grandfather served in Vietnam, and my dad was a Marine in Desert Storm. They felt as though it was part of the family’s duty to serve the country that took them in. I made the argument it was my job to keep the tradition going. Pa bought it. Wanted me to do four years and get out, but you know…”

Both men laughed.

“And here you are.”

“And here I am. About to go AWOL if I can’t get my leave extended, running away from God knows who with a beautiful girl who I’m sworn to protect, and the need for vengeance pulsing through my veins.”




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