Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Frankie

Morning came faster than I wanted. It was a restless night tossing and turning on the uncomfortable bed, and when the sun peeked through the trees, I didn't feel any more rested than the night before. I was tempted to stay in bed all day, until a knock on the RV door disrupted me.

"All right. All right." I assumed it was Newt coming to check on me and didn't bother to put on any more clothes than the boxers and undershirt I'd fallen asleep in.

This decision turned out to be a mistake when I opened the door and found Gabe standing there in the early morning sunlight.

I would have slammed the door right in his face, but he placed a hand on the door to block it before I could.

"Wait. Please."

He held out a plate in front of him.

I wasn't sure what I found more distracting. The word "please" coming out of his mouth, or the plate of eggs and bacon made exactly how I preferred.

My stomach growled. Still scowling, I snatched the plate from his hand.

"You have five minutes."

After I put on a pair of pants, we ended up sitting around the small bench table in the RV. It was an awkward position. The size of the table meant there was no way to sit without our knees knocking. I tried to ignore it and focused on my breakfast as I waited for Gabe to figure out what he wanted to say.

"I was an ass yesterday."

I looked up at him with surprise, and a piece of bacon hanging halfway out of my mouth.

That was not how I imagined the conversation would start. If anything, I had expected him to try and convince me that the whole argument was actually my fault.

Swallowing my mouthful of food and chasing it down with several heavy gulps of orange juice gave me enough time to get over my shock. When I was finally able to talk, my words came out clear.

"Yes, you were."

The fact that he was taking responsibility for his actions was a good start, but if he wanted forgiveness, he was going to have to give me a proper apology first.

Gabe sighed and nodded, like he'd already expected that response. "I shouldn't have said what I said, and I'm sorry. It was uncalled for, and wrong. You're not unfit to be a physical therapist. I was just worried, although that's no excuse."

He was saying all the right things, but the way he spoke made the apology sound rehearsed.

The eggs on my plate had been steamed instead of fried or scrambled, which is how I knew Newt had made the breakfast. It wasn't the most common way to prepare eggs, but I hated the crispy edges that they got when fried and I didn't like mixing the whites and the yolks together to make scrambled.

Newt must have encouraged Gabe to come talk to me. He'd probably even helped Gabe plan out what to say and told him that offering of food would be the best way to get me to listen. He wasn't wrong. I hadn't eaten much the day before—which may have contributed to how angry I got—and the food definitely helped me think more clearly.

Most importantly, I trusted Newt. He wouldn't have helped Gabe plan an apology if he thought the other man wasn't sincere.

I pointed my fork at Gabe. "You claim you were worried, but we've been in hiding for weeks and you've never been that rude before. What changed?"

He eyed my fork, which was pointed right at the center of his forehead. "You're right. Yesterday, I... found one of the moles in my agency and managed to get some information out of him."

I didn't want to know what that meant, and resolutely kept any questions about the identity of this mole or how Gabe questioned them to myself. Instead, I only asked about the information he'd learned.

Gabe placed a folder on the table, careful to keep it far enough away from my breakfast to avoid stains.

Flipping open the file, I was greeted with a picture of a man I didn't recognize. He was a large man, with a big barrel chest and sloping shoulders. It was the kind of largeness that came from strength, even if his muscles were hidden under a healthy layer of fat.

His hair may have once been red but was now so gray that the original color was indistinguishable.

"Is this supposed to mean something to me?"

"Probably not," Gabe said, though he tapped the paper to draw my attention to the man in the photo anyway. "His name is Robert McLeod, and based on the information I've procured, he's the man running the pedophile ring that's trying to kill us."

That info did make the image of the man look a little more threatening, but the picture still meant nothing to me.

"I thought the Mafia King that Sebastian and Damien have history with was the one running the pedophile ring."

"The Mariano family is definitely bankrolling the pedophile ring in some way, but they're not in charge of it. Damien is off finding a way to get rid of David Russo once and for all, but I'm afraid that wouldn't stop this pedophile ring. They would still exist, and they would still be trying to kill all of us. If we want to be safe, we need to get rid of this person as well. One way or another."

In my mind, the people trying to kill my friends—and by extension, me—were a group of amorphous and shadowy villains. Like the kind of boogeyman monster children were warned about in old fables. To see that the person hunting us was just a man like any other, was simultaneously both a letdown and also very disturbing.

Humans shouldn't be capable of such monstrous actions.

"I still don't understand. Why are you so worried? Shouldn't knowing who this person is be a good thing? Now you know who to go after."

Gabe sighed and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. He didn't always wear them. They seemed to be mostly for reading paperwork.

I wished he would wear them more often. They gave his face more character and turned him from an emotionless rock to a stern school teacher with a secret badass side.

Of course, I would never say such a thing to his face. Then he'd probably never wear the glasses again.

"It's because I know who this man is that I'm worried. I'm not sure that he can be brought down."

"A bad guy with bad connections?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gabe shook his head. I noticed for the first time that there were dark bags hanging under his eyes. The man looked like he'd gotten the same amount of sleep I had.

None.

"Robert McLeod definitely has mob connections, though nothing has ever been proven. But that's not what I'm worried about. It's his legitimate connections that concern me. He's got a lot of relatives in influential positions of government. He recently earned the title of Senator and there's talk of him running for president in a few years. Quite frankly, I'm not sure it's even possible to take this man out. Not without pissing off a huge portion of our government. Even if we could, it would take an army. I'm just one man, and at the moment I don't have any backup."

Tucking the picture back inside its folder, Gabe collected the whole thing and carefully set it aside. "So, I've decided, there's only one choice. You need to learn to defend yourself."

I choked on my last bite of egg. "Excuse me."

"There's no way I'm getting anywhere near Robert McLeod on my own. I'm going to need help, and that means I'll be leaving this safe house more often than planned. I need to know that you'll be able to defend yourself when I'm gone."

"Okaaaay..." The singular word stretched between my teeth, like it was trying to escape but I wasn't quite ready to let it go. "What exactly would that entail? Because I'll tell you right now, I'm not handling any guns."

"No guns," Gabe assured me. "I wouldn't have time to train you enough for you to use them with any efficiency. Nor do we have a safe shooting range for practice. No. We'll just stick to basic defense. Are you done?" He pointed down at my empty plate.

As much as I wanted to argue, or come up with another excuse to think for a moment, I had nothing left. So, I merely nodded.

"Good. Come on."

Leaving the plate still sitting on the table, Gabe dragged me out of the RV and into the clearing surrounding the safe house.

"Wait a minute," I said when he took off his jacket and hung it over a tree branch. "You mean we're doing this right now?"

"Yes. The sooner we get started, the better."

He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms. It was easy to forget since he was always so buttoned up, but under his stiff exterior and formal suits, the man was well built.

Based on the rigid lines of muscle running down his forearms, he definitely hadn't skimped on his workouts since leaving the army.

Watching him get ready for whatever "lesson" he had planned made me feel like I needed to be doing something. I stood there in just a pair of slightly too big sweatpants and an undershirt, so I didn't have anything to remove. So, I did the only thing I could and tied my braids back into a ponytail. The familiar action always helped me get into the right mindset for work. Maybe it would help here as well.

"Okay, so what? You want to teach me how to fight?" I raised my fists into what I thought was a fighting stance. "All right. I guess we can give this a go."

Gabe immediately pushed my hands back to my sides. "That's not what we're doing. There isn't enough time for you to get proficient in hand-to-hand combat. Plus, you shouldn't be fighting anyway. No, what I'm going to teach you is how to escape."

"Escape?"

The day had only started, and it kept getting weirder.

"Yes, escape," Gabe agreed as he removed his glasses and stored them in a pocket of his jacket. "Right now, your job is not to fight. Your job is to survive. If someone comes after you, you get away and you run." His gaze briefly traveled up and down my body. "You've got long legs for your height. You should be good at running."

I nervously scratched at the back of my head, and my fingers automatically found the raised edge of the scar hidden under my braids. "I used to run track in high school."

The admission was barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rustling leaves. I wasn't even sure Gabe heard me, for he gave no reaction. Instead, he studied me for a moment before suddenly grabbing my wrist in firm grip.

"If someone grabs you, what do you do?"

"Um..." I hesitated.

Was this a test?

Was this something I was already supposed to know?

When I didn't respond, Gabe yanked on my wrist so I stumbled toward him.

Not knowing what else to do, I tried to pull back. It was useless. His hand easily wrapped around my entire wrist and clamped down with a grip as strong as iron.

However, this seemed to be the response that Gabe expected, because his lips twitched up into a slight smile.

"Exactly. When people are grabbed like this, their first instinct is always to pull back and try to put space between them and their attacker. However, this just pushes your wrist more firmly into my palm. Instead, you want to twist your wrist and pull against the weakest part of your attacker's grip, where the thumb and fingers meet."

He walked me through the motion several times, showing me how to twist and pull in one fluid motion. It took some fumbling, but eventually, I was able to remove my wrist from his grip even with him holding on tight.

"Huh. How about that." I examined my wrist. It was a little chaffed from the friction between our skin, but I was free with minimal effort. "Wasn't expecting that to work."

Gabe grabbed my other wrist. "It just takes practice, but the principle is the same no matter how someone grabs you."

We spent a half hour going over different ways to escape a wrist grab. Right wrist. Left wrist. Straight on. From the side.

By the end of it my wrists were chafed raw, but I felt more comfortable with the technique.

After that, we moved on to other ways a person might try to grab me. The upper arm. The shoulder. Even the lapel. In all of them, the principle was the same, just executed in slightly different ways.

Compromise my attacker's grip and use the opening to get away.

I was almost feeling confident in my ability to escape until, without warning, Gabe grabbed me in a full bear hug from behind and literally lifted me off the ground.

"This isn't as common, but if your attacker is much larger than you or trying to kidnap you, they might try to pick you up like this."

His breath was right in my ear. I could feel the vibration of every word, and I instinctively shivered. Goosebumps ran over my skin, and this time it wasn't from the cold air.

"What am I supposed to do here? I can't twist my whole body around. I can barely move my arms."

I squirmed to show how trapped I was, and immediately realized my mistake. The entire front of his body pressed right up against my back and the material of his shirt did little to hide the firm lines of his muscles.

Something hot clenched in my stomach, and I realized with growing horror that I was aroused.

"You can still move your arms a little," Gabe said, completely oblivious to my predicament. "From there, you should at least be able to reach my hands. Try grinding your knuckles over the tendons on the back of my hand."

I did, pressing as hard as I could, and I felt him flinch. His grip loosened enough for me to slide down to the ground and get my feet under me again, though he didn't fully let go.

"Good. The unexpected pain from such a move might make them let go entirely, but at the very least it'll loosen their grip. From there, just grab any of my fingers and bend them backward. I'll have to either let go, or let you break my finger. Either way, my grip is compromised, and then you can escape."

I didn't pull hard enough to hurt him, but I went through the motions to show I understood what he was talking about, and he let me go.

My palms were sweaty, and my breathing came harder than it should. I wiped my hands against my shirt, trying to ignore the heat rushing through my system and the tingling in my gut that wanted to blossom into something more.

It was fine. I just hadn't experienced much physical contact with anyone other than Newt and my patients for a while. Feeling aroused when someone was pressed up close to me was completely normal. It didn't mean anything.

I was so busy trying to calm myself down that I didn't notice Gabe inspecting me with a critical eye.

"You have long hair," he said, as if coming to a conclusion.

Before I could ask what he meant, his hand fisted in my braids and yanked my head back.

"The hair grab is a pretty common controlling move, especially against people with long hair, but getting out of it requires a different kind of technique. Instead of pulling away, you need to get closer."

He explained the process for getting out of a hair grab, but I didn't hear a word of it.

His hand pressed right against the scar on the back of my head. My brain short circuited and I couldn't move. Newt was the only one to ever touch that sensitive spot since I was a teenager, and the feeling of someone else's touch there sent a momentary wave of fear racing through me. Yet, at the same time, arousal still burned my veins, hotter than ever. I'd never considered myself to be someone who had a kink for hair pulling, but the prickling of my scalp as Gabe tugged at my braids was making my insides squirm in a way I'd never experienced before.

I remained frozen with indecision, torn between two conflicting reactions. Several moments passed where I didn't respond, and I could practically feel Gabe's confusion grow.

"Frankie..." He tugged my braids again, as if to remind me what we were doing. "Are you paying attention?"

"Uh..." My limbs suddenly started moving again, like someone had flipped a switch in my brain. I flailed, batting Gabe's hands away from me and putting space between us. "I think that's enough for today."

Luckily, he let me go. I had completely missed his explanation for how to get out of the hair grab. If he'd expected me to free myself, I would have been trapped.

"Enough?" Gabe looked toward the sky. "It's only been about an hour."

The fact that he could tell that just from the movement of the sun, even with so many trees blocking the way, was an impressive feat, but I wasn't in the right headspace to admire it. So many conflicting emotions still coursed through me, and I felt like I was about two seconds from fainting and getting an erection at the same time.

I needed to leave.

"Yeah, I, um..." I looked toward the house, where I thought I saw movement in the window. "I should check on Newt and Sebastian. See if they need anything. That is my job, after all. Right? As a physical therapist. Yeah, I'm just gonna..."

I pointed vaguely toward the house before making a quick retreat and bolting for the door of the house.

Newt was in the kitchen cleaning up the remnants of breakfast. My assumption that he had been the one to send Gabe out to me with food and an apology had been right, but I couldn't even gloat about it.

"Everything okay?" Newt asked as I walked past.

"Fine," I said without looking at him. "Just... bathroom."

I kept walking and shut myself in the bathroom, one of the few places in the small house where I could get a moment of privacy.

Gabe's papers and laptop took up almost every flat surface, including the floor. I stepped carefully over them and sat on the edge of the tub.

Rubbing my hands over my face, I tried to calm down.

What had happened back there?

I'd never reacted like that to someone. Granted, I didn't have many opportunities to get so physically close to people except for Newt and my patients, but I'd been on dates before. I'd even slept with a few guys, but none of them had created such an intense and confusing reaction in me.

In an ideal situation, I would distance myself from Gabe until I could figure out what it all meant. Unfortunately, our situation was anything but ideal.

I groaned when I remembered the sleeping arrangements. Unless I wanted to sleep in the RV again—which Gabe was right about, it wasn't safe for me to be so far away from the others—then I would be sleeping next to him at night.

That was going to make things a lot more complicated.