Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(68)

The FBI was going to show up any minute now.

Deuce knew Frankie wasn’t going to go back to prison. Men like him would rather die than be behind bars. And this particular man was so f*cked in the head, he was going to take Eva down with him. So she could be with him forever.

Fucking hell.

He was going to lose her to Frankie. Again. This time for good.

“Deuce,” Kami said, sitting down beside him. “You need anything for the pain?”

He needed Eva. She was all he f*cking needed. She was all he had ever needed.

“No,” he croaked.

She wrapped her skinny arms around him, and he let her hold him because he knew she was hurting just as bad as he was. And truthfully, he needed the f*cking comfort.

ZZ looked over from behind the bar and the stacked security monitors there. “Prez. Feds are here.”

Ripper stepped out of the hallway. “Prez, go ahead and let ’em in. Boys got shit locked up tight.”

He lifted his chin in ZZ’s direction. “Get the kids outta here and let the *s in.”

? ? ?

9:07 a.m.

I pulled on my restraints, wincing as the rope chafed painfully against my skin. I was on my stomach, all four of my limbs were tied together behind my back. Frankie had even gone so far as to connect my wrists to my ankles and stuff a pillowcase in my mouth.

All of this just so he could feel safe leaving me here while he went for food.

He didn’t trust me, and when Frankie didn’t trust someone, it never ended well.

With a lot of maneuvering and an incredible amount of pain, I was able to roll onto my side to relieve the pressure on my lungs and stomach.

I should have listened to Deuce a long time ago. Frankie was beyond saving. This was who he was—who he had always been. Who he would always be.

I had to end this once and for all.

? ? ?

9:14 a.m.

“So what you’re trying to tell us, Mr. West, is that despite your state-of-the-art security system, Franklin Deluva was still able to enter your club entirely unnoticed?”

Deuce scowled at Agent Ricardo Quintanilla. He was a short, fat, and bald Mexican who wore clothing a size too small for him. He’d had to deal with him before—many, many times—serving warrants and doing impromptu searches at the club. He had a new partner—a sexy little blonde bitch with a tight ass, big perky tits, and bad attitude. Half his boys were eyeing her like she was a piece of f*cking cake. He wanted to stab her in the eye with a screwdriver.

“He musta cased the place for a while,” Ripper said, glaring down at Quintanilla. “Knew what cameras to avoid.”

Quintanilla surveyed Ripper’s face and grimaced. “Deluva’s handiwork, I assume,” he said, gesturing his cell phone toward Ripper’s face. “Seen it before. Only those unlucky bastards were all dead.”

“Fuckin’ great,” Deuce growled. “Let’s just keep sittin’ ’round here chattin’ about the f*cks Frankie buried while he starts choppin’ up my f*ckin’ woman.”

“Mmmmmmmm,” the blonde bitch hummed, tapping her pen against her lips. “Don’t you mean Franklin Deluva’s woman or maybe Chase Henderson’s woman?”

She turned in a circle, doing a survey of the room and all the people in it. “Have you all had Mrs. Fox-Deluva? Is she everyone’s woman?”

He shot up off the couch and then Ripper and Jase were on him, pushing him back down.

“Say something else, bitch!” he roared, struggling against his boys. “And you won’t live to see another day!”

“Are you threatening a federal agent, Mr. West?” she said. “I’m simply suggesting your woman may have gone willingly with her husband.”

“Marie!” Quintanilla bellowed.

“Willingly?” he roared. “He made me watch him rape her! Do you f*ckin’ get that? I was chained to a f*ckin’ radiator watchin’ my woman gettin’ slammed by a f*ckin’ psychopath, and I couldn’t do shit about it!”

He heard a shriek that could have been either Danny or Kami or both. The rest of the club went silent.

Cox sucked in a breath. “Prez,” he whispered.

He ignored him. “Listen to me, Agent Cunt,” he hissed. “I’m way past threatenin’ you. I’m straight ready to f*ckin’ bury you, so you best hope my boys don’t let me go.”

“Don’t let him go,” Quintanilla said dryly. He turned to his partner. “Get the f*ck outside.”

? ? ?

11:55 a.m.

I wolfed down my cheeseburger and fries. It had been forever since I’d last eaten, and I was starving. Frankie was watching me from the corner of the room near the door, a bottle of vodka between his legs and a blank stare on his face.

“Can I have some?” I whispered, pointing at the half-empty bottle.

He glanced down at the bottle and then back to me, nodding.

I slid off the bed and slowly walked toward him. Stopping a few inches from his feet, I sat down and reached for the bottle. I had just wrapped my fingers around the neck when Frankie’s hand clamped down over mine.

I looked up.

A tear slid down Frankie’s cheek. “Eva,” he whispered, “can’t sleep, baby, can’t f*ckin’ sleep. It’s been weeks and weeks and weeks…”