Page 41 of Repluse

“I’ve barely eaten since Sunday, and I didn’t eat much over the weekend,” I explain.

I get grins and headshakes in return from both of them.

“What?” I question.

“Nothing,” says Sam. “We just like watching you eat sausage.” He winks.

“Now who’s acting ten?” I question, noticing Frankie’s still smiling my way. “What are you looking at?”

“The food and fresh air have put some colour in your cheeks. You look cute.”

“Despite the bruises?”

“Despite the bruises, Mils. Look, I know you took the piss out of me earlier, but seriously, we need to talk about Logan and Scott, and what your next move’s gonna be, because I’m not happy about you going back to live with them.”

“Believe me, the last place I want to be is anywhere near them two, but until I can work out my next move, I don’t really have an option.”

“You’ve got us. We’re your option,” Sam offers.

“And can I just add,” Frankie interrupts. “I know how this started between us, but whether you want to continue that with just Sam, both of us, or neither of us, our offer of help remains, regardless.”

His sincerity warms me, and a pang of guilt hits at how harsh I’ve been on him all day.

“Thank you. What do you suggest? What would you two do?” I ask, looking between them.

“Put a bullet in both their brains,” Sam says as he collects up the paper our late lunch came in, along with our empty water bottles, and stands to put them in the nearby bin.

“That’d be a waste of two bullets,” Frankie states. “Look, Mils, I know I haven’t given you much reason to, but if I asked you to trust me, to trustus, to put a plan together to not only get you out of this marriage, but for you to be able to do it in a way that means you don’t walk away empty handed, would you allow us to do that?”

My first thought isn’t yes or no. My first thought is, “How?”

“I’ve no fucking idea yet but let me get our team on it.”

“Your team? Who the fuck are you two? I honestly feel like I’ve stepped into another dimension today.”

“Sometimes,” Sam says as he sits back down, “we have people apply to join the club we’re not too sure about. Sometimes a member appears perfectly acceptable on their application, but then one of us or a member of our staff gets a gut feeling, and we have to do some research.”

“Like private investigator research? Is that what you meant when you said you did some digging on Logan?”

“We have a team,” Frankie takes over again. “A team of experts whose methods and tactics might not always be…”

“Legit? Kosha? What?”

“Yeah,” Sam states. “Some people go to a lot of trouble to hide who they really are. They don’t always use legal methods to do that, so we have to apply the same methods to get to the truth.”

“Our team is a mixture of private investigators, forensic accountants, computer experts, and a few other unclassifiedroles,” Frankie explains. “If you can give us a bit of time, let us see what we can come up with, I promise, we’ll find you a way out. At the same time, we can hopefully bring down Scott and Logan’s reign of terror.”

“Can you help Ella and Marcie?”

“Already on it. The call I made earlier was to Kenny, Marcie’s brother. Logan slapped her about a bit, sacked her, and threatened to make up all sorts of allegations of theft from the business if she didn’t stay the fuck away from Ella. So, she’s gone up to Far North Queensland to stay with some family. Kenny’s gonna talk to her tonight, give her my number, and she’ll hopefully get back to me with what she knows regarding Ella’s whereabouts. Meanwhile, our team is doing what it can.”

“We’ll find out, Mils, don’t worry,” Sam assures me, and I believe him.

Despite my earlier issues with Frankie, I honestly think these two are like a pair of hot as fuck, sex club-owning superheroes. Captain Cum and The Scowler! Saving the world, multiple orgasms at a time.

“Okay,” I say with a forced grin.

“It might mean you go back to him for a while. We don’t want to alert him that we’re up to anything, so you might have to sit tight for a bit. Can you do that?” Sam asks.

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