Page 47 of Gabe

After saying goodbye, I hung up the phone and turned to Frankie, expecting to be bombarded with questions. However, rather than immediately ask about the new information I’d learned, Frankie started with a completely unexpected question.

“What’s the relationship between you two? You seem to trust this Lily woman implicitly even though she works for the FBI, who have recently tried to kill you and accused you of being a mole.”

I studied Frankie’s face for a moment and was relieved not to find any hint of jealousy or suspicion. My relationship with him was still new. We’d only been sleeping together for a few weeks—I refused to count exactly how many because I didn’t want to put a quantifiable number on something that felt so natural—so there was still plenty of room for miscommunication.

Being with Frankie felt too good. I refused to let it corrode over something as illogical as jealousy.

“She was friends with my sister, Ariel.”

At first, I was going to leave it at that. The simple explanation would be enough to satisfy Frankie’s curiosity. However, I realized I didn’t want to hide the truth from the other man, not even through omission. I wanted Frankie to know my full story. Even the unpleasant parts.

“The two of them used to hang out all the time. Then, one day, they were out having lunch when Ariel suddenly stopped breathing. She died before the ambulance even got there. The official medical report said it was an allergic reaction to something in the food, but that’s a damn lie. My sister didn’t have any allergies.”

I pulled my glasses out of my pocket and fiddled with the arms as I considered putting them on. I really only needed them for things like driving and reading, but they added an extra shield between me and the world that I could hide behind.

In the end, I tucked them back into my pocket and faced Frankie without any barrier between us.

“Lily had just become the Director’s secretary then. I’m certain someone tried to kill her and accidentally poisoned Ariel in the process. I don’t blame her, of course. I blame the person who killed my sister.”

Frankie’s slipped his hand into mine and laced our fingers together. “Who killed her?”

I narrowed my eyes, the anger washing through me even just thinking about the name.

“David Russo. He wanted Lily to be his spy in the agency, and when she refused, he tried to have her killed. I could never prove it. Lily helped me get a job in the FBI so we could look into it together, but even the two of us weren’t able to find the necessary evidence. The case is too cold, now. I don’t think we’ll ever prove it. However, there’s no doubt in my mind. That bastard killed my sister.”

The feeling of Frankie’s head leaning against my shoulder was a pleasant weight. Especially, since it was my injured shoulder, yet I felt no pain. The wound was almost completely healed.

“No wonder you were so eager to help Sebastian and Damien,” Frankie said. “They’re victims of the head of the Mariano family, too.”

I squeezed Frankie’s hand tighter, though I was careful not to grip too tight.

“That monster has left too many victims in his wake. One day, I’ll see him dead.”

Anything else I would have said on the matter was cut short when I caught sight of Newt stepping through the door into the waiting room. Behind him, Sebastian followed a moment later, still in his wheelchair.

At first, I was filled with excitement and relief. Sebastian’s full-leg cast had been removed and replaced with a smaller cast that only covered the bottom part of his leg. It was the same kind of cast he’d been walking around in right before the bomb went off in the apartment and put him on an even more difficult healing journey.

Surely, that must mean that he was ready to walk again.

A doctor also accompanied the pair and seemed to be explaining something to Newt as they walked. As a nurse, Newt kept a professional expression on his face as he listened to the doctor, however, Sebastian was a different matter.

“Ah, fuck,” Frankie hissed at my side.

I stayed silent but agreed with the sentiment.

The sour expression on Sebastian’s face told me everything I needed to know. The prognosis for his leg wasn’t good.

CHAPTER 18

Frankie

The prognosis could have been worse. Sebastian’s leg had accepted the various pins holding it together and started knitting the bones back together around them. Everything structural within the leg seemed to be aligned properly and it should be able to bear some weight by now, with the help of a partial cast.

The problem came with actual movement. Sebastian’s leg didn’t seem to want to move, and when it did, the movements were sporadic and uncontrolled. I suspected damage within the muscles, perhaps even deeper nerve damage, but such things were hard to diagnose with one hundred percent certainty.

All we could do was wait and work with the leg to get it moving again. Only time would tell if the limb could be retrained for more control, or if it would remain partially paralyzed.

Our first goal was to get Sebastian standing again. With the help of Gabe and Newt, we set up a pair of support bars for Sebastian to hold onto while he practiced putting weight on the leg. Several different pairs of crutches sat stacked in a corner of the safe house, like a hopeful reminder, but Sebastian hadn’t even glanced their way since returning from the hospital.

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