Page 15 of Brando

Frank Falcone looks every bit as handsome as he once did, but there’s something truly ugly about him. His hair is darker than I remember, darker than the blackest night, folded back in luxurious waves that should be criminal on a man. He’s still lean, cut right in all the right places, his t-shirt under his sports coat defining every inch of a body that has taken some serious work to master.

Uncle Mason stands off at a short distance, legs spread military style, arms crossed against his chest as he watches him like a hawk, waiting for the slightest step out of line. He

doesn’t knowabout our history, not really, only what I’ve told him. Yet he’s protective enough to make sure that I’m safe as he welds his eyeballs on the man I have wished for so many years that I would never see again. And I know, without a doubt, that the only reason he’s allowing this meeting is at the behest of Brando Gatti; he knows no good will come out of a meeting with the devil, but right now, he’s our only possible link to my sisters.

We’re surrounded by so many soldiers, some my uncle’s, but the majority courtesy of Brando. Frank’s eyes skirt over the mensurrounding the perimeter in plain view before he shoots me a confused look.

“There was no need for all this security,” he says, before he adds quickly, as though the window to mention such a thing is quickly closing “your uncle must be doing pretty well to have come out in force, with an army, no less.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “He does okay.”

“You look good, princess.”

My skin crawls at the way he looks at me. To some, he may be devilishly handsome. To me, he’s just the devil.

“I’ve come like you asked me to. What do you want, Frank?”

He looks away, almost wistfully, before he glances back at me and reaches out his hands to place them on my upper arms. Almost a comfort, but not quite. I know him for what he is, and comforting he is not. Goosebumps dot my skin, and they’re not the good sort. I look down at his hand on my left arm, then lift a glacial stare to meet his eyes. I shrug away from his hands and see my uncle shift in my periphery.

“I came back as soon as I heard your sisters were missing.”

“Came back,” I mutter. Do I even want to know where he was? “And how did you find out they were missing?” I ask. News travels fast in these parts, but very few people know what’s going on with my family right now, and they’re people I trust implicitly.

“I know how much the twins mean to you, Mia.”

“And?”

He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.

“And…I missed you.”

I can’t help but be suspicious of his motives. Why now? I voice the words aloud and he tries for surprised, but he falls slightly flat. I don’t know why he’d be surprised that I’m asking.

“It’s been too long,” he tells me. “I wanted to see you.”

I feel brave enough to step up to him, angling my chin defiantly, even though he is taller than me.

“There is no place and no scenario in which I want to see you or even want you to breathe the same air I breathe,” I hiss. “You need to know that and you need to remember it.”

“Angel, you’re just upset because I’ve been away for so long.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Frank. I can’t stop you coming back to this city, but I damn well can stop you from coming anywhere near me.”

Frank’s dark eyes are almost black as they burn into me with their intensity. “You don’t mean that.” His voice is so quiet, I’d almost think I’ve hurt his feelings. But I know better; the man doesn’t have any feelings.

“Oh, but I do,” I tell him. “I mean every last word of what I’m saying.”

“All I’m asking for is another chance,” he tells me. “I’ll prove myself to you; I’ll start by helping you find your sisters.”

He’s grasping at straws. My sisters have been missing less than twenty-four hours; they’re bound to turn up once they’ve finished partying and living it up. They were prone to disappearing even when father was alive, and I’m sure that’s what they’ve done now. They’ll come home eventually, and there’ll be hell to pay.

“I don’t need your help, Frank. Please, just go away.”

I turn to leave without waiting for a response, but his words stop me in my tracks.

“I know the Maltese are looking for you and your sisters,” he tells me. “I can help you with that.”

I stop walking. My fists clench at my sides, without any prompting from me. I lift my eyes, see Uncle Mason’s stance change as he realizes the change in my demeanor. I give him a slow shake of my head, telling him wordlessly not to interfere. He frowns in irritation but makes no further move towards me.

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