Chapter Twenty-Eight
"I’m calling for that wonderful redhead otherwise known as my little cheesecake," the bemused voice intoned over the phone.
"Johnny?" asked Bobbie incredulously. "Are you okay? We’ve been watching and reading about what happened at the Smith estate. I was so worried about you."
Johnny sighed into the phone and shifted his position on the hotel bed. "They came after me first," he said. "Oh, wait a minute, hey, how did you figure this out?" He laughed uneasily. "Am I becoming that transparent in my old age? Maybe I should properly introduce myself. Johnny Callahan at your service, ma’am. DeMarco is my ex-wife’s maiden name."
"Oh, Johnny, you have no idea," Bobbie laughed. "I seem to gravitate to men in the mob. It didn’t take me and my aunt long to figure it out after what happened to Frankie."
"Bobbie," Johnny interrupted tensely. "That’s why I’m calling. What’s going on with Frankie? Is he all right? I can’t find him anywhere. Everyone thinks he’s dead. Port Charles is the last place I thought of calling."
There was silence on Bobbie’s end of the phone. "Are you sitting down?" she asked lightly. Johnny gripped the edge of the bed in response to her answer. "What’s going on?" he insisted. "I need to know. I’m responsible for him."
"So you are his bodyguard," Bobbie stated curiously.
"Yes."
"Okay. Frankie showed up here in Port Charles two days ago more dead than alive. He came to my brother’s bar and collapsed. He had a gunshot wound to the chest and a ruptured kidney not to mention he was covered from head to toe with bruises. He’s had a rough time, Johnny. He barely made it through surgery, and he just woke up this morning. He’s very upset and isn’t taking to the hospital atmosphere too well."
"That doesn’t surprise me," Johnny stated resignedly. "So he’s in Port Charles in the hospital. Do you know what happened to him and why he came back there?"
"It’s complicated," Bobbie explained. "He somehow escaped from the Smith estate badly injured and showed up at Luke’s two days later. He hasn’t been awake that long, and he isn’t talking. Luke says that he was crying about his father being killed, so we think he witnessed that. There is a real bombshell in all of this, Johnny. Brace yourself. Frankie isn’t Frank Smith’s son. Frank Smith kidnapped him when he was an infant. Johnny, he’s my nephew. Frankie is Luke’s son. They thought he’d died fourteen years ago. But now they find out that he was kidnapped and raised by another man who was their enemy. It’s complicated. We think that’s why Frankie showed up at Luke’s. He probably knows. He had Frank’s wallet on him, and inside is a baby photo of him with his original name, Lucky Spencer, crossed out. Frankie Smith was written underneath it."
"Oh boy, oh boy," said Johnny. "This explains some things." Johnny rubbed his head and let out a sharp expulsion of air.
"He’s been asking for you," Bobbie said softly. "Can you come to Port Charles? You can stay with me if you want."
"Oh, I want, never doubt that," Johnny said seductively. "I’ve been holed up in New York City waiting for this to blow over and trying to find Frankie." Johnny looked at his watch. "I’ll be there in three or four hours."
~*~*~*~
Luke was leaning back on the couch, resting his eyes when Bobbie came back into the living room.
"That was Johnny," she said, patting his knee. Luke jerked and blearily opened his eyes. "What?" he asked sleepily. "Is this the guy that Frankie keeps asking for?"
Bobbie nodded. "The one and only. He’ll be here in three hours. He’s on his way."
Luke’s face scrunched up. "Who is this character anyway? What is his involvement with my son?"
Bobbie’s features flushed with embarrassment as she wrung her hands nervously. "Johnny is Frankie’s bodyguard. He’s been worried sick about this child, calling everywhere. He couldn’t find him, and this was the last place he thought Frankie would run to." Bobbie paused and lay a hand on Luke’s arm. "Luke, I told him who Frankie really is. He was surprised, but he said that it explains some things. I think we need to talk to him. He’s our best resource for information on Frankie."
"I don’t know," Luke hesitated. "I’m not sure that I want my son to be involved with mob figures. Can we trust him?" Luke’s face creased with concern as he sought a reaction from his sister.
Bobbie looked down at the floor for a minute and remained silent while she thought about Luke’s question. "I believe that we can trust him," she said confidently. "I’ve seen him with Frankie, and the child is very attached to him. Johnny sounded very worried. I think he’s a safe bet."
Luke suddenly rose to his feet and looked around as he placed his hands into his jeans pockets. "Where’s my nephew? I want to talk to him for a few minutes, and then it’s back to the hospital."
"He took Lucas to the library," explained Bobbie. "He won’t be back for an hour. I’m glad you mentioned him. I don’t want to blow things out of proportion, but he was very worried the other night about where he was going to live. He asked if he could stay with me when you sent him away. He seemed concerned that you might not want him anymore."
"What?" Luke almost yelled. "Where is that coming from? Because Frankie’s here? That little ding-dong. His place is with me, nowhere else. So he thinks he’s expendable? I need to talk to Sly and set him straight. Tell him that I’ll be by to pick him up after school tomorrow. And don’t let him get away with spouting off any more of that nonsense, okay, Barbara Jean?"
Bobbie took in Luke’s exasperation and the short, frayed rope holding on to his emotions. She reached up and pinched Luke’s cheek to tease him. "Everyone is on emotional overload at this particular moment. Give Sly a break. He’s only fourteen years old. This is a lot for him to handle. If you’re uptight, think of how he feels. Call him later tonight. He needs to hear your voice."
~*~*~*~
"Maxie girl, how are you?"
Maxie’s sad, tense voice answered, "I’m fine, Ms. Spencer, how is Frankie doing? Can I see him? I want to visit him."
Ruby chuckled at Maxie’s one-track mind. "He’s doing better, hon," she said confidently. "He’s still in ICU, though, so he can only have family visiting him. I’ll let you know when he’s in a regular room. You can probably visit him then if it’s all right with your mom." Ruby paused as a thought entered her mind. "I know one thing that you can do," she said. "If you write Frankie a note and leave it at Kelly’s I’ll make sure that he gets it. I think that would cheer him up so much. He’s crazy about you, Maxie."
Maxie blushed with pleasure and twirled the phone cord as she smiled. "I like him, too," she said shyly. "I’m going to write a letter and ask my mom to take me to Kelly’s tonight to leave it for you." Maxie tapped her fingers on her lips. She was hesitant to ask, but she had to know. "Ms. Spencer, what’s wrong with Frankie? You said he had an accident. I mean, it sounds serious."
Ruby was ready for Maxie’s concerns, and she replied, "Frankie fell down some stairs and ruptured his kidney. It’s serious, but he’ll heal, he’ll recover." Ruby carefully left out the part about the gangland killing and the gunshot wound that Frankie had received. It seemed too much of a heavy load for a young girl to carry. She didn’t want to lie, but omitting some details didn’t seem wrong in this case.
Maxie didn’t notice the small girl hidden behind the wall, the girl with the high blond ponytail and pad of paper. Georgie sniffed back a few tears. Frankie’s hurt, she thought sadly. Oh no. I want him to be better so we can talk about our spy mission. Georgie flipped through her pad and added as fast as her arithmetic skills would allow. There, she thought with satisfaction. Maxie said thirty good things about him. This should cheer him up. Georgie went back to her room and shuffled through her desk drawer until she produced a pink envelope. She tore the pages from her spy notepad and folded them carefully in half, making sure that they would fit in the envelope. She tore off a fresh sheet of paper and printed a letter.
~*~
Dear Frankie,
I’m sorry you are sick. Maxie likes you a lot, so feel better soon. I’ve been keeping track. Here it is – 30 times she said something nice about you.
Can we talk about spying when you are better?
Your spy,
Georgie
~*~
Georgie licked the envelope and applied scotch tape to the flap to make sure it was tightly sealed. After printing ‘Top Secret’ on the back, she searched through her drawers again and produced a variety of brightly colored stickers that she arranged in an oblong circle around the name Frankie that she boldly printed in the center of the envelope. She patted the envelope with satisfaction, nodded and went off to search for Maxie so that she could deliver her top-secret message.
~*~*~*~
A nurse entered the ICU nurse’s station and smiled. "How’s it going Cheryl?" she asked.
Cheryl shook her head. "I’m just starting a twelve hour shift, and you’re going home. Have a nice evening."
"Oh, I plan to," responded Rachel. She bent forward and wrote several comments on a chart. "I’m going to nuke a TV dinner and vegetate in front of the boob tube."
"Sounds good to me," Cheryl remarked. "Any patient pointers before I start my shift?"
Rachel held the pen to her lips and looked pensive as she nodded. "Watch the kid in ICU5," she said. "He’s deteriorating in my opinion. It’s subtle, but it concerns me. He woke up this morning and although he was very upset, he was talkative, responsive. He kept asking me for a phone. Every fifteen minutes when I took his vitals, he was begging for a phone." She laughed and shook her head. "He’s cute. Anyway, he won’t talk much anymore, and he just doesn’t look good. It’s a subjective call, but I’ve been around ICU’s for ten years, so you develop that instinct, you know?" Cheryl nodded in agreement as she listened to the other nurse.
"He’s still bleeding – you need to watch that – and be careful with his blood pressure. If it drops, don’t hesitate to page the on-call physician. He’s on oxygen – you have to tell him frequently that he needs to breathe deeply. Right now, he’s out of it, but like I said, watch him closely."
Cheryl nodded. "Thanks for the heads up. Is his family here?"
Rachel shook her head. "His mother and father were here for most of the morning, but left after lunch. His father said he’d return after dinner."
~*~*~*~
Hi Frankie," said Cheryl brightly when she entered his room. Frankie’s bed was at an angle to help his wounds drain properly, and he was positioned on his left side from the last time he was turned. The nurses changed his position every time they took his vitals to assist his healing and to prevent bedsores since he’d been immobile for several days.
Frankie’s eyes opened slowly and stayed at half-mast as he watched the new nurse enter the room. He wanted to ask her for a phone, but didn’t have the strength to initiate a conversation. Cheryl noticed the glazed look in his eyes as she gently moved him onto his back. His head lolled on his neck with the movement of his body, and he grunted momentarily in pain as his eyes blinked slowly. "Take in a deep breath," the nurse instructed, but Frankie continued to breathe shallowly and stare straight ahead as she checked on his chest tube. Frankie drew his lower lip into his mouth as several thoughts drifted lazily in his mind. I’m gonna die. I shoulda let dem kill me with Frank. I can’t think no more and dey won’t listen to me. I’m gonna die.
He seems depressed, the nurse thought. "Do you want me to call someone for you – your mother or father?" she asked kindly as she searched his pale face. Frankie’s face grimaced, and he bared his teeth with the humor of it. He croaked, "Don’t got none." Frank’s dead, my mother is a pretend photo and dose people coming in my room – dey’re nobody. I don’t know ‘em. The nurse frowned at his odd answer.
Frankie made soft sound, and his hand flew to his side. He turned his head on the pillow away from the nurse’s view, and flexed his toes as he started breathing more rapidly. A solitary tear escaped from his eye, and he barely stifled a sob. It sounded like a whimper instead. "Are you in pain?" asked Cheryl with concern. Frankie nodded imperceptibly and rocked himself with a subtle rhythmic motion. The nurse checked his morphine dispenser and said, "You’ve been taking an average amount of pain medication. You can have more. Do you want it?"
"Yeah," Frankie choked out sadly. The nurse handed him the button to push for more meds.
"Needing medicine for pain doesn’t make you weak," explained the nurse. "Let yourself have what you need."
"He’s dead," Frankie whispered as his eyes closed with warm influx of more morphine into his veins. "My dad’s dead."
The nurse was confused, as this wasn’t what was marked on his chart. "I’m sorry," she said automatically, patting him on the arm for comfort.
Kill me, thought Frankie. Gimme my damn guns, I’ll do it myself. He frowned as his legs moved restlessly on the bed and kicked against the sheet that covered them. His eyes remained closed, and he fell asleep with the frown still creasing his anxious face.
~*~*~*~
"Mom! I need you to drop me off at Kelly’s so I can give Ruby Spencer a card to give to Frankie. He can’t have any visitors right now. She said he was still in the ICU." Maxie’s eyes looked hopeful and bright for the first time in the last three days, so Felicia didn’t hesitate to agree.
"Sure, Maxie," she said as she closed the door to the clothes dryer and turned on the machine. Felicia brushed the lint off her hands and placed them on her hips. "He sounds seriously hurt if he’s been in the ICU for several days," she said quietly. "Did Ruby tell you what’s wrong?"
"He took a bad fall and ruptured his kidney, that’s what she told me," Maxie confirmed.
Felicia frowned. Her years of experience around PI’s, international agents and the PCPD told her that something was off about this situation. "Maybe I can talk to Ruby for a minute and find out some more details," she offered.
Maxie shrugged. "I just want to make sure that Frankie gets my card." She laughed. "And look what Georgie is giving him – she printed ‘Top Secret’ on the back of it and covered it with stickers." Maxie turned the pink envelope back and forth so that her mother could see Georgie’s handiwork.
Felicia’s eyes crinkled as she smiled broadly. "That’s really very sweet of her, isn’t it?"
~*~*~*~
Luke took special care to walk quietly into Frankie’s room. He noticed that his son was asleep, his IV connected arm lying carefully to his side and his breathing slow and regular with the aid of extra oxygen from the nasal cannula looped around his nose and neck. Something was different about his son, though, and it worried him. Frankie’s face betrayed anxiety and a heaviness that hadn’t been present earlier in the day. Even while asleep, he wasn’t relaxed.
"How is he?" Luke whispered to the nurse taking his vitals.
Cheryl’s face tightened. "He’s having some pain, and he seems disoriented. He mentioned his father being dead? We’re keeping a close eye on him, Mr. Spencer."
"Should I let him sleep?" Luke asked quietly. "I don’t want to disturb him."
"Actually, it might cheer him up to talk to you," Cheryl replied. "He’s been acting listless and depressed."
Luke pulled up a chair and leaned closer to his son. "Frankie," he said, gently touching the boy’s shoulder.
Frankie winced and pulled away, but didn’t open his eyes. "Mmmmbbmpph," he mumbled.
"You don’t like that touching stuff, do you kiddo?" Luke stated wryly as his blue eyes saddened. He settled for studying Frankie’s face, looking at the bruising and the stiffness of his facial muscles. A lump formed in Luke’s throat that was impossible to swallow. Did you feel like me when your old man hit you? he wondered. Did you feel useless and stupid, like yesterday’s garbage? Luke’s face sank with the thought. Oh, I hope not. He sighed. I need to find out what his life has been like. I feel so cut off from him, like he doesn’t belong to me even though my heart leaps every time I see him.
"Frankie, I need to talk to you," he said louder. Finally, Frankie reacted by turning his head and directing his blue eyes toward the source of the spoken words.
"Luke," Frankie slurred sleepily so that his speech was barely perceptible. Frankie was still on his back, and he moved around weakly, trying to position himself so that he could see Luke more clearly. Noting his frustration, Luke asked, "Can I help you?"
Frankie replied breathily, "I can’t see nothin.’ Pull me up on my side?"
Luke reached out and gently maneuvered the boy so that he could look directly at him. The muscles around Frankie’s eyes pulled, and his mouth flew open as his forehead creased. "Uhhhhhh," he moaned. "Hurts," he smiled apologetically, the smile disappearing as soon as it was formed.
"Frankie, I wanted to talk to you about a couple of things," Luke began as he settled back into his chair. "You know who I am, right?"
"Da mighty Luke Spencer," Frankie laughed, using every molecule in his body to resist crying.
"Yes, I’m Luke Spencer," agreed Luke. "But do you know who I am beyond that? I’m assuming you saw the baby picture in Frank’s wallet."
Frankie’s eyes took on a haunted, hunted aspect. He stared hard at Luke without blinking. "Frank, before he died, he said, ‘I’m not your father. Go to Luke Spencer, he is.’ Frankie’s voice was forced into a jovial rhythm that hid his true feelings of deep despair. He shook his head. "So I did, here I am in dis fucking hospital and dat’s dat." Frankie’s eyes hardened and glared at the man seated beside him.
Luke flinched at his son’s anger and frustration, but he maintained his calm tone of voice. Amazing that Frank would finally do something so selfless. "Frankie, I wanted you to know a few things. First, your mother and I thought that you were dead. We had every reason to believe that you’d died fourteen years ago." Luke’s eyes filled with tears, and he sniffed loudly as his hand searched his pocket for a tissue that Laura had given him earlier in the day. "You were kidnapped by Frank, and we were set up to believe that you’d burned to death in a house fire." Luke’s eyes met his son’s. "The day that you were born was the happiest day of my life, and the day that I thought you’d died was the absolute worst day of my life. I never got over that. Never." Luke’s eyes filled with tears again, and he let them stay there as he sought Frankie’s face.
Frankie wore a stunned, tense and careful expression on his face, feeling honor and duty bound not to betray the memory of Frank by showing any reaction to Luke’s confession. His jaw jutted out in rejection of Luke’s emotions, and he looked away toward the wall, refusing to meet Luke’s eyes.
"I know that you might not be able to accept this now, but I want you to know that I love you. I always have and I always will – no matter what. I’d like to get to know you better, to be reacquainted."
Silence filled the room and hung there like a dividing curtain.
Noting that Frankie was having a hard time with the direction of the discussion and refusing to converse, Luke changed course. "I need to talk to you about your medical condition, Frankie. I’ve talked to the doctors. Can we discuss this?"
Frankie rubbed his lips together several times and nodded. "Yeah," he said emotionlessly with deadened eyes that sought out Luke’s face once more.
"When you had surgery, they had a hard time stopping the bleeding. In fact, they said you’re still bleeding now, only they are transfusing you with blood and platelets to help balance out the blood loss and stem the flow. The doctors suspect that you might have a condition that makes your body attack your own blood platelets. That means your blood won’t clot properly if you’re injured. The tranfusions, that’s only a temporary measure. They need to figure out exactly what’s wrong and treat it. They think they know what it is and how to treat it, but they need to do a bone marrow aspiration tomorrow to rule out other illnesses. That’s where they give you a painkiller, then place a needle in your hip to draw out a small amount of bone marrow to test it. Sometimes it’s not bad, but with some people it can hurt. I wanted you to know that."
"I’m gonna die," stated Frankie with certainty. "I knew it. I could tell. I can feel it," he said in a voice that raised in pitch and intensity. He fiercely gripped the sheets in his taut fingers and pulled them closer to his body.
"No," said Luke, "you’re not going to die. We won’t let that happen."
Frankie laughed angrily. "You won’t let it happen, la di da," he retorted. "Did you check out your fuckin’ bar? Huh? What could you do about dat? Nothin.’ Seen any dead babies lying around anywhere lately?" Frankie choked back a loud sob, but lost his battle against his tears. His shoulders shook with his silent sobs, and his hair hung down limply from his forehead as he turned his face down to the floor.
Oh God, he has a firecracker temper like the rest of us Spencers, Luke observed. And Laura’s tears. He chose not to overreact to his son’s display of temper, and he focused on helping him deal with his present reality. "You have a lot of people who will stand by you while you’re going through this – me, your mother, your Aunt Bobbie, Aunt Ruby, your cousin Sly, oh, and your brother Nikolas."
"I like dat Ruby," Frankie said wistfully as his voice quivered and his eyes never left the floor. "She’s nice."
Luke reached his hand out to touch Frankie’s arm and said, "You have a lot of people in your corner that want to help."
Frankie drew back his arm swiftly with a suspicious scowl. "Who’s dis Nikolas?" he gritted out. "Sly’s okay. He’s my friend." Frankie glared at Luke in an unspoken challenge.
"Nikolas Cassadine. He’s your mother’s son by her marriage to her husband Stefan."
Frankie’s face turned paler, and he looked aghast as he shrank back on the bed. "Gimme back my guns," he said dangerously with flashing blue eyes and one eyebrow raised for emphasis.
~*~*~*~
"Mother, can I talk to you after you finish with the baby?" Nikolas asked as he leaned against the doorjamb to the nursery. He had a lot on his mind after his conversation with Sly earlier in the day at school, and he’d ridden Sheba all afternoon to try and calm his raging thoughts and emotions. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked, so he sought out his mother for answers.
Laura’s face glowed as she smiled at Nikolas. "Nikolas, I’m so happy to see you. I have a lot to talk to you about. Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll come to your room, okay?"
Nikolas didn’t say anything, but nodded curtly and turned to walk away.
A flicker of concern crossed Laura’s face, but she shook it off and turned her attentions to baby Lulu. "Pretty girl," she cooed as she picked up her daughter to change her.
~*~*~*~
"Your guns are hidden in a box, put away for safekeeping," Luke stated reasonably as he puzzled over Frankie’s reaction. "Why the upset over Nikolas?"
Frankie’s eyes darkened, and he giggled. "I hate dat bastard." Frankie’s eyes wandered around the room, and he muttered, "Stupid car."
"What?" Luke asked. "Do you know him from school?"
Frankie smiled, but it never reached his intense, glittering eyes. "If he ever touches me again, I’ll blow his head off!" Frankie nervously adjusted the sleeves of his hospital gown and brushed his bangs out of his eyes as his jaw twitched. "I’m a Smith. Nobody messes with me," he grumbled to himself.
Luke tried to pick up the thread of this conversation and follow it, but was at a loss. "Did you have a fight with Nikolas?"
Frankie’s face colored at the memory of having his face rubbed into the green grass of the high school grounds. "Yeah, so what?" he said nonchalantly and rolled his eyes. "I’m still going to take him out. I hate ‘em."
~*~*~*~
"Hello, handsome," Laura said warmly when Nikolas opened his bedroom door. She waved the baby monitor in the air. "The nanny is off tonight, so I need to keep this with me in case Lulu needs anything."
Nikolas smiled and nodded as he stepped aside to allow his mother to enter. Nikolas wasn’t much for decoration or personalization, so his room didn’t look any different than the typical guest bedroom except for the fact that it was full of antiques and very costly furnishings. It was a large room with a large sitting area by a bay window at one end of the room. Mother and son headed for this area to sit and talk. The bay window was leaded glass with lead gothic arches at the tops for decoration. Blue velvet curtains draped the edges of the window in heavy, formal splendor befitting an aristocrat.
"I spoke to Sly Eckert at school today," Nikolas intoned with his deep, mature voice that illustrated that his puberty was soon to become a distant memory as adulthood began fitting its cloak around his mind and body. "Why didn’t you tell me that baby Lucky was back, mother?" Nikolas’ brown eyes flashed with controlled anger, and he templed his fingers together, tapping them with annoyance. He crossed his leg and leaned back into the padded armchair, waiting for his mother’s answer.
Laura blinked in surprise – both at the question her son asked and at how very much like his father Nikolas was becoming with his analytical mind and controlled mannerisms. "Your father and I were going to discuss this with you at dinner tonight," she said. Laura’s eyes blinked with hurt at her son’s anger, which was directed at her. "We were as surprised as you to hear this. Luke told your father this morning. We haven’t know long."
Nikolas nodded in agreement that the timing was reasonable. "Yes, but about the identity of this baby," he said sneering the last word. "How can you be certain who he is?"
Laura folded her hands in her lap and continued. "The best that we can tell, our son was kidnapped, not killed like we’ve thought all of these years. He was raised by a man that we, Luke and I, considered an enemy. He was taken for revenge on us. There was a violent overthrow of the organization that Frank Smith led, and he was hurt. He’s in General Hospital right now. They’re not sure if he’ll make it."
The tears began rolling down Laura’s face, and Nikolas looked at her with disgust. "I hope that he dies," Nikolas stated with a steely voice. "The world will be better off without him."
"What?" Laura cried out incredulously. "How can you be so unkind? He’s my son and your brother. You don’t even know him yet. What has he done to you?"
Nikolas smiled wryly as his eyes darkened and glared at his mother. "Plenty," he said. "I know him from school. He’s a psycho. They should look him up and throw away the key. I hate him."
~*~*~*~
"Well, regardless of how you feel, he is your brother," stated Luke. "You don’t want to hurt your brother."
Frankie stared at Luke as if he were the village idiot and laughed maniacally as he crossed his arms and smirked at the humor of it all. Oh yes I do. He won’t see it coming, he thought evilly.
"This leads us to another topic that we need to address," Luke said uneasily as he turned his head to make sure that a nurse didn’t overhear them.
"With this coup or revolution or whatever went down on the Smith estate, this is big news, Frankie." Luke met his son’s eyes to try to convey the seriousness of the situation. "The National Guard was called out, and the FBI has been on the scene. My fiancée is an attorney. She’s agreed to help you. I think you should take her help. Some people have implicated you as being second in power, and Frank’s death is being considered a homicide. You’re not there, you’re not dead, you get my drift?"
Frankie shifted uneasily on the bed, and inadvertently fell onto his back with an "oof" sound as the air left his lungs. He looked deflated and sad with the memories that flooded his mind. "It was Caruso," he protested in a high-pitched voice that reflected his fear. "He and Jackie, dey broke down da door, and…and dey shot us," he said tearfully. "I had my vest, Frank, he didn’t have none. Dat’s why I need my guns," he pleaded. "Dey’re gonna come after me and kill me if dey find me all laid out here," Frankie indicated with his hands sweeping the bed to illustrate his point.
"You’re registered here under your legal name, which is Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior," Luke explained. "That should offer you some protection. We told them your nickname is Frankie. Is that all right with you?"
Frankie nodded slowly. "I’m a sitting duck," he complained. "I need to call for protection, but dey won’t give me a phone."
"Here’s what we’ve done so far," Luke said to reassure his frightened son. "Alexis has filed for custody of you in a legal court, which will place you under my protection." Luke pointed at his chest with his thumb for emphasis. "Stefan is a rich man with his own bodyguards, and he owns this hospital, so no one is going to get to his stepson. Understand?" Frankie nodded slowly.
"Okay," Luke continued. "I’ve been putting it off, but I need to contact the FBI tomorrow morning to let them know that my son was kidnapped and now he’s back. They’re going to know about you soon enough. I want you to keep your mouth quiet around anyone except for me and Alexis, my fiancée and our attorney. Don’t offer any information. Refer them to your attorney."
Frankie rolled his eyes and replied, "I know about dat stuff. I’m not gonna talk about nothing."
"Good," Luke agreed. "But you need to come clean with me and Alexis so we can help you. Alexis has already asked me to hide your signet ring so your number two status won’t be so obvious."
Before he could prevent himself, Frankie cried out softly in pain, and Luke handed him the button for his pain medications. Frankie relaxed as he felt the morphine flow from his arm, through his trunk and down to the very tips of his toes. He sighed and blinked sleepily.
"There’s one thing that I need to know," Luke stated seriously. "Did you kill Frank?"
Frankie’s eyes widened in surprise. He was flooded with sorrow. "No," he squeaked out. Several tears slipped from his eyes as he contemplated the events surrounding Frank’s death.
"Anyone else?" Luke questioned seriously.
Frankie turned his head away from Luke and set his face. Luke took that as an affirmative answer. "Gotcha," he said as he patted Frankie’s leg. "We found your bodyguard. Actually he called Bobbie trying to find you."
"Johnny?" Frankie asked in a bright tone of voice. A feeling of jealousy twisted around Luke’s gut, but he tried to ignore it.
"Yes, Johnny," Luke said tersely. "He’s on his way here. He’ll probably stop by to see you tomorrow morning after your tests. He’ll be staying with Bobbie."
Frankie relaxed even more with that information and the narcotic in his blood. He raised his hand limply and let it fall to the bed. "He’s da best, he’s my man," he slurred as his eyes glazed over and kept trying to close. "He’s my man."
Luke left his son’s ICU room and walked down the hallway, rubbing his hair distractedly and thinking a mile a minute. "I feel like I’ve fallen down into the hole with Alice," he muttered to himself as he waited by the elevator. "Who said this was going to be easy?"