Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter Sixty-Six

Luke entered Frankie's room and quietly closed the door behind him with a soft click. He leaned against it and surveyed his surroundings. Whoa. Laura struck again. His lips turned up slightly as he realized that his son's room was tasteful and colorful yet masculine - much like Frankie himself. No horse portraits. You lucked out, kid. Luke looked over to Frankie's bed and his heart sunk when he saw Frankie's revolver lying beside him on the nightstand. His son didn't move or register that someone had entered his room, and Luke felt a sharp sense of worry. Luke bent down and picked up the bulletproof vest that Frankie had thrown across the room. It had only been weeks since his son had come back into his life, showing up at the bar in a pitiful state with a bulletproof vest full of indentations and a body full of injuries. Luke turned the small vest back and forth in his hands, running his fingertips over it, inspecting it for damage, but there were no round indentations announcing yet another assassination attempt on Frankie's life.

Luke pursed his lips and let out a tense breath. He walked over to Frankie's bed and stared down at his reclining son. Frankie was faced away from him with hooded eyes barely open. "Frankie, it's your dad," Luke said evenly to announce his presence without startling the boy. "I came when I heard you weren't doing well." He sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and waited for his son to speak.

"Hi," Frankie breathed out tiredly without moving from his curled up position on the bed. "Thanks for comin,'" he said in a slow, slurred voice.

"Hey," Luke said, gently shaking his son's shoulder. "What's going on?" He wasn't too concerned about Frankie's slow reactions as he'd been told that Frankie had received a hefty dose of morphine to reduce his pain.

Frankie blinked slowly as he tried to focus on Luke's face. He turned his head with an almost imperceptible motion and then gave up, allowing his head to fall back where it had previously rested. "Dey're tryin' to kill me again," he said softly. "I got hurt. Messed up my leg. Sly said I landed on it real hard and screamed. I don't know. It's all kinda fuzzy."

"But you sold the businesses," Luke insisted with a puzzled look on his face. "You said the Mafia would leave you alone after that."

Frankie nodded and gripped his pillow with tense fingers. "I know. It's not da Mafia. I'd be dead if it were. It's somebody else. I dunno. Dat's da world, right?  Everyone's a bastard."

"I don't like to hear you talking like that," Luke inserted.

"It's true," Frankie countered wearily.

"It's not true. Maybe it's another gang? Most people are kind and decent. You can't characterize the world by mob behavior."

"Dat's my world."

"Not anymore," Luke said firmly. He picked up Frankie's revolver and unloaded it, plinking the metal bullets onto the wooden top of the nightstand. This piece of furniture must be a hundred years old, but I bet it's never had a gun resting on top of it.  He twirled around the chamber and then closed it. He clenched his jaw firmly, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. "I see you found yourself another stash of firearms."

"Protection," Frankie said as he creakily moved onto his back so he could see his father. "Gimme dat." He reached out toward Luke and frowned when Luke pulled back his hand and shook his head.

"No more guns, Frankie."

Frankie's nostrils flared with anger, and his eyes bugged out when he shouted, "Dat's mine! I want it back!"

"I won't allow firearms in my house, and I'm sure Stefan and Laura don't appreciate you having this in theirs. Your baby sister is right down the hall. This is ridiculous. Someone innocent could be hurt."

Now Frankie was insulted, and he glared daggers at Luke. "Get outta here den. I don't want you. You don't even try to understand. You live in dis vanilla world of please and thank you. You got no idea of what my life is like."

Luke's eyes saddened. "Unfortunately, I do know what it's like to be involved with the mob. Have you forgotten how and why we were separated?" Luke waved the revolver and stuck it in his waistband as his young son watched his every move. "I was involved with Frank Smith and pissed him off with my big mouth." Luke met Frankie's gaze. "It's life and death. I know. That's why I'm so relieved you're out of it. Now who do you think is after you?"

Frankie's face set. "I dunno. I been wracking my brains. Only da Mafia would have da guts to go after me." Frankie's eyebrows rose, and a smirk twisted his features into a malicious expression filled with pride. "Da rest of dem - dey're afraid of me. Dey better be."

"Somebody's not afraid of you," Luke countered. "Did you piss off a foreign country?" he asked with amusement.

Frankie's eyes narrowed with sudden cunning. "Da government," he said in a soft, reflective voice.

"What?"

Frankie twisted to sit up higher in his bed, newly energized by his swiftly racing mind. "Da government," he repeated as he snapped his fingers. "Frank said we were under constant surveillance. I got a folder a mile thick," he stated proudly with a short laugh.

"I'll file that under the top ten reasons I'm proud of my namesake," Luke stated with sarcasm.

"Frank said we were keepin' ahead of dem. Why would dey want me when he's dead and da illegal businesses are sold?"

"I don't know, Frankie. We can talk to Alexis. She might know about investigative procedures among the various agencies. Still, they wouldn't try to kill you."

"Who said dey were making an attempt on my life?" Frankie suddenly looked a fraction more wary and frightened. "Dis is so strange. I can't wrap my mind around it."

"Shelve it for a moment," Luke stated. He pointed at Frankie's leg. "You said you couldn't remember hurting yourself?"

"No," Frankie replied with uncertainty. He lightly stroked his bad leg as his eyes took on a distant look. He opened his mouth as if to explain, but the near memory eluded him, and he shook his head. "It's all mixed up and foggy in my brain. I don't know."

"Why were you out of the house? You're still grounded."

Frankie snorted derisively but didn't reply.

Luke felt a hot flame of anger rising within him, and he took in a deep breath and counted to ten before replying. He shifted on the bed and looked stern. "I don’t speak to have you ignore me. I speak to have you obey me," he said in an authoritative tone of voice.

Frankie's eyes widened at this new tone of voice he hadn't previously heard from Luke. He swallowed slowly and focused his attention as the tone was reminiscent of Frank. He didn't reply but merely stared at his father with a wary expression on his face, uncertain as to what would happen next. He knew what Frank would do; however, Luke was a wild card.

"You're playing me for a fool, and I won't have it."

"I had ta see my girlfriend," Frankie said in a soft, strained voice. "I wanted ta see Maxie." He curled up protectively and inched away from Luke.

Luke blinked and frowned as his son suddenly seemed much younger and unsure of himself.  "The point is, I expect you to listen to what I say. When I tell you to do something, it's not optional." His demanding tone of voice was usually highly effective with Sly but seemed to produce a different reaction in his eldest son.

Frankie's mouth had dried up out of fear, and he didn't reply but merely stared at Luke with his wide, blue eyes.

Luke ran a hand over his forehead as he was confused. Where was his arrogant, extroverted son? He shook his finger at Frankie. "There are consequences for disobeying. When you come to the house tomorrow, we'll outline the rules and the associated punishments if they're disregarded." He suddenly felt lower than a slug when he saw the one tear that had escaped from Frankie's eye and trailed down his cheek. Luke was filled with sadness when he realized that his son was afraid of him. All it took was a harsh word or two. Who would have known he was that sensitive? Even Sly seemed able to weather an occasional scolding. But maybe this was something else he was dealing with here.

"I'm not angry," Luke said gently. "I'm disappointed, but not angry. Come here." Luke held out his arms, and Frankie reacted immediately to the change in Luke's countenance. He slid forward and accepted Luke's hug, turning and laying the side of his face on his father's shoulder and sighing deeply. Luke's eyes filled with tears as he patted his son's head. Maybe he hadn't missed the entirety of Frankie's upbringing after all. This certainly wasn't a grown person he was holding and comforting. Perhaps he could have an impact on his son's life after all.

~*~*~*~

Monaco...

Athena held her hand over Nikolas' arm and craned her neck as they proceeded through the room. Her eyes were wide, and she giggled nervously with anticipation and wonder at her surroundings, splendid with a crystal chandelier that glinted with sparking lights seemingly two stories tall and the sound of croupiers calling out numbers and winners.

Nikolas had flown them to Paris after they'd left Tahiti, and they'd shopped at expensive boutiques to prepare for this trip. Athena was clothed in a slinky black dress with gathers along the front of the dress, accenting her trim, lovely figure. She'd never felt so elegant in her entire life, and being accompanied by an extremely handsome man in a tux completed the effect.

"I'm glad you speak French," she whispered in his ear. "I only learned English."

Nikolas kissed her cheek, and his eyes sparkled back at her. "That's okay. Your English is flawless. It was time well spent. My French isn't perfect, but it'll do."

"I've only heard about places like this."

Nikolas chuckled. "I haven't exactly spent a lot of time in casinos myself. My father isn't a gambler."

"He has a brilliant mind. He doesn't need to gamble," Athena observed.

"He ensures that the odds are always on his side. He's been teaching me this principle." Nikolas' face fell for a moment. "At least he did before I left."

Athena's face showed her concern. "You miss your father."

"I guess so," Nikolas sighed.

"Why don't we treat this as a special trip?" Athena suggested. "Then you can go home and be with your family, and I can prepare to leave for the university." 

Nikolas' eyes saddened, and he hugged her tighter with an arm around her waist. "But I don't want you to leave me. I want to be with you all the time, not just on holidays."

"I know. I feel the same, but if we don't exercise discipline and do what we must, what will our lives become?"

"What? You won't love me if I'm a fisherman?"  Nikolas laughed merrily at the prospect of hauling in messy, stinky fish nets on a daily basis.

"Only if you're fishing in my sea," Athena teased back. Everything about Nikolas was enticing her tonight - his muscular frame in a black tux, the way that he smelled, his humor, and the timbre of his voice. I really love him, Athena reflected. I hope it works out so we can stay together over the next few years.

"If we ever do marry, you won't have to change your name," Nikolas observed.

"Once a Cassadine, always a Cassadine." Athena glanced at Nikolas' face. Their minds seemed to be settled in the same vein. They needed to have many more serious conversations before this trip ended.

~*~*~*~

Frankie watched as Luke opened and closed the drawers of his new dresser, searching for the specific clothing items that Frankie had requested to take with him. Luke had a suitcase open and placed Frankie's favorite black jeans into the expensive yet unused carryall that Stefan had given Frankie. Many items that Laura had given Stefan as gifts were making their way down the hall to Frankie's room as Frankie favored Laura's taste more than Stefan did. Laura continually attempted to bring a note of casual elegance into Stefan's life, but it missed its mark as Stefan was almost permanently ingrained as formally elegant, whereas Frankie had an appreciation for luxury that didn't scream old money.

"Alexis will take you shopping when you come home with me tomorrow," Luke said. "She's looking forward to it." Alexis had volunteered to do the shopping with her new stepson, as she wanted to start forming a bond with him as quickly as possible. Luke hated shopping, so that was okay with him. Besides, Alexis was used to an old wealth paradigm and might be able to understand Frankie and his new wealth. Luke was clueless and preferred to stay that way as his middle class lifestyle suited him just fine. Suits of armor and fancy china were only meant to be broken and toppled down in his opinion. He was a self-made man. What did he care for an ostentatious display of items that were supposed to be prestigious? Comfort was key with him.

"I need a suit," Frankie pointed out. "Always gotta have a suit. Mama had mine custom tailored, so I'll take one with me." Frankie was comfortable with Laura's read on his taste, but Alexis was a mystery. Frankie laughed out loud as he thought. She'll dress me up like an attorney dude.

"What's so funny?" Luke asked as he turned around.

"Nothin.' Private joke."

Luke shrugged. "Where are those suits?"

"In dat closet," Frankie indicated with a point of his finger.

Luke felt strange when he eyed Frankie's line-up of expensive, designer power suits with their small size yet deadly implications. He recalled struggling with Frankie the day before at the will reading. "Do you want the one with the rip in the shoulder? We could have it repaired."

"Okay," Frankie agreed. He was growing bored with Luke's cumbersome packing and searched for his laptop, which was nestled in a nightstand drawer. He opened the laptop, but paused to collect his thoughts. I need advice about da girlfriend. I think Luke would be good at dat. Sly said he used to have lots of women. Maybe he can manage 'em. I need some tips. "I got a question," he called out.

Luke turned and felt surprised when he saw Frankie' demeanor, which was twitchy and nervous, unusual for him.  Usually he was either perfectly calm or totally decomposed, and nothing much in between. "What's that?"

Frankie smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were uncertain and hesitant. "I got da girlfriend problems. I thought dat you might have da perspective - you know, you had lotsa dem women, right?"

Luke's eyes twinkled with amusement. "If you mean, did I enjoy the company of a fine woman, then yes, I have some experience."

Frankie nodded, taking in Luke's euphemism for productive bachelorhood. "How do you know what dey want to do?" His eyes intensified their expression as they stared at his father with expectation.

"Do?" Luke questioned. "Do you mean on a date? Where to go on a date?"

"Uh. No, not exactly." Frankie remained silent as he wanted his question answered without getting to the point and revealing his inept handling of Maxie.

Luke frowned as he thought. "Oh. You mean monkey business," he clarified. As nervous as he is, I’m sure that's it.

Frankie nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Dat monkey business. I talked to Sly about dat, but dere's holes in his theory. He says you kiss 'em at da door and dat's all. I think dey want more. Whatta you say?"

Luke took a seat in the Stickley rocking chair and used his feet to make a rocking motion. "Depends on the woman. They're all different."

"Dat's da problem!" Frankie exclaimed loudly. "I don't got no built-in sensor. Dey do dis, and den you do dat, and you're in trouble."

"How much trouble are you looking for?" Luke asked evenly.

Frankie blushed and fiddled with his laptop, pushing the lid up and down with a repetitive motion. "I wanna to do it," he admitted. He looked down at the laptop, refusing to meet Luke's gaze.

"With a fifteen year old girl?" Luke asked incredulously. No wonder he's in trouble, the little Romeo.

"Yeah," Frankie answered in a small voice.

Luke sighed. "Frankie, this isn't boff the whore 101. It's a different circumstance. High school girls and grown women who are paid are entirely different creatures."

"Nobody ever said no before. Maxie is always sayin' no. Don't she like me?" Frankie's pained eyes sought his father's face as he was desperate for a solution to his problem.

"The whores were paid to say yes. Don't you realize that? Who knows how they felt about the situation? They're not paid to think or feel - that's why you didn't have to worry about it. A nice girl has opinions - thoughts and feelings. You have to be sensitive to her and not push if she doesn't want it. A girl not wanting to have sex doesn't mean she has negative feeling about you. It simply means she's not ready."

"It was easier den," Frankie admitted. "With da whores. Michelle liked me. She said so. Dat's why she was my favorite. She wanted it."

Luke shook his head. "Frankie, that's the past. It's over. It's not happening again, especially under my roof." He stared at Frankie and held his son's gaze for emphasis. "Your life has changed for the better."

Frankie seemed to melt into his bed as he slumped his shoulders dejectedly. "I gotta have it. I gotta do it all da time," he admitted. "It keeps me from thinking," he said in a near whisper.

Luke's lips worked with amusement, but he remained silent, rocking the chair rhythmically as he tried to understand what his son was telling him. With Frankie, you always had to look behind his words, and sometimes beneath and beside them, too. "You're trying to escape some thoughts?" he guessed correctly. 'What's bothering you?"

Frankie held his arms around his bent knee and pulled into himself, literally and figuratively. His eyes darkened with anger as he stared straight ahead. "Dat bitch, dat Cathy bitch." He ground his teeth so hard that Luke could hear the sounds.

"She did something to you? She hurt you?" Luke wondered about the crazed display of rage from Frankie at the will reading. Maybe Johnny had been on the mark about this woman. Bad news all the way.

"Yes." Frankie rubbed his hair and turned his head away from Luke, unwilling to elaborate. "But if I do it all da time, da feelings go away, ya know? Dat's what I want."

"Do you want to use Maxie to get rid of unpleasant thoughts and feelings or do you want to express your love for her?"

Frankie's breath caught his chest, and he held it. "I got it mixed up," he concluded.

"There's your problem," Luke agreed. He didn’t push his son about the Cathy woman as it was obvious Frankie had discussed it as thoroughly as he intended for the moment.

Frankie turned his head to look again at Luke. "Tell me what to do."

"I can't do that, Frankie. It's your relationship. What I'd advise is that you stick with your basic hugging and kissing. Two fifteen year olds shouldn't be trying to make babies."

Frankie cracked up laughing. "Aw. I like Lulu. Can't I have a Lulu? Pretty please?"

"Not now!" Luke countered. He caught the positive mood and continued in that vein. "Do your hugging and kissing, and if it seems like she wants more, then ask her directly if she wants x, y or z."

Frankie scrunched up his face. "No finesse."

"No misunderstandings," Luke corrected.

"Yeah," Frankie agreed. "Dat could be good. I don't wanna lose Maxie."

"Apologize, dear boy. Hearts, cards, flowers and candy - the whole nine yards. You know the drill. You have to prove that you're contrite. Women are in charge and don't you forget it. We're just dangling from their leashes."

"Tell me about it," Frankie complained. "I like da mob. Do dis or...." Frankie made a cutting motion at his throat. "It's simpler."

"Lose the word simple from your vocabulary if you want to associate with the female half of the species. Be prepared to be bewildered the rest of your life." Luke paused for effect. "But it's worth it, kid. I think you know that."

Frankie nodded slowly with understanding. "Maxie's worth it," he said quietly.

Luke felt his heart warm when he heard his son say, "Thanks, Dad."

~*~*~*~

"Johnny?" Sly shifted his feet and glanced over at his aunt and cousin, who were occupied in the task of scooping ice cream into bowls. Lucas kept piling mounds of the dessert into one bowl, while Bobbie patiently followed behind him, removing the extra and redistributing it to the other bowls. Sly had waited until Johnny was alone because he had a serious matter to discuss with the tall, muscular ex-bodyguard. Sly had been preoccupied with the subject since he and Frankie had returned to Wyndemere, and he hoped that a conversation with Johnny might relieve his mind.

Johnny smiled and turned. "What is it, Sly?"

"Can we talk in the next room? It's private." Sly's eyes betrayed his concern, and Johnny immediately picked up on the vibe.

"Sure, let's go to your room," he said as he placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.

When Sly sat on his bed, Johnny closed the door and sat down beside him. "What's up? You seem worried."

Sly laughed bitterly. "You could say that. I almost was killed this afternoon."

"What?"

Sly's face tensed. "Next you're going to ask me if Frankie was involved?"

Johnny's eyes swept over the boy as his stomach clenched. What now? "What does this have to do with Frankie?"

Sly let out a massive sigh and held his hands up in the air in a gesture of confusion. "Who knows? Some car followed us, and he was doing avoidance maneuvers, going a hundred miles an hour, pulling his gun, you know - the typical afternoon with the girls."

Johnny stroked his chin and frowned. "Okay, Sly. I get it that you're upset, but outline for me exactly what happened."

Sly's voice quivered as he continued. "Frankie and I took his BMW to pick up our girlfriends at school. We decided to go to an ice cream stand. We bought some milkshakes and took a drive through the countryside - about two miles out of town. Frankie practically freaked out and drove the car like a crazy man. He turned off into a field and then jumped out of the car while it was still running. We stopped in front of a haystack, but he was running and shooting out the tires of this black car that had parked to the side of the road. He smashed out the driver's side window. I didn't hear what he was yelling at them, but he shot out the back window, and they took off."

Johnny's mind instantly became sharp and focused with this news. "Did you get a good look at the men inside the car or the car model or license plate?"

Sly sat silently on the bed as his mind turned over the recent events. "The car was black, some kind of a big American car. I didn't see a license plate in the back come to think of it. It was missing. The men were dressed all in black - black suits and hats."

Johnny blinked rapidly. "That's not the mob," he said out loud as if to himself.

Sly nodded. "It was weird, real weird." He paused "Frankie hurt himself again by doing that - running after them. I could hardly get him back into the mansion. I don't know how he is. I told the servants I was going to my Aunt Bobbie's, and I walked here. I'm worried, Johnny. Emily and Maxie were with us. What if they'd been hurt? Frankie and I would have been responsible since it was our idea to pick them up." His eyes welled up with tears. "Something's wrong with Frankie," he confided in a quiet voice. "I didn't know what to do."

Johnny instinctively patted Sly on the back to reassure him. "What's wrong with Frankie?"

Sly frowned and looked down at his lap. "He has that disorder," he mumbled.

Johnny frowned. He was aware of Frankie's near diagnosis. He knew that Sly was protective of his brother, and that's probably why he had to pull the story from the boy sentence by sentence. "What did he do that upset you?"

Sly shrugged. "He acted like a kid, like he couldn't drive a car." Sly's eyes flashed with determination. "I told him he could, and I dragged him back to the car. I mean, we're all too young to drive, and I was afraid the men would come back. I wanted to get out of there - quick. Maxie shook him and smacked him on the cheek. He seemed to wake up or something, and then he drove us back to Wyndemere like nothing had happened. But by the time we got back there, he was acting upset and sad, and he could hardly move. He'd been jumping in that field, and he hurt his leg. I heard him scream, and he fell to the ground." Sly let out a long, slow breath as relief washed over him. He was tired of carrying around all these secrets concerning his brother. It was exhausting, and you never knew when Frankie would do something outrageous. Sly felt like he was barely keeping his head above water, and now that Emily's life had been endangered, he became increasingly upset. Maybe Johnny could do something or talk some sense into Frankie. I don't know if Dad can handle this. Johnny seems like the one to take care of it.

Sly shot a glance in Johnny's direction as his mind raced. He'd been angry with the man not too long ago, associating him directly with the violence that had ripped his father's life away and left him an orphan. But, now it seemed like Johnny could help, and so he'd decided to take a chance by confiding in him. "Are you going to do something about it?" he asked quietly.

"I need to think this over and talk to Frankie" Johnny replied thoughtfully. "This is unusual. Not like your typical mob hit." He patted Sly on the back again. "I'm glad you told me about this. I want you to be extra careful if you're out walking. Don't go anywhere by yourself until we figure this out, okay? And if you ever need anything - anything at all - make sure you call me, okay?" Johnny met Sly's eyes and gave him a smile. "You were very brave and very wise to tell me. I think you should tell your dad about this, too." Johnny pulled his shoulders back and easily slipped into his fatherly role. He sighed. "And no more joy rides in the BMW. I know you're grounded, and you know it, too. There wouldn't have been a problem if you'd have done what you'd been told."

Sly stood up from the bed and placed his hands in his pockets as he looked sheepishly at Frankie's ex bodyguard. "It's hard," he explained. "When Frankie and I get together, things happen."

Oh, I'm sure that's an understatement, Johnny thought with amusement. Frankie scatters trouble wherever he goes. Or trouble finds him.

~*~*~*~

Robin walked up behind Georgie and draped her arms around the young girl. She bent low and whispered in her ear. "What have you been doing, Georgie? Are you up to no good?"

Georgie whirled around and hugged Robin. "Robin! When did you get home?"

"A few minutes ago. I've been talking to Maxie in her room."

Georgie held her hand on her hip. "She's got problems," she related with a knowledgeable air.

Robin's eyes reflected her amusement. "We all do, Georgie. It's what makes us human."

"But Maxie has boyfriend problems," Georgie confided with a low whisper and bright eyes that darted around the living room in case a parental unit were lurking nearby.

"That's Maxie's business, not yours," Robin said gently.

"But I'd be nicer to him. He's the coolest guy. He's cute, and he's smart, and he's..."

"Maxie's boyfriend, not yours."

Georgie's face set as her arms crossed against that reality. "We get along, Frankie and me. We have a deal. I wouldn't make him feel bad."

"You don't know that, Georgie." Robin led the young girl over to the sofa and sat down beside her. "I'm sure there are plenty of boys your own age who would make wonderful friends for you."

"No," Georgie protested. "They're all stupid. They're immature. They just like to pull my hair and tease me. They're not smooth like Frankie. He knows how to talk."

"That's because he's fifteen years old," Robin observed.

"No. It's because he's Frankie."

~*~*~*~

As Athena and Nikolas strolled through the casino, looking over the various gambling tables and enjoying the glitz and glimmer surrounding them, they didn't notice that they were being recorded on videotape - everyone was; it was the policy of the casinos to protect their business by surveillance. Nikolas had decided that no one would figure out where they were since they'd fled from Tahiti to Europe. They kept moving every few days, and he'd been careful not to leave a trail with credit card receipts. So far, he'd managed to use cash for their transactions, and he flashed false ID's for identification. Frankie would have been proud to call him brother with the ease in which he perpetuated deceit. Of course, Nikolas had the Cassadine genes and wicked grandmother behind his actions, while Frankie had the tutoring of Frank Smith. Both had served their purposes, and death wasn't a deterrent to the long, cold reach of their evil.

~*~*~*~

7:30 PM

Frankie furiously typed over the keyboard of his laptop. Luke had gone to find Stefan, and Frankie had a minute alone that he was determined to put to good use. Mama had done a good job of decorating his bedroom because he was perfectly at ease in his surroundings, not on edge and aghast like he was in the French antique guestroom with its overabundance of gilded gold. His tongue stuck out slightly as he concentrated on the information he'd generated from his searches, and he ignored the hazy feeling in his brain, the result of heavy painkillers. He also ignored the dull residue of shocked nerves throughout his body and the quivering of his leg muscles. When Frankie was on a mission, nothing deterred him. Sleep, food and drink were definitely optional, but he hoped to find some answers to give to Stefan before dinner in half an hour.  He couldn't miss this dinner as it was the last night he'd spend in Wyndemere for awhile. He was going to stay at Luke's for an entire week plus weekend.

While he was waiting for the results of his inquiries, Frankie popped over to the e-card bookmark on his laptop and rapidly leafed through the romance and "I'm sorry" sections of the website. He nodded happily and chose the romance section. Luke had said hearts and flowers, and he'd follow that advice. He wrote a short note to Maxie and then sent it off, satisfied that he'd accomplished one task that day. Even when he was holed up in his room and laid low with his injuries, it was difficult for him not to be Type A - it was too ingrained in him by force of personality and Frank. 

Frankie lay back in bed and stared at the ceiling as he thought of Maxie. He folded his hands behind his head and relaxed. Something about Maxie brought out the best in him, the underlying depth of sentiment and humor that had been lying dormant so long while he'd lived in Frank's mansion. It had been so crucial to hide his true thoughts and feelings in that atmosphere of hate, mistrust and violence. He reflected that he'd buried his true self years ago, so long ago that he couldn't remember who he really was. He knew he wasn't a cold blooded killer or even a mob leader. Something in his relationship with the pretty and intelligent girl made him feel whole and complete, and he didn't want to risk what he had.

Frankie smiled slightly as he rubbed his full lips with his thumb. When had he felt this way about kissing someone? Kissing Maxie had been like having his very first kiss. It was the real thing. He sighed and thought about Luke's advice. His dad was right - he'd used Maxie even though he didn't intend to or realize it. He'd have to take action to ensure he didn't do it again. Frankie held up his right hand and turned it left and right as if inspecting it. "My new best friend," he said out loud with a derisive snort as he reached for his wheelchair, intending to head to the bathroom and introduce himself.

 Next chapter...