Chapter 13
978 Words
Chapter 13
Frank: 1988
No way in hell that this is done.” Three months they’d been sleeping together on the sly. Three months and the heat, smell, taste of Beatrice Ann Belfour was burned right into Frank’s nerve endings.
They sat on the bench where they’d perched a lifetime and six months ago. This time it was late morning rather than two a.m. And it was frickin’ January-butt-clench cold. But everything else was much the same.
The Brooklyn Bridge soared above them, the restaurant and its lousy fake security cameras was doing a lively business despite the frigid winter morning. The East River Ferry slid into DUMBO dock. He kept meaning to look up why they called it that, but never had. A glance over his shoulder and he could see by the giant clock atop the Watchtower building that the boat was running ten minutes late as usual.
They were sitting right where the old man had howled at the moon along with his dogs in Moonstruck. He almost smiled at the memory of the frantic love they’d made after watching it, right down to the full moonlight streaming into his Brooklyn studio apartment window. Still a third-floor walkup, but the tiny apartment in the brownstone owned by a couple of artists was a hell of a lot better than the Morningside Heights projects.
He finally forced himself to look down at Agent Beatrice Ann Belfour sitting beside him on the cold metal. Her dark hair was tucked under a knit hat of blue and green stripes. Her red parka was zipped so far up her neck that her face almost disappeared into it. It made her appear about twice her true size. He could appreciate that, as his sweatshirt and jacket were not up to the task of keeping him warm even with the hoodie up. But her words had sent a much greater chill coursing down his spine.
“We have to be done. We’re fraternizing.”
“I’m not the goddamn enemy.” He knew his anger wasn’t helping, but he was way past being able to control that.
“I’m a full agent, you’re a trainee. I can’t keep putting that at risk for me and I can’t put that at risk for you.”
“Like I could give a rat’s ass.” Though he actually did, which was kinda weird. He wanted this to work, a whole life beyond the projects that he’d never imagined. But he wanted her more.
She wasn’t looking at him.
That’s what was killing him. Those dark, fathomless eyes were glazed over and facing off somewhere in the direction of Manhattan, not at him. Not making him feel warm inside. Instead, they froze him out.
“My next assignment arrived this morning.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” His shout was loud enough that some of the passengers debarking from the East River ferry stumbled on the gangplank in the hurry to look in his direction and just as quickly away.
“I’m telling you now.”
She was. Damn it! He bit his tongue.
“I’m telling you first.”
Double damn! For six months he’d kept his temper in check. Once the trainers had learned he could control that, they’d pounded on him, trying to get a rise, trying to find out just how deep his control ran. It had gotten so deep that some of the other trainees had gotten mad on his behalf and stepped in the way of the obvious hazing. He’d kept his cool, except around Beat.
He couldn’t do it now when he needed it. Not with Beatrice telling him they were done. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.
“Okay.” Another. “What is it?”
“I’m going to be working Africa for the next six months. Traveling station to station, verifying and standardizing Secret Service security operations and interface with local agencies. It’s a great oppor—”
“And now you’re telling me that you’re going to take it no matter what I say.” Frank had been prepared to ride out whatever she’d be doing. But not this. Not six months of it. That he couldn’t figure how to swallow.
She didn’t look at him, not even after the ferry reloaded and moved on across the shining water.
Finally she nodded, then hung her head.
Beatrice Belfour never hung her head.
Think, Frank. You’ve always let her do the thinking. Time you tried some of that. She’s the one who pulled you out of the s**t projects and the hard-time future. She risked her career and shared her body. She was the one he was totally gone on. What have you risked?
Nothing!
And she never mentioned her family. He’d only met them once, totally by accident when they spotted her car and flagged her down. New York was weird like that. You could be way out of your normal ’hood and you’d run into a friend on the street you hadn’t seen in six months, despite knowin’ you lived just three blocks apart.
Family wasn’t a place he bothered to think of much. But it had been real damn clear that her folks weren’t expecting no Frank Adams.
That must hurt like hell too. She’d given everything and he’d just been cruisin’ along for the ride, not giving it any thought.
Well, it was time to start doing that.
“Okay,” he breathed deep until the cold air pierced his insides like frozen needles. “Okay.” He turned to face her.
She didn’t look up.
Thinking it better not to cup her chin and turn her face, he pressed a finger against her hunched shoulder, slowly turning her toward him and forcing her shoulder back until she looked up.
“I’ll wait.”
“But—”
“I’ll wait!” He cut her off harshly. Knew he was being a jerk, not letting her finish her thoughts. But he had to make the point so she heard it.
She stared at him for a long time, those dark eyes boring into him, seeking some truth he’d never find.
Finally, that single nod.
What the hell was that anyway? Frank Adams didn’t wait for any woman.
Beatrice got up and walked back toward her car to head into the New York office of the United States freaking Secret Service.
Frank stayed and blinked against the cold sunlight burning his eyes.
For Beatrice Ann Belfour, he’d damn sure wait.
- Writer
