Franklin: A Boston Mafia Romance (The Boston Wolfes) Page 2

  “How are you doing, Larry? Drinking away this week’s wages?” he teases as he takes the seat next to him, giving him a friendly smile. His men are staying close, keeping an eye on the rest of the bar.

  “It’s all her fault, Wolfe! She’s like a siren. I can’t say no when she offers,” he explains this with the same slurred tongue while I offer him a tight smile.

  Thanks for bringing the attention towards me, dickhead.

  “You keep paying, I keep pouring.” I shrug, insecurely crossing my arms in front of my body while my eyes glance at the gorgeous man in front of me.

  “Is that so?” Franklin Wolfe reaches in his pocket, holding my gaze before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and dropping it on the bar.

  I try to keep breathing while his eyes remain fixed on mine and he pulls a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket.

  “There. Tonight is on me,” he declares, slamming the bill on the wooden surface.

  He turns his body towards Larry, who’s grinning from ear to ear.

  “Now, go on,” he continues, motioning to the door. “Get going before she pours you another one and your wife makes you sleep on the couch.” He looks at two of his men, snapping his fingers.

  “Boys, make sure Mr. Brown here gets home safe, will you?”

  They nod in agreement before helping Larry off his bar stool, escorting him out of the bar. I watch as they help him stumble through the door before my attention moves back to the man in front of me. My heart almost stops when I realize he’s been staring at me the entire time.

  His piercing eyes are locked with mine, drawing me into his energy as he pulls a cigarette out of the pack and lights one, softly blowing the smoke towards the ceiling.

  The smoke moves between us, leaving nothing other than his green eyes glaring at me like he’s about to eat me alive.

  Now that’s fucking sexy.

  Once the smoke has completely cleared, I take a deep breath and reach down to pull a glass out of the water filled sink, then start to dry it with my cloth, anything to keep my hands busy.

  “I’m looking for Kenny.” He cocks his head a little and gives me the tiniest smile. It’s barely noticeable, yet my heart stops when the name Kenny rolls off his tongue, making me want to drop my panties.

  Fuck.

  From what I’ve heard about Franklin Wolfe, I was expecting a scary crime lord who’d give me the creeps and make my skin crawl if I ever had the unfortunate luck of meeting him. But in reality, he’s scary in a whole different way.

  Mesmerizing.

  Compelling.

  Sexy.

  The kind of man who can reach your heart with his eyes and crush it with his hands. But I vowed to never be dominated by a man again, that I wouldn’t crumble under a man’s gaze ever again.

  Prove it, Kendall. You’ve got this.

  I hardly believe myself, but I dig deep, scraping out every ounce of confidence I can find in my body, determined to hold my own against men like this.

  I suck in a deep breath, then lean over, resting my elbows on the wooden surface of the bar.

  Our faces are only a few inches away from each other, and I can smell his fresh cologne as I stare into his eyes. They are green like a saltwater lake with specks of amber around the edges.

  “What do you want with Kenny?” I ask boldly, biting my lip in a daring way, not sure where my sudden bravery is coming from.

  Franklin’s eyebrows rise slightly with amusement while his men instantly snap their heads towards me, each of them inching closer to the bar, scowling at me like I’m their next kill.

  “That’s none of your business, little girl.” One of them growls. I just glare at him, refusing to let him affect me.

  Franklin’s hand lands on the guy’s upper arm, silently telling him to calm down and resulting in him moving back to his seat. I can feel Franklin’s breath slightly fanning my face while my heart continues beating like a sledgehammer. Every bone in my body tells me to run and hide, walk away and make sure I stay off his radar for the rest of my life. But his eyes pin me down, making me feel like my feet are cemented to the floor, unable to walk away or look away.

  When he moves his hand up to cup my throat, my mouth turns as dry as sandpaper, making me realize it’s too late to back down now that I’ve dared him with my stance. The sudden yet soft touch makes me gasp while the feeling of his skin connecting with mine burns through my body like a flaming arrow mixed with a hint of fear.

  Fear that he may snap my neck at any second.

  Fear that any minute now, he will control me like I have no spine left, showing me that I’m nothing more than a little girl in a big man’s world, like I’ve been told many times in my life.

  I hold still, somehow hoping I don’t piss him off, like prey waiting for the hunter to make the next move.

  “Do I make you nervous, pretty girl?” he rumbles. He moves in a little more, his nose almost brushing mine, his hand still covering my neck.

  “No,” I answer firmly, bluffing, like I’m in a game of poker with my life at stake.

  The corner of his mouth moves a little, as if a smile is trying to sneak through before his face returns to the stoic look he’s allegedly famous for.

  “Your throbbing pulse tells me otherwise.”

  Feeling busted as fuck, I quickly straighten my back, untangling myself from his grasp. He purses his lips in annoyance, his hand still up in the air where my neck was, so I’m expecting him to flip any second now. Instead, he drops his hand and takes another drag off his cigarette, moving on as if he didn’t feel that electrifying spark between the two of us.

  “You see, we would like to offer him a job,” he explains.

  “What kind of job?” I raise my brows, my hands on my hips.

  “An accounting position. We heard he’s the top of his class at Northeastern.”

  “Ugh, who told you that?” I huff out uncomfortably. “No, let me guess. It was Mr. Garrison, that nosy teacher, wasn’t it?”

  It’s frightening to have the most powerful criminal of Boston in my bar, but there is something about this man that makes me think it’s fair game to blurt out what I want. I’m not sure why. Or if my intuition is right. Fingers crossed it doesn’t get me killed.

  “You know Mr. Garrison?” Franklin asks.

  He keeps looking at me, and I feel my skin getting more damp by the second, just from holding his gaze.

  “Kenny, love, just help me change this barrel, then you’re free to go!” Harry, the owner of the bar, yells as he rolls a barrel of beer out of the stockroom. “My back is killing me.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I glance at Harry before my eyes are drawn back to the man in front of me, the man who is now glaring at me like I’m a schoolgirl in need of some serious punishment.

  Shit.

  Three

  Franklin

  I glance at the old man coming from the stockroom before realizing what he just called her. A frown pulls at my lips, annoyed by the play she just performed.

  “You are Kenny?” I ask, calmly blowing out the smoke from my lungs while I keep my eyes on the stunning brunette in front of me. I went to Northeastern, looking for a replacement for David. Figuring students always need the extra cash and are a lot more flexible in closing their eyes to certain things than an experienced accountant will be. However, I did not expect ‘Kenny’ to look like that.

  Her Bambi looking blue eyes are glowing as she gives me a stiff smile with guilt dripping off her face.

  “It’s Kendall, actually,” she clarifies before she walks away to help the old man with the barrel of beer he’s struggling with.

  I keep a straight face even though the corners of my mouth itch to curl into a grin, a little stunned by the fact that she had the guts to try to trick me. My eyes roam over every curve of her body while she drags the barrel behind her, the muscles in her toned legs flexing as she places it under the bar. Her black jeans hug her curvy hips, which are perfectly displayed since
she has knotted her red flannel shirt in front of her belly button, revealing a small strip of skin. Just enough for me to want to find out what the rest of her body looks like. What it will feel like under my palms. She reaches her hands up to pull her dark brown hair into a high ponytail, unintentionally showing me even more of her delicate skin.

  For fuck’s sake.

  I rub my forehead while holding my cigarette, ignoring the way my jeans are getting uncomfortably tight.

  My eyes are glued to the perky little thing as she installs the new barrel with an ease that shows she’s been a bartender for a long time before walking back to me.

  “Can I get you anything?” Her eyes give me a kind smile, all the provocation she gave me when her neck was under my palm now completely gone. She’s clearly hoping I’ll ignore her little stunt.

  “Three bottles of Budweiser.” I raise my three fingers in the air before taking another toke off my cigarette.

  The nicotine fills my lungs as I try to ignore the weird feeling under my skin while I watch her move.

  She turns around then bends over, giving me a complete display of her peachy ass. I can’t help but lick my lips at the sight of it. When she turns back to face me with the three bottles in her hand, her eyes quickly lock with mine in a questioning look. Probably wondering if I was checking her out from behind.

  Yes, pretty girl.

  Shameless, I lock my eyes with hers while she unscrews the bottles, then places them in front of us.

  “There you go. These are on the house. Have a nice evening, gentlemen.” She glances between the three of us before quickly walking away.

  “Hold on,” I call out, my voice filled with demand.

  I like her small acts of rebellion, but I’m certain I didn’t tell her this conversation was over.

  She stops hesitantly, giving me a demure smile as she slowly turns around while taking off her apron.

  I make her uncomfortable. Part of me likes the fact that I seem to have at least some power over her.

  “I still want to offer you a job.” I suck in another toke of my cigarette before putting it out.

  “I already have a job, but thank you for the offer, sir.” There is a finality in her answer that makes my men next to me growl in response, while a frown appears on my face.

  I am stunned by her answer, but I’m also amused by her confusion in thinking it’s optional.

  If she was a guy, I would just offer more money combined with a little force and he would in my office by morning, doing whatever the fuck I told him to do. But I don’t lay hands on women, and she must know I pay more than her bartending job, yet she’s standing in front of me rejecting me like I’ve asked her out on a date.

  I don’t do rejection.

  Ever.

  The fact that she’s now on my radar only reinforces that.

  You see, when you get on my radar, there are only two outcomes for me: you’ll either be eliminated by my circle or incorporated into my circle.

  Considering my dick already made its preference perfectly clear, I’m going for the latter.

  I force out a friendly smile, leaning over the bar and offering her my hand.

  “I’m sorry, I haven’t probably introduced myself. I am—”

  “I know who you are,” she interrupts, a provocative look creeping back into her ocean blue eyes that remind me of sapphires, luring me into their beauty. “But I’m not interested.” I resist letting my jaw drop to the floor, amazed by the amount of attitude she’s giving me, even though she is clearly uncomfortable with it. She rapidly walks towards the door, grabbing a black coat off the rack, then putting it on before waving at Harry.

  When the door closes behind her, I shake my head, realizing what just happened. Unable to mask the angry look on my face, I quickly get up and storm through the door while my two guys follow right behind me.

  The freezing February cold hits my flustered face while little snowflakes blur my vision.

  Snapping my head frantically from left to right, I search for her on the street before I spot her cute physique strutting away from me, her hips swaying with every step.

  There is a burning desire to run up to her and pull her back by her hair, to tell her it’s unwise to fuck with me unless she actually wants to get fucked by me. But the warm feeling that image elicits is quickly snuffed out by the cold breeze, reminding me that I will never get what I want from her if that’s the route I choose to take.

  And I’ll definitely get what I want from her.

  “You want us to give her a little scare, boss?” Nigel nudges his head towards her while I watch her move farther away from us.

  “Yeah, what do you think, boss?” Thomas adds, they’re both looking at me with questioning expressions while a grin stretches my lips. I need to know more about this girl.

  I push Nigel against the building, my head moving between the two of them before turning my head back to the brunette.

  “I think, boys … I’m going to marry her.”

  Four

  Kendall

  The morning light is shining through my small bedroom as I’m woken by some annoyingly loud knocking on my door. I do my best to ignore the loud sounds that quickly become loud bangs.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I grumble.

  “You talking to yourself again, darling? You know you need to stop doing that because people will think you’re madder than a hatter.” Josie’s thick Southern accent yells through the door, a smile audible in her voice.

  I look at the alarm clock on my nightstand.

  “J, it’s fucking eight in the morning. Let me sleep!” I sink deeper into my soft sheets. There is a reason I locked the damn door, because I knew she would be jumping on my bed like a five-year-old on Christmas morning if I hadn’t.

  “No, can do, sugar pie. I’ve got Dunks. And I stood in the damn line for half an hour, so you better get your ass out before I use my spare key to drag you out.”

  “What? You have a spare key to my bedroom?!” I shout incredulously.

  “You bet your ass I do. What if you have a heart attack or something? Now get the fuck out, you lazy fuck.”

  “You’re the one giving me a heart attack,” I bellow.

  Slightly irritated, I lift myself out of the bed before jerking the door open.

  “You do realize I got in bed at two, right?” I glare at her, wishing my death stare would silence her.

  I turn around to put on a hoodie, covering up my tank top before turning my attention back to her.

  “Oh, good, you’re up!” she quips, holding a box of Dunkin Donuts in front of her, looking like a damn Girl Scout ready for a bake sale.

  But let me tell you something: Josie Montgomery is anything but a Girl Scout. She curses like a sailor, eats like a construction worker, and is a total maneater, yet she looks like a fucking dark angel with her dollface, dark blue eyes, and her long black hair.

  I love her, but she’s a lot at times.

  “Shut up.” I roll my eyes at her before I move past her into the hallway, strutting towards the kitchen in need of some serious coffee.

  “Fine, but I need you to talk.” She trails behind me before I take a seat at the breakfast bar that separates the living room from the kitchen. Josie walks around the bar, taking the seat opposite me after she holds up a cup of fresh Dunkin Donuts coffee in front of my face.

  “Gimme, gimme.” I show her grabby hands while she holds it up in the air as leverage.

  “Are you going to stop growling at me?” Her brows are lifted up in a reprimanding look. I purse my lips to suppress a chuckle.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to answer my questions?”

  “What questions?” I frown.

  “Are you?!”

  “Fine,” I comply, rolling my eyes. “Now give it to me!”

  She hands me the cup, and I eagerly take a sip as I feel my irritation fade away as the taste of the nutty sweetness hits my tastebuds. I close my eyes, savoring the mom
ent before Josie shoves the box of donuts in front of my face.

  “Why are you buttering me up? What’s going on? Are we getting kicked out?” I grab a donut with pink glaze and sprinkles before sinking my teeth into it.

  She grabs a chocolate one out of the box, giving me a knowing look, as if I’m supposed to know whatever she wants to know.

  “What?” I ask again, my eyes widening in anticipation.

  “So,” she starts, a suspicious look on her face, “I heard a little rumor while waiting in line this morning.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s the latest chit chat?”

  Josie has a habit of going into town every single morning to get fresh breakfast since she’s always up at the crack of dawn. Apparently, that’s the time the gossip around Boston is at its peak, so she always comes home with details on whatever’s currently going around town like wildfire. Considering she woke me up for it, this must be a big one.

  “They were talking about how Franklin Wolfe made an appearance in The Library last night.”

  My eyes snap up to hers quicker than I want her to notice before I try to casually put my focus back on my donut, plucking off a piece of the sweet dough. My heart starts to race as if the compelling man is in front of me once again, so I take a deep breath to calm myself down.

  Goddamn, it’s only been six hours, yet Franklin Wolfe’s latest appearance is already the talk of the town. This just proves how important and influential the Boston Wolfes are once again.

  “Yeah, he was,” I admit, knowing there is no denying it.

  “They say he offered the girl behind the bar a job.”

  “Hmm, he did. So did you watch the game yesterday?” I’m staring at my donut like it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen, trying to change the subject even though I know there is no chance in hell she’ll let this slide.

  “Kendall!” she blurts out, making me wince a little.

  “What?!”

  “It’s true? He offered you a job?”

  “Yes, he offered me a job.” I let out a sigh.