Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance)(72)
When he’s that way, it’s often hard to get through to him. He puts up a mental shield, becomes resistant to considering anything but the fight. His face will drain of emotion, become statuesque.
That’s his mental suit of armor.
“We’re here,” Frank says a few minutes later. We drive toward a chain-link fence that swings open automatically, and then we’re on a short runway for small aircraft. We drive to the end, where a narrow beam of light splits the foggy night. The huge, sliding doors to a plane hangar are slightly open. Compared to the size of the building, they look open only a sliver, but I’ve little doubt the gap is wide enough to fit an SUV through.
I pull out my mirror from my bag, check my makeup quickly, rub smudged eyeliner away under my eyes. I don’t want Duncan to know I was crying earlier. Panic got the better of me, but only for a moment.
“You okay?” Frank asks. “You seem a little down tonight.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper back at him.
“Don’t want to watch the fight?”
I shake my head. “Watch my… watch Duncan take punches so Dad can earn more money? Not really.”
Now there’s a stony silence, and I look at Frank, that uneasy feeling in my belly turning into nausea.
“What is it, Frank?”
“You been avoiding your old man for a reason?” he asks.
I freeze. “What?”
“Forget it. Not my place.”
I swallow. Does he know? How could he possibly?
“What is this about, Frank? Don’t clam up on me.”
“Just you never come around the house anymore. He’s worried about you, Deidre.”
“No, he’s worried about himself.”
“Deidre, it’s not like that. I…” Frank’s voice trails off. “It’s not my place. You get going, now.”
I peer at him, decide not to push it so I don’t look suspicious, and then my gaze goes past him and out the driver’s side window. The three girls are all walking toward the hangar, their steps wobbly, and likely not just from their insane ankle-breakers.
“You let them do anything in the car?”
“Of course not!” Frank says, instantly indignant. “Rules are rules. They just drank the champagne. They’re on something, though, but it was before they got in.”
“Great,” I say, shaking my head. “Just great. Thanks for the ride, Frank.”
“Don’t sweat it. Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Tell Duncan I wish him luck.”
“Sure.”
Frank grins. “I put fifty-large on him tonight.”
“Alright, Frank,” I say.
I get out of the car, fix my bag over one shoulder, and walk toward the hangar in a perfume-drenched wake.
Chapter Twenty Six
Two guards wearing black suits and earpieces approach me as I walk toward the open hangar door.
“Excuse me, miss,” they say. “Do you have the—”
“Flyer?” I ask, pulling it from my bag.
But they’ve already seen my face, and they know who I am.
“Sorry, Ms. Marino,” they both diffidently say in unison. They cast quick, nervous glances at each other.
“It’s okay,” I tell them, smiling.
“Just doing our jobs.”
“Come on, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I won’t bite. Where’s Duncan? I need to speak to him.”
“There’s a closed-off area down in the back,” the guard on the left informs me. He’s got an accent I can’t place. Dad always liked to hire new immigrants; he says they’re easier to control. “There’s a guard outside, too.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Thank you.”
“Ms. Marino,” the guard says, stepping in front of me when I move to enter the hangar.
“Yes?”
He hesitates, seems to be trying to figure out the most diplomatic words to use. Eventually, he just spits it out.
“Are you carrying a weapon?” He holds out a numbered tag. The number reads eighty-six. “If you don’t mind.”
“No,” I tell him. I open my bag, let him peer inside. “Satisfied?”
“Do you mind if I look inside myself, Ms. Marino?”
I sigh, but give him my whole bag. He rummages through it quickly, before nodding and giving it back to me.
“I’m really sorry, but—”
“My father’s orders,” I say. “It’s okay, I understand.”
No weapons allowed inside. A wise decision, considering some people are going to lose a lot of money tonight when Duncan wins.
“Your father’s orders,” the guard echoes, nodding.