Untethered

9 | Black Widow

"You took it!" she hissed, her blue eyes widened owlishly before narrowing to slits so thin, a snake would have been envious. "Where is it Frank? You don't want to play with me." Her tone was as sharp and threatening as razor blades, causing his eyebrows to rise.

"No, you're right about that. I am done playing with you," he replied quietly. "You won't find what you're looking for here."

"And why not?" she demanded. "If you've done something stupid, you'll regret it, Frankie." His eyebrows rose again.

"Tsk, tsk... my, my Jules, not even pretending anymore, huh? Well, fine, I'm done pretending, too. I know what you did and how you did it. You get the hell out of my house, and you stay away from my kids." He saw her starting to open her mouth, and continued, "If—and I mean if—you stay the hell away from us, I will consider giving you what you're looking for. Provided, of course, enough time has passed, and I am no longer a suspect." His voice turned as hard as granite, "Make no mistake, you evil witch, if I get blamed for this, or you come near our children, you will never dig yourself out of the hole I'll bury you in."

Inwardly, Julie was furious, a class five hurricane on the verge of letting loose the kind of destruction other people could only imagine. Outwardly, though, she smiled, wiping her expression clean. Satisfaction buzzed through her when she saw Frankie hesitate, and she stepped nearer, her face was angelic, but her eyes were hard.

"Whatever you say, babe. Don't say I didn't warn you. You will regret screwing with me." With that, she breezed past him and out of the house, not looking back.

~*~*~

"Mom?" Evan severed Julie's train of thought, and she looked up at him, plastering a smile on her face. He kept his distance, his expression wary, and she realized she'd been wielding her steak knife like a weapon. To make matters worse, her cheap manicure was digging into the handle, and she was currently stabbing holes in the tablecloth with it. Quickly, she dropped it, as he leaned down to plant a light kiss on her cheek. "You alright, mom?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she lied. She looked behind him, her gaze wandering toward the entrance to the restaurant. "Where is your sister, Evan?"

"She's not coming." Her blue eyes darkened, and he hurriedly added, "I think maybe she's getting sick or something."

"As if I'm going to believe that. Did she even bother with an excuse this time?"

Evan stood there uncomfortably, and then realized he should probably sit down. Pulling his chair out, he sank into it, exhaling a deep, exasperated breath. How in the hell do I always end up running interference?

"To be perfectly honest, she just wasn't up to it. She's still struggling... and I am really worried about her. It didn't help that the dinner invitation came with a request to go through Grandma's stuff, you know." He shot her a pointed look.

"I suppose she said no to that as well?"

"Yeah," he retorted, "you could say that."

"God dammit!" Realizing she'd spoken aloud, Julie tried to fix her smile, but ended up looking like a deranged clown instead. "I mean, there were just some things of your dad's that have sentimental value to me." She could see he wasn't buying it, and cursed herself.

"Like what, Mom?"

Mercifully for Julie, the waiter arrived to take their order. She gazed down at her menu indecisively, using the opportunity to buy herself a little time. She had to be careful not to give away too much, just enough to get what she wanted. When they had finally ordered, and the waiter left, she looked up to find his eyes back on her. In the dim light of the restaurant, he resembled Frankie so much that it made her catch her breath. Broody, handsome, and big as a Mack truck.