Frank was slowly beginning to put the pieces together. The run he'd been on just last week with the Russians and the Serpents went south, the Russians turned on an ally club, the Saints' allied club. For the rest of the Saints it was shocking the Russians did something like that but, now that Frank understood Charlie's situation, it was no longer shocking why it happened and why the Russians have been causing trouble for the rest of the clubs allies.
"You know, don't you?" Charlie suddenly asked while they were on their break, sitting in the back. Charlie had noticed Frank's sudden silence, well, she noticed that he was more silent than usual. Frank's gaze turned to hers and he blinked a few times. Charlie sighed heavily. "I've already gotten plenty of earfuls from my brother, he's been telling me all about the trouble the Russians are causing them, because of me."
Frank leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "All he's gotta do is release the devil and the situation would be done and dealt with," he nearly growled. For some reason, the thought of her being in danger angered him deeply, it filled him with such a burning fire it frightened him yet also drove him.
Charlie grinned widely, chuckling. "Well, you and I both know Fury likes to deal with things kindly first. Even as kids he was always like that. It would've been shocking if he suddenly changed."
Frank scoffed and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "What I can't believe," he began, leaning towards her yet again, staring directly into her eyes, giving her the perfect view of his steel grey eyes. "Is that you--" he said, pointing to her. "Killed Mikhailov's son."
The sudden memory flashed her mind and her eyes went wide, her face losing all it's color. "Self defense," she whispered, her head falling. His chest suddenly felt heavy and he soon felt bad for even bringing it up. "It was self defense," she said weakly, her eyes watering.
He sighed deeply, rolling his eyes at his foolish behavior. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You think the Saints' Devil is gonna judge you for killing a man?" he asked, scoffing. "I've killed more men than I can count. You'll stay out of this mess, for good. Ya hear?"
She lifted her head and looked up at him, a few tears rolling down her already red cheeks. His shoulders went tense but he stayed still and looked her directly in the eye. In her sad state she suddenly reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. His entire body went completely stiff, his eyes wide. He couldn't remember the last time someone hugged him. It'd easily been years and the sudden feel of it startled him.
"Thank you," she whispered, crying softly now.
He sighed heavily and placed a hand on her back, patting it lightly. Since when did he get to be such a softy? He couldn't believe the fact he was sitting here comforting a woman, a woman who wanted to be his friend desperately, a woman who now lives in his shop and works in it, and a woman who is his friend's sister. "Enough of your shit," he told her quietly. "You got a job to do."
She laughed weakly and pulled away from him, grinning like a little kid. "You're right," she said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, sniffling slightly. She stood slowly, just barely towering over his frame as he remained seated. She continued to smile, placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down and kissed the side of his mask, leaving him frozen still. "Don't go and do something reckless. I'd hate to lose my best friend."
Giggling to herself, she skipped over to her station, leaving him sitting there, completely dumbfounded and lost for words. No woman, hardly any of the whores in the clubhouse too, ever came close to him because of his mask. If the whores did, they only sucked his dick and scurried off afterward but she just voluntarily kissed his mask, the mask that had burned itself into his enemies minds and left them mentally insane afterward. The mask that many saw in their last moments of life, the mask that scared anyone and everyone, the mask that even scared his own brothers most of the time. And she, a small, curvaceous woman just hugged him and kissed his mask.
"Hey, Frank, dude," Drake called, waving a hand in front of his face, looking at him concerned. "What's the matter with you? You look a little tense."
"Frankie over there isn't used to affection, I suppose," Charlie teased, giggling to herself.
Drake looked between the two, narrowing his eyes, unsure of what was happening. That is, until it finally clicked and he placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Are you getting all tense over a woman, Frank?" Drake teased, saying it loud enough only for him to hear.
Frank stood, shrugging his hand off his shoulder and glaring at him. "You keep an eye on the shop and on her," he said to him, sounding more like a threat than anything else. "I'm going for a ride. I'll be gone for a few days."
Before Drake could utter a protest, Frank was marching out of the garage and over to the clubhouse, straight into Fury's office. "What needs to be done to get the Russians off our backs?"
Fury sighed heavily. "Nothing."
"What can we do?"
Fury stood, slamming his fists down on the table. "We can't fucking do anything!" he shouted, falling back in his seat, his head in his hands.
Frank crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at his leader. "What damage have they already done, Fury?"
"They've attacked every single one of our allies. Now, they're all pulling back, they said they ain't gettin' involved with us until our business with the Russian's is over," Fury said. "We're down to just us and I've already got men on runs for other clubs, we're short. We can't go to an all-out war with them, we'll be fucking slaughtered, Frank. My hands are tied. I won't jeopardize my men."
"Then what will you do? Either they slaughter us or they slaughter Charlie. No way in fucking hell am I going to allow them to lay a fucking hand on her," Frank seethed, boiling over with pure rage. "I will go myself and take care of them."
"You will die, Frank," Fury said, looking at him with concern. "You can't go. We can figure something out."
Before Frank could utter another word Tony, the clubs messenger boy, barged into the room, panting heavily and clutching a knife wound to his side. Frank reached out and caught him in time, applying a huge amount of pressure to the wound.
"Shit, Tony," Fury said, already to his side in an instant, holding the young mans face. "What happened, Tony? Tony!" he was unresponsive, choking on his own blood until he went completely still.
"Fury!" Ryan called from the bar, causing the two to rush out of the office and into the open area.
"What happened?" Fury snapped, catching sight of a few more members injured.
"The garage," said Cobra, leaning against one of the bar stools and pouring vodka over his own wound.
Frank was out of there in an instant, running full speed out of there and into the garage, stopping at the sight. All the cars they'd been working on were smashed to hell, tools were everywhere.
"Charlie!" Frank called, rushing down the rows of cars. "Drake!"
He heard a cough and a gasp for breath and rushed to it, finding Drake beaten to shit, lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. Frank cursed and grabbed Drake's head. "What happened, Drake?"
Drake's eyes open and shut slowly, his breathing ragged. "They...they..." he wheezed, taking small and shallow breaths. "Charlie...took...Charlie..." he continued to say weakly and Frank cursed, despising Fury's sound-proof office that hid him from what was really happening.
"Get Eagle," Frank snapped the instant Fury entered.
"I'm here," Eagle said, going to the other side of Drake and setting down his massive first-aid kit. "I got him," Eagle assured Frank, nodding to him.
Frank stood slowly, now covered in the blood of their seventeen year-old Tony and now in the blood of his good friend Drake.
"Frank--" Fury said, placing a hand on his shoulder but Frank almost instantly shrugged it off, snapping his head to him.
"If you stop me again you will be responsible for the death of your entire club and my Charlie," he growled, causing Fury to take a step back. Frank stepped out of the garage, burning with nothing but pure rage.
The devil had emerged from the flames and he was ready to spill blood.
Hey y'all, how's it hangin'? Any-who, ya girl just saw Slipknot at Knotfest Sunday and let me just tell you, that shit was BOMB.
Hoped y'all enjoyed this chapter, stay tuned for the next updates ;) Please continue to comment and vote, it helps me out a lot.
Until next chapter...