Page 28 of Frankie and the Fed (Untamed Rascals #3)

I spotted Frankie long before I ever got to Eclipse. Her golden classic Studebaker Lark VI wasn’t made to blend in. Just like Frankie herself.

When she entered the cafe, she barely hid how hard she stared at me. Thankfully, Taggart didn’t seem to notice her.

“This better be good,” he had said as he sat across from me in a full suit, a scowl marring his angular face.

Way to blend in, idiot.

“She isn’t at the heart of this. I don’t think she’s involved in it at all, and we still don’t have enough evidence for anything to stick.” I got right to the point, bypassing any names in case someone—Frankie—listened a little too closely.

“Find the evidence—that’s your job. Arrest her and end this,” he said, his voice brokering no argument. Too bad I wasn’t here to negotiate.

“We have nothing. I have my own suspicions about what’s going on and who’s behind it, and I just need more time to prove it.” I countered, clenching my fists so I didn’t reach out and use his tie to strangle him in frustration.

“No,” he said harshly, cutting off any other arguments I could make. He seemed to catch himself and smoothed his tie.

When he looked back up at me, his expression was neutral, but I knew I didn’t imagine the flare of… something, panic maybe, that crossed his face. He quickly schooled his expression before I could grasp what it meant.

“The investigation is over. We’ll handle taking her down. Take some time off and then report for duty in a week. Martin needs help on a case.”

“Martin always needs help. He’s barely competent. This case isn’t over, and she isn’t—” He stood before I could finish my argument, effectively dismissing anything I had to say.

“Don’t question me,” he said as he buttoned his suit coat, his voice hard and just a little too loud for the environment.

I opened my mouth to argue again, but he spoke before I could say anything. “No amount of persuasion will let you keep your job if you keep pushing this.” He leaned close enough that I could smell his mistress’s perfume as he spat the word persuasion at me, making it very clear what he meant .

I gripped my thighs hard enough to bruise, the sting of pain grounding me. I would not make a scene here. Not with her watching, not with her still at risk.

“I knew going with you on this job was a mistake,” he spat before straightening, vitriol written all over his face. I wanted to wipe that look off of it.

I never liked him, but now that he was putting Frankie at risk, I hated him. I’d never wanted to destroy someone so thoroughly as I did right now. My blackmail scheme wasn’t enough for the like of him.

I picture a dozen ways to torture him for putting Frankie in the crosshairs of this, reveling in his imagined screams while I gathered my composure.

“Fine,” I said. I had no intention of taking any time off.

I wasn’t going anywhere, and when this was all done, I was out.

The thought hadn’t fully formed until this moment, but now that it had, it was so obvious that I wasn’t meant for this life and nothing good existed in this job.

I had half a mind to go over to Frankie now, wanting the balm of her presence, but I had no idea who was still watching me. I couldn’t put her at risk.

I left my table, meaning to leave completely, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. If she were here, she was at risk.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I ducked into a room, unsure of what exactly I planned on doing, but knew I needed to stay here, needed to protect her.