Boston Blood

Thirty Four

"Joe, what the fuck are you doing here? Put that down before you kill someone." Frankie yelled ad Joe and bent down to pick up the jug. She needed a second to calm herself down and think about how she was going to get out of this one.

"Don't fucking move you rat bitch." Joe screamed, launching himself a few feet closer to her. She could see his hand tremble slightly as beads of sweat rolled down his face. He was hurting, bad and suffering from a come down. Frankie sighed and raised her hands, which, much to her annoyance, were also shaking.

"Joe, what are you talking about? Why did you follow me here?" She tried to step closer but she froze in fear when Joe fire a round up at the ceiling. Shit. He's actually fucking serious. She looked around her, frantically. There was a knife at the sink behind the bar which the staff uses to cut up lime slices. Maybe she could grab that? Her eyes darted back and forth but Joe responded with a wry smile. "Don't even fucking think about it. In fact, come out and stand in front of me. I want to make sure I can see you. I never fully trusted you and it turns out I was fucking right all along. You're a fucking liar."

Frankie walked from behind the bar with her hands still raised. She could feel the panic rising and couldn't think of a way out. The high she had felt a few moments ago was now utterly consumed by dread and fear. Of all the people that wanted to kill her, she never thought that Joe would be the one to succeed.

"Joe, you're high. You have no idea what you're talking about. I nev-," Frankie's sentence was violently cut short when the butt of Joe's gun walloped her across the face so hard that she collapsed to the floor in a complete daze. Blood splattered the floor in front of her as her spinning head was throbbing in agony.

"Shut the fuck up, you moron! I heard you on the phone after you left the restaurant. I knew something was up the minute you walked into the club the other night. You might be able to fool Tony but I know exactly what you're up to. You're working for them, aren't you? O'Shea and Cillian want to take Tony down, don't they?" Joe's face was turning red with anger and frustration. In spite of herself, Frankie smiled. She couldn't believe she was so fucking careless. She should have waited until she got back here to call Cillian. Now, Joe was going to tell Tony everything and this was the night she was going to die.

She spit out a large amount of blood and her mind was immediately cast back to that night in Tony's office. Although she couldn't see straight and the pain was causing her to dry heave, she felt something burn inside her. She had come this far, she was so close and wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Answer me, you cunt!" Joe spat as he kicked Frankie in the stomach, knocking the wind out from her. She rolled over onto her side, heaving for air. Joe laughed as he walked towards the bar and leaned over it, grabbing the nearest bottle of booze her could find. He opened the bottle of vodka and took a large swig. Frankie groaned in pain and curled herself up into a ball as Joe's hurled the empty bottle across the room.

She could feel him kneel beside her. The overwhelming stench of alcohol right against her skin made her stomach turn. His wet lips were pressed right up against her ear and she recoiled in disgust.

"I'm right, aren't I? Shit. Maybe this will finally be my way back in to Tony's good books! If I tell him that I caught a fucking rat this early on he might actually start to trust me again and forgive me for fucking off with the money that night." Joe sounded like he was speaking to himself more than Frankie. She could almost feel the pride and triumph in his voice as he rubbed his hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing so that she could allow the oxygen to return to her inflamed lungs. "I can't believe you turned out to be a fucking traitor. I mean I knew back then that you were just a worthless whore but I never actually thought you'd be able to pull off something like this. I guess I underestimated you, Frankie. Tony must be still pretty hung up on you. I don't know why, just tits and ass that's it. Never anything in there." He tapped the barrel of the gun against Frankie's head, sharply. She had to refrain from lashing out. It wasn't the moment.