Stubborn and in Love (Book One)

The Stroll

It was another late night at the SSR office. I took a bite of my sandwich and flipped through some case files with Jack. Daniel and Peggy were working late on a separate case from the Frankie Russo one.

 "Has he been spotted since the time in Queens?" I asked Jack. 

"No, he's currently off our radar. We'll find him."

 We made eye contact and his expression looked as if he was searching for something within my gaze. I quickly looked away and organized our papers.

"What was your boyfriend like in Atlanta?" he asked suddenly. 

"Oh..I don't really remember him." 

"You said it was serious though and you don't remember him?"

 I shifted in my seat uncomfortably.

 "I guess I've just blocked him out." 

He paused for a moment and sipped his coffee.

 "What about your life back in Atlanta? What did you do around there?"

 "I don't-"

 "What about your family?" he interrupted. 

"Did you have a close relationship with them? Did they know this boyfriend?"

 I shook my head as my brain swarmed with foggy memories. 

"Why are you asking me all these questions Jack?"

 He leaned back in his chair. 

"I was just trying to get to know you more."

 I fidgeted with my pen. It's not that I didn't want to tell Jack about my past, I couldn't. 

For some reason I couldn't remember.

"Well it's late, so I think I should head home" I told him. 

"Let me walk you to your car."

 We grabbed our stuff and said goodnight to Peggy and Daniel. 

"Night!" they said in unison. 

Jack and I walked down the hall and he took my hand in his. We reached our cars and I turned towards Jack.

 "Have you been feeling okay lately?" he said.

 "I've been fine" I lied. 

I had been feeling a little off since this whole case started. 

I didn't want to alarm Jack so I didn't tell him. He kissed my cheek and opened my car door for me. I waved to him as I drove off. I

 hope he wasn't worried.

When I reached my apartment I could tell something was off. 

I could hear soft music playing inside my apartment, but I knew I hadn't turned my radio on today. I grabbed my revolver from my thigh holster and entered my apartment slowly. I looked into my living area when I heard a voice behind me in the kitchen. 

"It's good to see you again, Mel."

 I spun around and pointed my gun at a man disguised in the shadows. 

He stepped into the light and I gasped.

It was Frankie Russo. 

"There's no need for the gun Mel, I'm not here to hurt you." 

"How do you know my name?" I said.

 I tried my best to keep my voice from shaking. 

"I know I did a number on you so don't be ashamed that you've forgotten me."

 "I said, how do you know my name?"

 He flashed a smile at me. I could feel my pulse speed up. His posture, his expression, his persona.

 It all seemed like a hidden memory.

 "I wanna clarify things for you, just lower your gun." 

Something about him made me feel a weird sense of safety. I lowered my gun and tucked it into my purse. 

"Good. So, how have you been?" he asks me.

 "Why are you acting like we've met before? The only time I've seen you is when I shot you in your shoulder. Otherwise, I don't know you."

 A twang of hurt entered his eyes. 

He shook himself and returned to his charming ways.

 "I know, I just wanted to remind you of a few things, Mel. I want you and your buddies to stop hunting me down. It's really putting a damper on my operation. Can you do that for me Mel?" 

"Why would I help you? You're a wanted criminal" I answered. 

"I think you know why." 

He approached me slowly and brushed my cheek with his hand. My breath sped up and his eyes glanced down at my lips. 

The look on his face was filled with wanting.

 He was treating me like a prize he could never win.

I turned my head away from him and took a step back. 

"I don't know you" I stated again. 

"I know, but I wish you would," he said softly. 

He turned on the heel of his leather shoes and headed to my door. He opened it and glanced back at me before slipping out into the hall. I stood stock-still for a moment and then ran to my door to open it. 

When I did, Frankie Russo was nowhere to be seen.