FACE OFF
Goddamn that fucker. When I see him, I'm going to fucking kill him. Pax sat up and stretched dramatically. The couch looked comfortable, but it sure as shit wasn't. Her back was aching miserably. It felt as if someone had stuck a rock into it. She was half tempted to knock down Frankie's bedroom door and make him pay. Just fucking wait until you come out of there, you fuck. Oh just wait. Not giving one ripe fuck, she stripped out of her clothes from the night before. She had hidden a duffel bag in the bedroom where the Donovan kid slept when she was over. She dug out a fresh outfit and carried it back into the living room. She needed to fucking shower, but the bathroom was in Frankie's bedroom and he wouldn't fucking let her in. God she fucking hated that son-of-a-bitch. She should have let him go, should have let Weiz take him out. It would serve the prick right. Yet, she couldn't let it go, couldn't let him go. Frankie couldn't go out like that. It wasn't right. She simply wished the fucker would tell her what he had done that had led to the orders coming down. The bastard never would, though, would he? He would simply leave her hanging as he always did. She wanted the file, wanted to look inside it to uncover his secrets.
The bedroom door creaked open, snapping her out of her thoughtful reverie. The stupid prick was looking for her, making sure she hadn't laid in wait. Well, wasn't he going to be surprised? She dropped her clothes on the floor, just inside the kid's bedroom. She cried out savagely, mimicking some whacked out warrior princess and pushed her way through the bedroom door, knocking Frankie flat on his ass. She stood over him triumphantly, her own height seemingly exceeding nine feet. Naked as the day she was born, she resembled an incredibly starved Amazon woman. She planted her hands on her hips and gazed down at him. The door obviously had missed his face completely. He wasn't bleeding anywhere. Damn it. Should have timed it better. He gazed up at her, his eyes darkening with rage. His face had begun to turn a violent shade of purple. His teeth were gritted together and he was growling at her. Oh yeah. Come on then. Come on Frankie. I've got you. I've fucking got you. If he wanted to fight, by God, she was fucking ready to go. Feeling a ton better, she turned toward the bathroom. She had barely gotten two steps away when she felt his large paw grasping her ankle. He whipped her ankle back with a sharp yank and she was suddenly aware that she was damn well going to fall. She pivoted her hips and landed on her side. If she had fallen on her face, some of her teeth might have gotten knocked out. Oh, you done pissed me right the fuck off, Frankie. She jerked her leg forward, escaping his grasp and whipped her body into a sitting position. She felt the sharp bite of the carpet on her ass. Shit. He has just fucking given me another cocksucking rug burn. He dove for her, clearly intending to beat the hell out of her, but she ducked and rolled away. He recovered easily enough from her evasive maneuver and pitched his body forward yet again. He landed almost perfectly behind her, his arms going around her waist, gripping her. The added weight of his body brought hers down closer to the floor. The fucker caught her. He fucking caught her. She dug her nails into his arms. At first, he didn't move a muscle, but as she increased the pressure, he eventually loosened his grip, cursing her the entire time. She slipped easily away and finally brought her body up to a standing position. He was still down on the floor, gazing at his injured arm. Good. I fucking made you bleed. After a moment, he recovered somewhat and came up to his feet. He went after her again and she caught him with another right hook. She hadn't aimed well, hadn't timed it enough to bring him much hurt. He stood back and caressed his jaw, already sore from the punch he had taken the night before. He wanted to go after her, but as angry as he was, there were only two options available to him: killing or fucking. He had no desire to do either just yet.
"I win," she spat through clenched teeth. Primly, properly, she strolled into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
Donovan was more than tempted to burst through the door and finish the job, but he hesitated. It was just one in a dozen ways that Pax was using to push his buttons. He resisted the urge and backed away. When he had proper control of his faculties, he snagged a pair of pajama bottoms out of the dresser, slipped into them, and grabbed his robe. He made his way toward the living room, grumbling incoherently, as he whipped his arms impatiently through the sleeves of his robe. He didn't bother belting it. He had zero tolerance for anything at that moment, even the simple movement of belting his robe. He started the coffee, banging shit around while he was at it. God. He was on the verge of an explosive temper tantrum, and he was fucking making coffee as if he needed caffeine. He backed away again and leaned against the kitchen sink, grasping the edges tightly, his knuckles whitening from the strain. He took several deep breaths before he felt normal again and when he turned around, he heard Pax moving around in the living room. He clenched his fist inadvertently, once again tempted to take after her again, but he hesitated. She would not push his buttons today. He went back to the coffee maker and resumed his task.
After fifteen or twenty minutes, Pax entered the kitchen, twisting her hair into an impatient bun at the back of her head. She exchanged a brief, cursory glance with Donovan before helping herself to the coffee. He sidestepped away from her and approached the small kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing his legs casually. He caught himself drumming his fingers against the table, but he didn't try to stop the annoying habit from rearing its ugly head. There was some lingering shit between them and they needed to get it ironed out before anything could be done. She turned toward him, coffee cup in hand, and stared at him with little interest. She noticed that he was looking at her, trying to read her. It was no use. She had shut down her mind like a steel trap. If he wanted to probe it, it wouldn't happen today. She wondered vaguely if he were trying to decide whether or not he wanted to take up fighting her again. Any day. Any time.
"Last night, I didn't get much of an opportunity to ask you specific questions. How did you get in here?"
Pax stared at Frankie for a moment and took a sip of coffee. Goddamn. It was better than he was in bed. "I know how to pick locks, okay?" He was about to say something in response, but she held up her hand. "Come on, Frankie. The building superintendent let me in. He knew I was over here before, figured I came to bounce you around the room a couple times, and he was more than willing to accommodate my request." She drained her cup in one long gulp and went for the coffee again. After pouring her second cup of the day, she turned back toward him again. "Actually, I have my ways, and I'm not inclined to tell you. If you want to know, you'll just have to fucking beat it out of me." She approached the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "Frankie, no bullshit, I want to help. I want to help stop this. It won't take Weiz long to figure out I'm here. It won't take long for him to figure out his hit has been ruined. You need to take him out. Get your team involved, let them help pull your ass out of the fire. There's only one thing I wish you'd do. I wish you'd tell me what the fuck is going on inside your head. What did you do, Frankie? What?"
He took a sip from his own coffee cup and gazed at her blankly. "You're so fucking smart, figure it out yourself." Without another word, he slid back from the table and left her.
She stood and went after him. The fucker was going to talk to her whether he wanted to or not, even if it meant beating the shit out of him again. Before she could begin her creative needling process, the doorbell rang. Donovan glared at Pax and motioned for her to get back into the bedroom. Without much fussing, she followed his gestured demands and slipped into the bedroom. Sighing heavily, he went to the door and stuck his eye up to the peephole. Goddamn it. Remy and Stasia. What horrid fucking timing. How could he send them away without garnering suspicion? He had no intention of having his daughter here while this craziness was going on. Sighing again, he stepped back and opened the door.
Remy was smiling until she saw the guarded, shadowed look on his face. Her smile faltered just a bit. "Hi," she said tentatively. "I thought we'd surprise you."
Stasia held onto a huge picture book and she immediately demanded to be given to her daddy. He took the squirming child into his arms and hugged her against him gently. He stepped back so that Remy could enter the room. He had no desire to leave her out in the hall, not with Bobby Weizmulder stalking around out there somewhere. However, he also didn't want her to see Pax. That would open up an entirely new can of worms altogether. She closed the door behind her and started toward Stasia's bedroom. Donovan had no idea that Pax had dropped her bag in there. Remy set down Stasia's little overnight bag and her eyes spied a large unzipped duffel. She had never seen such a bag before. Her nosiness won out and she bent slightly and peered inside. Women's clothing? Ah. She finally understood. No wonder he had given her such a bizarre look. She turned and left the bedroom. Donovan and Stasia were on the living room couch together, and she was trying to coax her daddy into reading her favorite storybook to her.
"Frank? Is there something I should know?"
Donovan looked up at Remy. "I think this is a bad time for you to be here. Something is going on," he said carefully.
She nodded. "Oh, I can see that." He gave her a confused look. "Do you think I don't know what's going on? I saw the duffel bag filled with women's clothing, the type of clothing that your friend is fond of wearing. What's she doing here, Mr. Choose Not to Choose?"
"It's not what you think, Remy," he said quietly as his daughter played happily with her gigantic picture book.
"I suppose it's my cue to enter the room, eh," Pax said [Oh shit, Donovan thought. I so don't want to be here]. "Good morning, Mrs. Donovan. How are you? It's been a long time, so glad to see you again."
Donovan groaned inwardly. He felt as if he were some life-size doll between them, being pulled severely in both directions. He stood with his daughter and carried her toward her room. If they wanted to have a catfight, he refused to be stuck in the middle. After they finished, he'd reemerge, but not until then. Fuck it. He didn't need this shit. Actually, neither woman seemed to have noticed his disappearing act nor did they hear the thump of the bedroom door as it closed. For a moment or two, they stared at each other without a word. Eventually, Pax grew tired of the Mexican standoff, and she went around to the couch and made herself comfortable. Remy went over to a vacant chair and sat down. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the other woman for a long time. How in the hell could she get back into Donovan's life with this woman here? How would she stand a chance? What the hell was she doing back? Had she ever left at all?
"So, I see you're back," Remy began. "For a woman who claims to hate a man, you're sure around him a lot."
Pax snorted laughter. Jesus jumping Christ on a fucking camel, she thought. "Look, Princess Donovan, this isn't some Lifetime movie of the week or some fucking soap opera. It's not fucking All My Hospitals or Days of the Restless. There is no 'oh, you have stolen my one true love' shit. There's none of that going on. In fact, baby girl, I fucking hate drama. I'm here for a reason that has absolutely nothing to do with fucking him. If you weren't so fucking stupid, you'd put your foot down. I'm telling you again, for the hundredth time, and I hope this time, it penetrates your skull. He doesn't want me. He never has. Jesus Christ!"
She settled back into her chair a bit. This would be a long confrontation. "Wasn't he with you before you left? If you left at all? Wasn't he there every day at the hospital, every night at your hotel? Wasn't he? He had to be. He sure as hell wasn't here or at my place. Where was he? I know where he was. He was with you, in your bed, wanting you. Am I wrong about that? Am I? I may a dolt, but I'm far from stupid. We both know where he was. I don't understand why you continue to deny how you feel about him. It's obvious to me. I have to tell you this, face-to-face, woman-to-woman. I love him, too, and I don't give up very easily."
Let me at her. Let me the fuck at her. Nope. She wouldn't do it. She'd sit back and behave herself. She could tear this little blonde shit apart and it wouldn't take long to do it. "If you think for one fucking minute that I'm dueling for him, you are fucking stupid. For the millionth time, I don't want him. He doesn't want me. It's that fucking simple. Take him. Take him today. Take him right now. He's here. He's yours. Fucking do it, bitch, because I'm getting sick of your ass, and when I get sick of people, I tend to lose my gentle nature."
"Do you think it's me? Do you think we're not back together because of my failure to approach him? Is that what you think?" Before Pax could spit out one word, Remy held up her hand. "Wait. If that's what you think, Ms. Paxton, then I'm not the only stupid one here. I've tried numerous times to apologize; I've asked numerous times for second, third, and fourth chances. He won't do it. He won't come back because of you and your hold on him. How can I do anything with your presence lingering around constantly? How can I do anything when he won't let you go? I've asked him to choose and he damn well won't, because he can't. What does that say to you? I don't give up easily," she repeated, "and this time is no exception. One last question, though. Where did you sleep last night? Hmm?"
Pax could literally hear her blood pressure rising. "Somewhere you didn't." She stood up and had the greatest urge to smack the bitch, smack her smooth, cool, blonde perfection. She at first felt sympathy toward this bitch, but now, she felt nothing but rage and hatred. The princess was delving into dark caves that she shouldn't have been exploring, that she had no right to explore. "Say what you want, you fucking doltish princess. I know the score better than you. I have no hold on him. None. You have the hold. You have had the hold all along. You know what? You're an idiot. You fucking lied to him, lied about shit that you shouldn't have lied about. You fucked up your marriage. It had nothing to do with me. Still, you've got the hold, bitch. I'm done with you. If you say one more goddamn word to me, I'm going to fuck you up." She turned toward the kitchen and disappeared inside.
"Are the two of you done now," Donovan asked when the room suddenly got quiet. He hadn't heard much of the conversation, just snippets of words here and there. He had come out to make sure that they weren't choking each other.
"Sure," Remy said. "We're finished. We just had a little girl talk, nothing more than that." [Uh huh, sure, I believe that, Donovan thought]. "So I assume that now is a bad time for the baby to stay here?"
He nodded. "It is. I laid her down and she went to sleep." He caressed the nape of his neck. Migraine City baby. "I'll come see her at your place."
"Okay," she said. "Is she…will she be staying here?"
"She has to for now."
How convenient. "I see." Remy stood and went back to the bedroom and retrieved their sleeping daughter. "When should I expect you," she asked when she moved back into the living room.
"Late this afternoon. I have several things that need to be ironed out," he told her.
"Oh, I can see that," she said, repeating the first few words she had said to him. "Maybe this time, after this is over, you'll be able to make a choice, unless you've made it already."
He sighed and shook his head. "Remy, please. This is insane."
"Is it," she asked softly. "Is it really? When you came over last night and kissed me before you left, I thought 'oh damn, finally.' Yet, you turned me away, and that's all right. It's not the first time and won't be the last, I'm sure. You told me once that I didn't know what I wanted. You know, I think it's you now more than me. I know what I want and apparently, it's unobtainable." She laid Stasia's head against her shoulder and covered her ear. "Very nice seeing you again, Ms. Paxton," Remy called. She turned and focused her eyes on Donovan's face. "See you tonight, Frank. Call first, will you? Goodbye." Without another word, she turned and left.
"I suppose I fucked something up for you today," Pax asked suddenly.
He turned toward her voice. She was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee casually in her hand. "Yes, Pax, you did. You've fucked up lots of somethings. There were a few here and there that weren't your doing. Today wasn't exactly your doing."
"Your kid, she's kind of cute. She doesn't look like you, though." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Frank, I really am. I don't mean to burst in on you and fuck up your life. I didn't want to do it this time, either. I was content with leaving and never seeing your butt ugly face again. If I could change it, I would. But for fucking God's sake, would you please work out your marriage? Would you please fucking take that woman back? Goddamn, just tell her you love her, I know you do. Just go back, go get her, and end this."
He gazed at her curiously. "End what? Us? Are you saying there is an us to end? That's certainly news to me. Why do you insist on this? Why do you insist on pushing me forward? Am I safer to you married?"
"Goddamn, here we fucking go again. Drop it, Frank, and I'll drop it. Would you please put on your fucking clothes and take me to your fucking office? We have an ass to save for crying out loud."
He laughed bitterly. "You know, one day I'm not going to let you off the hook so easily. Prepare yourself, Jonella, because I have every intention of getting answers to those questions I just asked. Not today, obviously, but damn soon."
"Prick," she spat.
He nodded almost respectfully. "Bitch."
He slipped past her and headed toward the bedroom. Pax shivered. She had an all-over body shiver, an 'ew' feeling that totally enveloped her. God, the shit they were saying to each other lately sucked. She didn't like this shit, didn't like this side of Frankie, and didn't like this side to herself. What she wouldn't give for a magic wand to erase the last few months. What she wouldn't give to have a thought in her mind that had nothing to do with Frank Donovan.