“So you can save his sorry ass?” Tex spat.
“So I can save yours, you prick.” Mil pushed against Tex’s chest and then turned to glare at me. “Family sticks together, and I’m the only sure thing you guys got right now.”
“How do you figure?” I snorted.
Grinning, she pulled out a note from her back pocket and handed it to me. It was in Nixon’s handwriting. Holy shit.
“Because,” she sighed, “he left instructions.”
I almost didn’t want to open the letter. Shaking, I handed it to Tex and told my stomach to stop heaving, otherwise I would pass out from lack of food and dehydration.
“What’s it say?” I asked as Tex opened it. His grin grew as he continued to read, until finally he started laughing. I couldn’t tell if it was hysterical laughter—you know, the kind of laughter people get when they’re about to lose it—or if he really just thought the letter was funny. He wiped at his eyes. And handed me the letter.
“See for yourself, but Mil’s coming with us.”
I snatched the paper out of his hands and scanned it.
“ ‘She’s a smart bitch. Protect her at all costs. Where you go, she goes. She’ll help you put Phoenix into hiding. It’s the only way. I’m sorry—for everything. Nixon.’ ”
I laughed, but mine was more bitter, more painful. If I listened really carefully I could almost hear Nixon’s voice in the room, and that sucked. He didn’t deserve any of this.
His entire life had been spent protecting others and in the end, when it was our turn to protect him, when he needed us most—we’d failed.
“Let’s go.” Tex grabbed the keys. I followed him with my head down. I didn’t feel like I could meet anyone’s eyes and not want to shoot myself. Was it just last week that I was contemplating betraying Nixon just because I was in love with what wasn’t mine?
Yeah.
It should have been me. I should have taken the fall, because in the end, Nixon had more to lose and I had nothing. What a freakishly depressing thought.
Chapter Thirty-three
Chase
You’d think I would have calmed down a bit by the time we reached the Space, where Phoenix was being held.
I hadn’t.
I wanted to shoot something—anything.
If a squirrel were to cross paths with me, it wouldn’t end well for it. Hell, if a spider looked at me funny I was going to end it with a bullet.
“Wow, nice setup.” This from Mil as we let her into the room and flipped on the lights.
Phoenix was sitting in the chair as if he’d been waiting for us.
He looked good. Why the hell would he look so good? Hadn’t Nixon been torturing him? And why did his clothes look clean? And why in the hell was he smiling at me?
Before I could process the ramifications of my actions, I stalked toward him and punched him so hard across the jaw that he fell over in his chair.
“Shit,” Tex grumbled behind me. “We’re supposed to help him, not give him a concussion.”
Mil walked up beside me. “He probably deserved it.”
“And more.” I reached down and yanked up Phoenix’s chair, setting it to rights with him still in it. Grunting from how heavy it was, I was already beginning to sweat when his eyes met mine, with a burning question.
“You’re either still pissed about me and Trace, or you have rage problems.”
“I’d bet on both.” Mil smiled at Phoenix. “Hey, brother.”
“Mil.” His eyes narrowed. “You look old.”
“Thanks. You look like hell.” She reached down and squeezed his chin between her fingers, examining his face. When she was done she jerked her hand away, pulled a gun out of her back pocket and shot at his feet.
“What the hell, Mil!” Phoenix yelled.
“Just checking to see how your reflexes are.” She winked.
Tex chuckled next to me. “Is it wrong to be turned on right now?”
I rolled my eyes.
“So.” Phoenix licked his lips. “Who’s gonna do the honors? And where the hell is Nixon?”
“Nixon isn’t your concern.” Voice hoarse, I cleared my throat. “Not anymore, at least. And although I’d love to do the honors and shoot you in the head multiple times, this one over here”—I pointed to Mil—“apparently has information that can save you. Only, by my count she has about ten seconds to spill it before I kill both of you.” I turned to Mil. “So. Talk.”
Mil rolled her eyes. “Chase. Always so dramatic.”
Phoenix exhaled and looked at Mil. “Nothing you know can save me.”
“Watch and learn, big brother, watch and learn.” She pulled out her cell phone and dialed and then said, “We’re ready.”
Within seconds a knock came at the door. What the hell? Nixon always had cameras locked on the place. Any time anyone as much as breathed near the building it would send us a text alert. The electricity was still on, so why weren’t the cameras working? Or the alarm system? Did Mil know about the security?
“What the hell?” I grabbed her arm. “If you’ve double-crossed us, I will kill you, no hesitation.”
She jerked free. “Nixon said to trust me, so you either listen to him or you betray your word.”
Shit. Did she have to use the word “betray”?
I nodded and crossed my arms as she went to the door and opened it.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to see.
Frank Alfero walked in with Luca in tow.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I yelled, about one minute away from charging the man responsible for my cousin’s death.
“Mr. Winter, please control the level of your voice.” Frank patted me on the back and approached Phoenix. “You will still pay for what you did, for what you tried with Trace.”
“I know,” he whispered.
“You will help us… hunt.”
Phoenix’s head snapped up. “What are we hunting?”
“A rat.” This from Luca.
I couldn’t look at him. If I did, I would shoot him and that would just make everything worse. Why the hell was he even still here? It pissed me off that in our world, killing was as normal as eating breakfast. I was supposed to be calm. It was how everything worked. I knew the rules, but damn if I wasn’t itching to end Luca’s life. He’d taken my mom and now my cousin. But what hurt the most was that he’d ruined Trace’s life. I would never forgive him for that.
Maybe he sensed my irritation or just felt the anger I had toward him. He turned to face me. “A life for a life, Mr. Winter. You are lucky that your friend took the fall for the lies told.”
“You son of a bitch!” I charged him but Tex wrapped his arms around me as my muscles flexed in protest, and held me back.
Luca laughed. “Is that how you treat someone who is helping you? Name-calling and empty threats will get you nowhere, Mr. Winter. We work together or we leave you to pick up the pieces of your broken family.”
“Together.” Frank was already taking the cuffs off of Phoenix’s wrists. “We work together, and expose what should have been exposed long ago.”
Luca’s eyes saddened. He approached Mr. Alfero and put his arm around his shoulder. “For what it is worth, I am sorry.”
“So was she,” Frank mumbled. “So was she.”
“Holy shit!” Tex dropped his gun to the floor with a loud clatter. “Holy shit!”
“What?” I hit him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You guys are…” He pointed at Mr. Alfero and Luca. “You guys are—”
“Brothers,” Phoenix grumbled. “They’re brothers.”
I looked at the two of them. How had I not seen the resemblance before? It was uncanny. Obviously Frank was older by a good fifteen years, and they both had the dark hair, though Frank’s was sprinkled with gray. They had the same blue eyes, nose, chin. Really, it was strange to see.
“But…” My mind was unable to work that fast. “Phoenix, how did you know that?
”
“Phoenix made his money as an excellent spy. Didn’t you, son?” Luca spat. “Going through Trace’s things, reading the personal journals. Then, in an instant of trying to discover everyone’s dirty little secrets, you saw something. Something you were not supposed to see. And that’s the problem with spying. Eventually you will be caught.”
Wordless, Phoenix hung his head.
“And your father paid the price with his very life.”
Phoenix shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to go that far. I thought I was helping. I thought that if I exposed him, or at least caused unrest with the families that day, it would buy me time, that they would see that there were so many lies and it was never about my family. And… I was scared, all right? We owed money to him, and my father wasn’t doing anything about it and then when I discovered we weren’t to blame I freaked. I wanted him out of the equation. He was ruining everything.”
“What do you mean? This isn’t about your family?” I asked.
“No.” Phoenix looked like he was shaking. “It’s about yours.”
“Well, shit.” Tex rubbed the back of his neck. “So what do we do now?”
“We’ll be in touch,” Frank said.
Phoenix winced as Frank slapped him hard on the back. “The less you know, the better it will be for everyone.”
Mil stood silently in the corner. Nothing was adding up.
“So, what do we do?” I pleaded. “There has to be a way we can help.”
“Kiss your girlfriend.” Luca winked. “Pretend everything is fantastic, because I promise you, in a few days, we’ll be nothing but a horrible dream.”
“People don’t die in dreams.”
Frank hung his head and muttered a prayer. Luca grabbed his gun and held it to Phoenix’s side.
“ ’Til we meet again.” Luca nodded and stood on the other side of Phoenix as he and Frank walked him out of the room.
“Mil?” Tex asked. “Any other fun secrets you aren’t telling us about?”
She shrugged and then shook her head.
I pulled out my gun and pushed her against the cement wall. She winced in pain and closed her eyes as I pushed her hair back with my gun. “Talk.”
“Not much for talking,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Let me refresh your memory,” I seethed. “My best friend dies a day after he meets you and now you’re letting your stepbrother run off with the guy who killed him? Who just so happens to be holding Trace’s grandfather captive like a damn prisoner.”
I pressed the gun further into her neck, causing her throat to convulse against the metal. “Nixon said to protect me at all costs,” she said.
“And that”—I released her with a jerk and tucked my gun in the back of my jeans—“is the only reason you’re still breathing. If I suspect anything, if you sneak out to meet someone, if you suddenly disappear,” I swore, “Mil, I will hunt you down, I will torture you until you beg me to kill you and you know what I’ll say?”
“What?” She rubbed her throat, tears pooled in her eyes.
“No.” I smirked. “I’ll say hell no and I’ll just keep torturing. I’m protecting you as a promise to my very dead best friend—don’t make me regret it.”
“Anything else?” she croaked, a smug smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Damn, I wanted to strangle her.
“No.”
“Then let’s go home.” She pushed past me, shoving my body to the side as if she had enough strength to take me down. I watched her the entire walk to the car, I watched and waited for a misstep. Nothing added up—she had to be the answer.
Chapter Thirty-four
Chase
When we got home, I was torn between searching for Trace and just letting her be alone for a while. I mean, I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. Guilty, guilty, guilty, my conscience screamed at me.
I should have done something.
But no, I was too stuck in my own drama and jealousy.
And now my best friend was dead.
And the love of my life’s heart was broken. Damn, I wasn’t even sure if she knew where the pieces had fallen, and the worst part was, I still wanted to find every damn one and fix it—fix everything. But you can’t fix what refuses your help, and right now it seemed all Trace wanted to do was suffer.
“Chase?” Trace was walking toward me in the hallway. She looked how I felt—like shit.
“Yeah?” I put my gun on the table and met her halfway. “Have you eaten anything?”
She shrugged. Her eyes were sunken and her hair looked somewhat matted to her head. It looked like she hadn’t showered or done anything outside of staring at the wall since I’d been gone.
“Trace, you need to eat.”
She was like a ghost. If she shrugged one more time I was going to lose my shit. Instead, she did nothing. There was no expression on her face, just emptiness.
Did I get it? Hell yeah, I got it. I was hurting, too, but she was precious; she’d been everything to Nixon. What kind of person would that make me if I let her go down that road? If I let her sulk? This was about tough love—shit, she was going to hate me—but she needed to snap out of it and take care of herself. There was mourning and there was burying your soul with the one you’d lost.
She was doing the latter.
And damn if I was going to let her do it.
I grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall.
“Chase.” She pulled against me. “What are you doing? Chase!”
Good, let her be pissed.
I dragged her into the bathroom and slammed the door. In one swift movement I had the water on in the shower. The bathroom was massive; the rain shower was one you could walk into without having to step over anything. It was the best therapy I could think of, other than getting her drunk, and I was pretty sure that would just make her suicidal.
“Get in.” I pointed to the shower. “Or so help me God I will strip you naked and toss you in there myself.”
She met my eyes. A slow-burning fire radiated from them, and then extinguished as she shrugged one last time.
“That’s it.” I grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her, literally, into the shower, both of us with our clothes on.
Once we were under the water, I held her there. Hot water ran down our faces. She tried to jerk free from my grip but I held her there. Pissed at her for not fighting—for not being strong like I needed her to be.
“Snap the hell out of it, Trace.”
Her nostrils flared, but at least she didn’t shrug.
She tried to jerk away from me again but I held her firm. She started kicking at my shins. I ignored the slices of pain radiating through my bones and yelled, “Who are you?”
“What?” She squirmed under my touch.
“Who. Are. You?”
“An Alfero,” she whispered.
“What do Alferos do?”
She said nothing.
I shook her a bit. “Damn it, Trace! What do Alferos do?”
“We fight!” she yelled and tried to push at my chest. “But I can’t. My heart, it’s broken. It’s so damn broken, I feel like I can’t breathe.” She hiccupped and struggled against me.
“Then breathe in me.” I released her and took off my soaked black t-shirt. “Breathe in my atmosphere because then at least I know you’re breathing. At least then I can hear you inhale and exhale. Trace, I can’t fix what’s been broken, and I’m not trying to take his place. God knows I can’t, no matter how badly I wish I could.”
She slumped against me and wrapped her arms around my neck, clinging onto me so tightly that I could feel her heat through her clothing.
“I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I’ll eat.”
“And what else?” I pried her away from me. “What else are you going to do?”
“Fight.”
“And why are you going to fight, Trace?” I whispered.
She took a deep breath. Water fell across her full lips. “Because that
’s what he would have wanted.”
“Damn right.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it.
She gasped and then, somehow, I don’t even know how it happened, we were kissing. No—we weren’t kissing—I was devouring her.
Was it wrong to be thankful? To be so damn lost in another person that even though what they were offering were their broken and used pieces—you still grasped at them for dear life and wished that somehow if you loved them enough, those pieces would magically fuse back together?
“I’m not him, Trace,” I said against her lips.
“I know.” She sighed into my mouth. “I know.”
Our lips broke apart. Both of us stepped away from one another. Damn if it didn’t feel like a part of me was dying right along with Nixon.
She looked down.
Our relationship was going to be complicated; that much was sure. But I wasn’t letting her go—it would take an act of God for me to let her go.
“Take off your clothes.” I sighed.
“What? No! Then I’d be naked!”
I tried to hold in the laughter, tried and failed.
She swatted me with her hand and then joined in. Tears streamed down her face; I wasn’t sure if they were from amusement or just exhaustion.
“Kinda the point, Trace. I promise I can control my urges. Now take off your clothes, we’ll shower on different sides, I’ll be turned around the entire time. Even though, I have always imagined what you’d look like naked…”
“Ass.” She lifted her shirt over her head.
“Always.” I winked. “I’ll always be an ass for you.”
“How sweet.” She stepped out of the workout shorts she was wearing and stripped herself of the rest of her clothes. And as much as I was wanting to slam her against the wall, I couldn’t. Because I was pretty damn sure the last person who had seen her that way had been Nixon.
I wouldn’t take that memory away from her. I wouldn’t replace it with pieces of me—that, in my heart, would be the final betrayal, so I turned around, took off my own clothes and showered with her.
We didn’t touch again.