“What?” I groaned. “What could you possibly need?”
Chase sidestepped me. “Good question.” He cleared his throat. “I have an answer for that.”
“I’m listening.” I clenched my fist and watched as Trace leaned in toward Chase, her thigh almost touching his. I was going to totally lose my shit if any part of her body touched his. Holy crap, it was going to be a very long fall semester.
I needed a damn sedative. Shit; now I was taking Tex’s advice? Something was very wrong with that picture.
“Mo is totally sneaking in Tex every single night!”
I rolled my eyes. “That was the news? That she’s been sneaking in her boyfriend every night? She’s an adult. She can—” The wheels turned faster in my head. What the hell, that was my twin sister!
“Wait for it,” Chase whispered.
Trace laughed.
“Wait for it some more.”
I cursed, but there was no use. Images of my twin sister with one of the Elect—my friend and business partner—coursed through my head. Was he touching her? Oh God, was she naked? Did they… “I’ll kill him with my bare hands!”
“Ah, there it is.” Chase clapped loudly. “Well done. You controlled your anger a whole second longer than last time.”
“Last time?” Trace asked.
“When he found out you and I—”
I held up my hand. I seriously did NOT need Chase to repeat to me that he and Trace had shared a bed several times when he was assigned to protect her.
Trace frowned. “When we what?”
Chase shook his head. “Nothing.”
“What; you could tell me but you’d have to kill me?”
“No.” Chase chuckled. “I could tell you but then he’d have to kill me.”
“Solid point.” Trace sighed and leaned back on the bed. “So what are you going to do, Nixon? Run into her bedroom guns blazing and shoot at Tex’s feet like Grandpa did to you?”
“Best day ever,” Chase sang.
“Why are you here again?” I asked.
“Mo. Tex. Sweaty, earth-shattering—”
I didn’t let him finish. Instead I ran out of the room in search of Mo and Tex.
Chapter Ten
Chase
I sighed happily and lay back on the bed.
“You dirty little liar!” Trace hit me across the face with a pillow. Smirking, I leaned up on my elbow and winked. “I wasn’t lying! Besides, it’s a huge security issue if we have Tex sneaking in and out all the time. He should probably just stay here, especially now.” Ah, words left unsaid. I moved a bit away from her and licked my lips.
“What’s wrong?” She sighed and scooted closer to me. “You seem upset.”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Oh, you know.” I reached out and played with a bit of the comforter. “Guns, blood, revenge, typical boy stuff.”
“Boy stuff my ass—what’s going on, Chase?”
“Nothing,” I lied and forced a smile. “I’ll let Nixon talk to you about all the gory and fun details. For right now, just be happy. You’re safe.”
“I may be safe, but I still have to go to school tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I snorted. “And I have to go to that stupid Women’s Rights class. Hell, I should bring my gun. Seriously, those girls get crazy in that class.”
“Admit it; you had fun yesterday.” She pushed my arm. “Admit it now or I’m telling Nixon that you cried during The Notebook.”
“They died holding hands, Trace!” Holy shit! Was the girl seriously going to let that hang over my head forever? At least it made the pain in my heart dissipate, if only for a second.
“Who died?” Mo said from the doorway.
“The old couple,” Trace clarified.
“You killed an elderly couple?” Tex asked as he peeked into the room. The sad part was that he actually looked intrigued.
“Weird. I thought you’d be on the opposite end of Nixon’s gun right about now.” I got up from my seat on the bed and clapped. “Well done. You’ve managed to thwart—”
“Tex!” Nixon’s booming voice echoed through the hall.
Monroe’s eyes widened as she stepped into the room and stood behind me. Right, like Nixon wasn’t already two seconds away from killing me.
“Tex.” Nixon growled as he grabbed Tex by the shirt and pulled him into the room, slamming the door behind him. “Okay, new rules. Everyone listen up.”
Wasn’t he going to talk to Trace first?
“Security is going to have to be tight over the next few weeks. Tex and Chase know what’s going on, but please don’t ask them details. They won’t tell you and you’ll just get your feelings hurt when they deny you information. So please, do us all a favor and just go about your lives. Go to school, eat three square meals, smile at your professors, and let us do what we do best.”
Mo swallowed and looked down at the ground. “It’s that bad, isn’t it?”
Trace’s eyes widened slightly before she went to Nixon’s side and leaned on him. His gaze flickered to mine as he wrapped his arm around Trace and pulled her close. “Yes, it’s bad, but it’s nothing we haven’t handled before. Because security will no longer let Tex sneak in, he’s going to have to stay here. No way am I allowing either of you to sneak out and have your dirty little rendezvous.”
“They aren’t dirty!” Mo defended, while Tex chuckled and held up his hand for a high five. The dude was playing with fire. Seriously.
“Whatever.” Nixon pinched the bridge of his nose and left Tex hanging. “Just… keep it PG under my roof, all right?”
“Fine.” Monroe breezed past him. “Come on, Tex. Let’s go be PG.”
“PG means parental guidance,” Tex pointed out. “That mean you want to come guide us, Nixon? Or are you good?”
“Ass.” Nixon rolled his eyes. “Just be…”—he waved at them—“careful.”
I winced at Nixon’s helpless face.
Things didn’t get weird until the door slammed and it was just me, Trace, and Nixon. The tension was so thick I started to sweat. I looked at Nixon and then back at Tracey. I could tell she was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. But I didn’t want to be the person to drop that bomb on her. No, that needed to come from Nixon and only Nixon.
“So.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I’ll just be down the hall if you need me.”
Nixon nodded while Trace came up and kissed my cheek. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nixon briefly close his eyes and mumble a curse word. Yeah well, it wasn’t going to be easy for either of us, but it was necessary. So he needed to keep his shit together. What was I thinking? I needed to do that just as much if not more.
Chapter Eleven
Nixon
“Sit down,” I said softly.
“Still ordering me around?” Trace jutted out her hip and glared.
Smiling, I played with my lip ring and laughed. “Sorry, farm girl. Can you please, sit down.”
“Why, I thought you’d never ask.” Trace winked and sat on the bed.
I moved to stand in front of her and reached for her hands. “I’m not sure what I should tell you or what I should keep from you.”
“Do I get a vote?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because if it was up to you you’d know every gory detail. You’d want to know names, numbers, details—everything. And the more you know, the more danger you’re in.”
Her eyes fluttered closed for a few brief seconds before she looked at me through her thick dark lashes. “It’s something really bad, otherwise you wouldn’t be looking at me like that.”
How I could be that transparent with her but totally aloof with assassins was beyond my realm of understanding. “And just how am I looking at you?”
“Like you’re never going to see me again. You’re looking at me like you did when we were kids and I told you I was going to save you. Your e
yes were so sad; it was like you knew what I was saying I wouldn’t be able to follow through with, but you hugged me anyway.”
And maybe that was the problem. I trusted myself, and to an extent I trusted Chase, but Tracey? I wouldn’t blame her if she left me. I wouldn’t blame her if she chose someone who could protect her better than I could. Because the truth of the matter was, my life would never be safe. Our existence together would never be a for-sure thing. Death was my daily reality; it was my burden, not hers and not Chase’s.
Maybe if I was a stronger man, I’d leave her and suffer alone. Maybe if I was the type of guy who put others first—I would walk away from her.
But she was my weakness. I’d make it two steps before turning around and begging on my knees for her to take me back. Which meant I had to trust in us, I had to trust in her.
“Trace, we can’t be seen together right now.”
She jerked her hands away from mine and glared. “Oh no you don’t, Nixon Anthony Abandonato!”
Wasn’t expecting that. I laughed without really thinking, and then she slapped me across the face. It stung like hell. “What was that for?”
“You aren’t leaving me!”
“Did I say I was?” Although my cheek was throbbing I couldn’t help but keep laughing at her response. And this was why I would never walk away. Who would walk away from such a little pistol?
“Oh.” Trace tugged her lower lip between her teeth and sheepishly looked up at my cheek. “You should probably put some ice on that.” I winced as she touched my cheek.
Covering her hand with mine, I winked. “Yeah, well, I’ve had worse. Promise.”
Her eyes welled with tears, but to her credit she kept them all in. If anything I fell in love with her a little bit more. Her strength was so damn sexy, I couldn’t even put into words what she did to me.
I kissed her softly and sighed against her still chocolate-tasting mouth. “Sweetheart, Chase was… well, today he was gifted with a stroke of brilliance. The head of the Nicolosi family talked with us this evening, and he had Phoenix with him.”
I quickly explained to her what had happened, leaving out all the violence, guns, and threats. So basically I censored everything and then dropped the bomb. “You and Chase need to pretend to be together. People will be watching you, they’ll be following you.”
Tracey swallowed and licked her lips. “And you’ll what? Pretend you hate me again?”
“Hell no!” I snapped, grabbing her ass and lifting her until her body was firmly pressed against mine midair. “I’ll just be the friend. Basically, Chase and I are switching parts. He gets to play the boyfriend, I get to play the jackass.”
That earned an eye roll and a laugh from her. I dropped her to the ground and kissed her nose. “If they find out how much you mean to me, they’ll use that against our family and against your grandfather.”
She was silent for a moment. Her hands traced circles around the tattoo peeking out from underneath my white t-shirt. The writing was in Sicilian, but it said, “Every Saint has a past, every sinner has a future.” I had always wondered which I was. The saint or the sinner?
It was Trace’s favorite tattoo, even though I had several down my left arm and a few on my stomach and back. Her favorite had always been that one, on the left side of my chest. She said it gave her comfort. I guess she was using it for comfort right now.
“Okay,” she whispered, “I’ll do it.”
I was waiting to feel relieved, but all I felt was tense. My muscles literally tightened underneath her touch the minute the word “okay” had fallen from her perfectly pouted lips.
“I’m going to apologize in advance, though.” Tracey sniffed as a tear ran down her cheek.
“Why are you apologizing?”
Her eyes met mine. “Because I’m going to break your heart.”
Chapter Twelve
Nixon
Break? It was already broken! Horrified, I watched her look down at the ground, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Nixon.” She placed her hands against my chest. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything.” My voice was hoarse with emotion.
“Trust me. Trust in us. No matter what I say, no matter what I do—and I’ll do some terrible things—know that I love you. No matter what.”
“Kind of sounds like the speech I gave you a few weeks ago.” I sighed.
“Sucks huh?” She laughed a bit and leaned her head on my chest where her hands had just been. “Regardless of what I do, you have to know, I love you, Nixon. I choose you and only you. I’m going to break your heart every day I hold his hand instead of yours. It’s going to kill me to laugh at his jokes knowing you’re dying just a little bit inside. And if he kisses me—I’ll kiss him back, Nixon. I’m going to break your heart—because you’ve given me no other option.”
“I know.” Damn if I wasn’t ready to burst into tears myself. I knew it would be hard—not this hard. “Just do me a favor, Trace?”
“Anything.”
“Think of me…”—I smirked—“not him. When you’re kissing him, do me a favor and just keep your eyes closed so you can imagine it isn’t my best friend and yours. And I swear to all that is holy that if he puts his tongue in your mouth I will cut it the hell off.”
Tracey laughed against my chest. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Godfather.”
“Heard about that… Wanted to give some of the men some entertainment?”
“It was more of a history lesson for me.” I tensed as she kept talking. “Mo said that the writers of the movies had to actually talk to real mafia members in order to keep it realistic. They even had to ask permission to make the movie. Crazy, right?”
Nope, not crazy at all. It was a world people rarely got to see, and if they did they either went blind afterward or wished that God would strike them dead. Living in a constant state of fear wasn’t living—it was hell on earth.
“Don’t pollute your mind with Hollywood’s version of our reality, okay, Trace?” I kissed her head. “Now, let’s go get some of those cookies before Chase eats them all.”
She pulled back from me and linked her arm through mine. “Nixon.” She stopped walking and looked up at me. “Tell me there’s a happy ending.”
“Trace, I—”
“Lie,” Tracey ordered. “Lie if you have to. I just need to hear you say it.”
“Trace.” I twirled a piece of her hair around my fingers. “For us? There will always be a happy ending. Always.”
She squared her shoulders and gave me one silent nod before dragging me out of the room. Hell if I didn’t feel like the world was literally resting on my shoulders—her world, to be exact.
Chapter Thirteen
Phoenix
The room was cold and dark. Hell, I had every crevice, every plane of the wall memorized. Ironic that the very room I used to play in when I was a kid had been turned into my own personal chamber of Hell.
I deserved it.
All of it.
I was too selfish to kill myself, although the thought had crossed my mind more times than I’d ever admit to anyone, let alone Nixon.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness and focused on the door. I knew it was only a matter of time before Nixon came bursting through, guns blazing. At least I was dealing with Nixon instead of Chase. There was a melodrama I didn’t want to deal with—two guys both in love with the same girl—and lucky me, I was the object of both of their hatred.
I would hate me, too. I did hate me. I hated what I was, I hated what I did, I hated what I represented; but most of all, I hated that the legacy I would leave behind as a De Lange was that of an attempted rapist and a rat.
I would hang. And I would deserve every damn second the noose tightened around my neck. Some things can’t be undone—or unseen—and my eyes, they’d seen and experienced it all. My dad had made sure of that. He’d wanted to expose me to the darkness of our family—I prayed for the first time in years, the day th
ey sent Mil away. She was only my stepsister but I would have done anything to save her—anything to protect her from the ugliness that my father was a part of. Because I knew it was only a matter of time before she was brought into his circle. I’d only been sixteen when it happened to me, and I could still see the blood on my hands.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You want me to…”—I swallowed back the tears—“hurt her.”
“It won’t hurt.” My dad chuckled. “I imagine she’ll like it.”
I licked my lips and glanced back at the door. It was hard to see because the lights kept flickering on and off—as if they couldn’t decide whether or not to shine light on the hell I was experiencing, or darken—allowing me to forget what was right in front of me.
My dad slapped the girl across the face. She had two faint bruises on her right cheek and a bloody lip. Her blond hair was matted to her head, and I could see cuts and scrapes all over her body, as if someone had used her as his personal sharpening tool.
“Do what needs to be done, son.” My dad slapped my back. “It’s easier this way. This way, you won’t feel, do you understand?”
I shook my head as the girl’s eyes pleaded with mine. I wanted to shout, to cry, to do anything. Instead I just stood there as my dad explained again.
“Money, son. We need it, our family needs it. Sometimes we have to do bad things in order to get to the good.”
I nodded my agreement and stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep from choking the life from his body.
“So, we sell the girls.” Dad shrugged. “Truly, it is not as bad as it looks. They are sold to very wealthy men who are willing to pay immensely for someone so—young.”
“Young?” I nearly whispered.
“Underage,” he clarified. “Lucky for you, this particular girl doesn’t need to be… pure, if you get my meaning. The sooner you remedy the situation the better you’ll feel about everything. After all, it’s just sex.”