CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Goodbyes are for chumps.
Nixon
"Good God, I forgot how pink this room was." I laughed and looked around the bright pink monstrosity that used to be Trace's room. Pink stuffed animals lined the walls along with wallpaper that had pictures of ponies and castles. I pushed the animals off the bed and lay down. How many times had I done this as a kid? When I'd been afraid of my father. When my ma had told me to go hide during one of their meetings. Trace's bed had been like a safe place for me, and now?
Now it seemed to be the exact opposite. Temptation, lust, everything I wasn't supposed to feel for her — I did. How sick was it that the very thing I was protecting her from… in the end… was me? I was the most dangerous of all, because once I grabbed ahold of something, I didn't release it. And I was holding Trace — no, I was freaking latching on to her. Suffocating her, bent on ruining her, just so I could have her all to myself.
I hated that Chase had been right.
Almost as much as I hated that for the first time in years… I was wrong.
I needed to make the cut, but that's the thing about Trace. Cutting her out of my life? To protect her? Would be like stabbing myself in the heart. It wouldn't be a mortal wound. It would destroy all that was still good within me, bleed me dry; it would end my existence. But for her? I'd do it a thousand times, a million times. I'd die every day… over and over again, repeating the process until she was safe.
"I must have really liked pink." Trace laughed.
"You hated it." I put my arms behind my head and sighed. "In fact, I distinctly remember your mom putting you in a pink dress, and you taking it off in front of the entire dinner party." I left out the part where I'd been beaten for staring.
"Please tell me you weren't—"
"I was nine!" I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Trust me. I was horrified. I thought girls had cooties. I closed my eyes and pointed, though."
Trace blushed a pretty pink and crossed her arms then sat down next to me on the bed. "Rude. You should have saved me."
The air was thick with tension. Oh, how right she was. Did she even know how many sleepless nights I'd had since her arrival at Elite? I'd been worse than a damn stalker. I had freaking turned on her location services on her phone just in case I lost her. Embarrassing, to say the least, when I wasn't just texting in class, but checking the blue dot to make sure she was still on campus. Hell, I would go to the bathroom with her if I could.
With a sigh, I reached for her hand. "I was always saving you. Even when you didn't know I was there, I was saving you."
"Did you ever visit Wyoming?" Her voice was small, as if she was embarrassed to be asking the question. Her hand moved across my chest, and then her head lay across me. The smell of her shampoo was hypnotic. I breathed in my fill and sighed.
"Trace, you're putting me in a hard spot. I can't tell you everything, because it will just make you sad. I can't be completely honest, and it kills me. It makes me want to scream, but I have responsibilities — not just to you — to my family, to your grandpa…" I cursed, feeling totally trapped. How did I convey to her the danger she was in? The danger her family was in? "Everything is pretty screwed up right now. I didn't know you were going to find out this way. Believe me, if I had known, I would have…" My mind whirled with the possibilities, tightening as the pressure of her kiss flooded my mind.
"What?"
I licked my lips and let my mind go there. I let my imagination take me to the place where I was making love to the most beautiful girl in the world. Touching her body, bringing her pleasure, hearing her scream out my name as I made her mine. "…I would have kissed you harder. I would have fought for you more. I don't know. I would have stolen you away, taken your virtue, made myself so permanently etched on your person that every time you took a breath it was my scent that was permeating the air."
Trace's breath hitched.
My fingers danced along her wrist, stopping at her pulse then sliding up to cup her face.
"I never visited Wyoming. My father wouldn't let me, and at that time, I wasn't in charge of anything, so I couldn't bully my way into it."
"When you came to be in charge, you were eighteen?" she pried, probably unable to help it. The girl was too damn curious. Curiosity got you killed in my work. Just another reason for me to lock her up away from me, away from the family, in Chase's arms. Holy shit. I was going to shoot the guy if he as much as sneezed within three feet of her.
I cleared my throat. "Yup. Father wasn't doing well. He wasn't able to make good decisions. He developed pneumonia and was never the same after that. Always out of breath and whatnot. So I took over some of the operations, and then more and more, until I was running everything while he stayed at home and drank whiskey."
Trace winced.
"At any rate, that's done with now." My hand clenched on her arm then released. I still remembered pulling the trigger, was haunted by it even though he was an absolute monster…
"You are nothing!" Father spat, "Anthony, get him out of my sight."
"No," I said in a cold tone. "He doesn't answer to you."
"And he answers to you?" Father threw his head back and laughed then began coughing so hard he nearly fell out of his seat. "I needed a good laugh today."
"Funny." I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Glock. "So did I."
"Nixon…" Father's eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you doing?"
"My job," I spat. "You should know. You groomed me. You made me what I am. You created me… you did this." The gun shook as I held it out and pointed at his head. "Any last words?"
Father didn't flinch, simply looked around the room as the three men with us hung their heads, turned around, and left.
"So…" He nodded. "…this is it then."
"It is." I bit down hard on my lip... requiring the distraction of the pain to remind me that I needed to do what I was doing. "So?"
Father stood, shaky on his knees, and tumbled toward me, his knife high and raised. He sliced across my lower lip, cutting me deep, before falling onto his knees with a curse.
"And the purpose of that?" I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
"To prove a point, son." Father didn't turn; instead, he hung his head as if he was praying. "You will always be marked by me, always controlled. When you look in the mirror at that pretty face, I want you to see that mark on your lip, that mark on your face, and remember. You're. Just. Like. Me."
I moved behind him and held the gun to his head as he lifted his hands into the air. "May God have mercy on your soul."
I pulled the trigger, and he fell to a heap in front of me.
The wound wasn't fatal, but it had caused a divide between us that was bigger than before — wider, bigger. The trust that should have been present was replaced with rage, hatred, anger.
A week later I got my lip pierced. Not to be disrespectful, as Chase always teased, but because it covered what he had done. What he was still doing, charring me from the inside out. When I looked in the mirror, I saw him. Because of that scar, I saw him.
"I'm sorry, Trace," I whispered, bringing myself back to the present as I ran my fingers through her silky hair. I was apologizing for what I couldn't say. For what I was about to do. Killing her would be a kindness. I knew firsthand what the pain of a broken heart felt like when she'd been ripped from me the first time. I didn't wish that type of pain on my worst enemy.
"For what?"
"Not telling you the truth. I knew the day we went shopping, and then, when you took out all that money? Damn, I knew for sure then. I had Anthony do a background check on you. Apparently, Tracey Rooks doesn't exist. So I went through all the Traceys in our school, and there you were — Tracey Alfero, eighteen years old, granddaughter of the second most powerful Mafia boss in all of Chicago. The same Mafia boss that still blames us for his son's death."
"You forget. Technically I have De Lange blood in me, too," she muttered.
"Right. Which means I
really should have killed Phoenix." I itched to end that bastard's life. I scowled and pulled myself away from Trace, getting to my feet. "He can't ever find out who you are. If he does… Trace, he's dangerous, seriously."
She had no idea how dangerous. I'd been watching him closely. He wasn't eating, or sleeping, and all he did was drink. He was losing his touch with reality, and every single time he glanced in Trace's direction, it was with utter hatred.
"We've been keeping tabs on him. He's lost his freaking mind. He's next in line after his father dies, and his father's more insane than he is. I have no doubt that family is into some shady business."
Trace sighed, tilting her head to the side as she twisted a piece of hair around her fingers. "Do I want to know what shady business is?"
No. She didn't. And I wasn't about to tell her all the gory details, so I skimmed over the truth. "Probably the sex trade, cocaine, money laundering — typical things you'd see on TV, but definitely not what this family is about, that's for sure."
Her eyebrows pinched together. "What do you do?"
"A little of this and a little of that." I fought laughter as I watched her eyes narrow. "Nothing too illegal. We aren't desperate for money, unlike some people." I shuddered to think of the De Langes, the deals they'd made with other families in order to continue living the lifestyle they've been used to.
"I'm sorry..." Her chest heaved, and tears glimmered in her eyes. "…for leaving you. I'm so damn sorry, Nixon. I remember. I saw a picture of us when we were little and… I left you! I promised I would keep you safe, and I left you!"
She fell into full on sobs and hugged herself. Heart. Broken. She may as well have reached into my chest, pulled out my still beating black heart, and told me it was beautiful, clean, pure. The love I had for her… the love she had for me? I couldn't fathom it, never in my life had I experienced such a pure emotion. I didn't deserve it or her.
"Trace, sweetheart." I reached for her and lifted her onto my lap so her legs were straddling me "Those were pretty big promises coming from a six-year-old. There was no way you could have protected me or Monroe from him."
Her lower lip trembled. "But I promised—"
"And I promised I'd find the people who killed your parents. So I guess we both failed, Trace."
"You'll find them," she said through her tears. "You won't give up?"
"No." I kissed her cheek and then her lips, my tongue smoothly moving over her mouth, licking up the salt, tasting, and craving so much that I wanted nothing more than to lock the door and throw her against it. She had no idea how much self-control I was practicing by being able to even nibble on her. It was an appetizer, and I freaking wanted the main course.
"I just… Trace, I have to keep order between all the families here. The three families have been just fine for the past ninety years. If something happens… if the balance is thrown off, or, God forbid, if any of the originals hear about the happenings with Phoenix…" Shit, if Nicolasis? Or Campisis knew? We were screwed.
"Believe me, you do not want any of the Sicilians traveling to the states."
"They won't." Her mouth found mine.
I groaned when her tongue tentatively flicked my lip ring.
"Phoenix hasn't done anything yet, and when — if — he does… you'll be there."
I closed my eyes for patience, to cool my lust. The thought of Phoenix anywhere near her undid me. "Yes, but so will you."
"By your side," she confirmed. My heart damn-near broke all over again. Because no, no, sweetheart, you won't be by my side. But you'll be safe. I vow, you'll be safe.
I refused to lie to her face in that moment. There would be enough lies to last a lifetime in the next few weeks. Instead, I found her lips and claimed them both. When she gasped, I tasted her tongue. I sucked. Every movement my lips made across hers, I imagined myself marking her, making sure she knew she was mine. No one else's.
Desperate, I was desperate to show her that she was my life, that even if I did something horrible to her, it would be at the cost of my own heart and soul. Her arms snaked around my neck. My fingers danced along her collarbone then slipped down her sides and slowly pulled up her shirt. One look. One touch. I told myself it was okay, because in the end? I would probably end up dead. And I wanted her. Nobody else, for the rest of my existence. My fingers came into contact with her bra. One pull. And I could rip it off her. Another pull, and her clothes would be gone. Five minutes. We'd both be naked, and I'd make her mine. I'd brand her.
And she'd remember.
Even when she was eighty, and I was dead or gone.
She'd remember that she never belonged to anyone but me.
"Damn." I growled, a war raging inside me.
"What?" She kissed my neck. Girls did not kiss my neck. They wanted to be screwed, but they didn't want anything more. But Trace? She made kissing my neck damn-near more erotic than sex itself.
"Your grandpa's going to shoot me if he finds out I'm doing this right now… I promised…" I sucked down on my lip ring and pulled back, cursing myself for losing such complete control.
Her hands drew circles around my bare stomach. Damn, when had she lifted my shirt? Like I cared. Like it mattered. I closed my eyes and groaned as her hands continued torturing me. "I need you to remember something, Trace."
"What?"
I kissed her softly then braced her face gently within my hands. "When I make a promise, I keep it. Regardless of whom it hurts, even if it means it hurts me or someone I care about the most. Sometimes… sometimes in life we're asked to sacrifice something for the greater good."
"Okay, you're making me nervous. Can't we just make out?" Her smile was wide, perfect, loving. I adored her. I didn't just love her. I adored her. Everything about her. She was too precious. Too precious to screw in her childhood bed. Too precious to mar with my darkness. Too precious for a man like me to even touch.
I wish I could have said something in that moment. I almost did. I almost asked her to run away with me. I had enough money for us to live more than comfortably. I had houses everywhere. But eventually. We'd be found. And we'd be dead. Maybe by then we'd have kids. Having that held over my head? Over hers? I imagined a life without the Mafia. A life where Trace and I had a house in the suburbs. A life where her belly was swollen with my children. Children I would love until my dying day. Damn, why couldn't my father have been an accountant?
I tried to smile. "I love you, Trace. I always have. Just remember that, okay? Hold on to it. No matter what I say or what I do… and trust me, I'll do some terrible things. Just know. I love you. With every fiber of my being." I would beg. I would get on my knees. She had to believe — the love I felt for her was otherworldly. And I'd love her until my dying day. Even if it meant I'd spend my life suffering for her happiness.
Tears clouded her vision as she kissed me hard across the mouth then whispered, "I love you too."
That was it.
All I needed.
Goodbye, sweetheart. Goodbye… my treasure.
"I have to go." I rose from the bed.
"Don't!" Trace yelled.
Laughing, I lay back down on top of her and kissed her mouth. "Trace… your grandfather's not a patient man. Let's not give him a heart attack."
"Seeing us make out would not give him a heart attack," she argued. "You taking me up on my whole virginity offer? Yeah, that would do it."
Holy shit. How the hell was I going to stay calm, knowing someone else was going to be doing the honors? Anytime I even thought about a guy touching her I wanted to pull my gun out and end his life. Damn, I'd do it with such a cheerful smile… Shit, shit, shit.
"Please. Just please don't ever. Trace, you have to promise — shit — you have to promise that no matter what happens, you wait, okay? You wait until it's with someone you love."
Someone like me.
Which meant hopefully… she would wait.
Not for me, since it was too dangerous now. But for someone… someone who would take
care of her. A vision of Chase flashed through my mind. I almost puked. That's what the truth did to you. It made you want to throw up breakfast. If anyone in this scenario was free to disappear? It was him. Not me. Him. And he could… he did… he— It wasn't friendship he felt for her.
Her smile widened.
And my heart broke for, oh, I don't know, the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes? She thought I was talking about us.
"I promise."
I felt my eyes well with tears. When was the last time I'd cried? And now within two days I'd been so damn emotional I was getting ready to cry over a girl. But it wasn't just any girl. I nodded once and sighed when she pulled my face to hers, kissing me across the mouth. Our lips collided, sliding against each other. The friction of my lip ring against her mouth sent jolts of electricity down my body, making it harder to walk away. I slid my tongue into her mouth. One last taste. One last drink.
A knock sounded. I jerked away from her so fast I nearly collided with the floor. Instead, I stood and nodded for her to open the door.
Frank stood, arms crossed, and glared at me. "It's time to say goodbye."
In more ways than one. Huh, old man?
Trace rolled her eyes at him. It was too damn comical to see someone like Frank brought to his knees by a girl.
And then she latched on to my arm, and I was done for. So yeah, with her every breath she brought the scary Mafia to their knees. That was a secret I was taking to my grave, along with her kisses. We walked in silence to the front door. "I'll see you at school tomorrow, Nixon."
I locked eyes with Frank. He shook his head. Damn Mafia.
I kissed her softly, earning a hiss of disapproval from Frank but not caring in the least. He was making me give up everything, and he was right to ask it. I collected my two guns, four knives, and brass knuckles from the waiting security, and pulled Trace in for another hug. "Remember what I said, Trace. Remember."
When the door slammed behind me, I was in a trance, numb from head to toe. I got into the Range Rover and called Chase.
"What?" He groaned into the phone. A girl's laughter echoed behind him.
"You busy?"
"I'm in bed… with… er…"
I rolled my eyes. "You forgot her name?"
"Did you need something?" Chase snapped.
"Trace."
"Is she okay? What happened? Where are you?"
I licked my lips and looked back at the house. The princess was going back to her tower. The dragon, back to his lair. Now it was time for the white knight to ride his horse through the iron gates.
"She's going to need you."
"Are you saying—"
"I'm out." I clenched my brass knuckles in my other hand, needing to ruin something.
"As in… you don't love her, or as in you can't?" Chase whispered.
"As in… Frank's orders go. I'm going to do what he says. I'm going to stay away, which means you have to stay close."
"You know what you're asking me to do, Nixon."
"Yeah. Unfortunately I do."
I sighed heavily into the phone.
"You make me do this, and all bets are off, Nixon."
I swore into the phone. "You don't think I know that? But there's no other way, Chase! Damn it! Don't make this harder than it already is!"
"Fine." He sighed. "For what it's worth. I respect you. I could never, I mean… I—"
"I gotta go," I croaked then pressed End on the cell phone. I stared down at it in surprise as something wet dropped onto the screen.
A tear.
I'd spent my life being a hard ass. The last time I'd cried, I was a little kid. The first time I'd shed tears in my adult life.
Tracey.
For her.