“Shit!” I wailed.
Oh, wow! So I wasn’t dead. I was able to yell. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Let’s not over-do it. “Damn it!” My body hurt like hell. I’d been shot before, but never like this. What the hell type of poison did that man dip his bullets into? It felt like my body was getting ripped apart.
“We can’t take him to a hospital.” Nixon looked freaked.
Should I be freaked too?
I blinked a few times and mouthed, “It’s okay.” Or at least I think I did.
Joe snorted. “Some of us don’t live and breathe the mafia and have to make a living somehow, you asses.”
I wanted to give him a high five but figured it would probably be the death of me — literally.
Somehow, I was floating in the air. Oh shit, just don’t go into the light. I almost puked as I was carried into a car. I nearly shit my pants when the lights turned on because I thought I was getting called home. It didn’t help that the heater was blasting so it felt like the fires of hell were licking my heels, just waiting for me with bated breath.
“Hold on,” Mil whispered near my ear. “Please, Chase, please God, just hold on, can you do that?”
“Yes,” I whispered hoarsely. “Love you, Mil.”
“Love you too.” And then she leaned down and whispered in my ear. “My savior.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Tex
He was dead.
My father was dead.
And my best friend was getting a hands-on demonstration of why the game of Operation was scary as hell.
“How are you holding up?” Nixon asked, handing me a cup of coffee. Chase had been in surgery for four hours already. Somehow my bastard of a father had missed his first shot at Mil, but had succeeded in hitting Chase three times. Once in the lower back, dangerously close to his kidneys, one through the side, and another through the left shoulder. Had it been any closer to his heart, and he would have died instantly.
“I’m fantastic.” I took the coffee. “Just another day in paradise.”
“Please don’t start singing.” He sat down next to me. “I’d probably end up punching you in the face.”
“Sorry…” I muttered. “…lover.”
“Do you ever quit?”
“No.” I sighed. “I’m cursed for a reason.”
“You aren’t cursed.” Nixon swore. “You just talk so much I want to put duct tape over your mouth.”
“Sure came in handy during my captivity.”
“Did you… um…” Nixon lowered his voice as Mil looked over at us with tear-stained eyes. “…find out any more information?”
“Not from Vito.” I couldn’t call him father now. Not even in my head. He’d almost killed my best friend. Besides, it was unfair to give him the respect of that name when his own son was the person who had pulled the trigger.
I’d knocked him over and turned his own gun on him. He’d damned me to hell, and I’d told him he’d be there in a few seconds. I pulled the trigger twice.
I wanted to empty the gun into the bastard, but I’d heard Mil’s scream and I’d known they needed me. The life had left my father, and I’d like to imagine that the world — our world — had finally gotten to him. He’d finally cracked and lost control; he’d started becoming careless and had thought himself a deity, when in all reality, maybe he’d just wanted to get caught, maybe he’d wanted someone to end his miserable existence. After all, you can only live and kill for so long, until you want to be in the cold wet ground.
“Joe was some help.” I sniffed. After Joe had explained to the doctors about our hunting accident, he’d sat in the corner and spilled his guts.
They had been desperate. The feds were sniffing around, offering them deals if they’d give information on the other families.
And then the feds had discovered the prostitution ring.
“It was bad.” I sighed. “Most girls who went through The Cave didn’t make it out alive. The ones who did were sold to the highest bidder and usually dead within the first year. They were all underage — it was why they earned so much money. Underage girls earned more than older women.”
“Sick bastards,” Nixon muttered under his breath.
“It gets worse.” I flinched and explained. “My father helped them get the girls. He wasn’t just finding them off the streets. He was taking them from some of the more prominent families in Italy and then offering them for ransom. If the family could afford the payoff, the girl would be raped and returned. If not, then the girl was sold. The De Langes used it as a way to earn back the money they’d lost.”
“Why would Vito help?”
“He took the girls from families who refused to pay for the protection of the Campisi family. It was to teach them a lesson. Then he’d look like the hero when he returned the girl. Then he’d ask them to keep making their payments. After all, he’d say, it’s a dangerous world.”
“Did Joe try to get out?”
I looked around the corner at Joe, who was sitting next to Mil. “He says the minute Mil’s father told him everything he threatened to come to one of the families.”
“And?”
“His wife was found dead the next day. Suicide.”
Nixon swore. “When will it end?”
I shook my head. “Who knows? But at least the monster is gone. Cut off the head…”
“Let’s hope he was the head.” Nixon nodded. “Otherwise, I imagine more nights like this. We need a vacation.”
At that I laughed. “Since when was the last time you took a vacation? Try never. Do you even know what that means? And you can’t bring your gun.”
“I know.” His eyes were trained on Trace. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Jealously flared to life. Not because of Trace, but because of Mo. I could never have her, and she could never know the real reason. I truly believed myself to be cursed. After all, my father’s blood ran through my veins. That alone made me scum to her. And she deserved more than that; any future children deserved more than that. I was killing the bad seed. Cutting off my own head. I wasn’t going to get married. I refused to have children. It wasn’t happening. It just… it wasn’t.
“I think I may try it.”
“Try what?” I asked, lost in my own thoughts of Mo and how sexy she’d look in a wedding dress.
“A vacation.”
I rolled my eyes.
Nixon smacked me in the arm. “I’m serious. But I think it will be more of a honeymoon.”
“Huh?”
“We are in Vegas,” he muttered then got up and walked over to Trace.
Hmm.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Mil
I wanted to smack Chase on the head then kiss him senseless. I was trying to figure out which one to do first when his eyes flickered open.
“Hey,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Stop eye-screwing me. I’m in a hospital bed and defenseless. Show a little decorum.” His smile was loving as he reached out his hand.
I took it in mine. And burst into tears.
“Aw, baby.” He pulled me close. “Come here.”
“You almost died!”
“I told you I would take a bullet for you.”
“Not funny. You took three!” I sniffled. “You hear that, Chase?” I smacked his arm. “Not funny, damn it!”
“Ouch!” He rubbed his arm. “I did almost die!”
I started sobbing all over again.
“Too soon?” He winced.
“You think?” I wiped my tears and tried to lie down next to him without pulling out his IV. Those things always freaked me out. Blood freaked me out, but only my own.
“What can I do to make it better?” He kissed my hair. “I could sing you a song, but I have a crap voice.”
“Are you on a morphine drip?” I asked.
“Don’t be sad, don’t you cry…” Chase started singing. “Wait, I forgot the words.”
“Because it’s not a real song, and you’re high.”
<
br /> “I feel no pain!” He pumped his fist in the air. “Well, that’s not true. Physically I feel no pain, and yes, for some stupid reason I want to sing to you. What can I say? It sounds like a good idea. But my heart…” He sighed. “Damn, it hurts.”
“Should I call the doctor?” I started to get up, but he pulled me gently back into the curve of his warm body.
“No, I think I know the cure.”
“What?” I whispered.
“You.” His eyes fluttered closed. “I never want to be without you again, okay? And I swear, I’m getting you a damn bulletproof vest after today.”
“That would look too obvious.”
“I’ll freaking wrap you in bubble tape with a bulletproof vest. I don’t care if you look like a circus freak.” Chase snorted. “I can’t lose you.”
“You were the one who almost left me…” I cupped his face. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Fine.” He yawned, his eyes still closed. I traced his strong jaw then dipped my hands into his dark shaggy hair. Even on a hospital bed, he looked like a freaking underwear model with tattoos. “I saw your face.”
“What?”
“I didn’t want to go toward the light.” His brow furrowed. “But I kept seeing your face, and I told myself I would die trying to reach it.”
A few tears streamed down my face before I could wipe them away. “I’m glad you succeeded.”
“Me too.”
We lay in silence until his breathing deepened. I knew he needed his sleep. He’d only gotten out of surgery a few hours before, but I hadn’t been able to wait to see him. He was my life — the other part of my soul. I never imagined love would feel like this — it was wrecking me. Making me feel like I wasn’t the same person I’d been a few weeks ago.
I kissed his forehead and laughed. “Some honeymoon.”
“Viva Las Vegas,” he whispered hoarsely, lifting his fist into the air. I rolled my eyes and bumped it.
“Sleep.”
“Will you be here when I wake up?”
“Always.” I swore. “I will always be there when you open your eyes.”
“Good.” He smiled, eyes still closed, and drifted off to sleep again.
“How is he?” a male voice said behind me.
I knew it was Nixon, just from the way the air stirred around me; he had a way of causing tension to build in a room until you wanted to slam your head against the wall.
“Tired.” I cleared my throat.
“Can we talk?”
“Depends.” I turned around and stuffed my hands in my jeans pockets. “Are you planning on threatening me or shooting me again?”
Nixon’s face broke out into a gorgeous smile, his white teeth sparkling against his dark skin and lip ring. I almost took a step back. I’d only ever seen him save his smiles for Trace, and now that I’d received one, I kind of wanted to keep it forever. It changed his entire demeanor.
“Come here,” he whispered.
Slowly I walked over to the door.
In an instant I was in his arms. He was hugging me tight. After the shock wore off, I was able to relax in his bulky frame. He towered over me. I laid my head against his chest and sighed, feeling the need to cry a bit.
“I’m sorry, Mil.” he said gruffly. “I know my methods may seem a bit insane and harsh, but I needed you to step up, and you did it beautifully. Can you forgive me?”
“Y-yes,” I stuttered, holding back the tears.
“Mil…” Nixon pulled away from me and started shifting on his feet, his eyes flickering to the floor while he sucked nervously on his lip ring. “There’s something I need to give you.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how…” Nixon smiled sadly. “Maybe I don’t want to know. But Phoenix, he, um, he left some things for you. I didn’t know he was the type to keep a journal, but in it, he wrote an entry almost like a letter to you. I ripped it out so you could have it. I thought… I thought maybe it would give you closure.”
He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. “You need to know one thing, Mil.”
I took the paper and clenched it in my hands.
“He would have been so damn proud of you.” Nixon shook his head, his eyes pooling with tears. “He wasn’t right in the end. Not in the end. But he wanted so badly to make things better. He wanted a life for you, wanted to protect you. The things he saw… He couldn’t block them out, Mil. I truly believe God granted him peace for the first time in twenty-one years when he finally took him home. I believe men like Phoenix, ones who do bad things then ask for forgiveness, I believe they’re granted it. We all make mistakes. We all have ugly within us. We’re all capable of acting out in the darkness. What sets people like Phoenix apart is, the moment it truly matters, they finally choose light, and in that moment, their souls are redeemed.”
Tears blurred my vision.
Nixon pulled me toward him again, kissing my forehead. “Don’t doubt that he’s resting in peace — I know for a fact he is. Heaven isn’t reserved for people like Vito, ones who think themselves a god. It’s reserved for the broken, the humbled, the ugly, the unlovely, who finally see in themselves what God had made them capable of when he created them — greatness.”
I nodded. Words weren’t really coming, and I was shocked that Nixon knew me that well — knew that my mind was still conjuring up images of Phoenix living in that type of atmosphere, day in and day out, with no escape in sight. And then to discover that his little sister, step or not, was going to be sold to someone? All in the name of what? Money? Greed?
Nixon nodded and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with a sleeping Chase and a note that was burning a hole through my hand.
I closed the door to the room and walked over to the chair. With shaking hands, I opened the journal entry.
I can’t protect her anymore. I want to. But I can’t. I don’t know what the hell to do. Mil, if you’re reading this, you’re either a sneaky bitch, or I’m dead. What other reason would you have to go through my stuff? You’d want clues. You’d want to know about our family’s history even though I’ve sent you as much information as I can without getting totally blacklisted.
It sucks.
Life sucks.
I’d die happy if I knew you were happy. Funny, I’d always thought of myself as being a purely selfish individual, until my father married your mother. Then this fierceness took over, this desire to shield you from the ugly of the world. Your fifth birthday you wanted a pony and got yelled at for being such a child. Remember? Later that day, I asked Nixon if Mo had any old pony toys. She did, of course, because the girl was obsessed with horses, just like you. I wrapped up two ponies and put them under your pillow.
For five years I did that.
Five years you had ponies under your pillow. You were devastated when you turned ten and found out that there was no such thing as a pony fairy.
I wanted to keep you innocent like that.
I wanted you to always believe in the pony fairy. Funny, because when you discovered it was me — your eyes were as big as saucers, almost like I was your hero, when I knew I would end up being the exact opposite. Things with Dad were getting progressively worse, the nightmares, The Cave. All of it. It made me sick.
And then a girl was brought into the cave who looked just like you.
I lost my shit.
I beat Father within an inch of his life.
That’s when I knew I would have to kill him. I went to Tony Abandonato for help. You know what he did? He sold me out.
I would never be free.
But I knew one day you would. I know I’m getting off track here, but I guess… wow, if I could say a few last words. What would I want to say? Most people don’t get to plan their own funeral, and I know this is depressing as hell. But my wish? My desire? Is that you find a man crazy enough to put ponies under your pillow. A guy that loves you just as you are, a guy that makes you laugh with your whole body. Someone who would si
ng you a song, just because he thought it would bring a smile to your face. A man that would take a bullet for you.
I saved the white horse for last.
It’s somewhere in my room. Who knows if it’s even there anymore? I could be eighty, and you could be reading this now. At any rate. I figured the white horse would be last. For when you got married. I’d give it to the lucky bastard as a joke then punch him in the face for sleeping with my sister.
I hope you found him, sis. I hope you found someone who would make you happy. And I hope you find peace. Spending your life trying to find light within the darkness isn’t in vain — it’s why we have hope. When you’ve lost hope, you have nothing. I lost mine awhile ago. I hope to God you still have yours—
Phoenix.
The sobs started heaving so hard that I couldn’t control the whimpers coming from my throat. I hugged my knees to my chest and rocked back and forth. He’d died too young. He’d made so many mistakes. But he’d wanted — he’d wanted so much for me.
“Mil?” Chase whispered. “Are you okay? Sweetheart? Are you crying?”
He flinched as he pushed himself up onto his elbows and then reached out a hand.
I didn’t need to be asked twice. I launched myself into his arms and sobbed against his chest. I told him about the letter.
And Chase, my Chase, after a few minutes of silence said, “I’m going to find that damn white horse if it’s the last thing I do.”
I laughed. So did he. And it felt good to laugh. It felt good to be free. I said a prayer for Phoenix. A prayer of thanks — a prayer of love.
Chapter Fifty
Nixon
I fidgeted with my tie and slapped Tex’s hands away as I fixed my hair. I looked like a total idiot. A black suit? What the hell had I been thinking?
“You look hot.” Tex nodded. “She’ll totally marry you in this.”