I smiled against his torn and bloody shirt. Pieces of muscled skin were visible through the holes; heat invaded my palms when I placed them on his chest and pulled back to look at him. “Thank you.”
“Wow, you haven’t shot me yet, and you’ve said thank you? Where’s my wife and what have you done with her?”
My grin grew so wide I almost forgot how scared I was. “Yeah well, don’t get used to it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered, his eyes trained on my mouth.
I leaned in first.
He met me halfway.
Our lips were an inch apart, and then a knock sounded on the door. Chase motioned for me to be quiet and went to look through the peephole. With a muttered curse, he opened the door. “Sergio, worst timing ever.”
“Says the guy with two dead bodies outside his door.” A deep male voice said. A hint of an accent was audible, but hardly. Soon, the owner of the voice stepped into the room and held out his hand. “Sergio. And you must be the bride? Or the assassin?”
“Assassin.” I pointed at Chase. “Bride.” I pointed at myself.
“Pity.” Sergio winked, his dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, pieces of it grazed his chin. He looked like he belonged in a medieval novel.
“Pardon?”
He shrugged. “I was hoping you were the assassin. It would make it so much easier on my conscience to steal you that way. But being already married…” He shook his head. “Really complicates things in my book.”
“Why? Because you’re such a rule follower?” I asked sarcastically.
“Damn you, Abandonato men.” Sergio looked back at Chase. “Always stealing the women before I even get a chance to get in the fight.”
“I’ll make it easy on you,” I said. “You would have lost. It’s probably better for your ego that you weren’t even in the ring.”
“Ouch.” Sergio laughed. “Lucky bastard.” He pulled out his cell phone and pulled up a picture on his screen. “Is this the way the hall looked when you arrived?”
“Are you asking me?” I squinted at the picture.
“Women tend to pay more attention to detail.” Sergio shrugged. “If I asked Chase what color the flowers were, he’d probably shrug and say, there were flowers?”
“Right.” I nodded. “And yes, this is how it looked, though I think the flowers were poinsettias.”
“Of course.” Sergio slid the phone back into his pocket. “This particular hotel changes flowers depending on the season. I’ll get my men on it.” He walked toward the door. “I’ll destroy the evidence on the cameras.”
“Try not to kill anyone in the process,” Chase added. “We have enough dead bodies.”
“Haven’t killed anyone in years. I may have forgotten how,” Sergio joked. With another wink in my direction, he opened the door and left.
“He’s—”
“A ghost.” Chase finished. “According to you, he doesn’t exist.”
“Fine.” I shivered and licked my lips. I think my body was still in shock because I suddenly felt exhausted, like I needed to sit down or lose complete control over my body.
Another knock.
This time the person identified himself. “It’s Nixon.”
Chase still checked the peephole to make sure and then opened the door wide. Nixon and Tex walked in with a few other men I didn’t recognize. Nixon quickly instructed them in a low voice to help Sergio with anything he needed, the door soon clicked shut, the last vision I had was of a body getting put into something black.
This shit was real. I knew, because every time I blinked I imagined it would go away. But it didn’t… If anything, it just made me even sicker to my stomach.
The door was closed. I was trapped in a room with the three remaining members of The Elect. My stepbrother had been part of their inner circle once — and he’d paid with his life. Though that was partially his fault. My father had gotten to him like he got to everyone. Now they were both dead, and I was left to pick up the pieces.
And now I’d been given no choice. I’d known I had a giant target on my back. I just wasn’t aware my number would be up so soon.
“Mil.” Nixon paced in front of me. His crystal blue eyes were like laser beams, making me want to shift in my seat. Light reflected off his lip ring with each tilt of his head. Finally, he pulled a chair from the desk and took a seat. He leaned forward, stretching his white t-shirt across his muscled and tattooed body. “I need to know.”
“Know what?”
He chuckled once and then pulled out his gun, aiming it for my head. Shit.
“What the hell, man!” Chase took a step toward Nixon just as Tex’s arms came around him, rendering him useless. Besides, the poor guy was probably ready to crumple after what he’d just been through.
“No games. No lies. We both know I’d shoot you without hesitation. I’ve done it once. I’d do it again.”
“Don’t remind me.” My voice shook. I swore I could still feel the pain of him shooting me in the leg last year when he’d thought I’d been double-crossing everyone. “What’s the question again?”
Nixon smirked. “I’ve always liked you, Mil.”
“Funny, I’ve always hated you.” I smiled sweetly.
“Lies.” Nixon waved the gun in the air and licked his lips. “Your own family wants you dead. That tells me one thing.”
“They’re pissed?” I offered.
“The De Langes are always pissed.” This from Tex.
I nodded in agreement.
Nixon pulled the chamber back on his pistol. It was still aimed at my head. “They’re afraid.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” I nodded to the gun. “Why do you think I asked for Chase to marry me?”
All eyes fell to Chase; he was still unable to move, since Tex had pinned his arms behind his back, but he managed a shrug. “And here I thought it was my good looks and sexual prowess.”
“Don’t forget cooking skills,” Tex added.
“Helpful.” Chase groaned. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Tex kept his firm grip.
Nixon laughed and returned his attention back to our conversation. “You needed his protection. I get that. Chase gets that. But what I don’t get is how you knew you needed his protection, his help. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I don’t care if you’re the last woman alive. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if your heart is pure gold, your intentions totally selfless. I will freaking put a bullet in your head if you put my family in jeopardy. So I’m going to ask again. What. Do. You. Know?”
I had to close my eyes. If I kept them open, I’d see the look of betrayal on everyone’s faces — the absolute shock and disgust that my family were spawns of the devil himself. “Everything.” My voice was hoarse. “I know every damn thing.”
Chapter Ten
Chase
My body relaxed when Nixon lowered the gun. Did I think he’d really shoot her? Yeah. He would. Because I knew it wasn’t just about his family but Trace as well. Hell, he’d kill me if it would keep her safe. And I wouldn’t blame him. I’d probably just look up at him with smiling eyes and tell him he’d done the right thing. Damn, we were a messed up-bunch.
“Everything,” Nixon repeated, nodding his head as he put the safety back on his gun. “What is everything?”
Mil looked at me. Why me, of all people? I tried to give her a reassuring nod.
Her voice was quiet. I hated when she acted docile and compliant; it was so against her character that it pissed me off, making me want to get in a fight with her just so she’d get some of that spark back.
“Sex trafficking.” She swallowed. “My dad was desperate for money. He had a… um, a bit of a drug problem.”
“What drug?” Nixon squinted.
She looked down at her hands. “I think the better question would be what drugs didn’t he have an interest in?”
“So that’s how,” Nixon muttered. “So the family ran out of mone
y really fast, and without our support, it just got worse, I imagine… so he dabbled in prostitution?”
He made it sound like he had it all figured out, but I knew it was just the tip of the iceberg. Mil would never tell him everything all at once; she didn’t work that way. None of us did.
“What we’re dealing with,” she continued. “It’s bigger than just our family, it’s—”
“It’s what?” Nixon asked.
When she didn’t answer, he leveled the gun on her and thumbed off the safety. She rolled her eyes in frustration.
“It’s what?”
“Phoenix tried to protect me,” Mil whispered. “I didn’t know that by taking his protection, by going to school, I was damning him to hell. He was too deep in to see his way out. He found out too much — he discovered the connections my father had made — and by then it was too late.”
“What connections?”
“I can’t say.” Tears formed in her eyes as she looked at each of us in turn. “Please don’t make me say it. Please.”
“Mil.” Nixon’s voice was cold as death. “Please don’t make me force you in front of Chase. Don’t turn me into the villain.”
“Don’t think I’ve ever heard him say please,” Tex muttered.
I think he was trying to lighten the dark-as-hell mood, but it wasn’t working. I debated on whether or not to try to punch him in the throat or just wait until Mil was done confessing, not that I could do anything with my arms pinned, but still.
“Nixon.” Her voice shook. “My family has broken every single one of the rules for the Sicilian Mafia. Every last one. They’ve stomped on them. They’ve spat at them. But worst of all, they’ve decided the only way to get even with everyone is to do the worst possible thing a member can do.”
“Look at another man’s wife?” Tex said under his breath.
“Tex,” we said in unison, all of us clearly annoyed.
“Exposure.” Nixon cursed a blue streak and stood. “Tell me you don’t mean exposure. Tell me your family isn’t hell-bent on flushing every last member of our families out of the country. Tell me they haven’t made a deal.”
Mil lifted her head, tilting her chin in defiance. “That’s just the thing. I can’t.”
Tex gripped me harder. I tried to get free, cursing in the process, nobody moved.
It was their worst fear. It was mine.
Our lifestyle, our legacy, our money — property of the US government, compliments of one of our own families.
That’s where jealousy got you. A shiny seat in prison next to every last family member you used to joke around with at family dinner. Only the De Langes would come out smelling like roses while everyone else burned in hell.
Chapter Eleven
Nixon
She wasn’t telling the whole truth. Every time I questioned her, she bit down on her lip, her eyes always focusing on the floor to the left, and then her body language would change. She’d tap her foot or turn her knees away from me toward Chase.
He was the key to everything.
Because if he could get Mil to trust him with her heart, with her life, with her secrets, then it would be possible to save everyone before the shitstorm hit our family.
He’d hate me for it.
But Mil never had to know, and as far as I was concerned, it was good relationship therapy. Pretend to be in love — hadn’t he done that a few months ago? Only, it wasn’t fake — it was as real as death.
“Okay.” My knees popped as I got up from my seat and tucked the gun back in my pants. “Let’s just say I believe you. Your family’s in some deep shit. You know everything there is to know — the dirty secrets, the lies, and whatever else they have up their sleeve this year. What exactly,” I paused my face pinching in irritation and hatred, hopefully scaring her and getting my point across in dramatic fashion, “is your brilliant plan?”
A rosy blush spread across Mil’s face. “I hadn’t exactly gotten that far yet.”
“Oh?” I raised my eyebrows and gave her a mocking look. “And why’s that? Wedding plans trump life and death situations?”
“Ass,” Chase muttered under his breath. I shot him a glare. He shook his head. Fine, I knew I was pouring salt on a wound, I knew I was making it worse, and it was working like a charm. “Tell me, Mil, were you so focused on yourself — your own worries, your own fears, your own damn plans to have the happily-ever-after — that you forgot all about the lives hanging in the balance?”
Her eyes darted between Chase and me. Then she closed them as a tear trailed down her cheek.
“Pathetic,” I muttered under my breath. “Are you crying because I’m right or because you’ve finally realized you are the last person on earth who should be a mafia boss? After all, you are a woman.” Yeah, had Trace been there, she would have slapped me.
“Go to hell!” Chase shouted. “Leave her alone, Nixon! Damn it.” He fought against Tex, finally freeing himself and then pulled the gun from Tex’s pants, all before Tex knew what the hell was going on. Within seconds, I was staring down the barrel of a gun, Chase’s finger tense on the trigger, his face filled with rage. “It’s been a long night. I suggest you leave.”
“Or what?” I leveled him with a menacing glare, baring my teeth. “You going to shoot me? Threaten me? Kill everyone in this damn room, because I hurt her feelings?” I pointed at Mil and laughed.
Chase’s eyes narrowed. Shit, he was catching on.
I ignored the gun pointed at my face and turned toward Mil. “They will break you. They will find you. And when they do, they’ll pull every last finger from your hand. They’ll waterlog you until you beg for death, and when you finally see the light of heaven calling you home, they’ll damn your soul to hell before you can seek forgiveness.” I paused. “Maybe those are the things you should be thinking about. Forget pretty dresses. Forget the happily ever after—”
“I will shoot you,” Chase said in a cold voice. “If you ever speak to her like that again, I won’t just put one bullet through your head, friend. I’ll put two, just to make sure you’re dead.”
“Not such a good shot anymore, eh, Chase?” I teased then motioned for Tex to follow me out the door. “Seems like you both have a lot to think about. You know, they say the first year of marriage is the hardest.” With that, Tex and I walked out of their room, the door clicking shut behind us. I snapped my fingers; the men already had the mess cleaned up and bodies removed.
Once we were in the elevator, Tex muttered, “Mind telling me what that was all about?”
I waited for the elevator to stop and for our two men to walk out into the lobby before turning and answering. “She needs a family. Someone to trust. It can’t be you, and it sure as hell can’t be me.”
Tex’s eyes widened an inch. “You’re breaking her on purpose.”
“Of course,” I said smoothly as we made our way through the lobby, classical music played in the background. “And we’ll stand by and watch as Chase puts Humpty Dumpty back together again, hopefully saving everyone’s lives in the process.”
The doors opened; the crisp night air was a welcome change from the emotionally-charged hotel room.
“How do you figure?” Tex asked.
“Because in the end, every girl wants a hero, and I just made Chase hers.”
****
For the last few weeks, ever since I’d miraculously come back from the dead — Trace stayed up until I got home. I’d told her I wouldn’t leave her again, but it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t put it past her to sew a damn tracking device in every piece of clothing I owned.
It was close to eleven by the time we got back to my house. The lights were on in the kitchen. I walked in and found Trace drinking wine and playing cards with Mo.
“Who’s dead?” Mo asked without looking up from her card game. “Rummy!”
“Shoot!” Trace took another swig of wine.
They seemed normal, we seemed normal, but we weren’t. Who asked that?
&
nbsp; I walked over to Trace and kissed the top of her head. “Nobody important.”
“Says the guy who’s aged ten years in the past two hours,” Mo muttered.
Trace looked up, her eyes squinting as she gazed at my face. “What really happened?”
“Death.” I shrugged and took a seat next to her. “Lots and lots of death. Hey, you going to finish that?” I stole her wine and drank the rest of it.
“I’m heading to bed.” Tex took off his jacket and stared awkwardly at Mo.
“Okay,” Trace answered her eyes darting between Tex and Mo. The silence was deafening.
“Like right now.” Tex was still staring at Mo, while she studied her cards as if they held the cure for cancer. “As in, I’m going to bed, to sleep, by myself.”
I groaned.
Could they not bring their drama into the house?
“Sleep tight,” Mo said through clenched teeth, slapping her cards hard against the table. “Oh, and be sure to lock your doors. Wouldn’t want any more skanks accidently falling into your bed like last time.”
“Mo—”
“Goodnight, Tex,” I interrupted him and shook my head once. He threw his hands up in the air and stomped off down the hall.
“Well, that wasn’t awkward,” Trace sang.
“Sorry.” Mo slumped in her seat and leaned back, crossing her arms. “I swear I don’t mean to be dramatic, but if that man looks at me one more time, I’m pulling a knife on him.”
“Him or his parts?” I inquired, raising an eyebrow. “We both know you’re a fan of torture… wonder what you’d go with.”
Mo seemed to think about that. “Both. Definitely both.”
“Damn. Mind filling me in?” I reached for the wine bottle and poured another glass. It wasn’t as if I was going to go to sleep any time soon, not after all that adrenaline pumping through my system.
Trace leaned against me while Mo started talking.
“As you know, we broke up.”
I nodded.