Me: I will gut you from head to toe if you say one more thing, Nixon.
Dante: Holy shit, you’re right!
Phoenix: Good thing we don’t have an HR department.
Does nobody take my threat to Nixon seriously?
Sergio: So you went from threatening to shoot her to what? Threatening with your cock?
Tex: Raise your hand if you shuddered when Sergio said cock.
Me: Raising both hands.
Dante: Ditto.
Nixon: Didn’t even know he had one it’s so small.
Sergio: Cock life.
How had we gone from the commission talk to this?
I wiped my face with my hands.
Tex: Family dinner at Chase’s?
Me: NO!
Nixon: I’ll bring wine.
Tex: I got bread.
Sergio: Salad.
The texts came so fast that by the time I typed out my response, they had already set a time.
In the next hour.
I growled and tossed my phone onto my bed just as Luc walked by. I could feel her sadness; it filled the air, making it hard to breathe.
“Family dinner,” I grumbled.
“After?” She tilted her head and swallowed.
I crossed my arms. “It’s been moved to tomorrow— Umph!”
She’d jumped into my arms and kissed me so hard that I saw stars, and without breaking that hot-as-fuck kiss, started pulling my shirt over my head with one hand and unbuttoning my jeans with the other.
“Is this about the dinner or the commission?” I grinned against her mouth.
“Shut up.” She slid down my body and jerked my jeans to the ground. I sprung free, ready for action, ready for her, ready for… peace.
Her eyes swallowed me whole as she stood and then pulled her shirt over her head. I would die, and soon, but I would die with her name on my lips and a vision of her body in my blood-filled gaze.
I tugged her to me, needing to feel her as my anxiety skyrocketed out of control with the need to claim her, to protect her, to stay by her side.
The war in my chest fanned to life with every kiss, every touch.
She yanked me down to the bed, and when I hovered over her and took her lips in my mouth, when I licked down her body and felt the soft curve of her feet and braced her hips with my hands, it hit me.
If she was giving me everything…
What would she have left?
I grasped her chin with my hand and pressed a kiss to her lips. “No more, Luc.”
I pulled away.
It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, refusing to take those pieces with me to the grave, like Mil had taken mine.
I would never be that person.
Ever.
I stood and backed away slowly, as hurt flashed across Luc’s features. “I can’t.”
“What?” Her face fell. “I don’t understand.”
I grabbed a blanket from my chair and covered her with it then kissed the top of her forehead. “I won’t do it.”
“Do what?” Her lower lip trembled. “What’s happening?”
“I know what it’s like…” I wrapped the blanket tighter around her body. “…to give yourself to someone expecting nothing in return, hoping, but not expecting, only to have that very selfish person take and take and take until you have nothing left. I’ve been taking. And it ends now. It’s the most selfless thing I can think of doing before…” Before I died. “So I’m asking you — no, I’m begging you—” My voice cracked. “—take it all back.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Fucking take all of it!” Pain exploded through my chest at her hurt expression. “Because I won’t do it!” I yelled. Why was I yelling at her? Why? “I’m not like her! I won’t be like her!” I tugged at my hair and then clawed at my own chest. Everything hurt.
Everything.
“Damn it, Luciana! Promise me you’ll take it all back! I can’t do that to you! Don’t you understand me? I WON’T DO IT!”
She stared me down, her eyes brave, her posture straight. “Too late.”
I kicked the chair in front of me then slammed my hand against the nightstand, sending the lamp flying.
“Chase…” Her voice was calm. “…what are you doing in two weeks?”
I crumpled to a heap on the floor, trembling, and said, “I don’t know.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
“The hardest things are always the most necessary.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Luciana
I set the table, anxious to do something after Chase’s outburst. I wondered if the man had even really mourned the loss or had just lost his mind and shot anyone who spoke to him.
My throat felt like I had a golf ball stuck in it, and it refused to budge. He’d left the room, stormed out after his confession, so I’d gotten dressed and headed into the kitchen.
And nearly wept.
The counter.
The fridge.
The floor.
We’d basically had sex on every surface, near every object, and every single time I’d let go in his arms, I’d given him my soul, my heart.
No take-backs.
Had we met in another lifetime, we would have been the story people talked about on social media. Girl met boy. Girl fell for boy. Girl told boy she was going to marry him after the first date.
Boy fell for girl. Boy protected girl. Boy loved girl. Boy told girl he was going to marry her after their first introduction.
I closed my eyes against the onslaught of tears as our story continued in my imagination. I saw it all.
Us holding hands.
Laughter.
Awkward dates.
The kissing.
The sex.
Body sliding against body.
The proclamation.
A life together.
Something I’d done nothing but dream about for years, and the one guy I’d fallen for wouldn’t be here to share it with me. The man didn’t even realize that it doesn’t matter to me if he doesn’t have a heart to give.
Because I have a big enough heart for the both of us.
I finished setting the table then went about fixing a nice red sauce. Chase had so much pasta in his pantry I imagined it was the only food group acceptable to the rest of them.
I added ingredients and turned on the gas stove just as he walked in the kitchen, freshly showered. A white Henley covered his muscles, the tattoos on his right hand peeking out from the sleeves. His black ripped jeans hugged every muscle in his body making him look too good for words.
“Hey,” I croaked.
He didn’t respond, just took a few steps toward me and pulled me against his chest. I would miss this smell.
I wasn’t sure if it was cologne or just shower mixed with lotion, but he always smelled warm and spicy.
I sighed, clinging to him, feeling his muscles beneath his shirt.
He kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry.” His chest rumbled against my ear.
“Me too,” I said.
“You weren’t the one yelling.”
I stood up on my tiptoes and captured his mouth in mine. It felt so natural, kissing him in the kitchen, that I lost myself.
He pressed a hand to the counter and gripped my ass with the other just as someone let out a whistle.
“Vic, I swear I will—” Chase turned and then pulled away from me as if I were diseased.
Trace looked between the two of us then winked. “He get you pregnant with that kiss?”
Chase chucked a towel in her face while I relaxed a bit and smiled at her, and then panicked as I touched my stomach.
Chase frowned at me before turning around to the stove.
Pregnant.
We’d never talked about birth control.
I was on it.
But… we’d been having sex like crazy.
I pushed the thought away and joined him by the sauce.
The others slowly filed in.<
br />
Loudly.
They didn’t do quiet.
Lots of shouting, guns waving, wine bottles getting passed around.
Apparently, that was normal to them.
Chase at least looked happier than last time, until Nixon walked in the room and gave him a solemn look.
Once his back was to me, I lifted the spoon and tasted the sauce, made a face, then added a few more spices.
The room fell completely silent.
I turned to see every single individual staring at me slack-jawed.
“Did you…” Tex pointed at the stove. “…did you just… touch Chase’s food?”
“She’s in his workstation,” Sergio said under his breath, backing away.
“Don’t touch the food — that’s rule umber one.” Phoenix shook his head and tugged at his hair.
“Rule number two, don’t touch the damn food.” Dante crossed his bulky arms.
Even the women looked worried. Trace’s mouth was completely ajar as if I was about to get shot.
I crossed my arms and sighed. “It needed salt.”
They gasped in unison.
“It did?” Chase rounded the corner and winked.
It was like everyone in the room held their breath.
He pulled his gun.
I fought not to grin.
Then set it on the table and pulled me into his arms, kissing me softly on the mouth. “Thanks.”
“What. Just. Happened?” Tex asked the silent room. “Two years ago, I touched the sauce. Chase grabbed a fucking knife and chased me until I swore I would never — and I do mean never — touch his stove again.”
“She’s prettier than you.” Chase winked at me and then turned. “Plus, she went to culinary school for a few years. Knows her shit.”
“We get two cooks now?” Tex seemed to perk up.
And then Chase had to go and ruin it by adding, “Well, at least you’ll be left with one…”
The room fell silent.
I closed my eyes.
“That wasn’t awkward…” Tex nodded. “…not even a little bit. Good job, man.”
“Wine?” Sergio coughed and held up a bottle.
And every single person held out a glass, and if it wasn’t empty, chugged it before he made it to them.
Chase’s fingers brushed against mine as he handed me a goblet.
Food was served.
But I wasn’t hungry.
I was too upset over the fact that the clock was still ticking, and that Chase was letting it run.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
“The thing about the taste of death — you forget what it means to breathe in the life. You forget until it is too late, until you take your last breath and realize how much you miss being alive.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Chase
The room was tense. My family tried to keep things light, but the minute those words left my mouth, things shifted, as if they knew the future.
And that I wouldn’t be present in it.
I hung my head a bit as Tex glared at me across the table.
And then Nixon slapped me on the back and poured me more wine.
I snorted and took the glass, eying Luc over the top of it as she shoved food around her plate, apparently making it look like she was eating when I knew it was complete bullshit.
Her eyes were rimmed with red.
And she looked seconds away from crying.
I jerked my head to her and eyed Nixon.
He stood and stretched. “Big day tomorrow.”
Phoenix followed, and then the rest of them.
They took the hint. They knew me inside and out. All I had to do was flinch and make eye contact, and we could communicate with one another.
My gut clenched.
I would miss that.
My brotherhood.
My family.
And just as my heart stuttered to a stop, I saw blood-red as the guys all said their goodbyes to Luciana.
Dante hesitated in front of her, his eyes searching her face before he looked at me then back down at her. With a bright smile that had me clenching my hands into fists, he grabbed both of her hands and kissed the back of each before leaning down and whispering something in her ear, something that made her skin blush just enough that I wanted to kill him.
He knew the rules.
What the hell was he doing?
When he looked back at me, he winked.
I was going to strangle him to death. Pain laced through me. Why would he do that? What purpose did it serve other than to make me want to reach for my gun?
Nixon stopped next, turned to me, smirked, and kissed her on the forehead. It was a slow kiss, a lingering kiss, as his messy dark hair fell across his forehead, as he reached down and cupped her chin and brushed a thumb over her lips and then patted her on the shoulder like he had a right to touch her, a right to comfort her.
A right to fix what I continuously broke.
I jerked to my feet, my chair tumbling backward.
My chest heaved.
Don’t kill him.
Do. Not. Kill. Him.
For touching what was mine, on purpose, in order to get a reaction out of me.
When he passed me, smug grin still present, he gripped me by the arm and muttered low in his throat, “You do this… you leave her unprotected.”
I tried to jerk free, but his grip tightened.
“You do this, and you leave her to someone else. Her kisses, they don’t belong to you in death, and neither will her body.”
He might as well have just shot me.
My lungs burned, and my chest rose and fell as though I’d just been sprinting through the house, and when my cold eyes met his, I knew, I knew it in my soul. He was using her as a way to keep me alive.
And part of me hated that it was working, that for a brief moment, a life together with her had flashed before my line of vision.
Laughter.
Cooking.
Family.
Brotherhood.
“Think about it.” He shoved me with his shoulder and left us alone in the kitchen, just me and the gorgeous woman that I knew wouldn’t get the happily ever after she deserved.
And I only had one person to blame.
Mil.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
“I hated to admit it was affecting me in a way I didn’t realize it would. He said it would eat me alive. He said it didn’t matter how much darkness I held within. He’d said it would break me. Maybe it already has.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Luciana
My legs felt like lead as I walked down the hall to my bedroom, counting the footsteps behind me, the way he purposefully charged after me as if it was going to somehow fix things between us, between him and the demons he refused to lay to rest.
I squeezed my eyes shut when Chase grabbed me by the shoulders and flipped me around, his mouth meeting mine in a possessive frenzy that had me holding onto his ripped forearms for stability.
His tongue licked its way into my mouth as if I were a lollipop he wanted to savor, to taste, and when it swirled around my tongue, sliding against my warmth, my knees buckled. He had no right, no right to kiss me like that and leave me.
To kiss me knowing that I’d dream of that kiss for years and unfairly compare every other kiss to it.
I opened my eyes as he slammed his fists above my head without breaking the suction, and then he opened his and pulled back, chest heaving. “Who do you belong to?”
My breath hitched.
He slammed his fists against the wall again and screamed, “Who, damn it?”
“You,” I breathed out. “Only you.”
His eyes were crazed. I’d never seen him so out of control, so completely unhinged that I wasn’t sure if he was going to hurt me, himself, or just continue to punch holes above my head.
“And you,” I said bravely. “Who do you belong to?”
His stunned expression was the only answer my
broken heart needed and already knew. “Luc—”
“That’s what I thought.” I pressed a hand to his chest. “I never asked for this, you know. I never asked to take her place. I never asked to fall for you—”
His eyes widened a fraction.
“I didn’t ask to fall in love with a man hell-bent on killing himself, but I did, and you know the worst part?”
“What?” His voice trembled.
“The worst part…” I stood up on my tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “—is he doesn’t even love himself enough to give me anything but his body. His heart? The one still beating in his chest despite his protests… belongs to a woman who refuses to let it go, even in her grave. You pretend like she destroyed you.” I tried to suck the tears back in. “But Chase? The only person with enough power to destroy you — is you.”
I pulled away and walked numbly back to my room, shutting the door behind me then sliding down, hugging my knees as I whispered into the night air, “Good-bye.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
“He was right. Damn it. I watched her tears, watched his pain, and couldn’t look away. I wanted to. I used to be able to. But then again, I’d never seen a love like this — one I was helping destroy for good because of his selfish choice, and in that moment, I’d never hated anyone more — not even myself.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Chase
It all fell down. Collapsed against me — my universe, my empire, my purpose — and all it had taken was one innocent woman to pick up the dark shards of my life and shove them back into my chest again. All it had taken was her. But she didn’t know she was too late. She was just too damn late.
I wanted to run after her, to scream at her, to raze the entire house until it burned to the ground.
But I didn’t do any of those things.
Instead, I stood there.
And stared at her door.
Then pressed my fingers to my mouth, still tasting her there, wanting more and knowing it was the most selfish thing I would ever do — try to take her with me, the way Mil had done to me.
I leaned my forehead against the wall as rage poured through me. I didn’t want to feel this way, I didn’t want to leave her this upset. The commission was set for tomorrow, and the last thing I wanted to do was leave this earth knowing that the final words I’d said to her were that she wasn’t important.