“Oh, I’m sorry, please, Dace, come home and be a part of this wonderful loving family. We miss you and very much want you to forget that we sent you away like an unwanted stepchild after our mother was butchered to death.”
“Son of bitch, Ettore! Must you always be so crude?” my father says through his teeth, slamming his cane against the wooden floor with authority until Ettore sits down.
“Why would you ever want to leave this excitement?” Antony whispers to me.
I pull him back to me before he can get away. “I will get you back for this,” I whisper through a tight smile.
“Sit down, Dace, and let’s act like a family for once,” my father says. I sit, and he nods towards me and calls the waiter over to take our orders. I take my time, knowing that, as soon as I finish, I am going to get an ear full about what I should do with my life, and sure enough, it comes instantly. “So Dace, I have checked your trust fund, and it hasn’t been touched in quite some time. How have you been living all this time?”
“I have been doing contract work, Father. I learned some new skills to go along with my degree and the combination has helped me advance quickly,” I say, causing his eyebrows to rise. My silence on the details lets him know enough. He is smart enough not to ask much else. That’s the way it is in this family—don’t ask the questions you don’t want to be responsible for once you learn the answers.
“Did Antony tell you, Dace, that I am running for governor?” Michael asks.
“No shit.” I sit back, shaking my head. “Trying to finally earn that nickname Father gave you, Michael? I don’t believe JFK was a governor though.”
“Well, I like to be an individual who does things my own way,” Michael laughs. “Either way, I could really use some help. If you’re interested, I could see to it you are a part of my campaign team? Antony has already been a big help for me.” I look at Antony as he widens his eyes with a forced smile. Yeah… he looks excited about it too. I do nothing more than take a deep breath and stay silent. “Come on, Dace, you have to come home eventually and settle down? Don’t you want a family?”
Ettore growls his impatience. “Or you can say to hell with that political bullshit and come work with me and be an honest crook and not a smooth talking piece of shit,” Ettore says unapologetically. I laugh along with Antony even though we are both hushed by our father.
“Either way, both are better places for you, son. You should be with family. Family will always be there for you. This is your home, your heritage; you should be here to help oversee it.”
“What am I? A prince to a kingdom? I am the son of an organized crime family, not exactly overseeing a long line of traditional, royal values,” I say, shaking my head. “I can see it now. I will be dubbed Prince Dace of Holland Hills, given my family engraved Glock, and crowned with a fedora, add a feather just for style,” I say sarcastically, surprisingly causing Ettore to lose his typical above average self-control and laugh out load.
“I see your sense of humor hasn’t changed much, unfortunately. Maybe you should work with Ettore. You two could go out on the road and do standup together,” my father says with a frown. “Dace, you belong here, and your family needs you.”
“Needs me for what? What am I going to do here?”
Michael sits forward. “Calm down and listen before you dismiss your own family. We love you, Dace, and we will support you in anything you decide to do, but we would appreciate your help. I need help with my campaign efforts, and Ettore needs help transitioning into a lead role in the family business. Father, as you know, isn’t getting any younger, and our enemies are determined to prove he can’t handle himself anymore. The same people that killed Wendy and my son are the ones aiming for Father’s head. It’s not been easy the last year, Dace. I think the one thing we have all learned is that we need to stick together in order to get through it.” Michael, the constant politician, works the dead wife and unborn son angle on me. “We know about the skills you have learned with your new … ‘friends’ and we would very much like to use them to our advantage.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You just couldn’t let me go. You had to question Antony to death to find out what I was doing. And don’t say you didn’t because there is only one way you could have found out about what I was doing. Cause there is no way any of your people could have found me. I made sure of it.”
“You’re my son, and I will not apologize for watching over you, no matter how far you run from me.” My father and I have butted heads since I was a kid. I have always wanted to do things my way, and it drives him crazy. You’re too much like your mother! Why do you have to be so stubborn? Just let me help you. He would always say. Despite it all, I love my father, and for some reason, even after everything he has done, I believe he loves me. My father has, for a long time, been the most feared and revered man around, but even after being gone for as long as I have, I can tell something is not right with him. “We … I would like for you to stay at least a little while longer,” he says solemnly before concentrating on his food, not that he is eating much. I watch him as sadness exudes from his whole being. My frustration and anger suddenly turn to concern, another trait of my mother’s I could never break from—caring about others even when I don’t have a reason to.
“Dace, we are only asking that you…” Michael begins again.
“I’ll stay,” I say, causing them all to look up at me with wide eyes, but I lock eyes with my father. “I’ll stay, just tell me what you need me to do to help.” My father fights his smile for as long as he can before looking away with a tear in his eyes.
Chapter 6
Austin
I remember that moment perfectly, the exact moment my mother’s expression changed and my life changed forever with it. That moment when my mother walked into the house and seemed noticeably troubled. It happened so sudden, as if she ran into an invisible wall. I wasn’t sure what it was at the time, but now, I understand. It was the day I recognized the sixth sense, the one that tells you something is wrong, that something terrible is about to happen. The memories of that day haunt me, but I manage to evade their painful grip by working hard and keeping my mind as occupied as possible. It’s when I go to sleep that the memories are too hard to fight off. I do my best to relax and think about better things—how I am alive, how I survived, even though my mother didn’t.
She did her best to protect me against the masked strangers. I could barely see through my tears as they raped her, but I saw, clearly, her subtle nod towards the open door. I ran as she wanted me to and ignored the men screaming threats at me if I didn’t come back. I ran until I could safely call for help. It didn’t come soon enough for my mother, but the police arrived in time to save me. Picking me up from a dark corner of my father’s office and wrapping me in a blanket, they carted me away so I couldn’t see my mother as they carried me out of the house.
There were three men. Two were arrested, but the third got away somehow, and I am determined to find him. I have looked at the crime scene photos a million times and my twin brother, Aaron, has done the same. Neither of us can figure out what we are missing. We have finally given up on my father giving us information that will help; he is still bitter about finding out she hired an attorney to file for divorce against him a week prior to her death. Since we are on our own, I decide to take what little free time I have and search the old newspaper files to see what coverage they have of the incident. The local paper only uploaded partial information from their story and stored the rest of the information in their basement library where they allow access, for a price. I pay the guy what he wants and work my way through their horrible filing system to find the right timeframe and, then, the right date. I take out the notes made and read through, finding nothing new. The only thing left are the rolls of film taken at the scene. Grabbing a seat at one of the old film viewers, I begin looking through and make note of some interesting people standing by and watching the crime scene be investigated. One man looks par
ticularly interesting as he talks to a cop from the other side of the crime scene tape. He’s well-dressed and a known criminal. I haven’t seen or heard about him in years, but I remember his picture in my father’s office as one of the many high profile criminals he was able to put in jail. I make note of the pictures I need and look for someone to help me print them.
“Excuse me, can you help me find someone to print these for me?” I ask a man sitting and viewing film himself.
He turns around, and I roll my eyes with a hard sigh. “Ah shit, and I was having such a good day too. What are you doing here?” Dace asks me.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“If you want something printed, ask Shelly over there. She is good at getting things blown up or printed out as detailed as you want them,” he says, hiding his screen from me as I try to sneak a peek.
“You always got something to hide, don’t you?”
“I’m not hiding anything more than you are …” He looks me over as if he can see through my clothes. “Austin.”
I eye him harshly only to receive a mocking glare back from him. He’s not worth my trouble. I leave to find Shelly who happens to be in the corner fantasizing about Dace and twirling the flower he brought for her. I bet he didn’t have to pay a thing to get in here. He looks back over his shoulder at me and smiles, as if he knows what I am thinking.
The man in the picture has been dead for years; he hung himself in jail, soon after he managed to stab and kill Rupert Wallis, one of the men arrested for my mother’s murder. His connection to them was obvious, but who was connected to him? I have to know, and apparently, the only man left that might know anything about the man is his son who owns a nightclub in town. Tyson Wallis is not much better than his father. He runs drugs in and out of his club, operates a prostitution ring, and in his spare time, he seeks out women for his own sick desires. My best chance to get close to him and find out all I can is to get him interested in me. I borrow a dress and heels, slowly make my way into the club, and quickly finding a bar seat before I fall on my face in these ridiculous high heels. These types of outfits are not my usual, but I cross my legs and make myself available to the man I spot laughing with some associates across the room.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“No, thanks. I‘m not interested,” I say to the man who sits down next to me.
“Oh, I know that. You have made that clear more than once.” I slowly look over, and Dace smiles wide at me. “You look nice. Who are you trying to impress?”
“Certainly not you,” I say, causing him to laugh. I shake off the nuisance and go back to working my womanly assets to get Tyson’s attention.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dace asks.
“Would you stop bothering me?! I am interested in someone else.”
“Well, you aren’t going to get his attention doing that.”
“And how would you know?”
“I am a man.” Dace looks over his shoulder at Tyson and shakes his head at me. “Are you after him? Seriously? You need to stay away from him; he’s not your type.”
“I don’t need your advice, thank you very much. I know what I am doing,” I say, looking back at Tyson who suddenly is watching me. Hmmm.
“He’s watching you, isn’t he?” Dace says proudly as he tosses a few peanuts into his mouth. “Men want what they can’t have. If he thinks I am about to score with you, then he, of course, suddenly becomes more interested in you.” I smile, turn my whole body towards Dace, and begin flirting openly with him. “Oh my God, please stop.”
“Come on, I know you want me, Dace.”
“I what? No. No, please stop doing whatever that is you’re doing.”
I move in closer and nearly trip over my heels but manage to get a hold of the bar to steady myself. “Come on, Dace. I could make you feel so good if you would just let me …” I push into him, losing my grip on the bar and falling into his lap.
He sits me back up on my stool. “You are so bad at this. I mean, I have seen some horrible flirting before, but you, you are the worst. You need to just sit there and cross your pretty legs, smile, and don’t move, that’s your best bet at this point.”
“If it wasn’t for these shoes, I would be just fine.”
Dace looks down at my shoes and back up again. “Oh yeah, clearly they’re the problem,” he says sarcastically. “Although, they are women’s shoes,” he laughs, looking away from me. I ball my hand up in a fist, punch him off his stool, and smile with pride when he nearly stumbles to the floor. “Watch it, Blondie, or I will take that stool you’re resting on and force you to walk in those shoes,” he huffs, sitting back on his stool. I kick his seat and nearly send him tumbling again.
“Oh don’t be mad. I was only teasing. Isn’t that what women do … tease men?”
“Not the way you do it, Mister.” I steady myself to punch him, but he catches my fist and knocks my stool out from under me. I stumble around, trying to reclaim my perch, but I can’t get my balance enough to fight for it back. Dace laughs until two bodyguards come up. “Oh, it’s okay gentlemen. We are only teasing each other,” Dace says while placing my stool back down in front of me.
“It looks like more than teasing. We are going to have to ask you both to leave,” the bigger of the two men says, helping me up and nodding towards Dace to move forward. Dace tosses some money at the bartender and helps me walk out of the stupid club.
I curse under my breath until we reach my car, and I jerk my arm away from him and lean against the car to take my stupid shoes off. “What were you doing here anyway?”
“Not that it is any of your business, but I was meeting someone for a drink. Now I have to find a way back to my bike, and since you caused me to get kicked out, you can take me.”
“Why me?”
“Because my bike is at your building anyway. And before you ask, I left it there when I went to meet up with Antony this morning.” He takes my keys and opens the car door, sliding into the passenger seat.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I yell.
He shamelessly starts my car and rolls down the window. “Can you curse the world later? I have places to be.”
After some harsh words exchanged between the two of us, I drive the dumbass back to my place and believe our night together to be over, except he keeps following me. “Why are you following me?”
“Antony is here, and he said Preston is having a party that he wants me to come to,” Dace says, fighting his smile, knowing I am not at all happy about the idea.
“Come on,” I growl at him. I walk into my place and find a group of Preston’s friends having a good time and welcoming Dace right into my home.
“Oh Austin! I thought you said you would be out late, so I …” Preston begins apologizing as soon as he sees me.
“It’s fine. I’m going to go to bed anyway.” I sigh deeply, walking into my room and freeing myself from the constricting dress I will never borrow again. After a hot shower, I climb into bed ready to pass out and have no trouble doing so, despite the music and the boisterous conversations people are having outside my door. It’s been a long day, and I hope I can get plenty of sleep before I have to be at work tomorrow.
I sleep well until someone wakes me taking a shower at … 3:33 in the morning! You have got to be kidding me. Preston is taking a shower at this hour? Why is he using the guest bath to shower? He knows that it is horribly annoying when the water hits that rickety old shower door. I get out of bed determined to remind him that it is a week night and I have to be at work in the morning. I knock hard on the door, “Pres, come on, I was sound asleep.”
The door opens, and Dace pops his wet head out with a small town wrapped around his waist. “Sorry, I didn’t know your shower door was loose. I’m done now.”
“Why …” I clear my throat, trying to avoid looking down. “Why are you here … wet and … here?”
“The party ran late, and Preston said I could crash unti
l morning. You don’t mind, do you? I promise I won’t shoot or steal from anyone … while they sleep anyway.” He smiles, looking me over. “You sleep in that? Nice,” he says, reminding me of the tank top and panty outfit I settled on when I could find nothing else better clean.
“It was clean, and …” I glance down to catch my breath and see what I had been trying to avoid. Wow, the outline in his towel has my head spinning with curiosity.
“Excuse me, are we done here? I would like to dry off and get to sleep. Unless you would like to continue staring at me?”
I snap my head up, “I am not staring I am thinking about whether it’s the best idea that you sleep here. You really should find your own place and sleep there.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t rolls your eyes at me. This is my place, and I have a right to decide who sleeps where.”
He steps out and towards me until he backs me up against a wall. He leans into me with the water dripping off his skin and onto my chest, tickling as it runs down in between my breasts. I take a quick breath and look up into his eyes.
“Hi?” he says as if I just noticed him.
“Hi.”
He nods with a smile. “Austin?”
“Yeah?” I breathe.
“Where would you like for me to sleep?” he asks, playing with my hair.
I am pretty sure my heart is going to race right out of my body, but I can’t seem to catch my breath enough to slow it down. However, I am stronger than he thinks. “The sofa will be fine,” I say, ducking under his arm, running back to my bed, and pulling the covers over my head before exhaling. “Wow.”
Chapter 7
Dace
She said get my own place, so I will get my own place, in her building. The dweeb realtor seems less nervous today as he shows me around. Maybe it’s because I shaved or maybe because he has checked in with my bank. The penthouse is wide open, not much in it other than a newly remodeled kitchen. That should probably deter me, but I like the idea of being able to make the place my own, plus the ability to tap into the security cameras easily saves me a lot of time and money. Sure, some of the building residents are “added benefits” shall I say. Unlike my brother, I prefer a place to settle down in and make my own. It’s been so long since I have had an actual home that I am damn well going to take advantage of my forced time here and have one. “I like it. When I can move in?” I ask the dweeb who instantly fidgets with his iPad.