Chase
I couldn’t get the word out of my head.
Or the feeling in my chest when that punk kid had said it.
Newlyweds.
It brought too many memories.
So many memories.
Of her walking down the aisle toward me, Luca holding her arm, her bawling in the bathroom, and me holding her hand. I’d sworn I’d protect her with my gun, with my blood, I’d sworn I’d give all I had to give, all that was left.
The anger boiled beneath my skin, filling my lungs, making me dizzy the more I thought about it, and then Luc had to go and steal it right out of my body by apologizing for grapes.
Grapes, for shit’s sake.
Grapes.
Fucking. Grapes.
I was too stunned to respond right away, and then seeing her stern expression as if she truly believed that if she just acted a certain way, did certain things, watched her surroundings, she would be safe from the world. Safe from me.
It was the biggest lie of all, the fact that she sought me for safety, when I was the one with the gun.
With the anger.
With all the reasons and justifications to end lives.
And yet she was trying to placate me.
Trying to calm me.
As if she could sense that the rage was so out of control I was having trouble not breaking the glass in front of me.
I shoved the word out of my consciousness and continued pulling files from the last few court cases that we’d settled. I handed them over.
She looked down. “Were any of these settled in court?”
I fought to keep my expression blank. “Why would we settle in court when we can settle outside of court?”
“But…” She kept reading. “…if you’ve never really been to court, why is it so important you have a young lawyer?”
“Youth.” I shrugged. “Our guy was getting too old. The job hadn’t been much of a challenge anyway, not when you have as much money as we — I — do.”
“We?”
The five Families.
Mafia.
The bad guys.
Criminals.
But I went with “Gardeners.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t bullshit me.”
“Did you just say…” I leaned forward and whispered. “…shit?”
“Bullshit. There’s a difference, and gardeners don’t get paid billions of dollars.”
“Sure they do. It’s all right here in the fine print.” I pointed to the stack of papers. “I mean, I don’t just garden. I’ve got a few banks, schools, universities…”
Her eyes widened. “Is this the deed to Eagle Elite University?”
“Possibly.” I shrugged. “I thought Nixon had it.”
“You can’t just own a university.”
“Can’t you, though?” I winked, feeling marginally better that she was focusing on the rest of the information and not my past, my black folder, or any of the wills in the corner that were currently burning a hole in my retina.
Every time I looked over at the wills, I started sweating.
I knew what mine said.
I knew what hers said.
I swallowed and walked over to the box. It haunted me, that box, the contents.
The white horse lay down on top of the papers. I picked it up.
“What’s that?” Luc called over her shoulder.
“This,” I held it out. “…is what betrayal looks like. Think of it as a certain swift death. You ever see this outside of your office, know that I’m minutes away from shooting you. Know that you need to run as fast as you can, and pray to God I don’t catch you.” My voice shook as I sat it back down on the top folder, Mil’s Last Will and Testament, and turned.
Luc was completely pale.
“What?” I said gruffly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Wow, two sorrys in one hour…” I rolled my eyes and started walking toward the door; I needed another break.
“I mean them both.”
“Yeah?” I called over my shoulder. “And what’s this sorry about? Your heavy breathing?”
Her answer was swift. “For whatever haunts you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your burden.”
“Something tells me it shouldn’t be yours either.”
The anger was back.
I wanted to lash out, to yell at her to mind her own fucking business, but the damn doorbell rang. With a grunt, I shoved away from the door and ran down the stairs just in time for it to open wide, revealing Dante and El.
“What the—”
They walked right past me. “Sorry we’re late.”
“For?” What the hell? More cars pulled down my driveway, and I groaned. “What the hell, D?”
“You don’t look drunk.” He slapped me on the back and then ran his hands over his buzzed head. Damn guy looked so much like Luca it was scary. It also made the guys want to rough him up a bit, me included; he was too damn pretty. No guy should look that pretty.
El didn’t seem to mind.
Something clanged in my kitchen.
Dante winced. “I’ll just go make sure she doesn’t burn anything down.”
“This house doesn’t burn easily, trust me,” I grumbled.
“Tear.” Dante used his middle finger against his cheek. “Poor sad billionaire can’t burn down his own mansion with his anger, and even matches don’t work. Alright Bruce Wayne, I’ll just be in the kitchen.”
I glared.
Little shit.
Within ten minutes, everyone, wives included, were all seated around the table.
Vic made an appearance from the back yard, making me wonder just how long he’d been doing perimeter checks, and why it bothered me that I never even knew he was around.
He grunted his words rather than speaking them, and he was like two of Tex mashed together.
I sat at the head of the table, Tex at the other end.
The wives scattered in between.
But no kids.
“Since when did Family dinner night turn into date night?” I asked aloud. I’d put Luc next to me for protective reasons only. I didn’t want the guys asking her questions, and the wives were even worse. God save us all from Italian families with the questions and food and questions and food.
I refused to look at Trace.
And she refused to look at me.
Nixon was staring down at his plate as if it was speaking to him.
And Phoenix was drinking wine as if it was water.
He wasn’t a drinker.
Then again, neither was I until I lost my shit.
“Since we all had kids,” Nixon finally answered. “And speaking of kids?” He cleared his throat and nodded to Tex.
Tex had a mouthful of pasta and grimaced. “What?”
“Anything you want to tell me?”
Mo stilled.
Finally, the attention was away from me and on someone else.
I still hadn’t touched my food.
Trace and Mo had brought it so I didn’t have to cook; it was as if they knew that cooking for all of them only brought pain.
So why the hell was I able to do it for Luc?
I tried not to think about it.
Tex coughed a few times and then elbowed Mo who elbowed him back.
“They’re pregnant,” Bee blurted, then covered her mouth with her hands. “Sorry, it’s the wine.”
Phoenix wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, whispering into her ear, causing her face to flush.
God, even the worst of us could still get a woman and make her blush.
Why did I get the rat?
The one who betrayed this.
These people.
My blood.
I stood.
Tex leveled me with a glare.
I sat back down.
Not because I couldn’t go head-to-head with him, but because I couldn’t leave Luc to the wolves.
“How far along?” Sergio asked.
I rolled my eyes. “You would ask that.”
“Bite me,” he snapped.
“Mature.” I lifted my wine glass to him while he flipped me off.
Dante put his gun on the table and pointed it toward Sergio who just burst out laughing like “Yeah, I’d like to see you try.”
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t even sure D had a conscience anymore, but Sergio had age and experience over the guy, plus, he knew what it was like to live with demons.
Sergio and I had more in common than I wanted to admit.
Both of us had lost our wives.
His had been taken.
Mine had made a choice.
The wine went sour in my stomach.
“Fifteen weeks.” Mo grinned at Nixon. “And stop looking so grumpy. Don’t you want to be an uncle?”
Nixon tossed back the rest of his wine. “Yes, but that means you touched her!”
He pointed at Tex, who gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve heard us having sex and this? This is what bothers you?”
Phoenix covered Bee’s ears.
While Dante suddenly choked on his wine, and El patted his back.
Trace grinned at them then locked eyes with me over the table.
Shi-i-it.
I owed her an apology about as much as she owed me one.
“Excuse me.” She stood and dropped her napkin on the table, then approached me.
Everyone fell silent.
Our drama was real.
Our past was shitty.
I exhaled and stood, but not before Luc touched my thigh and squeezed.
I almost knocked over my wine.
She had no reason to be nice to me.
No reason to care.
And yet there it was.
A thigh squeeze.
I wanted to direct the hate I felt toward her; I wanted her to feel the pain that constantly thrummed in my chest, but you can’t hate someone wearing a headband. You just can’t.
I did a double-take when I saw her grab the small pearl necklace from beneath her white blouse.
Fuck me, did she have nylons on, too?
I didn’t have time to look without everyone wondering why I was staring her down, so I followed Trace down the hall and out the door.
I shut it quietly behind me.
It was bitter cold outside.
Neither of us was wearing a jacket.
It made me just as numb on the outside as I felt on the inside, this feeling, the cold seeping into my bones; it was an everyday thing for me. Torn between feeling something and then nothing. Not caring, just existing.
“You were always on my side,” Trace whispered.
I flexed my fingers, shoved them into my pockets, and listened.
“Even when Nixon was a complete jackass to me, even when the rest of the guys were asses, when the world was against me, you weren’t.” She wiped at her cheeks. “I’ve always loved you.”
Hell, not this again.
I almost went back in the house.
“But not in the way you deserved, Chase. And I know you know that. You’re not stupid.”
I hung my head as the past rejection came back, stinging me in the ass. It had nothing to do with her being right, I just hated the reminder it brought.
“I saw the way you looked at her and thought… this, this is how it was always supposed to be, and I think, for a few brief moments, you thought the same. Everything finally made sense.”
“And then it didn’t,” I answered for her.
She nodded. “And then it didn’t. And then I watched someone I love just… lose his light.”
“Bullshit. I’ve never had a light.”
“Like the freaking sun, Chase.”
“Cute.” I rolled my eyes.
“My point is this…” Trace turned to me. “I feel responsible for you the way you felt responsible for me a few years ago, because when you had Mil…”
I flinched at the name.
“…I wrongly assumed you were fine. I turned a blind eye. I justified not asking if things were okay, and I refuse to be the shitty friend again, the shitty person who says they love you but never asks you the hard question.”
“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”
“Was it anything other than sex? Was there a soul connection? Because what I feel for Nixon, it’s in my soul. What I feel for you, well, that’s just my heart telling me that you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known, and if the woman you’re with can’t see that, then she deserves to die.”
“A bit bloodthirsty, Trace.”
“Mafia changes people.” That was her answer?
Warmth spread around me as I stared at her, really stared at her, I wasn’t attracted to her anymore, not in that way, but I did love her, I loved her so fucking much it was ridiculous.
But she was right.
She’d always been right about the way we felt for each other.
Kissing her had felt like… cheating on my best friend, and if I was being completely honest, cheating on the woman who would one day own me the way Nixon owned her.
Sadness came then.
Anger followed closely after.
“Trace…” I clenched my teeth. “…I’m not…” God how did I even say this? “If I don’t get approval from the commission—”
“Don’t say it,” she snapped as tears filled her eyes.
I pulled her in for a hug. “They’ll have no choice.” I grit my teeth against the cold. “I’d make the same one if I was in their position. Just make sure Nixon gives me a clean shot. Suffering sucks. I’ve been doing it for the last six months.”
“Chase!” She beat at my chest with her hands.
I held her close.
She hit me harder.
I clutched her tighter as she burst into angry tears. “You can’t just stand there and tell me that you’re going to give up!”
“I’m not giving up,” I whispered hoarsely. “I’m just being honest with you, maybe for the first time in my life. I swore an oath I mean to see through however I can, and nobody, not even a girl from Wyoming who took down the great Nixon Abandonato, is going to stop me.”
She wiped her tears and shoved me one last time. “I didn’t take him down.”
“You own his heart and his dick. Be honest, Trace.”
She shoved me again, this time more playful.
“Promise me one thing.” Her big eyes filled with more tears.
I nodded.
“Just think about what you’re really gaining by all of this and what exactly…” She opened the door as laughter hit me in the ears and chest. “…you’ll be losing.”
“I’ve already lost it all,” I whispered.
More laughter trickled from in the house, feminine laughter. “Hmm, doesn’t sound like it, does it?”
She patted me on the chest and walked back into the kitchen, leaving me leaning against the door wondering what the hell had just happened and why I actually felt better, rather than worse.