Chase
Dante had done a good job cleaning up the bodies; he was turning into a pro, which a year ago would have worried me. Now I was just thankful I didn’t have to bleach off fingerprints and blood. I moved around the room and froze when I saw a figure sitting at my kitchen table.
Drinking my coffee.
Reading my newspaper.
“Can I help you?” I spat. How the hell did Vic move around so quietly without me knowing? It had always been impossible to sneak up on me, and this guy managed to do it in my own damn house.
He didn’t look up from his newspaper, just grunted out his response. “Think of me like your babysitter.”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Hell yes.” He took another sip of coffee. “Don’t worry. You won’t even know I’m here.”
I hated how true that was; he was only seen when he wanted to be seen. Just who was this guy and where had Nixon found him?
“You’re the size of a bus and drinking my coffee. I know you’re here,” I ground through my clenched teeth.
He set the newspaper down, and his green eyes raked over me as if I was under inspection, and then he leaned back. Two guns were strapped to his chest. “I’m on patrol. That’s two attacks on the Family. Two attacks in one week.”
“I handled it.” I shrugged.
“And if you can’t next time?”
I froze on my way to make coffee. “Then I die.”
“Nixon said you’d say that.”
“Fuck Nixon.”
“He said you’d say that, too.”
I exhaled and pressed my palms flat against the granite countertop. “So what? He sent you because he wants me to live?”
“Apparently,” Vic said in a low voice, “you mean more to him than he does to you.”
“Why would you say that?” Guilt twisted my stomach until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Because…” Vic stood and washed out his coffee cup, dried it, then put it away in the cupboard. “…you touched his wife, and you’re not dead. Instead, he sent you more protection for the home you tried to burn down a few months ago. I wonder why he’s being so generous?”
My expression didn’t waver even though I felt like shit. “Because I’m an Abandonato? Because I’m royalty? Because I’m one of the youngest billionaires on the planet? Because I’m ruthless? Because I’m lethal? Or maybe because I’m Family… Either way, he wants you here, so I won’t complain. Just stay away from Luciana.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “He didn’t prepare me for that one.”
“Excuse me?” Okay, now he was pissing me off.
“Huh.” He rapped his knuckles against the counter and gave me a salute. “I’ll just be doing a perimeter check. My number’s already programmed into your phone.”
“How the hell did you do that?”
“Sergio.”
I rolled my eyes. Bastard needed more hobbies.
He slammed the front door.
Blanketing me in silence once again.
I stared ahead; the windows to the back yard folded out into a perfect landscape. A firepit, salt-water pool, outdoor living area. I scowled. Only the best for the best.
The house had cost me fifteen million to build.
I would have spent my life savings on it, if it would have made her happy.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now!” I pulled my hands away from her face, ready to burst with excitement. She’d said she wanted a pool, so I’d gone a step further and given her an outdoor paradise.
Mil’s jaw dropped. “You outdid yourself!”
I wrapped an arm around her. “I figured you needed your own space, a place to relax… wash blood off your hands.”
She elbowed me in the ribs even though we both knew it was true.
“So, you like it?”
She turned in my arms and took my mouth, kissing me deep, then pulled away. “It’s perfect, just like you.”
I scowled. “I’m not perfect.”
“Chase…” She frowned and then gave her head a shake. “You’re impossible to even live with sometimes. You’re so perfect. I can’t even go to the grocery store without women hitting on you, and I’m with you.”
“All I see is you,” I said truthfully.
Guilt flashed across her face; it was happening more and more, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what the hell she had to feel guilty about. Our life wasn’t the best — but it was better than most. We still fought, but we always made up, and that was all that mattered.
“I know,” she whispered. “Sometimes…” her voice cracked. “…sometimes I wish we weren’t married.”
My stomach dropped. “Why the hell would you say that?” I jerked away.
“Because…” She didn’t reach for me. “…you’ve always deserved more than I’m capable of giving.”
She’d never admitted it before, at least not out loud.
We stared at one another in silence.
The truth hanging between us like a fucking chasm.
“Mil…” I reached for her.
Tears filled her eyes. She swiped her cheeks and did what she always did when things got serious. Defaulted. “So, we should try out that pool.”
She stripped naked.
And I shoved the uneasiness from my heart, my soul, and jumped in after her.
I’d always jump in after her.
Always.
The coffeepot dinged. I jumped and nearly knocked over the other mug that was set out on the counter.
For the first time in months, I could think about her and not immediately feel the need to torch the house. For the first time in months, I looked out at the pool and felt nothing but bitter sadness for what could have been, if she’d only let me in.
I exhaled slowly and poured myself a cup of coffee then eyed the pantry. Pancakes sounded good. I could make pancakes.
My hands shook.
I’d cooked once since her death. And it had been for Luciana.
It had always been a sort of self-soothing practice, and when Mil died, I didn’t want to soothe myself. I wanted retribution.
Maybe it was time to try something else.
My chest ached.
I pressed a hand to it and tried to breathe evenly.
Thump, thump, thump.
I shook my head.
Luc was right.
I wasn’t dead inside.
Not yet.
Soon.
But not yet.
I wondered in that moment if Mil would have done things differently had she known her time was almost up.
My time would be.
It was simple logic.
I would wipe them clean.
And I would get taken out for doing it.
Simple math.
Simple all around.
If I only had two weeks to live…
I looked up at the ceiling and smiled as the memory of Luc offering to shoot me this morning replayed in my head.
Pancakes, it was.
I might even get wild and add chocolate chips.