Chase
I woke up with a pounding headache between my temples and the all-too-familiar feeling in my chest.
When I sucked in a breath, it felt like my chest cavity was cracking in half; I exhaled and tried to focus on something other than the sharp ache tightening around my body, threatening to tear me apart. The pain of loss was always shocking, severe, and then, suddenly gone.
Followed by complete emptiness.
I slammed my hand down on the mattress and checked my phone. Nixon had called. Frank had called. Even Phoenix had called.
What? Did they think I was dead?
I winced; even the simple movement of turning onto my side had my body ready to heave everything I’d eaten the day before onto the floor.
Had I even eaten?
My blurry vision narrowed in on the massive amount of texts from the guys and then the missed calls.
The only thing that mildly intrigued me was a voicemail from Nikolai, probably checking in to see if I wanted him to kill me.
I’d texted him last week with one thing on my mind.
Death.
Mine.
And he hadn’t tried talking me out of it, just calmly listened as I told him my plan to take out the De Langes as painfully as possible. Once every single one of them was dead?
I had nothing left.
He’d agreed on one condition.
The bastard never said what the condition was, but I figured he would tell me when the time was right.
I squeezed my eyes shut and let the silence of the house surround me; it still smelled like new paint.
The smell made me want to puke. It reminded me of painting; it reminded me of her.
And yet I stayed here.
Haunting her, the same way she was haunting me.
I peeled off my shirt and flipped onto my stomach in an attempt to get comfortable and sleep off my hangover. I was just dozing off into another nightmare of her face as she fell in slow motion to the ground, blood dripping from her nose, when the doorbell rang.
I put a pillow over my head and gritted my teeth.
It rang again.
I didn’t even know it had been installed.
“Son of a—” I quickly put on my discarded jeans. Whoever was on the other end of that door was going to meet a quick death. I grabbed my gun and shoved it in the back of my pants as the doorbell continued to ring as if it was a competition to see how many rings it would take to make my head explode between my ears.
I stumbled to the door and jerked it open. “What the fuck?”
A woman.
Really?
Had the guys really resorted to prostitution? And what the hell kind of prostitute wore a cheap business suit from the nearest mall?
I pinched the bridge of my nose as I leaned against the doorframe. “Go away.”
I couldn’t even look at her fully.
But I glanced enough to see honey highlights, a wide smile, and large eyes.
“What the hell are you smiling about?” I groaned. “I said go away. I’m sure they’ll still pay you for your…” I waved her off and tried shutting the door.
A black and white heel wedged between the door and the frame.
I sighed down at it and said in a low voice, “Listen very closely. I have absolutely no problem burying a body in my back yard. Yours won’t be the only one, and I’m sure the others need some female companionship. If you don’t leave, your only choice will be knife or gunshot.”
“That’s not funny.” Her voice was low, a bit husky.
“Wasn’t joking.” I crossed my arms and finally stared her down. She was pale, her right hand held a portfolio, and she was gripping it so tightly her fingers looked like they were going numb. I frowned and narrowed my eyes. “Why are you still here?”
“You hired me,” she said slowly, and then her eyes widened. “Am I at the wrong house?” She quickly grabbed her phone with shaking hands, dropped it onto the ground face down, then mumbled, “Shoot,” before picking it up and looking at the severely cracked screen. “This is Bella Sera Way, right?”
Every fiber in my body said to lie. “Yes, it is. Sorry for the trouble. Have a nice trip back into the city.”
I tried shutting the door again.
That damn heel wedged between the door for the second time.
“Look.” My control was barely holding on, and I meant every word about burying her body; I just needed to grab a shovel. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?”
She nodded, her smile back.
I hated that smile.
I hated her. Immediately. Immensely.
Hate wasn’t a strong enough word for what I felt for the woman who’d interrupted my nightmare, who smiled like there was a reason to.
“I need you…” I spoke slowly. “…to get the hell off my property before I shoot you.” I pointed to the driveway. “So walk back to your car—”
She winced.
“Where the hell is your car?”
“I was told you would provide one.”
Hands shaking with rage, I managed to at least get out, “Wait here,” before I ran back up the stairs, grabbed my phone, and actually checked my text messages.
Nixon: New lawyer for the Families. She’s headed your way, Chase.
Phoenix: Don’t shoot her, Chase.
Phoenix: I mean it.
Phoenix: Chase? You can’t keep burying people in the back yard.
Sergio: She’ll need access to everything. I’ll be there in a half hour.
Phoenix: Chase. Answer me, damn it!
Tex: Kill her.
Tex: Do it. Phoenix is turning purple.
Tex: Just a flesh wound.
Phoenix: Don’t listen to Tex. He’s probably as hung over as you are.
Dante: …Are you awake? Bad news. A woman is headed your way, try to be nice…
Dante: You do remember what that word means, right?
I scrolled through the rest of the texts and finally got to the very first one from Nixon, sent this morning at five a.m.
Nixon: You dropped the ball with the one job I asked you to do. I asked Nikolai for help. He’s sending someone for the Families. She’s starting with Abandonato finances — and you’re in charge. Happy hunting. Oh, and don’t kill her. He said you owed him a favor anyway.
Why did everyone assume I was going to kill her?
Damn it, Nikolai.
They didn’t need to know that I’d told her I would at least three times.
I quickly dialed Nixon’s number.
“Shit,” he breathed. “She has a family. You can’t just go around killing people because you’re pissed at the world!”
The old Chase would have laughed.
The new Chase was annoyed as hell.
“I didn’t shoot her.” Yet. It was still on the table if she kept sticking her damn shoe in the doorway. “And what the hell is she doing here? Now?”
“Nikolai put her on a jet last night, sent over the paperwork early this morning.” Serena started crying in the background. “Look, I’ve got shit to do, deal with it!”
“Nixon—”
He hung up on me.
The bastard actually hung up on me.
I called Phoenix.
“Fuck…” Phoenix threw something. I heard a shatter and then, “Where’s the body?”
“I didn’t—” I started pacing. “Do you really think it’s smart to send the new family lawyer into the lion’s den? I already threatened to kill her.”
“So you didn’t?”
“If I had, I’d be calling Tex, not you. He’s the only one capable of burying a body in under fifteen minutes.”
Phoenix cursed under his breath. “Stop timing it, Chase. That’s a new low, even for you.”
“Coming from a rapist?” I snapped, my anger taking over.
“Wow,” Phoenix’s voice cracked. “You know what? Good luck.”
He hung up.
Sergio didn’t answer.
Tex’s phone was off.
What the hell was I supposed to do?
I tried Nixon again.
He answered amidst Serena’s screaming. “Do your job, Chase! This shit ends now! You want to kill people? You want the world to feel your pain? Fine. Do it on your own time, but you still work for me. So get your pathetic ass off the phone and into the shower and make it work!”
He hung up.
Again.
I stomped over to the door and jerked it open. The woman nearly fell against my chest in an attempt to stay upright.
I glared so hard my eyes burned. “Don’t speak.”
She gulped.
“Keep up and lose the heels.”