Empire (Eagle Elite Book 7)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  To confuse our relationship more.

  And her place in it.

  Business arrangement — never a real marriage.

  Hah, I’d said that before, and look where it had gotten me. Sobbing my eyes out in my dreams.

  I decided against taking a taxi and walked.

  Three blocks away from their house, I noticed a man tailing me, only he was being completely obvious about it, so obvious that it had to be on purpose.

  Sighing, I ducked into a nearby Starbucks, ordered two black coffees, and grabbed the newspaper.

  He arrived three minutes later and sat across from me.

  I slid the coffee toward him without looking up from my paper and spoke. “I didn’t add cream but feel free.”

  “You’re good.”

  “I’m an ex-FBI informant and from one of the most powerful mafia families in the US. Of course I’m good. And you’re too obvious, so what do you want. Who has sent you?”

  “Right down to business.” He chuckled.

  I set the newspaper down and met his gaze. Dark brown eyes, wavy hair with threads of silver and, a gold cap on his right canine tooth. He appeared around six two, but not a muscular six two. “Yes, well, it is what I do best.”

  “Xavier.” He took a long sip of his coffee. “Would like a meeting with the Cappo.”

  Why the hell would the person Frank had left in charge want to meet with Tex? Only one reason. To either ask for protection or challenge the Cappo.

  “That can be arranged, but riddle me this, what does a Russian want with the Cappo?”

  “That question should be directed to him.” The man stood and offered his hand.

  I didn’t shake it.

  With a chuckle, he put it away. “We will be in touch, yes?”

  “I’ll find you.” It was a veiled threat. “Either way.”

  Paling, he took a step back and then narrowed his eyes. “You are not as tough as you think you are.”

  God, save me from such idiots. If he even knew how many kills I had, what I’d done with the very hand he’d wanted to shake.

  I stood, revealing that one hand had been in my pocket the whole time, and that pocket held a gun.

  His eyes narrowed as he looked down.

  “Don’t make me do my job today. I’m off the clock.” I smirked. “Then again, overtime pays—”

  He held up his hands. Luckily, the Starbucks’ customers weren’t paying attention. “Sorry.”

  “For?”

  “My insult.”

  “Do it again…” I took three steps toward him until we were chest to chest. “…And I’ll rip your throat out and put a mirror in front of your face so you can watch.”

  He nodded.

  “Like I said, I’ll find you either way, now run along. I’ve gotta get ready for church.” I slapped his face twice, dismissing him. With a glare that was probably supposed to intimidate, he turned on his heel and hurried out of the Starbucks, while I made a beeline for my hotel. Mass was in an hour, and I still smelled like Val.

  And Andi.

  But her scent, Val’s scent, was something… softer.

  At first it had seemed the same.

  Now it was separating.

  It could be the actual perfume was different, or that the same scent was unique on each person.

  Either way, it was another reminder.

  “I’m not her,” she’d said.

  No. She wasn’t. But maybe… that was good.

  I’d been given the exact opposite of Andi, meaning, I couldn’t compare them, because they were nothing alike.

  I turned around again to make sure dip shit wasn’t following me and took the long way to the hotel only leaving myself a half hour to shower and get changed.

  I’d only barely stepped out of the shower when my phone buzzed.

  Chase: The Eagle has landed.

  Sergio: You’re an idiot.

  Chase: Where the hell is that damn middle finger emoji? Whatever, I’m middle finger emojing you right now.

  Sergio: Repeat what you just typed. Out loud.

  Chase: Still doing it.

  Sergio: See you guys at the house?

  Chase: Hell no, see you at church!

  Well, either we were going to all burn in hell — or God would be forgiving. One could only hope it would be the latter.

  Moon take thy flight, now die, die, die. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  Valentina

  “HE’S NOT HERE yet,” Dante said in a bored voice as the priest raised his hands above his head.

  I scowled and stood with the rest of my family. “Glory to God in the highest…” I moved my lips, but I wasn’t singing, I was too busy wondering where Sergio and Frank were. Regardless of what Dante thought, it wasn’t because I liked Sergio.

  At least not fully.

  It was more the idea that he could be in danger.

  Or dead.

  My stomach dropped.

  Was that my future? Whenever he was late, I’d wonder if he was bleeding out in an alleyway?

  Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and sat with the rest of the congregation.

  The priest pressed his hands in front of his chest and opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  A sudden tense chill filled the air as the door to the cathedral opened and then shut with a loud clang.

  The priest’s eyes were riveted on the doors.

  The low buzz of whispering filled the air and then footsteps, several of them, loud, purposeful. Slowly, heads began to turn, mine included.

  “Holy shit,” Dante breathed.

  Sal elbowed him in the ribs.

  My mouth dropped open.

  My mind shrieked.

  Danger, danger!

  Run!

  Words I should listen to.

  But I didn’t.

  The first man looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He was wearing a black suit, expensive. Aviators covered his eyes, and his brown hair had shots of red in it, he was also as big as a giant.

  On his right and left were two guys that matched him in muscle, not in height. One had a lip ring and wore a T-shirt, as if he couldn’t care less that he was in church. Tattooed sleeves lined both arms, at least he was in dark skinny jeans and boots, but there was clearly a gun in his right hand.

  Both of the guys who flanked the giant were so attractive that I couldn’t stop staring. Even the one with the tattoos was captivating.

  The one on the right had longer dark hair that was combed to the side, nearly touching his other ear. His gun was at least tucked into his jeans, though, I got the distinct impression it wouldn’t take him long to have it out and lethal.

  Three.

  Three men.

  And another right behind them.

  A man who looked haunted, his eyes bloodshot but clear, as if he could see right through you, see all of your fears and make them happen with a simple snap of his fingers. He didn’t have as many tattoos, and he wasn’t packing — at least that I could see. But his face, there was something about his face that told me he had nothing against breaking someone in half for looking at him wrong.

  He scared me.

  More than the others.

  Yet he was the only one that made eye contact with the congregation, as if searching for someone, and then, when he locked eyes with me…

  He smiled.

  It transformed his entire face.

  I gasped.

  “Friend of yours?” Dante said under his breath.

  “I highly doubt that man has many friends.”

  “Probably killed them all,” Dante said in a low voice.

  Frank and Sergio brought up the end of the group.

  And, just like that, everything snapped into place.

  These weren’t normal guys.

  They were mafia.

  But with the way everyone was staring, they weren’t just any kind of mafia, they weren’t familiar at all.

  “So it begins,” Sal s
aid to my left. “And so it begins.”

  “Sal…” I tried to keep my voice down. “Who are they?”

  He seemed to pale on the spot as he looked down at his lap then back up at me. “Judge, jury, and executioner.”

  That wasn’t very helpful.

  The only pew that was empty was behind us.

  Meaning, the men shuffled loudly into the seats behind us and sat with a loud thump.

  One of the guys spoke. I wasn’t sure which one because I promised myself I wouldn’t turn around and openly gape anymore.

  “Sorry we’re late, father.” The guy’s voice was deep, commanding. I shivered. “Please, do continue.”

  All eyes went to the priest as he lifted his shaking hands into the air and whispered, “Let us pray.”

  Hah, let us pray indeed.

  I FIDGETED IN my seat as the priest droned on and on.

  “So,” a voice whispered in my ear. “You’re her.”

  Sal glared at me then at the guy behind me.

  I turned, just slightly and came face to face with crisp blue eyes and soft lips. He smelled really good. Of course he did because he couldn’t just walk around with a face like that and smell horrible right?

  “Chase…” The giant shook his head slowly. “Control yourself.”

  The guy with the tattoos rolled his eyes and then pulled Chase back by his jacket. “We don’t let him out much.”

  “Shh!” Frank hissed from farther down the pew.

  The giant held up his hands in innocence while Chase winked at me.

  Sal elbowed me hard in the side. I quickly turned back around and tried to pay attention, which was basically impossible. What did he mean I’m her?

  “…Holy Communion.” The priests words blurred into obscurity as my mind searched for possible reasons why the men behind me were suddenly in New York.

  And why Sergio didn’t tell me.

  I had no right to be hurt.

  But I was just the same.

  And I had no idea why!

  We weren’t married yet.

  And I knew nothing about his world. This just proved, yet again, how different our lives were.

  The elements were blessed, more prayers were said, I yawned, and then it was finally time to get out of my seat. My butt was falling asleep so I welcomed the change, at least mass was almost over.

  Usually the rows were dismissed from front to back.

  Going out of order made absolutely no sense.

  Instead, nobody stood with me. Frowning, I looked around, and finally behind me.

  All of the men stood and made their way out into the main aisle.

  “Come.” Sal stood with me. “It is time.”

  Time for what?

  Communion?

  Because it felt like something else was going on, something important.

  The giant moved to the very front and knelt in front of the priest.

  “It’s okay.” The man who had the terrifying look in his eyes squeezed my hand. “It will make sense one day. All of this.”

  He was the last person I assumed would comfort me.

  Where was Sergio when I needed him?

  He was a few men back, I peered around the scary guy to look at him, but when I did, he ignored me and looked away.

  As if we hadn’t shared any sort of moment this morning.

  I was back to square one.

  The ignorant child that he couldn’t care less about.

  “I’m Phoenix.” The guy placed a hand on my shoulder. “Now, it’s time to watch.”

  “Watch?” I whispered back.

  “Look.” He pointed to the priest and the giant.

  The priest held his hands above his head and started chanting in Italian. I didn’t know my own language, but it was beautiful. I understood certain words, like “blessings” and “our leader.”

  “Capo di tutti capi, amen.” The priest kissed the giants forehead and then his right hand.

  He repeated the gesture for the tattooed guy, only he didn’t say as many words, simply kissed his forehead and his right hand.

  Every man that had come in late received some sort of weird ritualistic blessing.

  And then, they were presented with communion, leaving me, Dante, Sal, Papi, and Gio standing by ourselves in the aisle while everyone watched.

  When the priest was done with Sergio and Frank, he looked to Gio and held out his hands.

  “It is time.” Sal’s voice sounded heavy, sad.

  Time for what?

  Gio went first.

  Then Sal.

  Papi was last.

  Leaving me and Dante.

  Nobody was speaking.

  The church was deathly quiet.

  Phoenix, the one who’d been nice, walked forward and stretched out his arms in front of us. “Sangue del mio sangue. Sangue dentro fuori. Questo sangue simboleggia la famiglia.” He turned over his right hand, palm open, then whispered, “Your right hand please.”

  Trembling I gave him my right hand.

  He pulled a knife from his pocket and with the sharpest point of it, pricked my finger and squeezed. Sudden, sharp pain in my finger reminded me of the stab from a rose thorn. A drop of blood welled.

  The giant made his way toward us, holding out something that looked like a single playing card that had been removed from the rest of the deck. Phoenix squeezed until six drops of blood fell against the card.

  He released my hand, moved over to my brother, and repeated the same words and actions, using the exact same card. Tears pricked my eyes as my body trembled. I brushed my thumb over the spot that had been pricked.

  “Tu vivi dal sangue, si muore dal sangue, Benvenuti alla famiglia Valentina e Dante Nicolasi.”

  The church stood and repeated the entire phrase word for word, in Italian.

  Nicolasi.

  It was my father’s last name.

  The giant kissed my forehead and then Dante’s.

  Dante trembled next to me, as though he fully understood what was taking place. But I was still in the dark. Tears blurred my line of vision as heaviness settled into my chest.

  I wasn’t sure if I was scared.

  Or if, for the first time in my life, I finally felt the rightness of belonging to something greater than myself.

  The priest motioned to us. “Come forward, daughter and son of Luca Nicolasi, and receive your blessing from God.”

  Dante grabbed my hand in his and led us the few steps to the priest.

  The altar was set with the Eucharist, and yet, we weren’t taking communion.

  We were getting initiated.

  “Will you receive?” the priest asked us.

  “Yes.” I could barely hear my own voice as he placed one hand on my head and one hand on Dante’s and repeated something similar to what he’d said over the giant.

  When he released his hands, he addressed the congregation.

  “May God bless the Families.”

  “May God bless the Families.” They answered back in unison and stood. Then slowly, one by one, they approached the front to kiss each of our hands.

  Over one hundred people.

  When the last person left and the door slammed shut, I slumped against Dante, exhausted, hungry, extremely confused, and more than a little upset that Sergio hadn’t warned me.

  He could have at least said, Hey by the way you should probably wear comfortable shoes for mass.

  Without thinking, I kicked off my heels, nearly impaling Phoenix in the thigh with one of them.

  “Oops.” Warmth invaded my cheeks. “Sorry.”

  “Eh, desperate times.” He gave me a kind smile while Sergio glowered at him. “Now you get territorial?”

  Territorial?

  “Back off,” Sergio snapped, still not looking at me.

  Hurt must have been evident on my face because Phoenix shoved Sergio and pulled out a knife. “You could have at least warned her.”

  “I refused to take the chance that she would run,” Sergi
o said in an even tone as all eyes fell to me.

  Somehow, I found my voice, or maybe just the last bit of bravery I possessed. Because I stood and glared in his direction. “See, that’s the thing about friendship. You learn how to trust someone. You give them information, fully aware of what they’ll do with that information based on the relationship you have with them. So he was right to question me, since he’s done nothing to prove that he’s anything but a babysitter out to make sure I get in bed on time.” I swallowed back tears and nodded to Gio. “Please take me home, now, Gio.”

  With sad eyes, Gio reached for my arm and led me out of the church, past a furious Sergio.

  When the doors were nearly shut behind us, all I could hear was colorful ways to say the word ass.

  Love can transpose to form and dignity.

  Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;

  And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

  Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste.

  Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  Sergio

  I PUT UP with their shit the entire drive back to the neighborhood. In five minutes I was going to have to face her, yet again, and feel nothing. It was unfair to ask her to go back to the way things were.

  Where I was mean, cold, available, but distant.

  We’d made leaps and bounds that morning. Hell we’d made leaps and bounds since the movie theater, but seeing the guys again reminded me of too much pain.

  All that progress simply dissipated when Chase and Tex started bickering, because it reminded me of her, damn it. Everything they did reminded me of her. She’d fit in perfectly with them.

  She’d been like one of the guys.

  And Val wasn’t.

  She was soft. Scared. Vulnerable.

  She was the exact opposite of what I needed.

  If Tex pulled a knife on her she’d pass out.

  Andi would have stabbed him in the throat then asked where the popcorn was.

  I was being unfair, comparing them, but that was what you did when you’d already had love and lost it — there was a giant measuring stick that nobody could even stand next to because you knew, even before they did, that they’d come up short every time.