Envy: An Eagle Elite Novella

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Vic’s black pants and black tank looked so out of place. As did the weapons strapped to both his chest and his shoulder blades, like he was ready to go to war at any second.

  “Got any grenades in there?” I joked.

  Slowly he angled his head, giving me another look at that sharp jaw, the one that would slice my fingers open if I wasn’t too careful. “Yes.”

  Oh my. I felt the blood drain from my face.

  And then he leaned closer and winked. “Kidding. But I do love a good grenade—it’s just…messy.”

  “That’s the only reason you don’t carry them around?” I asked in a strangled voice.

  He shrugged and then nodded toward the kids. “That and I don’t want sticky hands pulling pins.”

  “Smart,” I breathed out.

  He inclined his head and stood to his full height, crossing his arms. “Almost nap time.”

  “You know their schedules?” I grinned.

  “No.” He sobered. “I know yours.”

  My body gave an involuntary shiver.

  “You’re still exhausted,” he said softly. “I’ll help put them down and then I’ll tuck you in…”

  My face erupted into giant flames that probably said hey, you coming too, big fella? “Um, that’s not necessary.”

  “When it comes to you, everything is necessary.”

  “You’ve never been this protective before?” I said it like a question, and immediately regretted it. Did I want to know the truth? His truth?

  “Nixon gave me a new assignment this morning.” He picked Junior off the floor and growled into his neck then placed a kiss on his nose. His smile was so wide, I almost collapsed into a puddle of worthless heat. It humanized him—holding a child, teasing the child, kissing.

  I gaped for a minute before recovering. “So you’re leaving soon?”

  “Nope.” He turned his smile toward me. It slowly dissipated into the most intense look a man had ever given me. “He assigned me to you.”

  My knees knocked together a bit. “Oh.”

  “Let’s get these guys ready, and then, Renee?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You will take a nap.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “Yes.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And if I say no?”

  “Don’t make me force you—it won’t be pleasant for either of us,” he said in a harsh voice. “Besides, I was awake while you slept, I heard your moans, your screams. I watched you suffer when your mind should be resting. Right now, my main concern is you recovering from something you should have never had to see, let alone experience. All right?”

  I nodded. “’Kay.”

  “Good.”

  I grabbed Serena off the floor and called after him. “You always get your way?”

  “Yup!” He didn’t even turn around. Junior waved at me like we were playing a game, and I wondered if it was true.

  Was this real? A game? Where was my dad? Why was someone trying to kill me? What was so important that they felt the need to assign me one of their best bodyguards? An assassin trained for death dealing.

  Why me?

  The thought lingered the entire way to the kids’ rooms.

  And later, when Vic truly did tuck me into bed and turn off my light only to stand outside my door, I chewed on the thought.

  The only reason he was here.

  The only reason I was there.

  Wasn’t a small reason.

  And I had a right to know.

  Chapter Ten

  Vic

  There are things you know you won’t survive. Take a gunfight for example. You go into it knowing that you might not make it out. It causes you to have sharper senses, to make sure that you play a good offense—just as good as your defense.

  When I walk into family dinners, I know that it’s going to get ugly; too much wine is flowing, and everyone is armed. Plus, Italians. Enough said.

  When I walked out of Nixon’s office this morning…

  I had that same feeling. I responded in the same way. My laser-like focus was intense as hell when I walked into that living room.

  And within two seconds.

  She unmanned me.

  Disarmed me.

  By simply existing.

  I no longer had weapons.

  I had no defense, and my only offense was to put a damn child in front of my body so I didn’t do something stupid and use her as my shield—the very thing that had unarmed me.

  I pressed my fingers into my temples and leaned against the wall. She needed sleep. Focus on one thing at a time.

  Focus.

  I opened the door a crack and listened.

  Deep breathing.

  I sighed in relief then shut the door and braced myself against it.

  So easy. To let myself in.

  To lock everyone out.

  To tell her I needed to taste her again.

  To let her mouth haunt me forever.

  “Fuck.” I banged my head lightly against the wall a few times and then ran my hands over my buzzed hair.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Chase leaned against the opposite wall, his eyes narrowed in on the door behind me. “You know sexual frustration can be debilitating…some might argue it’s better to just get it over with so you can get your focus back. Because right now? You look slightly insane. And take it from a man who’s never going to get his full sanity back—waiting is only going to make it worse.”

  I snorted. “This from the guy I swore to protect?”

  He shrugged. “I can take care of myself. We all can. The reason Nixon hired you has nothing to do with us—and everything to do with the fear that someone’s going to use his child against him. You’re scary as fuck, and he knows that when you focus on a goal, you don’t just achieve it—you bulldoze it over and ask for more.” He patted me on the back in passing. “Oh, and Vic? What he doesn’t know won’t kill him—what’s one more secret?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “You’re not helping.”

  “Huh and here I thought I was making things easier, not…” He grinned. “Harder…”

  I flipped him off.

  He let out a low chuckle. “Just be prepared for the ramifications. None of us sin and get away with it—at least not without punishment—we’ve all got the scars to prove it.”

  “Some more than others,” I mumbled.

  He sobered and looked away. “You know the family has a therapist.”

  “Bullshit, like you would ever use a therapist!” I roared, but then I remembered that I needed to keep my voice down.

  Chase locked eyes with me. “Sometimes a man wants to battle his demons alone. And other times…” His expression became empty. “Other times, a man just wants to let the demon win.”

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t say anything else as he walked away.

  I’d never gotten close to Chase.

  Didn’t want his darkness to recognize mine maybe.

  Didn’t want to admit how much we had in common.

  Loss did that to a person.

  It turned my sadness into anger.

  And the pathetic part? My anger was a hell of a lot more calming than my peace. And Renee wondered why I didn’t smile.

  It fucking hurt.

  That’s why.

  Chapter Eleven

  Renee

  I stretched my arms over my head and smiled up at the ceiling. I didn’t have any nightmares, but I did dream of sharp jawlines and lips twitching in my direction. I dreamed of black hair, haunting eyes.

  I dreamed of a darkness so consuming I just let it swallow me whole. I dunked my head into the black sea and inhaled.

  And liked it.

  The girl graduating from college this year.

  The one who should be thinking about career opportunities, a family.

  Not inviting darkness into my heart and locking it there.

  Though if any sin was worth committing—it would be him.

  I frowne
d at the window. The blinds were pulled so I wasn’t sure how late in the afternoon it was. At least the kids weren’t up yet. I reached for my phone to check the monitor.

  My hand met an empty nightstand.

  In a panic I looked under my pillow, the covers, and then stumbled over the duvet in an effort to run out of the room.

  If anything had happened to those kids, I was going to first murder whoever did something and then be murdered.

  Tears filled my eyes as I ran down the hall and stopped at the nursery.

  Only to find Vic sitting in the rocking chair with Serena.

  Junior was gone.

  And the murderer was singing a nursery rhyme. “Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children are gone. Ladybird, Ladybird…” He stopped and ran a large finger down her nose, then smiled. He smiled.

  I sucked in a breath.

  He never smiled at people like that.

  I was almost jealous of the little girl who had no idea what sort of gift he’d just given her.

  “You were tired,” he said without looking up. “I can feel your fear and anger from all the way over here.”

  “I’m not—”

  “It’s okay. You wouldn’t be a good nanny if you weren’t panicked. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He looked up. “I never mean to scare you.”

  His eyes pleaded with mine in a way that made my heart twist in my chest, like he needed me to understand that it was never his intention to be like one of the monsters in my head—even though he was like them, even though he killed like them.

  I nodded. “I know.”

  He stood. “Junior went home with Phoenix after his nap… Serena was hungry, and Trace wasn’t home yet, so I changed her, we ate, read some books, and then watched some Sesame Street. She got bored and decided it would be more fun to tie shoelaces together. We had dinner, made some Play-Doh, and by then it was time to go back to bed. Nixon and Trace wanted to put her down but…” His voice trailed off.

  “But what?”

  He shrugged. “I was angry—she makes me free.”

  It was all he needed to say.

  It made me both jealous and sad.

  I hated both emotions.

  “You’re really good with her,” I whispered.

  His eyes flashed with pain so brief that I swore I was seeing things, and then he set her down in her crib and kissed her on the forehead. She had a small stuffed white horse in her crib at all times. Nixon kept it there as a reminder of what they would lose—if betrayed again. I had no idea why. Or what it meant. I just knew that whenever anyone saw her with it, they looked like they were about to either cry or storm off. I was almost afraid to ask. But the mafia dealt with symbolism all the time. It’s what they did. I didn’t question what I would never understand or be a part of.

  A small voice inside me told me that I already was.

  That they were hiding something from me.

  But I shoved it away.

  Summer was almost over.

  I had one week left and I’d be leaving for school.

  Just like I planned.

  And this would just be a brief nightmare followed by the dream of Vic’s kiss that I’d carry with me forever.

  “You should eat.” Vic’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

  I put my hand on my stomach. “You’re right. What time is it?”

  “Seven.”

  My eyes widened. “I slept six hours!”

  “Shhhh.”

  I glared like I needed to know when to be quiet. A bomb could go off and Serena would yawn.

  I flipped off the light, and darkness settled over us except for the small princess nightlight on the opposite end of the room.

  I could hear my heartbeat.

  Feel my heavy breathing.

  There was something familiar about the darkness. Something exciting about the way it whispered promises of secrecy when I knew that they were a lie.

  I hung my head a bit and reached for the door.

  Only to have Vic reach around me and press his palm against it, closing us to the hallway.

  To the light from the hall.

  I closed my eyes as the air moved behind me, as he towered over me. I could feel him behind me. All six foot four of him.

  Rough hands weighed down on my shoulders.

  And then he was resting his head against mine.

  A war began in that room.

  Between two hearts.

  Between a broken soul.

  And a lost one.

  I wet my lips.

  His hands ran down my arms until they came into contact with my hands. He interlocked our fingers and squeezed tight.

  I leaned back against his chest and wrapped his muscular arms around me. I could hear his sigh, I could feel the intensity of the moment. It was in the air between us, it both choked and freed.

  It was quicksand.

  It was fire.

  I eyed the doorknob.

  And then he was turning me around in his arms. His blue eyes didn’t leave mine. I was afraid to blink. Afraid to snap him out of the tug of war between us.

  The kiss. The attraction. The knowledge that he had always been watching.

  “I watch the nanny.”

  My knees knocked together.

  “I watch the nanny.”

  He’d been watching.

  Everything.

  And as afraid as I’d been—I’d liked it.

  Maybe even craved it.

  “You’re watching again,” I whispered.

  “You want me to,” he responded.

  Our mouths met in a crescendo of fire. I parted my lips as the scorching heat of his tongue dragged past my lips. I arched my back as he pressed hungry kisses down my neck. Every touch stirred something terrifying inside me, something my heart clamored for. More. More. More. He kissed with precision, attacked angles I didn’t know existed.

  He didn’t kiss like a college boy.

  He kissed like a man.

  Every provoking stroke of his tongue had my body blazing out of control. Walk through the flames, his kiss said. Drown while I hold your hand.

  My mouth quivered as I snaked my arms around his neck. He pressed me against the wall, lifting me effortlessly into his arms and setting me on his thigh as his hands reached under my flimsy T-shirt.

  “I should stop,” he rasped against my parted lips.

  “Do you always make the right choice?” I challenged.

  He ran a thumb over my nipple. I jerked in response—my bra was thin, I felt like every single part of my body strained toward him, begging for more of what he had.

  “What do you think?” He spoke the words against my neck, pulled back, and smiled.

  He might as well have wielded that sexy smile as a weapon.

  Danger! My heart screamed.

  Danger! My mind agreed.

  Danger! My body cheered and went back for seconds as I slid my tongue past his lower lip and tasted him, drank the deep damning poison that something between us produced.

  I’d never lost myself in a person.

  But men like Vic? They made a person want to shut out everything but the tiny moments of you together.

  He moved his hand down my stomach to the leggings I was wearing and cupped between my thighs while I kissed him, while I urged him on, riding his hand like we weren’t in a mob boss’s daughter’s room, seconds away from being exposed to the world.

  I drove my hips against him.

  Curses fell from his mouth.

  The bold caress of his tongue was enough to drive me insane.

  A soft knock sounded on the door.

  We pulled apart so fast I almost fell on the carpet.

  “It’s just me,” Chase whispered. “Didn’t see either of you come out. Nixon ran into town, he’ll be back in four minutes. Figured that was valuable information…” The humor in his voice was my only solace at the moment. I didn’t want to get fired. I also didn’t want to get killed fo
r tempting the murderer.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Yeah, thanks Chase.”

  “Careful, kids…” His warning was quiet.

  I felt slightly insulted that he called me a kid. I was twenty-one.

  Vic was at least thirty.

  “Sorry.” Vic touched my shoulder lightly, and then pulled open the door. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “Some things aren’t worth dying for,” he confessed.

  “I’m not worth dying for?” Hurt hit me on all sides.

  “You misunderstand…” He hung his head. “You’re worth all of it—but it’s not fair to bring you down to hell with me, just because I can’t control myself. It won’t happen again.”

  He walked out of the room.

  And a small part of me felt pride that he was walking funny.

  And that every muscle in his body was taut like it had been pumped up but not had any sort of release.

  I knew the feeling well.

  That was stupid.

  It was a bad idea.

  But being with Vic was the most alive I’d felt—ever.

  Of course it would be in a killer’s arms where I felt the safest and most alive…a death dealer, giving life. Who would have thought?

  Chapter Twelve

  Vic

  I went into the kitchen in search of something to put my mouth on that wasn’t going to get me killed—like oatmeal, cereal, all the alcohol.

  I poured a glass of wine and sat down just as Renee made her way down the hall. Fresh faced like she’d just taken off what was left of her makeup, with her hair in a ponytail and gorgeous legs in gray sweats.

  She gave me a pensive look before going to the fridge and opening it. I choked on my next gulp when she bent over to grab something.

  “You can at least try to be less obvious.” Chase sat down next to me.

  “You could at least try to keep your fucking voice down,” I snapped.

  Which just made him grin.

  Shit, the guy had a death wish.

  “You think I like sitting at Nixon’s when I could be home with my wife? She made roast. You know how I feel about roast.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, actually I don’t.”

  “Oh, well, let me tell you.” Bastard stole my glass and lifted it to his lips. “It’s succulent…” He grinned wide. “Moist and just…” He released a long sigh that had me ready to smack him. “So primed and ready… You ever have roast like that? Just melts on your tongue…”