I laughed at that. “Trace, I’ve always been more monster than man. I was just too afraid to admit it, too afraid to claim it.”
She looked down at her hands. “So, this is the new you, the real you?”
“This is the me you get,” I finally said a few seconds later. More silence hung between us. “Not the same guy who kissed you in college and tried to steal you from his best friend. He was a weak boy—”
“Stop.” She squeezed her eyes shut as fresh tears spilled over onto her cheeks. “Chase, just stop!” Her hands moved to her ears as if that would stop the truth from entering the universe.
I gripped her hands and drew her in for a hug.
She sighed against my chest as her tears stained the front of my shirt, mixing with the blood already there. “I miss you.”
“No. You miss what we had. But that’s been gone a long time, Trace. I think it died the day you broke my heart.”
“Don’t you dare—” She shoved hard against me. “—blame this on me!” She screamed, “I loved you! I LOVED YOU!”
“You loved him more,” I said quietly.
She shook her head. “It’s late. I need to go. I love Nixon, but I feel like I’ve lost my best friend. I lost him… I did that. Not you.”
I frowned. “How the hell did you lose me? I was here the whole time.”
She smiled sadly up at me. “No… you’re really good at it though — this whole funny act, nothing bothers me, I’m Chase Abandonato, I just really love sex with Mil, we argue because the sex is so good. I saw it. I saw the toll it took on you to pretend. To pretend that things were okay, to pretend that you weren’t worried about her, to pretend it didn’t wreck you when you tried to help her, and she rejected you. Mil was one of my best friends, but she led separate lives. Her work life… She was another person, not the best person, and then the mask would come back on when she was back home.” She shook her head. “Did you ever even love her?”
I was silent, then I poured more whiskey and wiped my mouth after I downed it. “Does it matter anymore?”
“I think so, yes.”
“I loved her as much as she allowed me, and that’s the truth.”
It was the most I’d talked about Mil since her death. My chest ached in places I didn’t think was possible for the human body to hurt.
“And if she was standing in front of me right now, I’d shoot her in the heart, so she knows what it feels like to suffer every day, knowing the one person you’d always wanted doesn’t want you back — and the one you tried to give the rest of your heart to rejected it as a whole.”
Trace covered her mouth with her hands.
“Go.” I jerked my head to the door. “We’re done here.”
“Chase—”
“Go!” I roared.
She ran out of the room crying, making me feel like an ass.
And when the crying wouldn’t stop, I turned to yell again, only to realize it wasn’t coming from Trace, or the living room.
But the pantry.
“Shit!” I ran to the door and jerked it open just in time to get slapped in the face.
Twice.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Your time is almost up, and I’m getting itchy, happens when I haven’t killed in a few hours. Better start unfreezing my assets like you promised last year when I started this job, or you’ll be sorry I walked in the building.”
— Notes from interview with Agent P, FBI
Luciana
I didn’t realize the shooting had stopped until I started hearing shouting in the kitchen. I held my breath for what felt like hours, as more warm tears slid down my cheeks. I didn’t want to die, and yet that felt like my reality, my only option, to get shot in the head next to the pasta and Annie’s Organic Fruit Snacks.
I cringed when the screaming continued.
It was a woman.
She was sobbing.
Angry.
And by the sound of it…
So was he.
Was Chase going to kill her? The way he was going to kill me?
I bit my lip until I tasted blood, and then a door slammed. I jumped to my feet and searched for something blunt to hit him with. Maybe I could make a run for it if I aimed right between his legs?
My eyes were too blurry, my concentration too shot, so when the pantry door jerked open, I did the only thing I knew how to do well.
I slapped him twice.
And fell to the ground in a screaming mess as my hand stung like a thousand bees had taken flight directly into my palm.
Chase dropped to his knees next to me and grabbed my hand between his. I was too weak to pull away; he already had me, didn’t he? I wouldn’t survive the night, would I?
Maybe this whole job with Nikolai was a way for him to get rid of me.
Maybe the whole sociopath rumor was right.
And I’d done something wrong.
Something to piss him off.
So he’d sent me here as a penance.
Better someone else get their hands dirty than America’s favorite Doctor McDreamy.
Disgusted, I looked away as Chase held my hand close to his face. “I think you broke your thumb. Who the hell breaks her thumb slapping someone?”
I tried to jerk away and winced in pain as something sliced through my wrist.
“Stop. Pulling. Away,” he said through clenched teeth.
And then he was standing and pulling me to my feet, and once again I was getting heaved over his shoulders as if it was my new permanent spot, or maybe he just hated my germs on his floor.
I closed my eyes when I saw one body bag.
Where were the rest of them?
Not that I needed to know.
The door opened, a man with a shaved head and angry snarl heaved the bag over his shoulder and quietly clicked the door shut behind him.
“That nice man with the angry grunt is Vic,” Chase said with an irritated sigh. “Think of him as the new bodyguard for the house. Nothing and no one will come through him, unless it’s me of course. Apparently, he’s good at blending in.”
I gulped as Chase sat me on the counter and pushed himself between my knees, clearly not realizing I was ready to bite his face off if he got any closer.
“Barely sprained…” He held my hand closer to him then tilted it over. “...not broken. That’s good.” He gently placed it on my lap and walked over to the freezer and grabbed a pack of frozen peas and tossed it to me. “Ice up.”
I’d never iced anything in my life.
And I even though I wasn’t naive, I wasn’t exactly used to icing bruised body parts; I was more of an observer in life, not really a participant.
He was all participant.
No observing.
We couldn’t be more opposite if we tried.
I pressed the peas to my thumb and held back a cry, only to pull it off. “It’s cold.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Hence the frozen part.”
I tried again.
Clearly making him lose patience since he sighed, marched over to me, and pressed the peas against my thumb harder than my pain tolerance was wanting to allow. “Tight, hold it tight.”
I nodded.
“And tell me…” He licked his lips. Not a scratch was evident on his body that even showed he was just in a gunfight. “…why the hell did you slap me?”
“You,” I found my voice. “…trapped me in a pantry while people yelled and bullets whizzed by my face!”
“Whizzed by your face?” Why did he look amused?
“YES!” I yelled. “Within an inch of my nose!”
“This nose?” He pointed to my nose and smirked.
“It’s not funny!”
“You were safe.” He swallowed tightly and looked away. “Anything else you need, princess, or can I go sleep off my body count?”
“B-body count?”
“All dead.” He seemed pleased.
“That’s horrible.” I couldn’t help the tears that we
lled in my eyes. “You killed them all? Why?”
His eyes narrowed. “Would you rather I let them get to you? In the pantry? Did you feel like a good rape tonight? Or maybe just some torture before they killed everyone you hold dear right in front of your eyes? Because I guarantee you, that’s what they had planned, maybe even worse. The De Langes show no mercy.” He leveled me with a cold stare. “And neither do I.”
I could have sworn that when he walked out the door, he whispered, “Not anymore.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Tick-tock.” I grinned and put my hands behind my head. “I give you information. You give me power. That’s how this works. Plus, who else is gonna kill the Italians for you? The government?” I laughed. He didn’t.
— Notes from interview with Agent P, FBI
Chase
The screams, always the screams.
Always their eyes.
The last few seconds of their lives as I take their souls from this earth, begging me to change my mind when they know in the same breath, I won’t.
That was the thing about human life.
You don’t truly treasure it until you’re about to lose it.
And you don’t ever really believe you’ll lose it until it’s too late.
I jerked awake as the sound of a gunshot went off.
And more blood stained my hands.
It wasn’t there.
Her blood.
But I felt it all the same.
Just like I felt the empty spot to the right side of my bed where I used to turn and check, at least a dozen times during the night, to make sure she was safe, to make sure she was home.
The first few months, I’d truly believed I’d found something incredible out of such sadness and horror.
And then it all fell down.
The veil.
The mask.
She’d only given me parts.
When I’d wanted it all.
I’d begged for it.
Demanded it whenever I took her body, only to have her close her eyes at the last minute, as if refusing me the most important part of her.
She’d never surrendered the way I’d wanted her to.
And yet I’d tried.
Damn it, I had fucking tried!
I threw a pillow against the wall and put on a pair of sweats. I was just reaching for the bottle of Jack I kept at my bedside when I heard the crying.
The gut-wrenching sobs that, for once, didn’t come from my own throat, or my own nightmares.
I opened my door and listened.
I quietly checked every guest room I could think of.
Where the hell was she?
Finally, I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen as the sobs grew louder.
With a curse, I slowly opened the pantry door and flicked on the light.
And there she was.
My new employee.
Huddled in the corner like I’d found her earlier.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out so gruff and demanding, but I didn’t exactly have patience in spades anymore.
“Y-you—” She choked out the word. “—said.”
“I said?” I shook my head. “I said what?”
“Y-you.”
She stuttered so hard I felt a pang in my gut; it was fleeting, but it was there.
“Y-you.”
“Shhh.” I moved to my knees, held out my hand, and very slowly pressed it onto her right shoulder. “I got the you part and the said part. What’s next?”
Her big brown eyes locked with mine. “Safe.” She finally got the word out. “Safest.” Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks as her body shook beneath my palm. “In house, I need…” Her lips trembled. “Safe, I need safe. I need safe.” And then the words wouldn’t stop coming as they flew out of her mouth over and over and over again like a broken record.
I’d looked terror in the face more times than I could count.
I’d never seen it reflected so raw in another human.
The knife in my chest twisted as she eyed my hand as if I was going to break her neck, and then she flinched away from me and tried to push herself against the wall, tried to blend in so I couldn’t see her. The shaking got worse.
She was in shock.
I wasn’t stupid.
I also didn’t want to help her.
I had no desire to help her.
No warmth in my heart.
Nothing.
I’d done that before — rescued the girl — and she’d broken my heart. Sometimes the world didn’t need a prince. Sometimes it needed a mercenary.
I was the latter.
I shut the door anyway.
Still shaking, she didn’t look at me, just kept repeating “safe” over and over again.
I didn’t know how to do this anymore.
How to put anyone at ease. I didn’t know how to lie, how to tell her she was safe, or that everything would be okay, because I didn’t believe it enough to sound convincing. My life was proof of that.
I hung my head and finally got out the only thing I knew to say. “What’s your first name?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“I’m Chase…” I inwardly rolled my eyes. “…Abandonato.”
Yeah, dip shit, she knew that, too.
What? Was I going to confess I liked long walks on the beach and Netflix?
Next, I was probably going to say, “Oh, and my personal vendetta is to wipe out an entire family dynasty and get myself killed. Hey, could you pass the box of pasta?”
“I’m not…” I bit down on my lower lip. “…I’m not good at this.”
A wave of shiny hair fell across her left cheek; she peeked out beneath it, and with trembling lips finally said, “Luciana.”
“Of course.” My smile felt bitter. Of course she’d have a pretty name like that.
“And still going with Smith?”
She started shaking again as if I’d just pulled a gun on her by way of saying her last name.
“Alright then, no more name talk.” I eyed the fruit snacks next to her knees. “Luciana, do you like fruit snacks?”
I pointed.
She frowned.
“I only carry the orange box. It’s the only flavor worth having. Could you grab me some?”
She eyed the fruit snacks, then me, then the fruit snacks.
Mold grew faster than this woman’s thought process. And she was supposed to help the Families? I had my doubts. Then again, she’d just witnessed a killing spree.
Leave it to Nikolai to send us someone who had no idea what the hell we were involved in.
With shaking hands, she reached for the box, gripping both sides before slowly passing it over to me. I grabbed two packs and handed her one.
She took it.
“It’s not poison,” I joked.
She didn’t laugh.
Right, like she’d believe the man who just shot up ten people. Yeah, I really sucked at this. Bad.
No wonder everyone kept warning me not to kill her. It was an actual possibility, wasn’t it?
At any given time.
I’d snap.
And she’d be on the receiving end of it.
What the hell were they thinking sending her here first?
“You’re in shock.” I tried again. “The sugar will help.”
She held the fruit snack to her mouth and completely missed. Frustration welled up. Could she not even feed herself?
On her second miss, I scooted closer, grabbed a few of my own fruit snacks and literally shoved them into her mouth and pressed a palm over her lips. “Chew.”
Her eyes flashed.
“I’m trying to help.” I used the gentlest tone I had, which probably still sounded like metal grating metal, but it was all the tenderness I had left in me.
All the tenderness she’d allowed me to keep.
Her lips moved against my hand, slowly at first, and the first spark of life in my soul lit.
I jerked my hand away and clenched it into a fist, but the burn remained.
The burn of a mouth I’d never touched.
The burn of a memory I’d long ago shoved into the furthest recess of my mind.
The burn of a woman.
The sweet burn of being possessed… and possessing.
I closed my eyes then looked the other direction.
A cold hand pressed against my forearm. “Thank you.”
I jerked away. “I’m not your friend.”
She nodded.
I stood and held out my hand.
I was surprised when she took it.
Even more surprised when I didn’t flinch away from her touch as I walked her out of the pantry and up the stairs in silence.
Her eyes took in all the rooms that lined the two different hallways.
I crossed my arms and waited. “Pick a room.”
She shook her head and started backing away, but no chance in hell was I letting the guys catch wind she slept in the pantry, even if I didn’t really care. I knew they’d just make my life harder with the commission — with my life’s goal.
With a grunt, I hung my head and started walking toward the room farthest from mine. It was the only one that was finished, with a nice queen bed and attached bathroom suite.
It wasn’t painted yet, but at least the bed had sheets, and she had towels in the bathroom.
She walked in.
I grabbed the knob and closed the door, only to have her jerk it open and run right into me, her hands pressed against my chest, her mouth inches from mine.
She gulped as more tears filled her eyes.
I wasn’t used to weak women.
Women who were afraid of everything.
The last person who’d given me a look of complete terror had been Trace, and I hadn’t been man enough to deserve it then — to fix it then. There sure as hell wasn’t a way I deserved to be the hero now.
I slowly peeled Luciana’s body away from me. “Sleep off the shock. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
She shook her head no.
“You’re safe,” I gritted my teeth. “You can even lock your door and—”
She tried rushing past me.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. “No pantry.”
Eulogy Page 7
