Eulogy

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Safe.” I snorted, walking next to her. “Safe isn’t real. You know that, right? It’s just what we tell people so they feel better about their shitty lives and actions. You will never truly be safe. You’re already dying.”

  “Wow…” She patted me on the arm. “…you should have been a life coach.”

  “Are you…” I stopped walking. “…teasing me?”

  She stuck out her tongue. “I do have a sense of humor. I just choose not to demonstrate it with the man who has a gun.”

  “How very… safe of you.” I grinned.

  She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, and again, so was I. It felt good, to smile more than once a day, to talk with someone who wanted nothing from me, who looked at me like I was basically one second away from hurting her but trusted me anyway.

  I didn’t know that kind of trust.

  Wasn’t even sure if it really existed.

  And yet she gave it to me day in and day out, without reservation.

  It made no sense whatsoever.

  And the more I thought about it, the more confused I became.

  “Is it okay if we get grapes, or is that going to offend your delicate sensibilities?”

  I stared after her. “Get the color right, and we’ll see.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Who eats green grapes?”

  “Good answer.” It was my turn to pat her on the arm. She was making it too easy to talk with her, too easy to exist when I’d been doing nothing but living in hell.

  She made me feel like I could breathe without feeling angry, guilty, bitter. But it only lasted so long before it crept back, reaching down into the deepest parts of me, demanding to be set free.

  “Are you… okay?” She reached out.

  I jerked back, like an ass. “Yeah.” I gave my head a shake. “I’ll take the cart and meet you back here in a few minutes.”

  I needed to get away.

  It wasn’t real.

  She was a paid employee and petrified of me.

  That was why she was a nice person. She literally had no other option. God, I was stupid.

  I weaved my way down the aisle aimlessly, grabbing cereal and a few other things that interested me.

  I was about five aisles away from produce when I felt it.

  My body went on high alert as I jerked around.

  Empty.

  Nobody was watching; nobody was following.

  I discarded the cart and reached into the back of my jeans for my Glock, slowly making my way down the aisles, pointing, looking, pointing, looking.

  And then I heard it.

  “Where the fuck is he?” a man’s gruff voice called out.

  And then crying.

  Sobbing, actually.

  “I-I don’t know who you’re talking about!” Luc cried.

  I rounded the corner. A man was holding her at gunpoint next to the grapes. Bad idea, such a bad idea. I almost felt sorry for him, and then I locked eyes with her and nodded.

  “Look at me!” he demanded. “You have five seconds to change your tune before I shoot you in the head.”

  More tears fell.

  And he started counting.

  “One. Two. Three…”

  She stilled.

  Her eyes closed.

  “Four. Five.”

  He didn’t shoot.

  I knew he wouldn’t, but she didn’t.

  He needed information.

  And he’d torture her, before killing her for it.

  I very slowly walked up behind him and knocked him in the back of the head. He fell to the ground with a grunt. I sighed and grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him into the nearest employee entrance.

  Luc followed me in stunned silence.

  Once we rounded the corner, and there was nobody in sight, I pulled him into one of the large freezers.

  “Keep the door semi-open, Luc.” I didn’t look at her, couldn’t focus on anything other than ending this guy’s life without anyone hearing the gunshots.

  I fired two rounds into his chest; head would be too messy, and I didn’t want blood everywhere.

  I quickly covered him with some blood from the meat, and then tossed the meat around him so it looked like he stumbled in there and either froze to death, or was drunk.

  I didn’t necessarily need to stage the scene, but I had been told to stop killing until the commission, and my guys knew that I didn’t care about cleaning up my own shit, so if they got wind of this, they’d wrongly assume it was another dispute, not me.

  I refused to chance it.

  My right to kill them all.

  I grabbed Luc’s trembling hand and shut the freezer door behind us then started pulling her back toward the main employee door, only it flew open the minute I reached for it.

  I turned Luc in my arms and slammed my mouth against hers. She jerked in response as I kissed down her neck. “Help me out here.”

  She clung to me, wrapping her arms around my neck as she slowly parted her lips. Her body was cold, like she was seconds away from passing out, but her mouth? Red hot.

  I had never planned on kissing another woman again.

  Plans changed.

  I just didn’t know my reaction would be so swift.

  So violently unreal that I was the one having trouble selling the kiss because I wasn’t used to being kissed in that way.

  With hopeless fucking abandon.

  As if it was a goodbye.

  She tasted like cherries, her tongue smooth against mine, not dominant, just subtle as if she was taking her time exploring every inch of my mouth, taking the opportunity and running with it.

  So I let her. I braced her against the wall and moaned when she dug her fingers into my hair and grabbed hold.

  “Um, sorry, sir. Sir!” A young guy tapped my shoulder. “You guys can’t be back here.”

  Tap, tap, tap. Where the hell was my gun again? Tap, tap, tap.

  I finally pulled back only to see Luc’s lips a swollen red, her headband askew, and her chest rising and falling so hard you’d think I’d just challenged her to a race.

  “Got it,” I said hoarsely. “Sorry, we just… got carried away.”

  “Newlyweds?” He said the absolute wrong thing I needed to hear in that moment.

  I completely shut down and muttered, “Something like that.”

  I didn’t reach for her hand.

  I didn’t comfort her. Even though her skin was pale, her lips bruised, her entire demeanor shaking with fear.

  I didn’t have anything left but confession and a hell of a lot of anger that her one kiss…

  One innocent kiss…

  Had undone me so completely.

  That I almost hated her more than I loved the kiss.

  Hate was easier for me.

  Resentment came second.

  I resented it all.

  The way she responded.

  And the way my heart finally soared to life after taking a direct hit so many months ago.

  I hated that, for the first time since letting go of Trace, embracing my life with Mil, my soul decided to jumpstart and point out the obvious.

  That Mil would always love herself more than she loved me.

  And that I had allowed it.

  Because I’d been so desperate for love.

  Not real. Not real. Not real.

  I was silent the entire way home.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “It’s easy to bait a monster. All you need is to gain their attention. Their loyalty follows once you feed the beast. Easy. So. Damn. Easy.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Luciana

  It was nearly impossible not to touch my mouth after that kiss — but I managed it. His lips were hot to the touch, his skin rough like he’d skipped a day shaving, and his mouth… It was almost enough to distract me from puking over the sight of him shooting that man; the only reason I wasn’t freaking out was because I was happy to be alive. I’d literally thought he was going to kill me
before Chase swept in and then, it just happened so fast I was still trying to convince myself it wasn’t real.

  But that kiss?

  Had made it real.

  All of it.

  I crossed my arms and held myself as he pulled into the driveway of the mansion.

  His mouth had tasted like the best mistake of my life.

  The minute our tongues touched, I knew it was a kiss I would never forget, a kiss I’d compare every other kiss to until I finally admitted there would never be anything like it again.

  Nor anything better.

  Damn it, of course the guy with all the money and too many guns kissed like he knew my mouth better than I did. I shivered again as Chase killed the engine.

  Wordlessly, he got out of the car and slammed the door.

  I wasn’t sure what I had done wrong, just that something had pissed him off, whether it was my lack of kissing experience, the fact he actually had to touch me, the body in the freezer, or all of the above. I had no clue.

  I just knew I was partially at fault.

  Or at least he would see it that way.

  With a huff, I silently got out of the car and followed him inside, half expecting more alcohol to be set out on the counter, only to find a glass full of water and him staring into it like it was going to tell him his future.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted.

  He flinched and then looked up at me with hooded eyes. “For?”

  I moved from one foot to the other and said in a small voice, “For getting grapes.”

  There, that sounded good.

  After all, the grapes started everything, right?

  He gave his head a shake. “Unbelievable.”

  I held out my hands in front of me. “Next time you can just go by yourself. I’ll be more careful about my surroundings and—”

  “Shut up. Please.” He slammed a fist onto the granite and then braced his massive body against it.

  I jolted.

  “I’m not pissed about the grapes, and since we’re confessing, I’m not even really pissed about the body, just add it to the rest of the ones I’ve buried in my back yard.”

  My eyes widened.

  “Shit, I was joking,” Chase said quickly. “It’s not you…”

  “But it is…” I nodded. “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know that whatever I did, I won’t do it again.”

  “How do you know not to do it again if you don’t even know what you did?”

  He had me there. I chewed my lower lip.

  “Do me a favor?” He approached slowly.

  “Okay.” I dropped my arms and waited while he braced my shoulders and lowered his face.

  “Don’t pry.”

  Not what I expected.

  “You mean…” My eyes narrowed. “Don’t pry when it comes to—”

  “Me,” he finished. “Don’t ask me questions that you know I probably don’t want to answer. I’ll keep helping you with your work, just… anything personal is off-limits, got it?”

  I wracked my brain trying to think of what I could have possibly asked that was too personal and came up with nothing.

  We’d been kissing.

  And then the guy asked if we were…

  Understanding dawned.

  Chase could see it. I knew he could because he suddenly looked away and walked out of the room as if someone was chasing him.

  “Got it,” I whispered under my breath. “Don’t ask about her.”

  “Ever,” came his loud voice as he poked his head around the corner. “Are we doing this or not?”

  He still wasn’t smiling, but at least he didn’t look miserable anymore.

  “Sure thing.” I nodded and checked the time on the microwave. “Are you free to work for a few more hours?”

  “Well…” Chase sighed. “…that depends. Anyone attacking us?” He looked around; the house was deathly silent. “That would be a no, so yeah, got a few hours I can spare.”

  “You’re kind of a smartass,” I mused, following him out of the kitchen.

  He was quiet and then laughed like it was a secret joke. “You have no idea, Luc. No idea.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “Tick. Tock.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Chase

  I couldn’t get the word out of my head.

  Or the feeling in my chest when that punk kid had said it.

  Newlyweds.

  It brought too many memories.

  So many memories.

  Of her walking down the aisle toward me, Luca holding her arm, her bawling in the bathroom, and me holding her hand. I’d sworn I’d protect her with my gun, with my blood, I’d sworn I’d give all I had to give, all that was left.

  The anger boiled beneath my skin, filling my lungs, making me dizzy the more I thought about it, and then Luc had to go and steal it right out of my body by apologizing for grapes.

  Grapes, for shit’s sake.

  Grapes.

  Fucking. Grapes.

  I was too stunned to respond right away, and then seeing her stern expression as if she truly believed that if she just acted a certain way, did certain things, watched her surroundings, she would be safe from the world. Safe from me.

  It was the biggest lie of all, the fact that she sought me for safety, when I was the one with the gun.

  With the anger.

  With all the reasons and justifications to end lives.

  And yet she was trying to placate me.

  Trying to calm me.

  As if she could sense that the rage was so out of control I was having trouble not breaking the glass in front of me.

  I shoved the word out of my consciousness and continued pulling files from the last few court cases that we’d settled. I handed them over.

  She looked down. “Were any of these settled in court?”

  I fought to keep my expression blank. “Why would we settle in court when we can settle outside of court?”

  “But…” She kept reading. “…if you’ve never really been to court, why is it so important you have a young lawyer?”

  “Youth.” I shrugged. “Our guy was getting too old. The job hadn’t been much of a challenge anyway, not when you have as much money as we — I — do.”

  “We?”

  The five Families.

  Mafia.

  The bad guys.

  Criminals.

  But I went with “Gardeners.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t bullshit me.”

  “Did you just say…” I leaned forward and whispered. “…shit?”

  “Bullshit. There’s a difference, and gardeners don’t get paid billions of dollars.”

  “Sure they do. It’s all right here in the fine print.” I pointed to the stack of papers. “I mean, I don’t just garden. I’ve got a few banks, schools, universities…”

  Her eyes widened. “Is this the deed to Eagle Elite University?”

  “Possibly.” I shrugged. “I thought Nixon had it.”

  “You can’t just own a university.”

  “Can’t you, though?” I winked, feeling marginally better that she was focusing on the rest of the information and not my past, my black folder, or any of the wills in the corner that were currently burning a hole in my retina.

  Every time I looked over at the wills, I started sweating.

  I knew what mine said.

  I knew what hers said.

  I swallowed and walked over to the box. It haunted me, that box, the contents.

  The white horse lay down on top of the papers. I picked it up.

  “What’s that?” Luc called over her shoulder.

  “This,” I held it out. “…is what betrayal looks like. Think of it as a certain swift death. You ever see this outside of your office, know that I’m minutes away from shooting you. Know that you need to run as fast as you can, and pray to God I don’t catch you.” My voice shook as I sat it back down on the top folder, Mil’s Last Will and Testament, and turned.
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br />   Luc was completely pale.

  “What?” I said gruffly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Wow, two sorrys in one hour…” I rolled my eyes and started walking toward the door; I needed another break.

  “I mean them both.”

  “Yeah?” I called over my shoulder. “And what’s this sorry about? Your heavy breathing?”

  Her answer was swift. “For whatever haunts you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your burden.”

  “Something tells me it shouldn’t be yours either.”

  The anger was back.

  I wanted to lash out, to yell at her to mind her own fucking business, but the damn doorbell rang. With a grunt, I shoved away from the door and ran down the stairs just in time for it to open wide, revealing Dante and El.

  “What the—”

  They walked right past me. “Sorry we’re late.”

  “For?” What the hell? More cars pulled down my driveway, and I groaned. “What the hell, D?”

  “You don’t look drunk.” He slapped me on the back and then ran his hands over his buzzed head. Damn guy looked so much like Luca it was scary. It also made the guys want to rough him up a bit, me included; he was too damn pretty. No guy should look that pretty.

  El didn’t seem to mind.

  Something clanged in my kitchen.

  Dante winced. “I’ll just go make sure she doesn’t burn anything down.”

  “This house doesn’t burn easily, trust me,” I grumbled.

  “Tear.” Dante used his middle finger against his cheek. “Poor sad billionaire can’t burn down his own mansion with his anger, and even matches don’t work. Alright Bruce Wayne, I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

  I glared.

  Little shit.

  Within ten minutes, everyone, wives included, were all seated around the table.

  Vic made an appearance from the back yard, making me wonder just how long he’d been doing perimeter checks, and why it bothered me that I never even knew he was around.

  He grunted his words rather than speaking them, and he was like two of Tex mashed together.

  I sat at the head of the table, Tex at the other end.

  The wives scattered in between.

  But no kids.

  “Since when did Family dinner night turn into date night?” I asked aloud. I’d put Luc next to me for protective reasons only. I didn’t want the guys asking her questions, and the wives were even worse. God save us all from Italian families with the questions and food and questions and food.