Enrage (Eagle Elite #8)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  A door shut.

  I closed my eyes as a single tear fell onto the letter still clutched in my hands.

  And then another.

  I cried for a man I never knew.

  And the love he’d had.

  The love that gave me the beautiful broken monster that could kill in cold blood but refused to lie to my face.

  I folded the letter back into the diary and closed it.

  They weren’t my secrets to read — not without Dante by my side. I stood on shaky legs and decided to sit on the porch.

  I imagined a time when Luca was holding Joyce’s hand and telling her everything would be okay.

  I imagined a time when laughter filled the ranch house that looked just like this.

  When they were free.

  And when I glanced at the clock on the wall, I could almost hear it ticking in the silence reminding me, that we had little of it left.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Dante

  I’D WALKED INTO an office.

  His office?

  I wasn’t sure if he ever came back to this house once it was built, the memories, the ghosts, were almost too much for me to handle and I didn’t live through them.

  He’d left me a letter.

  And I could have sworn, in those moments, it wasn’t El’s voice I heard, but my fathers.

  Memories of his scent rushed to the surface.

  Of the cigar in his mouth.

  Of being pat on the head.

  Of being shoved behind him as he yelled at men around him.

  Flickers, they’d always been flickers, and just like that, they unleashed hell on my mind, my heart, my soul.

  His voice.

  His strong, slightly accented voice.

  I closed my eyes again, unable to get it out of my head no matter how hard I tired.

  My son.

  My son.

  My son.

  Up until this moment in my life — I just wanted revenge. I wanted to kill. I wanted the tools to do what needed to be done.

  I wanted Petrovs line ended.

  I wanted to be free.

  One letter from my father changed everything.

  It lit something inside me I knew I couldn’t ignore.

  Like ignoring the crown on your own head for the last twenty years only to find it still there all along.

  Italian royalty.

  I wondered how Frank felt.

  Then again, he wouldn’t have fought so hard to find me unless he wanted me to have this dynasty, this power.

  I was too young.

  I wasn’t ready.

  Too many uncertainties plagued my mind and still the clock ticked by minute after minute, every one I wasted thinking, was one I could have spent in El’s arms.

  I sat behind a large oak desk, the chair dipped under my weight.

  I groaned and looked down, paralyzed in place.

  Charcoal.

  Paper.

  Pencils.

  Breath seized in my lungs.

  “You used to draw…”

  With shaking hands I picked up the charcoal and didn’t let go, didn’t stop as my hand furiously moved across the paper, and with each stroke, with each movement, a calm poured over me.

  Until the picture was finished.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Dante

  I LEANED AGAINST the doorframe, she was on the back porch, a mug in her hand, her eyes staring out at the horizon. There wasn’t much to look at except for the great expanse of land and one solitary cow.

  “Who do you think feeds it?” I asked making my way toward the empty chair next to her and sitting down.

  El smiled out at the cow. “I’d like to think that it just exists doesn’t need to be fed, like a miracle cow.”

  “Yeah.” My eyes narrowed at the brown and white animal. “It’s too fat to exist without extra help.”

  She laughed into her mug. “I’m going to assume that since Phoenix was the one who sent you here, he’s the one who knows about the cow. I’m going with scary as hell Phoenix.”

  “Is it wrong that it brings me actual joy to think of Phoenix having to take care of a cow?” I wondered aloud. “The man used to lock me up and dangle food in front of my face before eating it.” I grunted. “He deserves an ornery cow with a sour disposition and a humping addiction.”

  El’s soft laugh was quickly becoming one of my favorite things, the wind picked up pieces of her dark hair as it kissed her chin. “And just how did he get this humping addiction?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe Phoenix just brings it out in him.”

  “It could be a girl.”

  I smirked. “Did you fail basic anatomy in school?”

  Her face fell a bit. “I was homeschooled.”

  Frowning, I reached for her hand. “And that makes you… sad?”

  She didn’t answer and then looked down at my right hand. “What’s that?”

  I held out the piece of paper. “It’s you.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, her hand trembled when she delicately grabbed the portrait. “I don’t look like this.”

  “You’re right, you look better, but I haven’t drawn in a long time, plus I had to do it from memory.”

  She traced the outlines I’d made in charcoal.

  The shading for her lips, her eyes.

  “Is this how you see me?” Her voice filled with awe as her tear filled eyes met mine.

  I nodded.

  “I want you to see me like this, I look so untouched, so—”

  “You’re mine.” I dropped to my knees in front of her. “Not his, mine. Do you understand me?” I squeezed her thighs, our eyes met, hers searching, mine with longing.

  Please God don’t let history repeat itself.

  “Thank you,” she finally said, staring down at the simple picture. “You’re really talented when you’re not busy shooting things.”

  The compliment felt so foreign I didn’t really know how to respond. The last time I’d drawn anything had felt like years ago.

  Before the anger over my dad’s death, over my legacy became too much.

  Before I discovered that fighting made me feel better than drawing ever did, because at least then I could see that I was making a difference, at least then I could feel the blood pumping through my veins.

  I could see the damage on the outside.

  And compare it to the damage on the inside.

  “Why did you stop?” El asked. “Drawing I mean.”

  I sighed, and tried to pull my hands away.

  She didn’t let me.

  I was still on my knees, like I was seconds away from worshipping her with my mouth as my eyes feasted all over her face. I’d never do her justice, not with charcoal, paint, pencils.

  Humans are only capable of capturing a certain amount of beauty — she had so much of it that I’d never be able to include it all.

  But I’d try.

  “Have you ever loved something so much that it’s all you think about?” I asked staring out at the cow while El ran her hands over my shoulders and squeezed my arms like she was trying to comfort me during my confession.

  “No.” Her voice was small. “I was never given the luxury.”

  I snorted. “Now I’m going to sound like a complete dick.”

  “As opposed to other days? When you sound like a gentleman?” She shot back.

  “Yeah that’s fair.” I exhaled and stood and pulled her to her feet and then started swaying on my feet as I twirled her beneath the dusk sky. “I stopped drawing because it stopped helping me escape.”

  I twirled her again, the air felt thick, heavy with something I couldn’t describe as she laughed and continued to dance with me.

  Without music.

  Out on the porch.

  The hair on the back of my arms stood on end as El looked up at me, her smile bright her eyes penetrating. “Didn’t take you for a guy to dance, let alone on a porch without music.”

  “There’s a
lot you don’t know about me,” I admitted then instantly regretted saying anything at all.

  Because I couldn’t promise her that she’d ever know anything beyond the next few days.

  It was a fucking horrible feeling.

  This constant state of fear, not for myself, but for what we could have together, just to stay alive.

  Easier said than done.

  “Hey,” She cupped my face with her hand, her eyes falling to my lips. “I have an idea.”

  “Yeah?” I croaked. “What’s that?”

  She grabbed my hands, interlacing our fingers before she stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth.

  I smiled against her mouth. “Wow, you’re a genius.”

  “That wasn’t the idea,” She admitted. “I just wanted to kiss you.”

  “Don’t let me stop you,” I said gruffly as I kissed her again, changing angles, my mouth slanted over hers in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

  El pulled back. “We have all night tonight and part of the day tomorrow, right?”

  “Right.” I narrowed my eyes.

  “You,” She shoved against my chest. “Are taking me out on a date.”

  “I am,” I repeated, and then cleared my throat, my gaze darting above her head. “I’ve uh, never been on a date before.”

  She sucked in a breath.

  “You’re either trying not to laugh or you’re so shocked I’m going to have to do chest compressions,” I grumbled. “Which is it?”

  I was too afraid to look.

  And maybe just a little bit embarrassed to admit it out loud.

  “I haven’t either,” El said in a weak voice. “It’s why I wanted one, I mean we skipped that part.”

  “And every time you and I were together,” I shrugged and finally looked at her. “No dates huh?”

  “I was young when Xavier took me.” Her lips trembled. “What about you?”

  I let out a rough exhale and shrugged. “I never had to.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand?”

  “I never had to ask,” I said slowly. “or take a girl out, I just—”

  El smacked me in the shoulder then punched me in the stomach before I could flex.

  “What the hell!” I roared. “That hurt!’

  “You’ll live.” She glared, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you saying girls just fell at your feet, that they practically begged you to take their clothes off? That’s what you’re saying isn’t it?”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning, but the look on her face was priceless. I lost the war and doubled over in laughter.

  Real, laughter.

  It felt good.

  Until she started hitting me again.

  “El, hey,” I said between laughs before picking her up and throwing her over my shoulder. She continued hitting my back, my ass, whatever she could touch. “You know that just tickles now right?” She kept going. “Fine, a little to the left.”

  She pinched my left ass cheek.

  I dropped her on to her feet. “You don’t want to play that game, I’ll win every time, El.”

  “What game?” She huffed and lunged for me.

  “Okay, okay,” I put the couch between us. “I’m not really sure if what you’re looking for is an apology here, but I’m sorry that I screwed girls without taking them out on dates and I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me without having known what it would be like.”

  She crossed her arms. “And?”

  “And—” I leaned my body against the sofa. “I would love to take you out on a date, right now.”

  “Right now?”

  I grinned. “Maybe after you put on something sexier—”

  She threw a pillow at my face, I narrowly dodged it only to get another one aimed at my dick.

  “El,” I said, holding my hands out and smirking. “I’m not trying to be offensive here.”

  “And yet you are!” She chucked the pillow.

  I sighed. “See? I would be total shit at dating!”

  She waited, weighing the other pillow in the air.

  “What I’m trying to say, badly might I add… so badly…” I wiped my face with my hands. “I have a sister.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Wait.” I pointed at the pillow. “Just let me finish, I have a sister, a beautiful wonderful, annoying sister. I know what girls want when they go on a date, they want to spend hours getting ready just so the guy almost drops dead when he sees them. So he looks at her and fully realizes what a lucky bastard he is for getting her to say yes. So, go to the bathroom, take your time doing whatever the hell girls do in there, put on something fancy, and give me time to figure out this whole… at home date.” My chest was heaving by the time I was done, but at least the pillow was back on the couch.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “So just, disappear for a bit?”

  “Yes,” I exhaled. “So I can surprise you, and so you can do your worst — but know, I’ve seen you naked, so if you’re wearing clothes it’s still going to be my second favorite thing I’ve seen you in.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Then maybe I show up naked.”

  “Then maybe you get to be dessert,” I fired back.

  “Maybe that’s all I wanted all along,” She walked by me, I snaked my arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her parted lips, then pointed her toward the hall.

  And prayed like hell I wouldn’t do something else offensive or stupid.

  I had no idea how to date.

  Especially since it’s not like I could just pay for dinner and a movie.

  Yeah I had a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to figure out how to do it.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  El

  OF COURSE, HE’D never been on a date.

  I had eyes.

  I was aware of what type of godlike presence the man had — it’s not like I was exactly thrilled that he basically just slept with whoever he wanted without having to even buy them dinner first.

  I’d felt so stupid saying something that I almost ran into my room and locked the door behind me.

  But his laugh.

  God, that laugh.

  It was loud, real, amused.

  I loved it.

  It was one thing I would take away from my time in this ranch house, hearing Dante Nicolasi laugh should be illegal.

  It wrapped around me, made my body throb in all the right places, and it took everything in me not to jump into his arms and start ripping off his clothes and beg him for more.

  More laughing.

  More teasing.

  He was always serious.

  Always haunted.

  Always angry.

  And I wondered, if maybe, I was helping chip away at the armor he was so keen on keeping — maybe I could break through.

  Maybe this, whatever this was, could go beyond sex, beyond attraction.

  Beyond misguided protection of his name.

  I had hope.

  For the first time since I could remember I had hope that my future wouldn’t be filled with death but life.

  Hope was a dangerous thing.

  Because it made me daydream about things I had no right daydreaming about, it made me think anything was possible when I knew that we were running against a clock that picked no sides, that owed us no favors.

  I sighed and went over to my suitcase and opened one of the frilly boxes the girls had given me.

  The nightgown was black silk, it had an open back and could almost pass as a chic cocktail dress.

  I quickly put it on and eyed the garters next to it.

  “What the hell?” I pulled on the thigh-highs, attached the garters to the matching lacy black thong and did a little turn in the mirror before letting the dress cascade against my legs.

  It felt expensive.

  I pulled my hair into a loose bun at the base of my neck and went searching for some makeup.

  I never wore a lot around Dante, mainly because Xav
ier had always wanted it caked on my face. I think it made him angry to see my bruises and know that it was because I fought him.

  He wanted complete submission. While I wanted to stab him in the throat with whatever sharp object was close by.

  He wasn’t here now.

  It was just me, and Dante — and that weird cow out back.

  I squared my shoulders and applied some dark eye shadow followed by a blue eyeliner and some bronzer.

  Lipstick was just going to come off, at least I hoped so, but I loved red lipstick, loved it.

  Even though I rarely wore it.

  I used to see it on his skin.

  And I hated that he ruined one more thing for me.

  But maybe, maybe the red on Dante’s skin would be redeeming. With shaking hands I added a few more finishing touches.

  A spritz of perfume that one of the girls had packed with the boxes, and finally a pair of black and white heels I don’t remember being given.

  What did they do? Just buy things and stash them away for times like this?

  I gave my head a shake and touched the doorknob.

  I’d been gone maybe forty-five minutes.

  Was that enough to come up with something? Anything? Or would he still be standing there wondering how the hell he was going to give me a date?

  I took a shaky breath and opened the door and walked with slow steps down the hall, my heels making a clicking sound against the wood.

  It smelled like he was cooking I just wasn’t sure what.

  The table was set.

  One plate on each side of a white tablecloth, with napkins on the dishes that he’d folded and placed silverware on top.

  He’d even lit a candle and turned the lights down.

  Throat dry, I made my way around the table and found Dante in the kitchen. It was a complete disaster. He cooked the way he fought — with reckless abandon, he was very goal oriented. And apparently his goal had been to massacre spaghetti until it resembled something like mush.

  “Looks… good.”

  “I over cooked the noodles, tried again, then under cooked them, but this batch,” he said, pointing at the stove, “is going to kick ass, I just had to go through two boxes of—” He looked over his shoulder. Eyes blazing he raked his gaze over me from head to toe and back up again, he sucked in his bottom lip like he was imagining tasting me, and when his eyes met mine again he looked drugged. “Don’t move.”