An eternity separated that hand and mine.
A lifetime.
She grasped my hand and gripped tight as hell.
“I miss you,” I whispered, not looking down at our hands, yet still memorizing the warmth radiating from every fingertip. I felt it in my soul, in my bones: we were meant to be together, just not how I’d originally thought.
Trace squeezed tighter. “I miss you too, Chase.”
“I’m sorry,” we said in unison, finally looking into one another’s eyes. I reached across the seat and pulled her in for a hug. Her smell was so familiar, but this time, I didn’t react in the same way. There was no desire to do anything except hold on to one of my best friends. Regardless of how things ended between us. I’d give my life for hers. Still.
“Not as sorry as I am,” Trace said in a small voice. “Chase, you promised me you’d never leave, but you did.”
“Trace — I got married. I had to—”
Her head shook against my shoulder. She pulled back and reached for my hand again, our fingers locked with each other, “Getting married is one thing, but you promised you’d never leave. When I thought Nixon—” Her throat cleared. “When I thought he died, you made me a promise. Please keep it.”
“I promise.” I licked my lips and squeezed her hand tight within mine. “I won’t leave you. I mean it when I say I miss you. I miss your laugh. I miss your smart-ass comments and your stupid cow keychain. I miss it, not because I still want it for myself — I think, well… I think I’m finally over that hurdle or at least I’m trying to be. I just miss our friendship.”
“Threatening people on my behalf and buying me ice cream isn’t just friendship, Chase.”
“It isn’t?” I laughed. “Then what is it?”
“It’s friendship on fire.”
“So we’re burning up again?” I released her hand and smirked.
“Always.”
We both exhaled and leaned back in our seats, happy in the silence of the moment.
Mil was still talking to Nixon. Correction, Nixon was talking to her, and she was trying her best not to punch him. At least that’s what I was getting from their freaky body language.
“She hates me, you know,” I said aloud.
Trace followed the direction of my gaze and snorted. “You’re an idiot.”
“Huh?” I flipped around in my chair. “Didn’t we just have this really special talk? Nice moment? Water under the bridge?”
“Right.” Trace smacked me on the shoulder. “Doesn’t mean you’re not still an idiot. That girl,” Trace pointed, “is head over heels in love with you. She’s just afraid.”
“And you get that? What? From her predatory glance in my direction every few seconds?”
“Kiss her.”
“I have,” I said defensively.
“Not like that, Chase.”
“I don’t know what you—”
“Not out of anger.” Trace sighed optimistically. “Kiss her because you want to.”
“And if she punches me in the face?”
Trace pulled out a magazine and shrugged. “Then make sure she gets the left side so your bruises match.”
“Wow. In another life you could have been a marriage counselor.”
Trace laughed just as Nixon walked up. “You guys good? Because if you aren’t, I’m going to freaking lose my head.”
“We’re good.” I nodded, still a little pissed at Nixon’s attitude toward Mil. I got it. He was trying to make her strong by tearing her down, making her weakness nonexistent. But still, she was my wife. I didn’t have to like his methods.
“Mil needs you, Chase.” Nixon gave a curt nod and plopped down next to Trace.
“Does Chase need a shield or body armor before he goes into enemy territory?” This from Trace.
“Nah, just protect your balls. You should be fine.” Nixon chuckled and planted a kiss on Trace’s lips.
“Bastard.” I walked off toward Mil and cringed when she directed her glare at me. I chanted Trace’s words in my head, just kiss her, kiss her, kiss her like — I stopped in my tracks. A few guys were trying to get her attention. Oh, hell no.
I lunged for Mil’s arm, pulled her against my body, and crashed my mouth onto hers, all before she could even gasp for breath.
She sucked in my every exhale — like I was her lifeline. My mouth worked against hers, tenderly nipping at her lips. My hands dove into her silky hair. I’d always loved that hair, but it was like my mouth was jealous of my hands and vice versa. I broke the kiss and moved my lips to her neck. A curtain of hair fell across my face; it may as well have been velvet.
“Chase—”
“Stop talking.” My mouth found hers again, and I was lost. Damn it. Trace had been right. I allowed myself the small opportunity to forget about everything around me and memorize her.
“Chase—”
“Not now, Mil.” I growled against her mouth.
“I think,” Nixon’s irritating voice sounded behind me, “what your wife is trying to tell you is that it’s time to board the plane.”
I broke away from her, my body trembling from adrenaline.
“Good show.” Nixon laughed and walked off.
I, however, could not walk.
I stared at Mil. She stared right back.
“Why’d you kiss me?”
It took me a few seconds to find my voice. “You’re my wife.”
“Not good enough.” She crossed her arms. “I refuse to be kissed, even by my husband, when it’s out of jealousy.” She nodded to the guys still checking her out.
If only I had my gun… “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t think, I know.” Mil rolled her eyes and tried to walk past me.
I grabbed her by the elbow and pushed her against the wall for a second time. “Let’s get one thing straight.” I nipped her lower lip. “I’ll kiss you as often and as much as I please. Not because I’m jealous, not because I’m a jackass who gets off by showing my manhood as much as possible…” I released her arm and kissed her nose and inhaled her scent, “…because let’s be honest, I don’t need to show off when I’m sure as shit that I’ll win.”
“Oh yeah?” she whispered. “Then why go to all the trouble?”
I cupped her face with my hands. “Because I wanted to.”
“Guys!” Tex called. “Let’s go.”
I released her and held out my hand. She squinted at it but took it anyway. We didn’t speak to one another the entire time we waited to get our tickets scanned.
But we also didn’t stop holding hands.
I counted it a victory.
Chapter Nineteen
Mil
My lips were still buzzing from Chase’s mouth. His kisses weren’t the same. I hadn’t noticed that yesterday. Maybe it was because his first kiss was so damn forceful I wanted to smack him across his perfectly chiseled face or erase his tattoos with a sharp knife.
His kisses used to be — exactly how you’d expect a horny young teenager to kiss. All mouth, all tongue, no tenderness, just plain raw sexuality.
Now? His mouth was crippling in the way it pulled down all my defenses. His tongue coaxing — everything about him was warm and inviting and, Lord help me, but so irresistible that had we not been in a public place I would have made a big giant fool out of myself.
I was playing with fire.
Chase was the flame.
And I had a sinking sensation that I was the solitary leaf in the hot sun just waiting to get scorched alive.
He was beginning to shield his emotions really well around Trace. I knew it must still be difficult, and I promised myself that my heart wasn’t involved, but every time they looked at one another I wanted to scream. She’d taken what wasn’t hers to take and had left me with the unwanted pieces.
I wanted to hate her.
But she was basically unhateable. It was like hating Tex. As much as you wanted to smack him around, every time he gave you that goofy gr
in, all was forgiven.
Collateral damage. Those two words echoed in my head over and over again. Chase had directed them toward the employee at the hotel, yet I couldn’t help but wonder if it fit for me too. Because I didn’t want to end up like that. The person who was destroyed by the real battle. The battle for Chase’s heart.
Hell. I didn’t even know how to fight for it.
I just knew that deep down, a part of me wanted to win.
****
“Is this seat taken?” a dark voice said to my right. I looked up and grinned.
“That depends. Who’s asking?”
“A striking old man with two knee replacements and a heart of gold,” Frank Alfero answered, taking the seat on my right. Frank was Trace’s grandfather and an all-around scary individual. He looked like the old guy on the Dos Equis commercials. Up until last year I’d never even seen the man, only heard of his bad blood with the Abandonato family.
Chase chuckled on the left and reached around me to shake Frank’s hand.
“It’s been awhile.”
“It’s been three weeks, Chase.” Frank gripped his hand. Funny, because a few months ago the families weren’t even talking, and now we were all going to Vegas together. Right. What’s wrong with that picture?
“How’s Luca?” Chase released Frank’s hand but was still peering around me.
“Luca,” came a heavily accented voice, “is just fine. Thanks for your inquisition, Mr. Winter.”
“Ah, speak of the devil.” Chase swore.
“Funny, I thought he spoke of me,” Luca joked. Though all of us, Nixon mainly, knew it wasn’t funny. The man didn’t even have fingerprints, and I bet a million dollars no dental files would be found on him either. He had salt and pepper hair that was slicked back at all times. He only wore Italian-made clothing — that fit him to perfection. If I had to guess I’d say he was around forty-nine or fifty, but he was aging extremely well, you know especially considering he was one of the most hated bosses in America.
I shifted in my seat and pretended to look at my magazine as Luca took the seat behind us next to Tex and Mo. The last thing I wanted was to gain his attention again. He’d already threatened me. As if I needed more reminding of what my job was and what would happen to me if I failed to perform.
Well, at least he’d be in his own version of hell during the flight. If anyone deserved to sit between those two for a few hours, it was Luca. Maybe he’d do us all a favor and fix whatever freaky fight they were going through.
“So…”
I jumped in my seat as Luca leaned over and began talking to Chase and Frank like I was nonexistent. “How is the happy couple?”
Chase gripped my hand, scaring the crap out of me. I winced as he squeezed harder and harder. “Just perfect. Right, Mil?”
“In a state of utter and complete bliss unmatched by any other moment or day in my life.” I gave him a wide, mocking grin.
“Too far,” Chase mumbled under his breath.
“Good.” Luca nodded. “So there is nothing for me to be concerned about?”
Nobody said anything. Screw that. Nixon wanted me to take my place alongside these guys? Fine.
“Actually…” I unbuckled my seatbelt so I could turn to face Luca. “There is one problem.”
“There is?” Luca and Chase asked in unison while Frank laughed.
“Well, it is a problem, Chase.”
“What is?”
Poor guy. He did have it coming though. “Your little problem.” I pointed down.
“What?” he roared.
Luca’s eyes widened in surprise, taking on an entirely shocked look I’d actually never seen on him before. “Uh, well, uh.”
“Luca…” I batted my lashes. “You’ve been so helpful with every other aspect of this arrangement I thought you could take your help a little further. You see, Chase and I are having problems in the bedroom. Know anything about that? It’s so clear how knowledgeable you are about everyone and everything. So why not help with this? After all, you love sticking your nose where it doesn’t have any right to be.”
Luca sputtered. “Well, I…” He looked helplessly to Frank who lifted his hands in the air and looked away.
“Oh wait. You don’t work that way.” I tapped my chin. “You work with threats and violence… so how about this. Chase’s gun—”
“Oh, dear Lord.” Chase swore. “Nixon, get your ass over here!”
Luca’s brows furrowed as he held up his hand for Nixon to stay in place. “Do continue, Emiliana.”
I cleared my throat. “As I was saying, his gun…” It was as if everyone in the airplane took a deep breath in anticipation. “It keeps getting in the way. And you know how I hate being the nagging wife, but could you please tell him to put it away? Especially when it’s time for bed.”
I smiled triumphantly as everyone exhaled.
Luca’s right eye twitched as he glared at Chase. “Son, the bedroom is never a place for guns.”
“Speak for yourself.” This from Nixon. I heard the crack of skin hitting skin. Pretty sure he was going to pay for that many times over.
“Wow, good talk. Thanks.” I said thanks with such force there was no guessing at how pissed I was that he kept sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. He wanted me to take my place? Fine, cut off the damn apron strings and stop patronizing me and looking over my shoulder.
Chase’s eyes narrowed on mine.
“I think,” Luca said in low tones, “I underestimated you, Emiliana.”
“People always do,” I said loudly. “And, Luca?”
“Yes?”
“Until you see me joining in with the De Langes — I’m innocent. I’m in charge of what happens to them. I’m their leader. And they are my responsibility. You’ve helped put me in this position, now let me do my job. I’m not a puppet, and I don’t work well when people are looking over my shoulder every damn minute. I’m a De Lange. I’ve got venom in my veins, and I’ll spit you out like poison if I have to. Now, can everyone please stay out of my business?”
“Yes,” Luca said.
Frank blinked as surprise washed over his weathered face.
I smirked and turned my attention to Luca. “Yes, what?”
Luca’s smile reached his eyes in amusement. “Yes, ma’am.”
I sighed in relief and turned back around just in time to see Nixon silently clap twice and nod his head in my direction.
I didn’t want to look at Chase. I expected him to be pissed that I’d gone and thrown him under the bus or even teased him. My cell phone went off.
Crap, I needed to turn it off before I got in trouble. I quickly glanced at the screen and saw three texts from Chase.
Chase: I’m so turned on right now.
Chase: Oh and I’m proud of you. In that order. Turned on first, proud comes second… always second.
Chase: Three words. Mile. High. Club.
Me: Three words. I. Don’t. Think. So.
Chase: That was four words.
Me: Just making sure you were still the smart one.
Chase: I’m still holding your hand.
Me: Okay.
I turned off my phone and looked at Chase out of the corner of my eye. His grin was so big he looked like he’d just gotten lucky instead of sending a few silly text messages. He was proud of me. And he wanted me.
I could live with that, for now.
Chapter Twenty
Nixon
“Damn,” I muttered under my breath. Even I wasn’t insane enough to publicly humiliate Luca like that. The girl either had a death wish or balls of steel.
“Nixon.” Trace gripped my hand as the plane started its taxi.
“Hmm?” I kept my eyes trained in Luca. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, looking cool as a cucumber. What was his play? His reason for helping us when all signs pointed to him going back to Sicily and letting me handle what he kept referring to as the situation.
“Are you oka
y?”
“Of course,” I said gruffly, my eyes darting between Frank and Luca until I got dizzy from blinking so damn much.
“Leave it,” Trace grabbed my chin and forced me to look away so my gaze fell onto her perfect face, “and kiss me.”
“Trace, you know I love you, but I can’t just ignore the fact that—”
Her mouth crushed mine. Hands reached to my seatbelt, unbuckling it as she tugged me to my feet.
“Uh, Trace?” People weren’t necessarily staring, but it was totally possible I’d just moaned out loud — maybe said a few choice words as I’d tasted the mint on her tongue.
Like an idiot, I followed her down the first-class cabin to the bathroom. When I looked back, Tex was giving me a giant thumbs up. He seemed to be the only one really paying attention. And then Frank’s head snapped up. No chance in hell I’d make a play for his granddaughter right in front of him.
I smiled confidently just as Trace pulled me around the corner, away from the bathroom, and to the little kitchenette where the flight attendants were getting things ready.
“Five minutes,” Trace said in a low voice to the guy making coffee.
He shook his head. “I don’t make the rules. The airline does. You kids need to return to your seats.”
Did I seriously resemble a child? I was twenty-two — almost twenty-three. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something that would get us all kicked off the flight.
“It’s the baby…” Trace sniffled. “It’s yours!”
“What!” I roared, grabbing her arms.
“Never mind, take your time.” The guy gave a low whistle and pulled the curtain so we had privacy.
My hands shook as I gripped her arms.
“Gotcha.” She winked.
“Not laughing.”
“Who said I wanted you to laugh?” Trace gave me a coy smile and snaked her arms around my neck. “I kinda had my heart set on a few moans, some biting—”
My mouth, colliding with hers, stopped whatever else she was going to say. How long had it been since we’d made out? Kissed? Last night I’d gone to bed only to find Trace already sleeping. With a moan, I threw my head back and lifted her legs around my waist.
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