Текст книги "Elect"

Автор книги: Rachel Van Dyken

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Forty-one Chase

Shit. Had I hallucinated the entire thing? I woke up on the couch with a blanket covering me. My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness in the room.

Mil was sitting by me reading.

“What the hell happened?” I shook my head a few times to clear it.

“You passed out. Must be all the pressure.” Mil shrugged. “You’re lucky I was there to catch you.”

“You caught me? All six-foot-two of me? Really?” I snorted and then groaned. My head pounded in protest.

Mil grinned. “Actually, the table caught you, and then you landed on my boot, which is still a catch, in case you were wondering.” She stood and reached for a mug on the table. “Here, this should help.”

I took a sip of the warm liquid and choked. “Is that straight whiskey?”

“With lemon.” She shrugged and took a seat.

“I saw him, Mil.”

“Who?”

“Nixon,” I whispered.

“No you didn’t,” she said simply. “What you saw was your imagination conjuring up images of your dead best friend in order to alleviate you of the guilt you feel for wanting to get into his girlfriend’s pants.”

I squinted and said slowly, “Who are you?”

Great… No answer. She was officially back to reading and ignoring me again. I threw a pillow at her face. “And just so you know, I’m not feeling guilty.”

Her arched eyebrows and snorting were enough to make me want to throw my drink in her perfect face.

What the hell?

Where did that come from?

Shit.

I looked down at my cup and shook my head for the third time. I seriously must have hit it hard if I was suddenly finding Mil attractive.

“You feel guilty,” she said without looking up from her book. “You feel like you’re stealing his life, but don’t worry. Things always have a way of working out.”

It was my turn to snort and roll my eyes. “Yeah, I highly doubt there will come a day when I won’t feel like the worst friend in the world for living while he didn’t.”

Mil licked her lips and closed the book. “Chase—”

“Oh my gosh, what happened to your head?” Trace ran to my side and ran her fingers over my temple. “And your eye?”

“My eye?” I repeated.

Mil snickered behind her book.

“What the hell is wrong with my eye?”

“It’s turning black and blue.” Trace’s brown eyes filled with concern as she touched the tender flesh.

“Care to explain, Mil?”

“Nope.” She got up from her seat and threw the book back onto the couch. “I’ll see you guys in the morning. It’s going to be… a busy day.”

“It’s Thursday. Why would it be busy?” Trace asked. “I’m the only one with lab.”

“Just trust me.” She gave us both a weak smile and walked off toward the bedrooms.

I scratched my head. “Raise your hand if you think she’s up to something.”

Trace and I both raised our hands and smiled. I grabbed hers midair and pulled her onto the couch with me. We lay like that for probably ten minutes before her heavy sigh begged me to ask the question. “How was your near brush with death?”

“Great.” She sighed. “How was my acting?”

“Too good.” I groaned. “You almost made me believe I shot you.”

“Why did you shoot?”

And there it was.

I didn’t know how much to tell or how little, but the problem was she was involved. She needed to be on her guard.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the picture that my father had given me earlier that evening.

“Look.” I pointed at the red marks across Nixon’s face as well as hers.

She took the picture from my hands and then thrust it back into my face as if it was burning her fingertips. “Why? Why would he want me dead?”

“Loose ends,” I whispered. “You’re a flight risk? I don’t know, had I been conscious the past hour I would have probably gotten further than asking myself the same damn question.”

“Right, and why were you unconscious?” She was still in my arms but she turned to face me. Our lips were only a breath away from each other.

I knew what I’d seen was real. I knew I’d seen Nixon, but for some reason both Mil and Nixon needed me not to know. And for reasons I knew I had to keep secret—Trace could never know there was a chance Nixon was alive, because if she did, and he died again…

Shit, she wouldn’t make it through.

I wasn’t sure I would make it through.

Panic seized my chest as she reached up and traced my lips with her fingertips. How horrible did it make me that my first thought was if Nixon lived I would lose this. I would lose her. And not just for now—but forever.

Time wasn’t on my side. I had no moment but now.

Every person panics when they realize all of a sudden, their lives are going to change, that they’re going to go in a direction they never saw coming. I felt like my whole life had led up to this moment.

Nixon’s destiny didn’t just define our family or Trace’s; it also defined me. The outcome of whatever happened would define the rest of my existence.

I closed my eyes and swallowed as Trace’s fingers fell to my jaw, lightly caressed my five-o’clock shadow, and then dipped into my hair.

Groaning, I leaned forward. Our foreheads met.

“I love you,” I whispered.

There. I’d said it.

“I love you, too.” She said it too fast, too simply. It wasn’t the same love. She needed to understand.

“Trace.” My voice cracked as I reached for her hand and brought it to my fingertips. “You don’t understand; you never have.”

“What?” Her eyes filled with tears. “What don’t I understand?”

“You. Me. Us.” I sighed and kissed the tip of her finger and then sucked on the end before moving to her next finger and her next. She gasped but said nothing. When I finished my assault, I kissed the top of her hand, and sighed against it. “When I say I love you. I don’t mean it the way you do. I’m not… capable of loving you in that way.”

Her eyes narrowed.

Here went nothing.

“When I say I love you, I mean I love you so much it hurts to be close to you, it hurts to be away from you. I hurt all the damn time because my stupid heart has decided for one reason or another that it can’t survive without being next to yours. I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to me, but I’m a disaster. I’m broken for you and I never want to be fixed. And it hurts like hell because when you kiss me, I know you think of him. When I kiss you, all I see is you, all I feel is you.”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“When you touch me, a part of my heart breaks off, because in the back of my mind I’m always aware that the way you define the touch and the way I feel it are two totally different things. Trace, I love you. I love you. I”—my voice cracked—“I am in love with you.”

“B-but all those times…” she stuttered. “I thought you were kidding, acting! I mean, you’re Chase! You’re never serious when it comes to that stuff. And Nixon—Nixon would kill you—”

“He’s already threatened to shoot me in the head… believe me. I know that loving you will be the highest price I’ll ever pay for anything. But, Trace, you’re worth the cost.”

“What are you asking?” She licked her lips and stared into my eyes. “What are you saying?”

I was going to do it.

Even though I knew he was alive.

I was going to ask.

Because she deserved to hear the question, regardless of what her answer might be.

“Choose me,” I whispered. “Because my heart? My soul? My damn existence? Has already spoken, and it wants you, and only you—forever.”

I felt like I’d just run a marathon without any food or water. My chest heaved with exertion as her eyes searched mine for a minute longer. Then her lips touched mine.

In a real kiss.

She was kissing me the way I’d always wanted to be kissed by her—she was consuming my darkness, and replacing it with her light. And in that instant I knew—nobody would ever compare to her. For my entire life I had been lost, and now I was found.

I molded my lips to hers and wrapped my arms around her. Every plane of her body was touching mine—causing me to burn with need for more of her. I growled low in my throat when our tongues collided. With a jerk, I was on top of her, pressing her down into the couch as sensations of her taste, and her lips, etched themselves onto my soul.

Everything was us. Nothing else existed except for her kiss, her taste, her hands on my body. I pushed my body harder against hers. The need to show her all my pent-up frustration, all my feelings, was so overwhelming I wasn’t sure I could control myself. I was bruising her mouth with mine and I didn’t care. She had to feel me. I needed her to feel me and only me.

Trace suddenly broke, or something broke—it was as if all the frustration, all of what she’d been holding on to—released. And it was like I could physically see Nixon pried from her existence.

In kissing me, she was letting him go.

But she felt too right for me to feel guilty. I knew that the very person she was letting go of was still breathing.

My knee hit the TV remote, turning it on and causing me to jump back and look into her eyes. “Trace?”

She reached for my head, pulling me into another hot kiss. Her mouth crashed against mine. I pulled away slightly. “Trace?”

“What?” she breathed.

Shit, I was going to be that guy, the one that just had to know the truth… “I need to know something.” I played with a piece of her fallen hair and dug my hand into the depths of it as it cascaded through my fingers.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on my hand. “Anything.”

“If he was here, if Nixon was here… would it still be me? Would you be letting me kiss you, and touch you? Would you want this?”

Trace’s eyes opened slowly and then a blush appeared on her face. She slowly licked her lips and squinted. “Chase, that’s not our reality.”

“I can see you letting him go—” I sighed. “You want to. I can feel it. But damn if my curiosity didn’t just ruin everything.” Shaking my head, I rose to my feet. “I still love you. It changes nothing. I guess…” Hell. “I guess I just want it all.”

Her eyes were sad when she lifted her head and sighed. “Me too, Chase. Me too.”

I held out my hand and pulled her to her feet and walked with her down the hall. We didn’t say anything as we both passed each other by and got ready for bed.

I turned the lights off and crawled into my makeshift bed on the floor, placing my gun underneath my pillow.

Yeah, no way was I going to sleep after all that kissing, talking—freaking bleeding my heart all over the place only to find out I’d always be second.

Trace’s breathing became heavy, but my damn eyes wouldn’t close.

About an hour later, as I was contemplating whether or not I should just stay up all night, she stirred.

“No! Don’t!” Thrashing in the bed, Trace let out a whimper. “Please, Nixon. No! No! Don’t leave! Don’t!”

My heart broke. I quickly jumped onto the bed and pulled her into my arms. “Shh, Trace, it’s okay. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

For a moment she tensed and then relaxed into me. “It’s not okay.” Her voice was weak and gravelly. “The only thing that would make it okay would be Nixon still living.” She turned in my arms and kissed me briefly across the lips. “But you’re right.”

It was my turn to tense.

Trace gripped the sides of my face with her hands. “It’s not fair to be second.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s gone. You’re here, Chase. You’ve always been here.”

I swallowed.

“You.” She placed a tender kiss on my mouth. “First, Chase. I want you to be first. I choose you.”

Chapter Forty-two Chase

The moonlight outlined Trace’s tearstained face as she sat in my lap on the bed. “Say something, Chase.”

“Sleep.” I touched my forehead to hers. “We’re both tired and emotional. We’ll sleep and go to lab tomorrow… get you coffee and try to go about life as normal.”

“What about you and me?” Trace outlined my jaw with her index finger. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion.

“We’ll talk in the morning.” I gently lay down on the bed and held up my arm for her to rest on me. She sighed and laid her head on my chest. Within seconds her breathing had deepened. And I was stuck staring at the ceiling, wondering how the hell I was going to explain to Nixon—that is if he survived—that I had taken from him the one thing he was actually living for.

Sunlight peeked through the windows. Trace’s arm was draped over my chest. I traced little circles along its length, content with merely watching her as she slept, knowing that in my arms she was safe—from everything.

The door burst open.

There was Tex. I thought he’d better have a damn good reason for barging in on us. His eyes scanned the bed and then the floor where I usually slept and then went back to the bed. He swallowed and blinked a few times, still saying nothing, but words weren’t really necessary. He had to know. It was evident from the way we were holding on to one another. Everyone was moving on; damn if it didn’t hurt like hell to keep growing, to keep going.

Tex took a step into the room. “I just wanted to know if you guys wanted coffee. Mo’s making breakfast and… well, it just seemed like it would be nice for all of us to eat together—like we used to before…” His voice trailed off.

Guilt gnawed at me all over again.

But I was unable to say anything to put him at ease. “Sure man, just give us a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay.” He backed out of the room. “If it’s any consolation. I know you love her.”

His words made my hand freeze to a stop. The guilt grew and grew. “I do. I love her.”

“So did he.” Tex nodded and walked out of the room. And I was officially exhausted. I was on borrowed time either way. And so was Trace; she just didn’t know it.

“Hey,” I whispered into her hair. “Sleepyhead, we’ve gotta get up. You’ve got lab with Luca, and maybe I’m too hopeful that you’ll burn down the entire building.”

“I don’t burn things,” came her grumbling response. “What time is it?”

She lifted her head and blinked a few times, as if trying to make the image of my face less fuzzy. The breath hitched in my chest. She was so beautiful. Her golden brown eyes bored into mine as a lock of hair fell across her face. I couldn’t find the words. I seriously felt like an idiot because I was totally gawking at her like I’d just lost my mind.

“Chase?” She squinted. “You all right?”

No. I was dying. Seriously dying inside… How could I go on without her in my life? Knowing what it was like to wake up next to her? To hold her in my arms. The familiar pain streaked across my chest, weighed on me as if I’d just been buried under the ocean.

“Um, yeah, just tired. You snore, by the way.”

She scowled. “You sound like Nixon.”

The room fell silent. I didn’t know what to do to make it better, so I simply shrugged and laughed. “Well, we were more like brothers.”

And shit. It was like I hadn’t actually thought about that until now.

Hell. Cousins with some messed-up parentage that almost made us look like brothers. Both in love with the same girl. Weird, because it was like we shared parents, too, or they shared each other—however you wanted to look at it. There had to be some law about that, or something in the Bible that said you’d be condemned to Hell for coveting your cousin’s girlfriend. The same cousin who technically looked a hell of a lot more like your brother and who your real dad parented. Shit, it was messed up. On the bright side, at least Nixon and Trace weren’t married. Right, because that somehow made it less horrible.

“I’m just going to go shower, okay?” Trace interrupted my dark thoughts and walked over toward the bathroom. I grabbed my stuff and went to the hall bathroom. Within fifteen minutes I was ready to go. I threw on my Eagle Elite uniform, black slacks with a white button-up shirt, red sweater vest, and jacket—and made a beeline for the kitchen. The smell of sausage and eggs assaulted me.

“Hey, Harry Potter, glad you could make it,” Tex called from the table.

“You’ve been saving that one for four years, haven’t you.” I shook my head. “Lame, and this looks nothing like Harry Potter. Don’t be an ass just because you don’t have to go to class on Thursdays.”

He smirked.

I snatched a glass of orange juice and sat down.

Mil was reading the paper in the corner, still in her pj’s. “Your eye’s healing up,” she pointed out without actually looking up from the paper.

“No thanks to you.” I snatched a piece of toast. “I’m lucky I survived.”

“Survived what?” Mo asked from the kitchen and then looked at me. “Holy crap! What happened!”

“People really should learn not to drink and walk at the same time.” This from Tex.

Glaring at Tex, I answered Mo. “Apparently, I fall on tables and shit.”

“You should be more careful.” Mo put a plate of food in front of me.

“Right,” I answered. “I’ll be more careful next time I’m around tables named Mil.”

“Huh?” Mo asked.

“Nothing.” Mil smiled sweetly at my sister and then sent me a seething glare. I smiled and took another bite of toast.

“Oh my gosh, that smells amazing.” Trace walked into the kitchen and immediately I started choking.

“Dude, chew your food.” Tex patted my back and handed me a glass of water but I waved him off. Water wouldn’t help. I needed freaking CPR.

Beautiful. Damn, she was so incredibly beautiful that it hurt to look at her. Her soft brown hair was in a high ponytail and for the first time in two days her uniform looked ironed, clean, perfect on her body.

And the killer?

The part that had me ready to jump out of my chair and slam that perfect girl into the wall and kiss her senseless?

She was wearing the boots.

My boots.

The ones I gave her.

I smiled as she stuck out her leg for approval.

With a wink in my direction she grabbed a plate from Mo and took a seat next to me. The smell of coconut wafted off of her and into my airspace. I was starved for it. I leaned closer to her and placed my hand on her bare knee.

We ate with the rest of the group.

Things were almost normal.

Except they weren’t. Which I was reminded of the minute I opened the door to go outside, only to find every single one of the men I had placed to guard the house—gone.

“What the hell?” I dialed my father’s number. We needed those men to get us to school without anyone seeing Trace. My father would have been the only one who suspected she was dead and I was taking a huge risk by even allowing her to go about life.

We needed a driver. And we needed to be able to sneak her in and out of classes, not because a college education was that important but because Nixon had specifically said to go about life as did Luca. Besides, the last thing we needed was for Tony to show up at the house now that my men were missing. School was probably the only place he wouldn’t go snooping around.

The phone rang and rang.

Finally my father picked up. “Chase, I’m a bit busy right now.”

“My men,” I barked into the phone. “Where are they?”

“Son, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” I snorted. “Let’s try this again. You work for me. I’m your boss. If I don’t have my men back within the hour I will personally drive my ass over to your house and slam my fist into your head. Got it?”

My father made a choking sound as if he was laughing at me. “To be young again.”

“Yes.” I hissed. “To be young and actually able to get shit done rather than staying at home being completely useless. I mean it. I did what you asked last night, but this is the final straw. You either want me in power or you don’t.”

He sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “It’s complicated, Chase. I’m not safe, not at the house, I needed extra security. Just in case.”

I was silent for a moment. “Did someone threaten you?”

No doubt Nixon was poking around.

“Not exactly.” He cleared his throat. “I just… you know what happens when you drink a lot and…”

“And?” I prompted.

“Nixon,” my dad laughed. “I could have sworn I saw Nixon, but instead it was the De Lange kid. He wants to make a deal.”

Things had just gotten interesting. “Oh?”

“I was going to speak to you—”

“It’s your lucky day. You’re speaking to me now. What does Phoenix want?”

“Money,” my father blurted. “He wants money and then he’s going to disappear for good. But the thing is, Chase… I don’t have access to the funds we use for bribery. I’m going to need you to make the withdrawal.”

Son of a bitch. My own father was going to betray me. Did he think I was that stupid? The boss never made the withdrawal. Not unless he wanted to get A) shot, or B) flagged by the Feds.

“Hmm.” I paused and mouthed to Tex to get the car. “You do have my permission. When does Phoenix need the money?”

“Tonight.”

“Of course he does,” I said. “Fine. I’ll get the money. We’ll put all of this behind us and live like one big defective family. Sound good?”

“I never did get your sense of humor.”

“I wasn’t being funny, Dad.”

“Fine. Tonight then?” Damn if he didn’t sound ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Sure. Oh, and remember.” I cleared my throat. “If anything goes wrong, if for one second I smell a rat, I’ll shoot you.”

“You’d shoot your own flesh and blood.”

“Of course not.” I hung up and threw the phone against the ground. It shattered into a million pieces.

Tex pulled up and got out of the car. “Shit. You didn’t have to take it out on your phone.”

“I need a new one.” I released Trace’s hand and flexed my fingers.

“I’m on it.” Mo ran back in the house. We always kept extra phones around. Mainly because we needed lots of lines open for business, but also because Nixon and I had always had a tendency to break phones when we got upset. Expensive habit.

I paced in front of everyone. “He wants us in the dark for a reason. Damn you, Nixon.” I realized I had slipped. Trace looked at me curiously, as did Tex and Mil. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.” I cleared my throat. “Normal. Everything has to go normal today. Trace, I’ll go to class with you; maybe we’ll find answers there. If not… Shit, I’ll have to get the money myself.”

“Money?”Mo repeated. “What money? What’s going on?”

“Apparently we need to pay someone off.” I clenched my hand into a fist. “And good ol’ Dad wants me to be the one to make the transfer.”

“It’s a setup,” Tex interjected. “No boss does the business himself. He pays someone to do it for him. What Tony’s asking is not only ridiculous, it’s stupid. He knows you aren’t stupid enough to go do it yourself.”

“Which is exactly why I have to.” I scratched the back of my head. “I’ll go to the bank after classes and make the withdrawal with Sherry. She’s family so she won’t blink an eye when I take that much money from the accounts. Just know that if a bomb goes off it’s probably not an accident.”

At Trace’s sharp intake of breath, I paused. “Shit, I’m sorry, Trace. I was being sarcastic.”

Her hand flew across my face so hard I nearly fell. “Well, stop being sarcastic or I’m going to kill you myself!”

Mo had just returned, holding out my new phone, but she snatched it back from me.

“What the hell, Mo, I need that!”

Mo stuffed it in her purse. “Not until you’re done looking like you want to shoot the first thing that looks at you funny.”

Tex grinned sheepishly and batted his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Looking at you funny. Is it working? You wanna shoot me?”

“No.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.

“Cool. Mo, give him the damn phone.”

“Men!” she shouted and handed me the phone, then got into the running car. Mil stood on the stoop and waved good-bye.

I paused. “There aren’t any men here to protect you.”

She lifted her coffee cup in the air with one hand and pulled a pistol from her bathrobe with the other. “Do I look like I need protecting?”

“No,” I chuckled.

“That would be a hell no,” Tex called from the front seat. “Play nice, Mil.”

“Always do!” She walked back inside and shut the door.

“She scares me,” Tex announced once we were on the road.

I laughed. “Yeah, well imagine what she was like before reform school.”