Текст книги "Elect"

Автор книги: Rachel Van Dyken

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Chapter Twelve Nixon

Break? It was already broken! Horrified, I watched her look down at the ground, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Nixon.” She placed her hands against my chest. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.” My voice was hoarse with emotion.

“Trust me. Trust in us. No matter what I say, no matter what I do—and I’ll do some terrible things—know that I love you. No matter what.”

“Kind of sounds like the speech I gave you a few weeks ago.” I sighed.

“Sucks huh?” She laughed a bit and leaned her head on my chest where her hands had just been. “Regardless of what I do, you have to know, I love you, Nixon. I choose you and only you. I’m going to break your heart every day I hold his hand instead of yours. It’s going to kill me to laugh at his jokes knowing you’re dying just a little bit inside. And if he kisses me—I’ll kiss him back, Nixon. I’m going to break your heart—because you’ve given me no other option.”

“I know.” Damn if I wasn’t ready to burst into tears myself. I knew it would be hard—not this hard. “Just do me a favor, Trace?”

“Anything.”

“Think of me…”—I smirked—“not him. When you’re kissing him, do me a favor and just keep your eyes closed so you can imagine it isn’t my best friend and yours. And I swear to all that is holy that if he puts his tongue in your mouth I will cut it the hell off.”

Tracey laughed against my chest. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Godfather.”

“Heard about that… Wanted to give some of the men some entertainment?”

“It was more of a history lesson for me.” I tensed as she kept talking. “Mo said that the writers of the movies had to actually talk to real mafia members in order to keep it realistic. They even had to ask permission to make the movie. Crazy, right?”

Nope, not crazy at all. It was a world people rarely got to see, and if they did they either went blind afterward or wished that God would strike them dead. Living in a constant state of fear wasn’t living—it was hell on earth.

“Don’t pollute your mind with Hollywood’s version of our reality, okay, Trace?” I kissed her head. “Now, let’s go get some of those cookies before Chase eats them all.”

She pulled back from me and linked her arm through mine. “Nixon.” She stopped walking and looked up at me. “Tell me there’s a happy ending.”

“Trace, I—”

“Lie,” Tracey ordered. “Lie if you have to. I just need to hear you say it.”

“Trace.” I twirled a piece of her hair around my fingers. “For us? There will always be a happy ending. Always.”

She squared her shoulders and gave me one silent nod before dragging me out of the room. Hell if I didn’t feel like the world was literally resting on my shoulders—her world, to be exact.

Chapter Thirteen Phoenix

The room was cold and dark. Hell, I had every crevice, every plane of the wall memorized. Ironic that the very room I used to play in when I was a kid had been turned into my own personal chamber of Hell.

I deserved it.

All of it.

I was too selfish to kill myself, although the thought had crossed my mind more times than I’d ever admit to anyone, let alone Nixon.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness and focused on the door. I knew it was only a matter of time before Nixon came bursting through, guns blazing. At least I was dealing with Nixon instead of Chase. There was a melodrama I didn’t want to deal with—two guys both in love with the same girl—and lucky me, I was the object of both of their hatred.

I would hate me, too. I did hate me. I hated what I was, I hated what I did, I hated what I represented; but most of all, I hated that the legacy I would leave behind as a De Lange was that of an attempted rapist and a rat.

I would hang. And I would deserve every damn second the noose tightened around my neck. Some things can’t be undone—or unseen—and my eyes, they’d seen and experienced it all. My dad had made sure of that. He’d wanted to expose me to the darkness of our family—I prayed for the first time in years, the day they sent Mil away. She was only my stepsister but I would have done anything to save her—anything to protect her from the ugliness that my father was a part of. Because I knew it was only a matter of time before she was brought into his circle. I’d only been sixteen when it happened to me, and I could still see the blood on my hands.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “You want me to…”—I swallowed back the tears—“hurt her.”

“It won’t hurt.” My dad chuckled. “I imagine she’ll like it.”

I licked my lips and glanced back at the door. It was hard to see because the lights kept flickering on and off—as if they couldn’t decide whether or not to shine light on the hell I was experiencing, or darken—allowing me to forget what was right in front of me.

My dad slapped the girl across the face. She had two faint bruises on her right cheek and a bloody lip. Her blond hair was matted to her head, and I could see cuts and scrapes all over her body, as if someone had used her as his personal sharpening tool.

“Do what needs to be done, son.” My dad slapped my back. “It’s easier this way. This way, you won’t feel, do you understand?”

I shook my head as the girl’s eyes pleaded with mine. I wanted to shout, to cry, to do anything. Instead I just stood there as my dad explained again.

“Money, son. We need it, our family needs it. Sometimes we have to do bad things in order to get to the good.”

I nodded my agreement and stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep from choking the life from his body.

“So, we sell the girls.” Dad shrugged. “Truly, it is not as bad as it looks. They are sold to very wealthy men who are willing to pay immensely for someone so—young.”

“Young?” I nearly whispered.

“Underage,” he clarified. “Lucky for you, this particular girl doesn’t need to be… pure, if you get my meaning. The sooner you remedy the situation the better you’ll feel about everything. After all, it’s just sex.”

Just sex? I’d never had sex. I was the only one of my friends who hadn’t. They thought it was because I was waiting—never would they guess it was because I envisioned it as rape. I could never see it as any different, because my entire life I’d watched my dad rape my mom over and over again, and now, he was asking me to do the same thing.

I wiped a stray tear and looked away. “Can’t we just get someone else to do it?”

The slap came so fast I didn’t have time to duck. It stung like hell as I fell against the concrete next to the very girl I was trying to save.

“You want in the business? You want to be boss someday?” Dad threw a knife onto the floor. The clatter may as well have been a bomb going off for as loud as it was. “You either do this”—he nodded down toward the knife—“or I’ll kill her. The blood will be on your hands and you’ll get to tell our client exactly why we were not able to deliver as promised. Think of your mother, your sister, and make your choice.” He looked down at his watch and scowled. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

The minute the door shut, I let a few more tears escape before looking at the girl shivering next to me.

“I’m—” I croaked and closed my eyes.

“Do it.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Just make it fast, please just make it fast.”

“I can’t…”

She grabbed my hand. The nameless girl that was getting sold into slavery grabbed my hand to comfort me. “If you don’t we’ll all die anyway.”

I nodded and numbly worked the buttons on my shirt, pulling it off, and following with my jeans.

The minute I touched her, the light that had once been in her eyes, the very last shred of dignity that had remained in her possession—disappeared. All I saw was black, all I felt was evil, and Dad was right. Because when everything was over—I felt nothing.

Headlights shone through the tiny window above the door. My hands gripped the chair and I waited, but nobody came to the door.

Exhaling in relief, I tried to focus on something, anything, to make the memories of my childhood go away. But in the end, I knew nothing would work. I had no soul. And people who had no souls? They didn’t—couldn’t—feel anything but darkness, and that’s what I was—Lucifer himself.

Chapter Fourteen Chase

“It’s staring at me.” I sipped my coffee and handed Trace back her phone. “I don’t like it when things stare.”

Trace rolled her eyes. “It’s a cow, Chase. What do you expect it to do? Talk to you through the phone?”

“Moo. Aren’t cows supposed to moo? It looks weird just standing there eating.”

“You were the one who said you wanted to see what my home was like.”

I laughed. “ ‘Home’ as in ‘house.’ I didn’t think you’d give me a half hour speech on farm life and how to breed cattle. Thanks for the pictures and video, by the way. I’d always wanted to know why farmers stuck their hands up the cows’ asses—”

Trace took my coffee out of my hands and took a sip. “Don’t be a prude.”

Laughing, I jerked my coffee away from her. “Honey, that’s the first time I’ve ever been accused of such.”

“My mistake.” Tracey snatched the coffee back. “Chase, don’t be such a whore.”

“Better.” I stole my coffee back. “Now stop taking my coffee. It’s eight a.m. and I’m still not fully ready to face the day, especially that professor in your Women’s Studies class. Seriously, the chick needs to get laid. I think she hates men.”

“To be fair”—Trace tried to grab my coffee but I held it over my head so she’d have to get a ladder to grab it—“she”—Trace jumped—“only hates you”—she jumped again—“because you called her fat.”

“Not true.” I yawned and kept the coffee in the air. “I asked when her baby was due.”

With a huff Trace gave up and put her hands on her hips. “Right, and she wasn’t pregnant, so basically it’s the same thing.”

I shrugged. “My mistake.” Trace was still eying my coffee. “Fine, we’ll go get you some coffee, but remember you can’t be late to any more classes.”

I checked my watch. “Okay, we have exactly fifteen minutes to go across campus, buy you coffee, and head up to the Social Sciences building.”

“We’ll be fine!” Trace grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”

We ran across campus and stood in line at the coffee shop. Luckily, there was only one person in front of us.

But as my own personal luck would have it, the person standing in front of us just happened to be Luca.

What the hell was he doing on campus? And how would he have any idea we were even heading to get coffee? Was he truly watching us that carefully?

I gripped Trace’s hand hard within mine.

She looked up at me. “Chase, seriously. Get over the cow thing.”

I laughed and went into action. “I’ll get over it, if you get under me.”

Her mouth dropped open. I tilted my head to the left. She didn’t need any more information. In an instant her arms wrapped around my neck and she leaned into me, her mouth inches from mine. “Hmm, how about we skip class then?”

“Nice.” I was seriously sweating. Everything felt awkward and off limits. If I just went with instinct I knew it would make Tracey uncomfortable and I only had seconds to decide what the hell I was going to do. Luca turned just as I leaned in and pressed my lips against Trace’s.

I was counting on her reaction to be timid—and it was.

Mine, however, was like unleashing a starving tiger from its cage. I thrust my tongue into her mouth and tasted her, like really tasted her. Shit, I was going to go to Hell for enjoying this so damn much. With my body as tight as a drum, I opened her mouth with my tongue and continued to take what wasn’t mine to take. She put her hand on my chest, almost as if she was pushing me away, but I shook my head as I deepened the kiss and slid her hand down my abs to the loop in the front of my jeans.

A throat cleared. Slowly, I pulled away from Tracey and looked up into Luca’s amused face.

“Chase.” He nodded. “And you must be?” He was looking at Trace with more curiosity than anything. Shit, did he know we’d played him?

“Oh, um,” Trace giggled. “Sorry we got carried away, I’m Chase’s girlfriend, Tracey.”

“Lovely.” Luca took her outstretched hand and kissed it. “What a beautiful couple. A pleasure, Miss Tracey. Chase, we’ll be in touch.”

I nodded as he walked off with his coffee, saw that a few of his men were with him.

I faintly heard Trace order a drip and then she directed me out of the coffee shop toward the Social Sciences building. I pretended everything was fine on the inside, but it wasn’t.

I was far from fine.

I was ripped to shreds on the inside.

Because until a few minutes ago, I’d had no idea what I’d been missing. And now… now I did.

And suddenly betraying everyone I loved was back on the table. Because Tracey—she held a part of me I couldn’t take back, and it scared the hell out of me.

Chapter Fifteen Nixon

I reached into my shoulder bag and felt around for my gun. I knew I was seriously going to lose my mind if I was checking my gun every five seconds of the day, but I couldn’t help it. I was worried about everything.

Damn, if my ma could see me now.

I went to my one and only Tuesday class and tried to look scary. No way was I in any shape to talk to students or my professor with the whole Trace and Chase situation hanging over my head. Holy shit, their names even rhymed. How the hell had I missed that?

I groaned aloud.

“Mr. Abandonato, something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Mr. Smith asked.

Hell. No. “Sorry, headache.”

He grimaced but said nothing. Probably a good idea since I was literally two minutes away from losing my shit.

Class ended five minutes later. I made my way toward the opposite end of campus—toward the Space.

I called it the Space because calling it anything else just seemed weird. We used the building for special things; having it on campus was reserved for special purposes.

And I had a hell of a purpose today.

Ruin Phoenix’s life and gain my sanity back. Easy, right?

I burst through the door only to find Phoenix glaring at me from a metal chair. His hands were cuffed behind him and a gag was in his mouth.

I pulled the gun from my bag and tucked it into my pants.

“How was your sleep, sunshine?”

Phoenix’s eyes were dripping with hatred, but he didn’t make a sound.

Sighing, I went over to the cupboard of death, as Tex liked to call it, and pulled out my tools.

Phoenix started jerking against the chair, but I continued to pull out the medical instruments. I wasn’t really going to do anything to him—not yet. The unfortunate part was that I’d been trying to clean up the family business—apart from the Sicilian influence.

The mafia was alive and well in Sicily, but here? Here we’d been keeping the peace, flying under the radar. As long as we didn’t red flag our business dealings, we were left relatively alone.

It had all started with Trace’s parents’ murders and I hoped to God it would end there. I knew there wasn’t an out; there would always be people trying to get my family. Greed would always exist. But it was order that I was counting on. The Sicilians had a certain way of doing things, a respectful way to keep order within the families.

They were here because if for some reason things went south, they didn’t want it traced back to them.

Too much money was at stake. And Phoenix knew that, so I may not torture him, not now, but I knew that was where it was headed. I hated that I would have my ex-best friend’s blood on my hands almost as much as I hated myself for wanting to kill him every damn second of the day.

I pulled out the concrete mixture and poured water into it.

Phoenix’s eyes widened but he said nothing.

It was a fast-setting concrete. I mixed it for a few minutes then pushed the bucket over to where Phoenix sat.

“So.” I bit down on my bottom lip and crossed my arms. “I want you to look at this. I mean, really look at it.”

Phoenix’s eyes flickered to the concrete-filled bucket.

“Now.” I pushed the bucket closer to him. “This is your future. Do you see it? Look really hard. Your future is in this bucket. Know that if you double-cross me I won’t hesitate. Your feet will be so heavy from the concrete surrounding them that when I drop you into Lake Michigan you won’t even have time to suck in one final gasp of air. Nobody will find you. Nobody will care. So it’s your choice.”

Phoenix closed his eyes.

I pulled the gag from his mouth so he could talk. “Now, say thank you.”

“What?” His voice was hoarse.

“For giving you a choice. Say thank you. And tell me everything you know. Or else… I’m placing your feet into the concrete bucket and praying for your damned soul.”

Phoenix seemed to actually think about it, which proved his idiocy right then and there. If he had to think about whether he’d rather live than die? That meant his shit was deep and he didn’t see a way out of it except death on both ends.

“Damn.” I pulled up a metal chair and took a seat across from him. “That bad, huh? Who’s got you, Phoenix?”

“It’s…” He cursed. “It’s complicated.”

“Families always are.”

There was a pregnant pause while he continued to stare at the bucket. “I’m imagining it.”

“What?”

“Which death would be quicker.”

“I won’t shoot you.” I laughed. “Sorry, but the minute you tried to rape Tracey was the minute you lost all rights to a quick death.”

“I know,” Phoenix snapped. “I’m just—”

“Thinking.” I pulled out my brass knuckles and slid them onto my right hand. “Allow me to help with your decision.”

The knuckles dug into the flesh on the right side of his jaw as I pulled back from the punch.

Phoenix swore, but otherwise did nothing.

“Say thank you.” I swore.

“Thank you.” Blood dripped from Phoenix’s face onto his white shirt.

“Thank you, what?” I cupped my ear.

“Sir. Thank you, sir.”

“For?”

“Being gracious and giving me a choice.”

“Better.” I took off the knuckles and wiped them on my jeans. “Now, what would you like to tell me?”

He smirked and leaned back in his chair. “You’re all going to die—and you don’t even know the worst part.”

“Oh, it gets worse?” I laughed bitterly. “Tell me. Now.”

“A shitstorm’s coming your way and you have no idea. Neither does the Nicolosi family. Everyone thinks this is about some old beef, some jealousy between the Alfero and Abandonato families? Hell no. It’s not about jealousy. It’s about blood. It’s about the wrong blood leading; it’s about the secret your family’s been keeping—is still keeping. And the best part?” He leaned forward, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’ll take it all the way to the bottom of Lake Michigan. Hell, I may not get a last breath, but I’ll die with a smile on my face knowing that you never even knew who your real father was.”

I don’t remember how many times I hit him before he passed out. Blood dripped from both my hands and I still wanted more. What the hell kind of mind game was Phoenix playing?

I quickly dialed Uncle Tony’s number and told him to meet me. We needed to move faster than I thought—I needed all the information, the leads that we’d collected over the years, the evidence. I wanted and needed it all.

Something told me we were running out of time faster than I could possibly imagine, and I knew Phoenix held the key. The only question? Who was holding the information over his head?

Chapter Sixteen Nixon

“Are you sure this is all you have?” I asked for the third time. Tony had given me a USB drive with all the information that we’d collected over the years, including pictures of the De Lange family’s comings and goings, and active accounts.

Shit, they were worse off than I thought.

And that was the problem.

As far as I could tell they weren’t receiving any payments from any outside source. Nobody seemed to be bribing them. No wire transfers; nothing.

Tony snorted. “Nixon, you’re not only my boss but my nephew. Why would I of all people keep vital information from you?” He lit his cigar and walked over to the large bay window in my kitchen.

Hell. He was lying to me; the son of a bitch was lying. I could always tell when someone wasn’t being honest. Not that I liked to brag, but whenever people lie they tend to give more information than necessary. They do this in order to convince you that because they have details, they’re innocent.

If Tony was telling the truth, he would have shrugged and said “yup.”

He didn’t even deny it. No, instead he turned the tables and said, “Why would I of all people keep information from you?”

Guilt dripped off every word.

Why indeed?

I pretended to scroll through the bank accounts on the computer. It was all information I’d seen before. Things that didn’t really matter and wouldn’t help our case one bit.

What motive would Tony have to hide something from me? What would he have to gain? He was loaded. All of our business dealings were managed by different companies. I oversaw all operations.

The man was worth close to a billion dollars. Granted, that was a drop in the bucket compared to my own fortune, but still.

It couldn’t be money. He had money.

“Well.” Tony puffed on his cigar and faced me. “I think I’m going to head home. You’ll tell me if anything comes up?”

Here went nothing.

“Nah.” I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t think it’s necessary you know all the gory details. Just do what I pay you to do.”

Tony’s nostrils flared; his eyes remained cool and distant. “And what’s that?”

I smiled. “Your damn job. Manage the transactions coming in and out of the banks, make sure every member of the family gets paid by the end of the month. You know, that sort of thing.” I looked back at my computer, dismissing his presence.

“Now, listen here, Nixon, you may be—”

“We’re done now.” My eyes flickered to his. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a mess to clean up.”

He seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say. Instead he nodded. “Yes sir.” And stormed out of the room.

“Angelo,” I called behind me.

“Yes sir.”

“Tail him. I want to know what he eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I want to know what toothpaste he uses at night, what whiskey he prefers, all of it. I want you to know him so damn well that if I placed his skin on your body, people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Anything suspicious, you call me. And Angelo?”

“Sir.”

“Nobody, and I mean nobody, will know of this. If you get caught—”

“I understand, sir.” Angelo nodded once and left the room.

I groaned and put my head in my hands. Things weren’t looking up. I wondered if Trace had had a better day than I did. Actually, I didn’t hope; I knew she had to. After all, what could be worse than threatening to kill your ex-best friend and finding out your uncle was a possible rat?

* * *

Chase walked into the house looking like he was about five seconds away from holding a gun to his own head.

“Dude.” I threw a can of beer in his direction. “Who died?”

He caught the beer midair and set it on the table, then took a seat. “No one. That I know of, at least. Well, let me rephrase. I didn’t kill anyone. Why, did you?”

“Not yet.” I shook my head and then burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Us.” I took a seat next to him and sighed. “Who asks that when they come home at night?”

“Damn shame we’re not kidding.”

“Damn shame.” I agreed and touched my beer to his. “So, what has you looking so pissed off? Trace get mud on the boots you get her or something?”

“Nah.” He cleared his throat. “Nothing like that. I just hate going to her classes. They suck, by the way, and I was a freshman three years ago, thank you very much. Plus, I swear every single one of her professors wants to murder me.”

“Well.” I took another sip. “You did sleep with two out of four of the women professors. Pretty sure that’s reason enough for a grudge.”

Chase snorted. “They should thank me, not hold it against me. I gave them the time of their lives!”

“So you say.” I chuckled. “They, however, explain the situation a bit differently.”

“You asked?” Chase’s eyes widened.

“Chase, you can’t seduce an older woman and then call her a cougar to her face, especially if you’re the one that sweet-talked her into bed in the first place.”

“Not my fault!” Chase held up his hands. “Can we please change the subject?”

“Fine.”

“Do you…” Chase swore. “Do you think that maybe Tex should help out a bit, too, with Trace, I mean?”

“You do realize you’re making it sound like she’s our love child, in need of a babysitter during the day?”

Chase didn’t laugh. What the hell was stuck up his ass?

“Dude.” I nudged him. “Snap out of it. What’s wrong?”

“I—” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m just really—”

“Nixon!” Trace burst into the room and threw her arms around my neck, then sat on my lap. “I missed you.” Her lips found mine and my concern for Chase went out the window.

He cleared his throat a few times before Trace pulled away from me. “So he told you, then?”

“I was about to.” Chase’s voice cracked.

“Tell me?” I asked, looking between the two of them.

“Luca.” Trace sighed. “That scary-looking Nicolosi guy? He followed us today.”

“What the hell!” Still holding onto Trace, I reached over and smacked Chase in the shoulder. “Is that what crawled up your ass and died? You can’t just keep that from me, man. I need to know these things. Why didn’t you text me?”

“I wasn’t thinking.” Chase swallowed and looked away. “I’m sorry. I guess I was in such shock that I didn’t know what to do, but don’t worry, Tracey was safe. We were fine.”

“Fine?” Trace snorted. “Nixon.” She turned in my lap and touched her forehead to mine. “Chase has been acting like a complete lunatic all day. I think he’s defective.”

“I’m not defective!” Chase yelled.

“And he’s not a toy…” I defended, smirking.

“Plaything.” Tracey nodded. “Definitely a plaything, but what I’m saying is, he’s been so damn depressed all day that I can’t handle being around him.”

“Right here. I’m sitting right here.” Chase sighed.

“Please?” Tracey kissed my mouth, licking part of my lip ring and then nibbling my lower lip. Her lips trailed to my ear where she whispered, “Something is very wrong.”

I nodded and pulled her face away from mine, being sure to kiss her nose as I looked into her eyes. “Go change into some comfortable clothes for dinner okay? I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Okay.”

Once Trace was out of earshot, I reached over and grabbed Chase by the arm, dragging him with me all the way into my father’s old study. I closed the doors behind me.

“What the hell happened?”

Chase wouldn’t meet my eyes. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and stared at the ground.

“Chase?”

“I kissed her.”

“You have exactly five seconds before I shoot you in the face. Explain why you kissed her. Now.”

“Luca, he was standing in line in front of us, and I panicked. I kissed her, she kissed me—not very well so you’ve got that going for you—and then I introduced her to Luca and we went to class. That’s all that happened.”

“Was there tongue?”

Chase’s head snapped up. “What?”

“You heard me. Was there tongue?”

“It uh…” He waved his hand in the air. “It happened so damn fast, Nixon. Yeah, probably, I don’t know. I’m not sure. All I can say is I’m sorry. It was the only thing I could think to do. I was afraid Trace would be pissed, but she understood.”

“So you’re upset because…?”

“Well, I like living, thank you very much.” Chase smirked. Was everyone going to lie to me today? Could I trust no one but myself?

“And?”

“Nothing.” He forced a smile. “It just ate me up all day, that’s all. It felt wrong, it feels wrong; you know what I mean?”

My eyes narrowed. That part, at least, seemed genuine. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I hate it more than I could ever say, but Chase, remember, this isn’t to torture you.”

He snorted. I continued. “It’s to keep her safe.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?” Anger filled Chase’s eyes as his mask of guilt slipped off, and in its place… something I hated to see. It was as if a knife was being thrust into my back and there was no way for me to pull it out.

Betrayal.

He wanted to betray me.

And there was nothing I could do except pray that when the time came… he wouldn’t.