Текст книги "Entice"

Автор книги: Rachel Van Dyken

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Chapter Forty-Two

Tex

I knew they would come for me. I wasn’t an idiot. I mean, I played nonchalant better than Henry Cavill played Superman. Look too smart? People start to talk. Look too dumb and people won’t use you. So I liked to stay right in the middle.

The middle was safe.

The middle kept my adopted family safe.

But the minute my real father’s name had been dropped, I knew there wouldn’t be a safe place for any of them. Not until he was dead. So it didn’t shock me when the car pulled up. That was why I didn’t run. Why run from your destiny? It was a cowardly thing to do, and I wasn’t a coward – no, that would be my father. After all, he was going to use me as bait. I mean, how stupid could he be?

I’d flipped on my GPS the minute I got back to my hotel room. I’d assumed they’d just shoot me to make it so I couldn’t run. Instead, the men who’d grabbed me had been polite, a bit gruff, but they hadn’t slapped me around. Not that I would have cared.

What did I really have to live for?

The woman I loved hated me, and my own family had abandoned me when I was a child.

Right. So my life? Not worth a hell of a lot.

“So…” I toyed with the nylon cable ties they’d used on my wrists. Idiots. How’d they know I didn’t have a knife stashed in my sleeve? I rolled my eyes. “We going to the Strip? Or did you guys wanna do some shots first?”

The guy to my left chuckled while the one to my right punched me in the jaw. Ah, there it was. I was beginning to think the Campisi family had gone all soft.

“Fine.” I sighed. “We’ll go to the gay bar, but only because you punched me. Geez, why didn’t you just say you had a preference?”

That earned me two more punches, one to the gut and one to the face.

Blood spewed from my mouth; I laughed and spat it at the guy to my left who was using me as his personal punching bag. Tattoo on his neck, metal stud in his left ear, a scar down the right side of his cheek attached to a nose that looked like it had been broken at least three times. His teeth ground together, and from the stench of his breath, he hadn’t brushed in a few days. I sloppily fell against him, breathing in the scent of his clothes. He pushed me off of him, but not before I got a whiff of something musty. They’d been either underground or in an abandoned building. Then again, Vegas had a dry climate. I squinted at the man again; a few beads of sweat trickled down his temple. My bet was that he was petrified of me.

“You know who I am?” I said in a cold voice.

“Everyone knows who you are,” the man said in a thickly accented voice. Hmm, Sicilian who still sounded like one. This should be interesting.

“Say my name.”

“I’m not saying your name.” The guy swore under his breath.

The thing about my name? Nobody uttered it. I was living in my own version of Harry Potter. The one who shall not be named was my actual title to most people in the Campisi family. For some reason, it had been spread that I’d been sent away to live in the states because I was cursed. So they thought of me as a bad omen. I was the Campisi family’s version of seeing a black cat on Halloween.

And saying my name was basically like uttering Bloody Mary three times in your bathroom mirror.

It actually cheered me up to think of the guy shitting his pants if I started arching my back and foaming at the mouth.

“Well.” I sighed. “This is a lively group.”

The two men in the front seat exchanged a glance.

“Tex,” I continued. “They call me Tex for short. But my real name? It was passed down from my father.” I allowed for a long pause. “Vito Nicio Campisi, Junior.”

“Shut up!” the man next to me yelled.

“It’s a mouthful,” I added, spreading my legs wide enough to push both bastards further against the doors of the car. “And the minute I got to the States, I became obsessed with everything Texas had to offer, big cows, big hats, big hair, big—” I earned another punch to the stomach. It hurt like hell but I kept talking once I could catch my breath. “So you can imagine that the minute I hit puberty and noticed how big I was – and how much I had to offer the big bad world, I asked to be called Tex. Though to be fair, in the bedroom the ladies just call me Big.”

“Does this kid ever stop talking?” The guy to the right muttered.

“Would you rather I shit my pants and rock back and forth?” I spat in a low tone. “I’m the son to one of the most powerful men in your sad, pathetic, little world. He owns you, therefore, I own you. I’m a trained assassin.” I purposefully narrowed my gaze as if I was looking down on all of them and thought them beneath me, which technically they were. “By your silence I can assume you were told I was a half-assed village idiot who smiled more than he talked and screwed women for fun.” I rolled my eyes. “I could kill all of you like this.” I snapped. “I wouldn’t even blink and neither would my father. The only reason you guys are still alive is because the longer my father takes with me, the longer that fun little contracted hit hangs over his head. Hell, he may be dead by the time we get to the location.”

The guy to my right held a gun to my head. “Still confident you could kill us? Shit, you talk a lot.”

I smirked. “You irritate me.” I turned to the guy on my left. “And you smell like you ate shit for breakfast, and I don’t mean that as an exaggeration. You actually smell like you woke up at six a.m., took a crap in the toilet, dipped your grubby little hands into your own bowl and fished out a prize.”

“That’s it!” The guy to my left lunged for me, which really was unfortunate for him, considering I’d already managed to saw the zip ties off my hands.

I used the same knife to slice his throat. His eyes went wide and he gurgled something as a crimson waterfall gushed from his neck. Pity. It was hell getting stains out of white. Then I wrestled his gun out of his clenched fist and fired it right-handed at the guy next to me. Poor bastard slumped in his seat, a look of pure horror crossed his face before his body stilled.

Two seconds.

That’s how long it took me.

The one choked his last breath while the other slumped against the window. The driver slammed on the brakes, while the guy in the passenger seat turned around and aimed a gun for my head.

I was too busy wiping my hands on the guy next to me to care. Once they were semi-clean, I looked up and shrugged. “Please, don’t stop on my account. Like I said, the one kept punching me and the other smelled. Tell me you didn’t smell him. I did you a favor. Is it my imagination, or are the made men these days lacking in the hygiene department?”

The guy in the front seat took his gun off of me. “He was right about you.”

“Who?” I asked innocently as the car started going again.

“Your father.”

“Oh, and what did Papa have to say about his abandoned son?”

The guy smirked in the rearview mirror. “He said he should have killed you when you were an infant.”

I smirked right back. “For once, he’s right.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Chase

“He kept his GPS on.” I muttered tapping my phone as it found Tex’s location. He was at Lake Mead. Though his signal was fading. Either they were tossing him into the water or he was going underground. “Are there any tunnels? Old abandoned buildings?” I asked Sergio.

He clicked the keyboard into his iPad and began going to town. “I’m not seeing anything glaring other than a few old houses, some old caves.”

“Wait.” Frank held up his hand. “He’s superstitious.”

“What?”

“Albatross,” Luca said for him. “And houses on the lake are another superstition. The man has a thing about bad omens and curses. My bet is he went underground or into an abandoned cave.”

“Searching.” Sergio’s hands flew across the keyboard. “Okay, so the only thing I’m finding is an old abandoned boathouse. Everything else is either a nice house, hotel, or restaurant. None of those places are even close to the location he disappeared at.”

“Old boathouse it is.”

Sergio smirked.

“What?” I asked.

He looked up from his computer. “The old boathouse. It’s called The Albatross.”

“Good work.” Nixon exhaled. “Girls, you’re going to drive separate with Frank. You’re safer with us than hiding out at the hotel. They could be drawing us out to kill us or drawing us out to get to you. I’m not taking any chances.” He turned to Frank. “Follow, but not too close. If you don’t hear from us within a few hours, call this number.”

“What is it?” Frank asked.

Nixon’s eyes fell. “The airline. If you don’t hear from us, you go off-grid, you go to the first location stated in Trace’s plan. She has the information you guys would need to go into hiding. If we make it out, we’ll meet you there. If we don’t…” His voice died off.

“You’ve thought of everything,” Mo said, her voice sounding hollow.

Nixon pulled her into his arms. “We’re blood. We protect blood.”

When he released her, I stepped up to him and held out my hand. “Blood in. Blood out.”

Luca and Frank shook our hands, repeating the sentiment as each of us kissed one another’s cheeks.

I’d never been one to think about the whole patron saint thing, but in that moment, I pulled out the cross that I’d made when I was fifteen. It had Saint Paul scribbled across it.

“May God protect us,” Nixon mumbled, making a cross motion with his fingers in front of him.

Frank nodded. “He protects the just.”

Mil leaned against me. “And those who rape little girls, sell their virginity, or worse yet, purchase it for their own gain? What does he do to them?”

I squeezed her. “He gives them their just reward.”

Luca nodded. “An eternity in hell.”

“Ready?” I whispered in her ear.

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

She nodded and then wrapped her arms around me. “I love you too.”

Stepping away from her, knowing it was entirely possible it would be the last time I’d be in her arms, was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. It was necessary. I was going to war – for her. And even if I died, I’d die with peace, knowing my last action had been saving her from monsters and demons. My last battle cry… would be her name on my lips.

Chapter Forty-Four

Mil

Frank pulled the black Escalade up to the curb and waited as all of us girls piled in. We were safe with him. He wasn’t just Trace’s grandpa; he was the boss of the Alfero family. He was also old enough to let the younger generation run in, guns blazing, but not too old to not be able to protect us. He was in his seventies but looked more like his fifties.

“You girls will listen to me,” he said, his voice slightly accented. “You will not run into the building when you hear gunshots. You will not cry when you see blood. If need be, you will kill. You will kill swiftly. You will kill smoothly. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” we mumbled in unison.

“Do you all have ammo?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Trace and Mo repeated the same thing.

“And knives?”

Mo grinned. “My specialty.”

“Fantastic.”

Weird. It was like he was proud that we were heavily armed and ready to kill on a dime. What a life.

I sent a quick text to Joe, telling him what was going on. Not to put us in more jeopardy, but because I figured that the guys would need all the help they could get.

Me: If you don’t hear from me in 40 minutes. Come to this address, guns blazing.

Joe: How many men do you need?

Me: Every last one you have.

Joe: Should I be concerned?

Me: We found Campisi. I wouldn’t be against you bringing hell to his doorstep.

Joe: And to think I wanted to kill you a few days ago.

Me: Um, thank you?

Joe: It was a compliment. Keep in touch, boss.

“Do you trust them?” Trace whispered next to me.

I nodded. “Right now? We have no choice but to trust them. And if they turned on us, they’d bring four of the most powerful families down onto their heads. They have more to gain by joining us than going against us.”

Trace squeezed my hand. “Good thinking.”

Mo leaned forward so that she was touching both of our shoulders. “Girls, I love you both but I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Nerves?”

Mo shook her head. “He could be dead.”

“He’s not dead,” Trace reassured her instantly. “You know Tex. He’s smart. He’s very, very capable.”

“That’s just the problem,” Mo grumbled. “He talks way too much.”

“But he’s good, right?” I asked lamely. “I mean, he can hold his own?”

The girls both burst out laughing.

“What am I missing?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mo said. “It’s scary as hell that they have him. My heart hasn’t stopped racing since I saw the exchange, but Tex kills people. It’s what he does.”

“Don’t they all kill people?” I asked confused.

“They do.” Mo nodded. “But to Nixon and Chase, it’s a necessity. Nixon likes hitting things, Chase likes shooting things, and Tex? He’s like an artist. It’s not a profession to him. It’s a lifestyle, something to perfect. He would do well as a gun-for-hire because nobody could trace him.” Mo laughed. “I remember the first time I watched the stupid Jason Bourne movies I asked Tex if he was taking special serum.”

We all giggled.

“Is he?” I asked.

“Negative.” Mo shook her head. “Though he did say they should make a serum out of his genes.”

“Of course.”

“Almost there, ladies.” Frank said from the front seat. “Be sure to keep alert, and remember, shoot first, ask questions later.”

“You’re a great grandpa.” Trace patted his shoulder.

“Trying to soften me up before battle?”

“Never.” Trace swore. “Just glad you’re finally okay with me shooting things.”

“Well, let’s hope those lessons with Nixon paid off. A shotgun is a hell of a lot different than a pistol.”

“Me and Annie will be just fine.” She patted her own gun and smirked.

“You named your gun?” I asked.

She nodded. “Makes it seem less violent.”

“Women,” Frank muttered under his breath.

Chapter Forty-Five

Tex

We arrived at our destination. A nice little warehouse that had a possessed-looking bird on the side of it. The paint was chipping and, as I’d predicted, the location was next to water. Great. Were they going to drown me or just shoot me? I wonder if I’ll be given a preference? Probably not.

“Out.” The man opened the door, pointing the gun at my face. I lifted up my hands and blew him a kiss.

I strutted in the middle of the two remaining men. They knocked three times on the door. It flew open and I was pulled inside. A bag was put over my head – it smelled like the man I’d just killed and had to sit next to for a few minutes. Lucky me. Even in his death, his stench was haunting me.

“So,” a gravelly voice said. “This is—”

“The man who shall not be named.” I tried to sound bored. “But everyone just calls me Tex. I wonder if they’re afraid of the curse.”

“The curse?”

“Yeah, the one that says that whatever family who is responsible for my death has blood that can’t be cleansed from their hands – their souls will rot in hell for eternity. Their children, their families – completely killed off.”

“Lies,” the voice spat. “We made that up for our pride.”

“Oh, so now he admits it.” I shook my head. “Really, Pops, you think you could come up with a better story? I mean, I’m a freaking legend because of that curse. Why couldn’t you have given me magic powers or something?”

“You do talk a lot.”

“One of my many flaws, other than being sired by the Capo himself.”

Air whooshed by my ears, and then the bag was pulled from my head. I could actually – for the first time in my entire existence – get a look at the bastard who’d abandoned me; I could look directly into his cold icy eyes.

He glared.

I glared right back and then forced a smile. “My apologies. Did you want me to cry?”

“No.”

“I might be able to conjure up a tear if one of your guards gets a feather and starts tickling me, but I think that would be frowned upon.”

“Your mouth will be the death of you.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what that guy’s mom said when I screwed her last night, though I think it was the other way around. Something like my mouth will be the death of her.”

The guard I’d pointed at just glared then rolled his eyes. “Thinks he’s funny.”

“I know I’m funny.” I winked. “Thinking has nothing to do with it. I’m freaking hilarious, and the longer you listen to me talk, the shorter the time is before you die.”

“Me?” My father laughed. “Who’s going to kill me? You? Your little friends?”

“My little friends. It almost sounds like a play date, only with guns, and knives, and well… Chase does have this weird bomb fantasy, but whatever.”

“They will come for you,” my dad said coldly. “And I will end what I should have ended years go.”

“Just out of curiosity…” I leaned forward. “What would that be?”

“The list is quite long.” He scratched his face and took a step forward into the light.

He was a large man, and by large, I meant large. Over three-hundred pounds and at least six-and-a-half-feet tall. His dark hair was thinning around the crown of his head, and I could tell he hadn’t shaved for a few days.

“Been running, Pops? Or have you just let yourself go now that Mom’s finally left you.”

“Your mother is dead.” He said it so matter-of-fact that my first reaction was to laugh, and then I wanted to cry because I’d never met her, and I’d been so freaking close that it destroyed me to know I would never see her smile.

“So?” I shrugged, lying my ass off. “I didn’t know her.”

“You look like her.”

“She must have been very attractive.”

“She was a conniving bitch.”

“Ah well, I’m more of a conniving ass, so I guess I must have inherited that from your side. Can’t have it all, looks and smarts. How would that be fair?”

“Sir?” One of the guards rushed to my father’s side. “A car pulled up to the restaurant a few minutes ago. We think it’s them.”

“O-oh, them,” I mocked. “Tell me Nicolasi doesn’t make you want to shit your pants right here, right now, and I’ll let you shoot me.”

“Nicolasi?” My father’s eyes narrowed. “With an Alfero? And an Abandonato?” He chuckled. “The world is not big enough for those three to be in the same place at the same time, my son.”

“I have no father,” I said quietly. “And you have no son.”

“We’ll see.”

My response was to smile and pretend like what I’d said wasn’t something I’d recited over and over in my head since I’d been old enough to form an actual thought…

I said it in the mirror when I was four. Nixon overheard me and asked why I was so upset. I told him it was stupid that he and Chase looked so much like everyone else, while I had stormy blue eyes and weird-colored hair.

He said it was the Spanish in my Italian heritage.

I cried.

And told him I didn’t know what Spanish was, but was Spanish mean too? Did he not want me either?

Nixon hugged me like a brother.

Chase came in and did the same thing. We played Legos for a few hours afterward, and they promised that even though I didn’t look like them. I’d always be family…

So my real father?

He could rot for all I cared.

“Check it out, Marco.” Father nodded toward the door. “And keep eyes on the perimeter.”

“How many men?” I asked casually.

“Pardon?”

“How many men do you have here, protecting you? You’re a cocky son-of-a-bitch. I assume you can’t imagine a world where some of the families you helped build would turn on you.”

“It would never happen.” My father set his gun out on the metal table and took off his rings. “I am the Capo. To kill me would be like killing God.”

“Holy shit, I’m surprised you haven’t been struck by lightning yet, you blasphemous idiot.”

“He put me in this position.” My father closed his eyes and lifted his hands into the air. “He put me on this earth to create order, to make money, to make a better life for my family.”

“Question.” I winced. “Did His plan also include you buying a fourteen-year-old’s virginity so you could gain control over her family as well as buy silence for involving yourself in what’s been known as the sickest prostitution ring known to the underground?”

He slapped me so hard across the face that I fell to the ground. Blood dripped from my face onto the dirt floor causing a cementing mixture to attach to my face. I spat onto the ground and laughed. So violent, I wonder if he even realized how long I could withstand torture? He punched like a bitch and I craved to tell him that. I touched my lower lip. Great. Now I’d never be able to get a lip ring like Nixon. I’d look like a fool. Damn pipe dreams.

“Who told you that?”

“The girl you tried to kill.” I got up to my knees and made it to my metal chair. “The one you sent the De Langes to kill.”

“I helped the De Langes.” He popped his knuckles. “After all, they came to me, bitching and complaining that a mere woman had been named boss. The few that agreed to it were too terrified of Nicolasi to say no and too greedy about the money he used to buy them off. A few of the members approached one of my associates and asked if I could help.” He grinned. “After all, I am a very helpful man.”

“Oh I can see that.” I saluted him.

“I gave them the location of the girl. It was a win-win. She dies, they die, no loose ends.”

“Misjudged Chase a bit, you think?” I laughed. And got slapped. Again. Damn it.

But this time I got back into my chair I was more irritated than in pain over my throbbing cheek.

“I wasn’t informed of his skill set.”

I raised my hand. “It’s the same as mine. We kill people. We assassinate. What else is there to know?”

“So do the De Langes.” He cursed. “Clearly this Chase was better.”

“And the branding? I mean, was that totally necessary?”

“Easy.” He chuckled. “I brand any associate who works with me or for me. That way, if they ever piss me off, I put a hit on their head. The contracted men know who to kill because of that mark. As I said, I’m a fair man. It wouldn’t be right to kill those who don’t deserve it.”

“Wow, you really should be sainted.”

“The church said no.”

“Shocking.” I put my hand over my heart. “So what’s this about? You want to shut everyone up? Me included? Because it’s not going to happen. It’s—”

He gripped me by the throat and lifted me off the chair. Holy green giant.

“The American mafia is a joke!” He spat. “A pimple on the land of Sicily! I will put a stop to your fighting, your childish bickering, inability to stay out of prison, hard-headed ways for good!” His eyes flashed with something. At first I thought it was anger, then I looked again.

“You’re terrified,” I croaked. “You’re scared shitless of what the De Langes have on you.”

He dropped me to the ground and kicked me.

“The only way out is blood,” I muttered. “And it’s going to be yours.”