Текст книги "Entice"

Автор книги: Rachel Van Dyken

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Chapter Eight

Chase

I’d just redefined the meaning of coming on too strong. Hell, that woman made me want to react. Every single word that came out of her mouth caused a gut instinct reaction. I hadn’t planned on kissing her; it had just happened. I wasn’t aware that I no longer controlled my body or my thoughts where she was concerned. But I wasn’t going to apologize. It had been a damn good kiss. She’d tasted warm, like a hot dessert that just came out of the oven. And I was a sucker for chocolate cake.

That mouth of hers was perfection. Clearly my mind had done me a favor by allowing me to forget just how soft her lips were. A man should never forget the way a woman tastes – and somehow I’d done it.

Never again.

I had planned on our kiss to feel frigid, cold, lifeless. Instead my body had responded with such heat that the entire drive to the hotel I’d gripped the steering wheel hard enough to pry it from the dash.

Thank God, she’d been kissed into silence, especially if that was how I reacted when she challenged me.

The only reason I even upgraded the room was to give us more space – being too close to her made me feel like a caged animal just waiting for the zookeeper to unlock the cage. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration and dropped our bags onto the ground.

“I, uh, I’m going to go get some ice.” Small talk of epic proportions.

“Fine.” Mil shrugged and grabbed the TV remote.

My eyes narrowed as she lay down on the bed, her entire demeanor screamed calm; whereas, I was contemplating how many ways I could dump ice in my pants without looking like I’d just had an accident.

“Whatever,” I grumbled under my breath, grabbing the bucket and making my way down the hall. Call me paranoid, but even though we were staying at the Waldorf Astoria, I wasn’t taking any chances. I kept my gun tucked into my pants and muttered curses under my breath the entire length of the hall toward the ice machine. I needed time to cool off, time to think, time to form a game plan.

Did we have to have sex? And what guy actually asked that on his wedding night? But that mouth, her mouth, I groaned as my mind tortured me with the memories of what she’d tasted like, what her mouth had felt like pressed against mine. How was it possible to be so intrigued by someone else when I knew that no one would ever captivate me the way Trace had? My body clearly didn’t have trouble with it. That much I was painfully aware of.

Shit.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I needed a solid minute or several of them before going back into that room. The last thing Mil needed was for me to go back in there so damn turned on I had trouble walking. May as well wave a flag or something. It was beyond obvious, not to mention irritating.

By the time I reached the ice machine, I wanted to shoot so many holes through it that I was already regretting the fact that I’d brought my gun. Pretty sure destroying hotel property would land me in jail.

Groaning, I leaned my forehead against the machine and took a few deep breaths.

Just as I was about to press the button, the hair on the back of my neck stood on edge. It was quiet, too quiet. The elevator dinged, and then I heard some shuffling, footsteps. The normal hotel guest would be talking, or at least purposefully walking. Quietly, I ducked into the corner and looked down the hall. Two men in suits were quietly walking and talking. Nothing out of the ordinary. But that’s the problem. It’s never the creepers I worry about. But normal people? Men in suits? People who looked like they belong – those are the real threats. They’re the moms and dads taking their kids to school in the sick SUV. The clean cut ones were a pain in my ass. I watched, I waited. They stopped in front of my room.

Shit.

The tall one on the right seemed to be in charge. He motioned for the other to step aside as he pulled out his gun and moved to the front of the door. Wow, a silencer. How predictable. The taller one knocked on the door and said in a low baritone, “Security.”

I rolled my eyes. Security, my ass.

They weren’t my men. They sure as hell weren’t familiar. I reached for my Glock and held it behind me, making my way casually down the hall. As I approached, they both looked up and offered easy smiles, which meant one thing.

They weren’t there for me. They didn’t even know who I was.

They were there for Mil.

I gave them a cocky grin, counting the seconds until I could punch in their shit-eating faces. On the plus side, I could take out all my pent-up frustration on them, poor bastards.

The door handle twisted, gaining their attention. With a swift thrust of my gun, I knocked the first one out and then used my elbow to get the other guy in the face. He shook it off as if I’d barely touched him.

Of course, tonight of all nights, when all I really wanted was peace and quiet and possibly to let out some sexual frustration – I’d be stuck with someone who, by the feel and looks of it, clearly had had his fair share of training in the ring.

With a grunt he pushed me against the hallway wall, ramming his fist into the side of my face. After three hits, I was able to finally duck on the fourth, so his hand hit the wall. And just like that, I knew the boxer’s choreography. His dance, if you will. Right hook, uppercut, right hook, left. I landed a double jab to his stomach and then kneed him a few times before he toppled over, compliments of Muay Thai, bitch. With a grunt, his hand clamped around my wrist, knocking my gun to the floor. I kicked him again then slammed down my arms on his grasp around my waist, momentarily giving me enough time to scramble to my pant leg so I could grab my knife.

We danced around one another. He smirked, throwing his gun and pulling out his own knife. So it was going to be like that, cocky piece of work. He lunged first. I let the blade get within inches of my face before moving to the right and using his momentum to throw him over my shoulder and onto the carpet. I got on top of him and punched him repeatedly in the face until blood covered his smirk. A tooth went flying as he spat blood from his mouth.

“You’re going to have to kill me.” He spit out some more blood as he knocked his head against mine.

Groaning, I fell to the side as we switched positions. But I still had my knife. When he came down a second time, I held up the blade so it went into his palm. He howled in pain and fell back, giving me enough time to grab the knife he’d dropped and thrust it into his chest as the weight of his body fell back on top of me.

I had a love and hate relationship with knives.

I loved the control they gave me.

But I hated that, as gravity caused his body to slide to the handle of the knife, I could see the life leave his eyes, his soul finally finding rest. With a grunt, I pushed him off of me just in time to see the other guy wake up and scramble for the extra gun.

I moved as fast as I could and jumped on top of him, but his gun wasn’t trained on me. It was trained on himself.

I held up my hands. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Chase Abandonato, and you are?” I asked in a calm voice slowly leaning away from him. His hand shook as he held the gun to his chin. Why wasn’t he putting up a fight? I looked down, and that’s when I saw, somehow in the fight his leg had twisted. No way could he win against me. Even with a gun, he would most likely die trying.

Blood poured from the guy’s face as he looked up at me and answered, “A dead man.”

One gun shot.

His body slumped to the floor in a bloody heap as blood splattered all over the wall behind him. It was a complete mess. Blood began to pool at my feet.

“Son of a bitch.” I wiped my hands on my pants and gazed back at the door, hoping Mil hadn’t witnessed the entire thing.

Her face was pale, her lower lip trembled as she leaned against the door. Shit, she needed to sit down before she passed out.

“I’m fine.” She waved me off once I reached her. “I’m fine. I mean…” She swallowed. “I’m good.”

“Stop saying you’re fine and good before I take you to the damn hospital.” I held out my hand. “Cell phone. Now.”

Eyes still trained on the dead bodies in the hall, she handed me the phone from the nearby desk and crossed her arms, huddling into her own body.

I dialed Nixon; he answered on the first ring. “Well, that was fast.”

“Not the time, Nixon,” I said in a low voice. “Look, we’ve got a situation.”

“Alright.” His voice took on a business tone. “How many?”

“Two dead.”

“By you?”

“One by me, the other… self inflicted.”

“Identification?” I could hear the car roaring to life as Nixon yelled orders to men in the background.

“Never seen them before. Let me ask Mil.” I lowered the phone. “Mil.” I didn’t have time to be gentle with her, to coax her out of shock. I needed answers and I needed them fast. “You know them?” I pointed down at the bodies. “I need to know if you can ID them.”

Her eyes watered with tears. She nodded her head and looked away. “My cousins.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Those are my cousins. I saw them a few years ago during Christmas break.”

“Shit,” I mumbled into the phone. Adrenaline was starting to leave my body. Every position I stood in caused a growing ache to radiate down my spine. “Nixon, it was the De Langes.”

“Of course,” he said in clipped tones. “They have such a nasty habit of trying to kill off their own blood – no respect, no—”

“Not the time, Nixon. Just get your ass down here. Now.”

“I’ll call Sergio.” The phone went dead.

We only called in Sergio when things went above our heads. Shit, above our heads? I looked down the hall. Cameras. Not good. Hell yeah, we needed Sergio, because if this security footage got out, we were going to be front-page news, and I’d be spending my honeymoon in prison.

Thankfully we were in one of the penthouse suites. Only four rooms were on our level and none of the doors budged. I kept the door open so I could monitor the hall for any movement, praying the rooms were empty. If they weren’t… there would be more bodies, and they would be innocent.

Chapter Nine

Mil

Yeah, I was fooling nobody. I tried to keep my teeth from chattering, but it was impossible. I’d killed before. I wasn’t a stranger to death, but I’d never witnessed someone killing himself. It was… it was desperate, horror-inspiring. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, on Chase, on the floor. It was such a violent act. My brain couldn’t wrap around or fathom why the same cousin who’d teased me about my crush on Justin Timberlake when I was sixteen would not only turn his gun on me, but on himself.

As a family, we’d never been close. We were the De Langes for crying out loud; we ate nails for breakfast and sold out to the highest bidder in order to keep the family in power and make money.

We were the ugly of the mafia, the desperate joke – never did it occur to me that my own family would be out for blood. That the very people I’d sworn to protect – had ordered a hit on me.

“Mil, sit down before I lose my damn mind.” I felt Chase’s body wrap around mine. I took the comfort like a homeless person takes shelter in a storm. I shuddered as he pulled me against his chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had better nights.”

Chase’s body shook with laughter. “Right, I mean, I knew our wedding night would be epic, but mainly because I figured the minute I got naked you’d pull a gun on me or something.”

I smiled against his torn and bloody shirt. Pieces of muscled skin were visible through the holes; heat invaded my palms when I placed them on his chest and pulled back to look at him. “Thank you.”

“Wow, you haven’t shot me yet, and you’ve said thank you? Where’s my wife and what have you done with her?”

My grin grew so wide I almost forgot how scared I was. “Yeah well, don’t get used to it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered, his eyes trained on my mouth.

I leaned in first.

He met me halfway.

Our lips were an inch apart, and then a knock sounded on the door. Chase motioned for me to be quiet and went to look through the peephole. With a muttered curse, he opened the door. “Sergio, worst timing ever.”

“Says the guy with two dead bodies outside his door.” A deep male voice said. A hint of an accent was audible, but hardly. Soon, the owner of the voice stepped into the room and held out his hand. “Sergio. And you must be the bride? Or the assassin?”

“Assassin.” I pointed at Chase. “Bride.” I pointed at myself.

“Pity.” Sergio winked, his dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, pieces of it grazed his chin. He looked like he belonged in a medieval novel.

“Pardon?”

He shrugged. “I was hoping you were the assassin. It would make it so much easier on my conscience to steal you that way. But being already married…” He shook his head. “Really complicates things in my book.”

“Why? Because you’re such a rule follower?” I asked sarcastically.

“Damn you, Abandonato men.” Sergio looked back at Chase. “Always stealing the women before I even get a chance to get in the fight.”

“I’ll make it easy on you,” I said. “You would have lost. It’s probably better for your ego that you weren’t even in the ring.”

“Ouch.” Sergio laughed. “Lucky bastard.” He pulled out his cell phone and pulled up a picture on his screen. “Is this the way the hall looked when you arrived?”

“Are you asking me?” I squinted at the picture.

“Women tend to pay more attention to detail.” Sergio shrugged. “If I asked Chase what color the flowers were, he’d probably shrug and say, there were flowers?”

“Right.” I nodded. “And yes, this is how it looked, though I think the flowers were poinsettias.”

“Of course.” Sergio slid the phone back into his pocket. “This particular hotel changes flowers depending on the season. I’ll get my men on it.” He walked toward the door. “I’ll destroy the evidence on the cameras.”

“Try not to kill anyone in the process,” Chase added. “We have enough dead bodies.”

“Haven’t killed anyone in years. I may have forgotten how,” Sergio joked. With another wink in my direction, he opened the door and left.

“He’s—”

“A ghost.” Chase finished. “According to you, he doesn’t exist.”

“Fine.” I shivered and licked my lips. I think my body was still in shock because I suddenly felt exhausted, like I needed to sit down or lose complete control over my body.

Another knock.

This time the person identified himself. “It’s Nixon.”

Chase still checked the peephole to make sure and then opened the door wide. Nixon and Tex walked in with a few other men I didn’t recognize. Nixon quickly instructed them in a low voice to help Sergio with anything he needed, the door soon clicked shut, the last vision I had was of a body getting put into something black.

This shit was real. I knew, because every time I blinked I imagined it would go away. But it didn’t… If anything, it just made me even sicker to my stomach.

The door was closed. I was trapped in a room with the three remaining members of The Elect. My stepbrother had been part of their inner circle once – and he’d paid with his life. Though that was partially his fault. My father had gotten to him like he got to everyone. Now they were both dead, and I was left to pick up the pieces.

And now I’d been given no choice. I’d known I had a giant target on my back. I just wasn’t aware my number would be up so soon.

“Mil.” Nixon paced in front of me. His crystal blue eyes were like laser beams, making me want to shift in my seat. Light reflected off his lip ring with each tilt of his head. Finally, he pulled a chair from the desk and took a seat. He leaned forward, stretching his white t-shirt across his muscled and tattooed body. “I need to know.”

“Know what?”

He chuckled once and then pulled out his gun, aiming it for my head. Shit.

“What the hell, man!” Chase took a step toward Nixon just as Tex’s arms came around him, rendering him useless. Besides, the poor guy was probably ready to crumple after what he’d just been through.

“No games. No lies. We both know I’d shoot you without hesitation. I’ve done it once. I’d do it again.”

“Don’t remind me.” My voice shook. I swore I could still feel the pain of him shooting me in the leg last year when he’d thought I’d been double-crossing everyone. “What’s the question again?”

Nixon smirked. “I’ve always liked you, Mil.”

“Funny, I’ve always hated you.” I smiled sweetly.

“Lies.” Nixon waved the gun in the air and licked his lips. “Your own family wants you dead. That tells me one thing.”

“They’re pissed?” I offered.

“The De Langes are always pissed.” This from Tex.

I nodded in agreement.

Nixon pulled the chamber back on his pistol. It was still aimed at my head. “They’re afraid.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” I nodded to the gun. “Why do you think I asked for Chase to marry me?”

All eyes fell to Chase; he was still unable to move, since Tex had pinned his arms behind his back, but he managed a shrug. “And here I thought it was my good looks and sexual prowess.”

“Don’t forget cooking skills,” Tex added.

“Helpful.” Chase groaned. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Tex kept his firm grip.

Nixon laughed and returned his attention back to our conversation. “You needed his protection. I get that. Chase gets that. But what I don’t get is how you knew you needed his protection, his help. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I don’t care if you’re the last woman alive. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if your heart is pure gold, your intentions totally selfless. I will freaking put a bullet in your head if you put my family in jeopardy. So I’m going to ask again. What. Do. You. Know?”

I had to close my eyes. If I kept them open, I’d see the look of betrayal on everyone’s faces – the absolute shock and disgust that my family were spawns of the devil himself. “Everything.” My voice was hoarse. “I know every damn thing.”

Chapter Ten

Chase

My body relaxed when Nixon lowered the gun. Did I think he’d really shoot her? Yeah. He would. Because I knew it wasn’t just about his family but Trace as well. Hell, he’d kill me if it would keep her safe. And I wouldn’t blame him. I’d probably just look up at him with smiling eyes and tell him he’d done the right thing. Damn, we were a messed up-bunch.

“Everything,” Nixon repeated, nodding his head as he put the safety back on his gun. “What is everything?”

Mil looked at me. Why me, of all people? I tried to give her a reassuring nod.

Her voice was quiet. I hated when she acted docile and compliant; it was so against her character that it pissed me off, making me want to get in a fight with her just so she’d get some of that spark back.

“Sex trafficking.” She swallowed. “My dad was desperate for money. He had a… um, a bit of a drug problem.”

“What drug?” Nixon squinted.

She looked down at her hands. “I think the better question would be what drugs didn’t he have an interest in?”

“So that’s how,” Nixon muttered. “So the family ran out of money really fast, and without our support, it just got worse, I imagine… so he dabbled in prostitution?”

He made it sound like he had it all figured out, but I knew it was just the tip of the iceberg. Mil would never tell him everything all at once; she didn’t work that way. None of us did.

“What we’re dealing with,” she continued. “It’s bigger than just our family, it’s—”

“It’s what?” Nixon asked.

When she didn’t answer, he leveled the gun on her and thumbed off the safety. She rolled her eyes in frustration.

“It’s what?”

“Phoenix tried to protect me,” Mil whispered. “I didn’t know that by taking his protection, by going to school, I was damning him to hell. He was too deep in to see his way out. He found out too much – he discovered the connections my father had made – and by then it was too late.”

“What connections?”

“I can’t say.” Tears formed in her eyes as she looked at each of us in turn. “Please don’t make me say it. Please.”

“Mil.” Nixon’s voice was cold as death. “Please don’t make me force you in front of Chase. Don’t turn me into the villain.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard him say please,” Tex muttered.

I think he was trying to lighten the dark-as-hell mood, but it wasn’t working. I debated on whether or not to try to punch him in the throat or just wait until Mil was done confessing, not that I could do anything with my arms pinned, but still.

“Nixon.” Her voice shook. “My family has broken every single one of the rules for the Sicilian Mafia. Every last one. They’ve stomped on them. They’ve spat at them. But worst of all, they’ve decided the only way to get even with everyone is to do the worst possible thing a member can do.”

“Look at another man’s wife?” Tex said under his breath.

“Tex,” we said in unison, all of us clearly annoyed.

“Exposure.” Nixon cursed a blue streak and stood. “Tell me you don’t mean exposure. Tell me your family isn’t hell-bent on flushing every last member of our families out of the country. Tell me they haven’t made a deal.”

Mil lifted her head, tilting her chin in defiance. “That’s just the thing. I can’t.”

Tex gripped me harder. I tried to get free, cursing in the process, nobody moved.

It was their worst fear. It was mine.

Our lifestyle, our legacy, our money – property of the US government, compliments of one of our own families.

That’s where jealousy got you. A shiny seat in prison next to every last family member you used to joke around with at family dinner. Only the De Langes would come out smelling like roses while everyone else burned in hell.