CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Turning point
Chase
The days got harder… as in, we still couldn't get De Lange to cooperate, and we'd already caught two of Alfero's men on campus. We'd sent them back with giant-ass bruises — trying to send a message — but who knew if it had been received.
Nixon and I had started calling meetings on campus, something we'd never had to do before. Even Phoenix was irritated that it had taken so much of our time away from our social lives. But newsflash! We didn't get that opportunity, especially now that Nixon was officially the boss. His life was over, and by association, so were ours.
Tex had spent every free moment with Mo in order to relieve his so-called tension at being the black sheep of the Abandonato drama.
And Phoenix had spent his days drinking — a lot. He'd been kicked out of class twice for showing up completely wasted. It was out of character, even for him, but Nixon had told me not to touch it. So I didn't.
And me? Well… I'd tried not to stalk the new girl.
Nixon was in the same boat. Between the two of us, the girl probably had more bodyguards than the president. Nixon was always asking the security about her schedule. Was she happy? Was she eating? Did she fall and scrape her knee? I would be irritated if I wasn't so damn concerned myself.
What the hell was it about that girl that had both of us losing our minds? Maybe it was her spirit, or maybe our lives were just pathetic enough that all it had taken was kindness from an outsider to make us feel human again.
"Class," Nixon growled, glancing at his cell. He looked horrible, like he hadn't slept in days. Then again, if I'd killed my father in cold blood I probably wouldn't be dreaming of unicorns either.
Tex and Phoenix left to go to the opposite end of campus, while Nixon and I walked down the hall of the business building. People freaking parted like the Red Sea when we walked, irritating to say the least. I just wanted normal, not that I'd ever experienced it. But I imagined it would be awesome, like getting ice cream without having to worry about someone pointing a gun at my head, or walking to class and actually being the one to get tripped and bullied, rather than the other way around.
I let out a pathetic sigh when Nixon stopped dead in his tracks. I knew that look. It was the one he gave people before he killed them.
"Nixon?"
"Slut, slut, slut!" The chanting grew louder as we turned the corner. Close to a hundred students were standing around a girl on the floor. There were broken egg shells by people's feet, along with condoms and what looked like ice water. I shook my head in disgust, ready to tell them to give the girl some space and do the usual "Let the Elect deal with the trash" speech.
And then I saw dark brown hair.
Wide, innocent brown eyes blinked against the water streaming down her perfect face. I was about ready to go all Rocky on everyone, when Nixon gave a slight shake of his head and stepped forward.
"You are nothing. Do you understand?" an evil bitch said in a hateful tone. "You don't belong here. Say it."
Trace gave her head a slight shake.
The psycho pulled Trace's hair harder, causing a shriek to erupt from her lips. "Say it!"
"I—" She shook her head and then lifted her chin. "—I belong here."
Half the group burst out laughing, while the other half gasped in outrage, making me want to roll my eyes and pull out my gun.
"Leave her alone." Nixon stepped forward.
The girl holding Trace's hair snorted. "And who do you think—" She jerked away from Trace the minute she saw it was Nixon and then paled. "I did it for you, Nixon, for you! She can't dismiss you like that. She can't—"
"Stop speaking." Nixon pushed her into me and sneered. "Take care of this, will you?"
The girl freaking trembled in my hands, and I had to admit I liked that she was afraid, because it was about to get a hell of a lot worse.
All around me people waited.
I grabbed the girl's arm and practically dragged her down the hall. The rest of the students followed because, hey, who doesn't like a free show? Hell, it wasn't like I was going to hurt the girl. I didn't hit girls. That wasn't my specialty. I would never hit a girl unless I had no choice, my life or hers.
"So…" I gently pushed her away. "…what's your name?"
"B-Brit." She wrapped her arms around her stomach.
"How old are you, Brit?"
"Twenty."
"Major?" I sighed, shoving my hands in my pockets while it went deathly silent around me.
Her blue eyes flickered with uncertainty; she tucked a piece of red hair behind her shoulder. "Business."
"Father's name?"
People whistled.
She pressed her lips together.
"Father's name? Don't make me ask again, Brit."
"Arnold."
"Ah…" I snapped my fingers. "Ben Arnold, Democrat. Was elected into the House of Representatives a few years back. Loves to golf, has a dog named… Henry and a goldfish named Stu. Cheated on his wife of twenty years with a stripper and was caught embezzling money from the State of Iowa but wasn't penalized or taken to prison. Good ol' Ben." I chuckled. "Loves his little girl. I mean, he really does. After all, that was his plea, "Don't do this to my family." I sighed. "It's just too bad."
"Wh-what?" Brit gasped, tears streaming down her face. "What do you mean?"
"Prison… is not for the faint of heart." I sighed. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
Brit shook her head.
I pulled out my cell and dangled it in front of her face. "One phone call from me and your father will be behind bars so fast you won't even get to say goodbye. One phone call, Brit, and I suck every possible future from your pathetic life. You'll be lucky to be working as a prostitute once I'm finished with you. Because let's face it, even prostitutes need to have some class, am I right?"
People around me started whispering.
"So here's what's going to happen…" I cleared my throat and approached her until she could feel the heat from my body. "You talk to Trace again? I make that phone call. You talk about her, and I hear about it from one of your ugly friends? I make the phone call. Daddy goes to prison, all the family money gets taken, and, just because I love making people suffer that much, I tell the freaking world about your mother's little… problem. Got me?"
Her lips trembled as tears cascaded down her puffy cheeks.
"Great." I smiled and turned. "Anyone else want to tempt fate today, or are we good?"
Nobody spoke.
"Awesome. Then go back to class, make good choices, don't do drugs, and— Go Eagles!"
I sent Nixon a quick text to let him know the situation had been dealt with, though I was kind of irritated at him. He'd been the hero while I'd had to take care of the dirty work. It was what I did, but for the first time… ever, I wanted to be Nixon. I wanted to be the guy who took care of business, not the second-in-command. What I did was important — I knew that, he knew that. Hell, everyone knew that. But I wanted more than importance. I wanted the girl too, and I was finally starting to see I wasn't going to get her, not if Nixon wanted her, not if Nixon as much as desired her. Because I was second. Not first. Always second. And, above all else, I listened to my boss. Blood before girls, blood before life, blood before death. I was in it until I passed into the afterlife. It just sucked that while I wallowed in self-pity, Nixon was holding the girl of our dreams and wiping her tears.
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