Eulogy

by Rachel Van Dyken

  How that guy was still sane was beyond my understanding.

  I moved to my feet and stumbled toward her then jerked the knife out of her thigh and pulled off my shirt, putting pressure on the wound. “Why, Luciana? Why?”

  “Because…” Her head fell forward. “…they were going to kill you — they said so — because you didn’t trust me, because this is the only way…”

  “From here on out,” Tex said in a loud voice, “this will be the only way for a woman outside the Family to infiltrate.”

  Each and every one of the men slit their hands and waited as I slowly rose to my feet, grabbed the same knife that had spilled her blood.

  And did the same.

  A blood oath.

  To protect those we loved.

  To protect ourselves.

  A De Lange had started this.

  And somehow, a De Lange had ended it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  “I had never known joy — but now I know what it looks like.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent Petrov

  Luciana

  I jolted awake, so hot I thought someone had thrown me into an oven. I tried to get up, but something heavy was draped across me.

  An arm.

  I frowned as my blurry mind and memories tried to conjure up what could possibly have led me to lying in a bed with gauze all over me, an IV drip in one arm.

  “Take me,” I’d told Nixon in a strong voice, even though my arm was killing me. “I’ll take his place.”

  His eyes had widened. “You know what this means.”

  “It means he lives.”

  Nixon was quiet. “And you?”

  “It means I die for the most important thing I can think of.”

  Nixon had gulped and looked down at the ground before whispering, “Okay.”

  I looked at the golden arm, the one filled with familiar tattoos, and traced my fingers up the arm until it hit more white gauze wrapped around the shoulder. My wrists were wrapped; my other hand had a mitten-like wrap around it.

  I gasped when he opened his eyes.

  When his icy blue expression met mine.

  He leaned in and brushed a kiss across my lips. “I don’t even deserve to ask for your forgiveness—”

  “Ask anyway.” My voice was scratchy.

  “Please…” His eyes filled with tears. “…please, forgive me.”

  “Already have,” I answered back, using my good hand to run my fingers through his hair and down his chin. “You look you’ve been shot a bit.”

  He snorted out a laugh and winced. “Flesh wound.” His voice was garbled, as if he was still in a lot of pain; either that, or on a lot of pain killers.

  I tried to laugh with him.

  But all that came out was a strangled cry as he kissed me on the forehead and brushed my hair away from my face. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Being the most selfless, giving person I’ve ever known, and for loving me when I don’t deserve anything but hate.” He kissed my cheek, kissed the tear that ran down it. “For being you…”

  “Even if I’m really a De Lange?” I had to ask.

  Pain filled his eyes as he whispered out a harsh, “Yes, even then.”

  It wasn’t perfect.

  It wasn’t said without hesitation, without regret, and possibly with a bit of hate.

  But it was still said.

  And it was enough.

  He was still healing.

  And I couldn’t blame him.

  I loved him where he was at.

  Not where I wanted him to be.

  And I knew one day, one day, he’d hear that name and not want to murder the person who belonged to it.

  I pulled him closer and hugged his massive body as tight as my wounds would let me.

  “Chase?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did Nixon really break my fingers?”

  He stilled. “Yes.”

  “And the whole stabbing and shooting, that all happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh.” I frowned.

  He pulled away slightly. “It’s how we do things. It’s—”

  I shrugged. “It’s the mafia, got it.”

  “Loyalty above all else.”

  “And me? What happens to me?”

  “You never leave my side,” he said quickly, “ever.”

  “What if I have to use the bathroom?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Or I need to take a nap?”

  His mouth spread into a grin. “You’ll just have to be comfortable with me being around twenty-four-seven.”

  My body warmed. “I think I’d like that.”

  “Yeah.” His lips caressed mine. “Me, too.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  “The fact that I had a new mentor — one that looked at me with such disdain I dreamed about his murder every night — ruined my year.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent Petrov

  Chase

  We stayed in bed healing for five days while Nikolai tended to our wounds and basically used what was the worst bedside manner I’ve ever seen in another human, poking and prodding me until most of my wounds bled all over again.

  I would have been insulted if he’d treated me any differently.

  As if he was still trying to get a rise out of me while he basically spoon-fed Luciana and told her how strong and brave she was.

  Hell, give her a sucker and a sticker already.

  “Teachers pet,” I snorted when he left on day five, the day we were given permission to walk around Nixon’s house.

  I hadn’t seen any of the guys.

  They hadn’t visited.

  It had only been Nikolai.

  So when, hand in hand, Luciana and I made our way down the hall and into the kitchen I’d spent countless hours in, I nearly swallowed my tongue when Luca sat there with Nixon’s kid on his knee, fucking bouncing her like he wasn’t the ghost of Christmas past.

  “What the hell?” I blurted.

  Luca looked up. “Chase, you look well.”

  “Am I hallucinating again?” I asked the room. “He’s still here? That was real?”

  Nikolai just snickered.

  I jabbed a finger in his direction. “What? You can’t kill me anymore, so now you’re drugging me?”

  “Oh…” He crossed his arms. “…I could easily kill you. I just choose not to.”

  I nodded. “Great, thanks, very reassuring for my further care under Dr. Death.”

  Nixon laughed.

  I met his gaze.

  He tilted his head as if I owed him an apology.

  And I glared back, as if he was the one in debt.

  “Can you guys just hug already?” Tex asked. “So he broke her fingers! How else was he supposed to get the point across? He was the only one brave enough to face your wrath over it, alright? We needed you to hear her scream… the morphine was kicking in, and she was starting to fade.”

  I didn’t like it.

  I wanted to end his life for touching her.

  He smirked.

  God, I hated that guy as much as I loved him.

  It was a problem.

  The fact that he’d told me he’d purposely numbed her with a special blend of opiates that delayed until the body was under extreme duress was the only reason he was living right now.

  Through clenched teeth, I sneered, “I’m. Sorry.”

  Tex slapped Nixon’s back. “That’s probably as good as you’re gonna get, bro. Now, your turn.”

  Nixon looked heavenward and then said, “I’m sorry, too.”

  “Now hug it out.” Tex grinned while we both gave him the finger.

  “It seems some things never change,” Luca said as he kissed the top of the baby’s head. But seriously, what the hell?

  “Care to fill me in?” I pointed at Luca.

  He smiled right back. “I think I’ll go take this little one into the family room and play a game of Hide-and-Seek.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, good, the killer’s back from the dead and wants to play Hide-and-Seek with your daughter, and everyone’s just okay with this?”

  “I think I’ll join him.” Frank got up from the table, leaving me with all the guys and Luciana, who clung to my side like it was a lifeline.

  “We’ve got her,” Trace said, entering the room. “And for the record, I only did what I did so the guys wouldn’t actually hurt you more. It bought us more time.”

  “More time?” Luciana asked.

  “For Chase to come to his senses.” Trace shrugged. “I knew he’d come after you. I’m also painfully aware how long it takes for these guys to break someone, and my plans would’ve been completely ruined if you were dead.”

  “Plans?” Luc said in a confused voice.

  Trace just grinned and looped her arm through Luc’s. “Plans for your future happiness…” Her eyes locked on mine. “…and his.”

  I mouthed a silent, “Thank you,” as Trace pulled Luciana from the room. I wanted to run after her, but I also knew Trace would protect her with her life, and we were at Nixon’s. The man had more security than most diplomats.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  “It is not the end… though I wish it was.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent Petrov

  Chase

  “So.” I clenched my teeth as I pulled a chair out and sat. The rest of the guys, fucking Andrei included, stared at me as if I was going to go on a shooting spree. I didn’t have the energy to even blink, let alone pull the trigger. All of it had been spent with the anxiety I had over Luciana healing properly and staying alive; even though I knew she was okay, I had to actually see it.

  I’d woken up countless times to check her breathing.

  To press my hand against her chest to make sure she had a heartbeat.

  Because I knew, if anyone deserved it, I did.

  For God to take her. I imagined that would be the worst punishment He could give me and the most just for my sins.

  Instead, every time I’d touched her, I’d felt warmth.

  And a boundless amount of guilt.

  I choked down a swallow of the glass of water in front of me then crossed my arms. “So, Luca’s alive now?”

  “Not really,” Phoenix spoke first. “As far as we’re concerned, he’s dead and stays dead. As far as the US government is concerned, he was killed, a few gunshot wounds to the chest and all…”

  I scowled. “Has he been playing puppet-master this whole time?”

  “No.” Phoenix actually smiled a bit, which surprised me more than the fact that he was even speaking to me after the things I’d said to him. “I wasn’t even made aware until last week and nearly had a heart attack. The secrets this man holds weigh on a human’s soul so heavy it’s hard to breathe sometimes.” His eyes flickered toward the table then back up at me.

  The rest of the guys looked to me, too.

  I hung my head and said the words that would make them hate me forever. “I can’t say I’m sorry that I went after the De Langes. I can’t say I’m thrilled they’re living to see another day. If that’s what you want, then I’ll leave, but I still don’t think they deserve to be a part of what we have…”

  “And what’s that?” Nixon asked out loud. “What do we have?”

  “Loyalty,” I said with conviction. “A brotherhood. A fucking family. They will never have what we have because they’re too obsessed with money to see what’s right in front of them — each other.”

  Tex snorted out a laugh. “You going soft on us?”

  “You wish,” I snapped right back.

  “Good answer,” Tex said, running a hand through his hair. “The commission, after the De Langes decided to open fire on Nixon and the rest of us, have given us permission to deal with them accordingly.”

  I grinned up at him. “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” Nixon chimed in. “Naturally, we nominated someone to take care of them…”

  They were handing the family over, and for once I didn’t feel rage at the thought of holding them at gunpoint; I just felt justice.

  And misery.

  “Dante is going to help clean up,” Nixon continued, locking eyes with me. “No torturing, just quick, clean deaths of those who oppose our leadership. As of today…” His voice deepened. “…the De Lange family is burned. Any and all monies associated with their name as of tomorrow will be frozen by the FBI. Anyone still loyal to our Families is welcome into the fold and now…”

  I frowned at him. “Now what? Nixon, you do realize if we take on any of them, we have no way to test their loyalty.”

  “I know.” Nixon grinned. “That’s where you come in.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the way this was going.

  “You’ve always been like a brother, Chase.” Nixon stood. “Now I make you my partner.”

  “What?” My reaction was slow, cautious. “What do you mean?”

  “The Abandonato Family is the largest in the Cosa Nostra. I need help. I need you. Be my second?”

  “It’s like he just proposed,” Tex whispered.

  I gave him the finger behind my back. “You sure you want to do that?”

  “You held the position as long as I have. Why not make it official, huh, underboss?”

  “Underboss,” I repeated.

  “And,” Nixon added, “in charge of any new men that may come into the fold. Besides, you’re happier when you’re torturing new captains, and look how well Dante turned out!”

  Dante scowled at all of us and reached for the wine.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I said hoarsely, unable to even look him in the eye. The guy I’d threatened to kill, more than once these past few months, the only one other than Phoenix who probably still saw good in me. “I’m not… exactly stable.”

  “Understatement,” Tex coughed.

  Phoenix sighed. “And you think I am?”

  “That’s true.” Dante nodded thoughtfully. “Am I the only normal one left?”

  “Blood, on your right cheek,” Nikolai pointed out then handed him a handkerchief from his pocket.

  Dante jerked it away while Sergio chuckled into his wine glass.

  I sighed. “We’re all a bit fucked up, aren’t we?”

  Everyone nodded in agreement as I stood and took Nixon’s right hand and slammed my hand over it. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”

  “Not at all,” Nixon said seriously. “Heal up. We have shit to do.”

  “Ha.” I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

  Luciana walked in with Trace.

  The room fell silent.

  She was still bruised and had bandages around her fingers.

  Nixon didn’t apologize.

  I thought she probably would have be insulted if he had anyway.

  I know I would.

  She rounded the corner and reached for my hand. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah…” I frowned down at her. “…it really is.”

  What was this feeling growing in my chest?

  This expansion of my skin as my body filled with goose bumps.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but she pressed a finger to my lips and shook her head. “Don’t ruin it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That feeling of contentment you have, you’ll ruin it by being a jackass. Just… no speaking for a while. You’re a bit out of practice, remember?”

  “What the hell?” Tex wondered aloud. “She a lion-tamer, or what?”

  “Something like that.” I grinned down at her and then pulled her into my arms and kissed her soundly across the lips, my body instantly relaxing against hers. Yeah, it was something.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

  “Future looked bleak. Real. Bleak.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent Petrov

  Luciana

  Dante and Val were sitting next to Luca while he held his niece in his arms and told them why he had to leave, the setup with the FBI, and Andrei’s part in everyt
hing.

  I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the details.

  It seemed so horrific, sacrificing everything you know just to save a few families, but that was what Luca had done. That was what he was doing. He no longer existed, and somehow he looked younger than the pictures I’d seen him in around the house.

  Free.

  And I wondered if this life would do the same to me and Chase.

  If it would burn us from within, especially now that he was second-in-command to the biggest crime family in the US.

  Ha, yeah, my parents could never know that was who I’d decided to fall in love with. Then again, part of me had to wonder if they’d known all along.

  Nikolai made his way toward me, looking sleek in black jeans and a blue V-neck that hung low enough for me to see the swirl of one single tattoo in the middle of his chest.

  “You look more Italian today,” I said over my wine glass. It was weird to see him like this, a ruthless assassin, feared doctor for the Russian mafia, in jeans, drinking whiskey straight.

  He just shrugged. “Italians are like a weed. They grow on you until you suffocate and just give in.”

  Tex flipped him off from across the room.

  “Oh good, make the Godfather pissed,” I grumbled under my breath.

  “He’s not pissed. Trust me, you don’t want to see him pissed,” Nikolai said in a warning tone. “How are the fingers? Any pain?”

  I flexed my hand and shrugged. “The pain is pretty numb now. Thanks, though.”

  “Good.” He took another sip.

  “So, double life, huh?”

  He choked a bit and then grinned. “The government is well aware of what I offer the Russian mafia and pays me handsomely to keep criminals off the streets. They are good at looking the other way when needed.”

  “Huh.” I guess that made sense. “And my parents? Did they know? I mean my last name?”

  He shifted on his feet. “I would not ask questions you don’t want the answers to. Not yet.”

  “But I need to know. I want to know.”

  Nikolai paled a bit then looked away. “There were several prostitution rings under the De Lange family, and many of the male members took great pride in breaking girls in before they were purchased.”