Enrage (Eagle Elite #8)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “I used to actually like you,” I said to nobody in general. “What the hell happened?”

  “Life.” She swallowed hard, her eyes darting around the room. “I think it’s best if I just… go away for a while.”

  We all knew what that meant. Going away meant never coming back.

  “You walk out of this house, and you’re dead,” Nixon said in a tone that I’d never heard him use before.

  She stomped over to him. “I don’t care who you—”

  Nixon slammed his gun across her face as she crumpled to the floor.

  Chase moved to grab her.

  Nixon shook his head. “You leave this house and someone kills you, you leave this house by your own free will after I tell you not to — and I promise you, I will.”

  “You don’t understand.” She wiped the blood on her lips. “None of you do! I don’t want you to get it, I don’t want you to figure this out, I don’t want you to even touch this, to touch me.” She started shaking on the floor wrapping her arms around herself. “I thought I could get in, get out, it was supposed to be clean! Easy money!”

  Chase groaned into his hands. “You had money!”

  “It wasn’t mine!”

  “Everything that’s mine is yours, it’s ours, that’s marriage!” he roared.

  Tears filled Trace’s eyes and she stared down at Mil and then up at Chase, and then she scared the shit out of me and probably her own husband included when she pointed the gun at Mil and lowered her voice, speaking in a menacing tone. “You hurt my best friend, my husband, my family, my child, there will be no place you can hide that I won’t find you.”

  “Trace—” Tears spilled onto Mil’s cheeks.

  “No.” Trace shook her head. “We’re done.”

  The room fell silent as Mil wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood. Chase reached for her, but she pulled away.

  It was a moment that would be permanently etched in my brain, the raw hunger on his face, the complete terror on hers. A love so tangible you can taste it in the air.

  And then. Nothingness.

  Like she’d ripped the invisible tether between them, cut out her own heart and turned her back on every fucking thing they’d ever shared. I felt it in my own chest, the loss, the hurt, the searing pain. And when Chase collapsed to his knees, I knew.

  He’d rather die than experience that ever again.

  He’d rather be dead.

  Than know the loss of her love.

  Mil shook her head once and walked out of the room.

  Nixon moved to Chase, but Trace beat him to it, kneeling down on the floor with him as she pulled him into her arms and held him tight.

  Nixon ran a hand over his face, and did a small circle, like he wasn’t sure if he should leave, shoot Mil, or join the hug.

  “Dante…” His gruff voice filled the room.

  “Go spar with Chase, I’ll call the rest of the guys so we can decide what needs to be done.”

  He hesitated.

  “I’ll do it.” I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “Whatever needs to be done.” I eyed a very still Chase. “I have the least emotional attachment to her — I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?” El walked into the room and stretched.

  Nobody said anything.

  Chase turned and stood just as Nixon gave me one solitary nod.

  Not how I expected the rest of my day to go.

  Killing my best friend’s wife.

  Because that’s what Chase had turned into.

  I gave El a sad look before pulling her into my arms and kissing her forehead. “You have a good nap?”

  She sighed. “Yeah, until the yelling.”

  I winced. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She locked eyes with me, like she was reading my troubled soul then stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek before walking over to the fridge. “Go spar, I’ll just be in my room doing homework from that stupid business comm class that I’m being forced to take.”

  My lips twitched.

  Trace put her gun on the counter, El raised her eyebrows at it but said nothing.

  “I had to take classes I hated too,” Trace finally said.

  Nixon jerked his head toward me.

  I followed him out of the room.

  Chase was on our tail.

  Nixon turned and put his hand on Chase’s shoulder.

  “Don’t.” Chase jerked away and hung his head. “You’ll just make it worse.”

  Nixon cursed. “If there was any other way—”

  “But there isn’t,” Chase spat shoving Nixon in the chest. “Is there? That’s the world we live in! Where people get fucked over — where you lose the love of your life because of what? Pride? Money?” He snorted in disgust. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Voice cracking, he eyed me and said. “Beat the shit out of me.”

  I’d been waiting weeks to hear him say that.

  And now? I wanted him to take it back.

  Another solitary nod from Nixon.

  “All right,” I sighed. “Try not to die.”

  “Does it even matter anymore?” He said as he shoved past me and went into the workout room.

  “I’ll talk to the rest of the guys, we still get to vote, they may not want to move on this until we know more, but—” Nixon sighed. “I think we know enough to know she’s been doing something very shady and has put every last one of us in danger because of it.”

  “Tell me it’s not always like this.” I leaned against the wall. “Tell me you’re not constantly choking from the fear and anger, tell me it gets better.”

  “It comes in waves.” Nixon said after a long moment. “So enjoy the ride when it’s good, and hold tight to those you love when it’s bad.”

  I nodded and went into the workout room. Chase was already shirtless, no helmet, no gloves.

  He had no gear on whatsoever.

  “Street style.” I grimaced. “You sure?”

  “Maybe if you put me in a coma I’ll forget about all this shit,” His eyes were wild.

  And for the first time since meeting him, I wanted to take it away. I wanted to kill anyone and everyone who’d ever hurt him.

  I wanted them to feel pain.

  And suddenly, I had no problem whatsoever with killing someone who promised to love him till their dying breath.

  Because she lied.

  Not just to him.

  But to all of us.

  And he was my brother.

  I added another tally mark next to the word revenge, and threw my first punch.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  El

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG. Chase looked completely wrecked, and Trace was so tense she jumped when I opened the cupboard in search of a cookie and again when I opened the fridge for a bottle of water.

  Finally, I slammed the cupboard door and joined Trace at the kitchen table. “What’s going on?”

  She swallowed, eyeing the table with interest. “I love him.”

  “Nixon?”

  Her smile was sad. “Nixon is my soul mate.”

  “Okay?”

  “Chase,” She licked her lips. “I love Chase. I can’t explain it other than I feel such deep rooted love for the man that I would do anything to keep him safe, even if it means protecting him from himself. He’s one of my best friends. It’s always been that way — maybe that’s why I could never be with him — our friendship got in the way, with Nixon there’s danger, passion, our souls know each other, recognize one another.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “He’s hurting and I can’t do anything about it, I can’t even comfort him without Nixon getting pissed.”

  “Why would Nixon get pissed?” I asked.

  Trace smirked. “Long story short we thought Nixon was dead, I was driven into Chase’s bulky arms, blah, blah, blah,” She laughed a bit. “But it would have never worked between us, we both recognized that, it was always Nixon it will always be Nixon, but Chase — I was so happy whe
n he found Mil, when he had someone who loved him as much as I did, and now? Now,” Tears filled her eyes. “I get it. I finally get what haunts Nixon at night. It’s not enemies from the outside — it’s being broken from within.” She leaned forward. “It’s trusting someone, loving them so much — only to find out that they don’t feel the same way, or maybe they just love themselves a little bit more and are willing to do anything to make sure that they leave a name for themselves. Mil loves Chase, I know she does, but she loves herself I think, just a little bit more. It’s easy to become blinded when we’re put in positions of power. I think Mil got scared. I think she’s still scared. I think she’s trying to emotionally separate from all of us because she knows what’s coming.” Her eyes locked with mine. “Our enemy was never at the University, El. Our enemy was sleeping in our house.”

  Chills ran up and down my arms. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying…” She stood. “…to sleep with a gun. I’m saying that we can’t trust her. I’m saying—”

  “I’m taking off.” Mil swept back into the room.

  We both watched her leave.

  The door slammed.

  “And now…” Trace sighed as tears filled her eyes. “…she’s going to die. He said he’d kill her if she left.”

  “Wait.” I stood and grabbed the chair in front of me, bracing myself. “Maybe if we just talk to her.”

  Trace snorted.

  “Look, the car hasn’t even started yet.” I frowned “I’ll be right back.”

  I ran outside without my phone, my purse, I walked away from protection, and right into the barrel of a gun.

  Tears streamed down Mil’s face. “I’m sorry, El. It’s the only way. I tried…” Her voice caught. “They want you. It’s the only way.”

  Memories slammed into me, memories of Dante’s kiss, his laugh, the time at the ranch house.

  I swallowed and held up my hands. “Please, Mil. Whatever this is, we can get through it, just let one of the guys help you.”

  “They can’t,” she whispered, gritting her teeth. “Don’t you think I want them to? Don’t you think I want help? They’ll get killed, every last one of them, they’ll walk into a trap. I’ve looked at this from every angle, and the only one that makes sense, the only one that will make them happy is your death. Can you do that for me?” The gun shook in her hand. “Can you sacrifice your life so I can have mine back? You’ve known Dante a few weeks, I’ve known Chase for the last two years. He’s my life! I deserve a life with him!”

  “You do,” I agreed. “You deserve a life with Chase, just like I deserve a life with Dante.”

  “Do you love him?” Her chest rose and fell as she lowered the gun.

  “I love him.” I felt my body relax as my eyes filled with tears. “I love him.”

  “Well.” She put the gun away. “Shit.”

  I started backing toward the door.

  She held the gun up again, her eyes darting from left to right before she jerked her head to the Mercedes. “Get in.”

  “Mil—”

  “Get in before I shoot you.”

  I closed my eyes, I held onto the memories, the seconds, the hours I had in his arms, and did the only thing possible.

  I whispered, “Goodbye.”

  And said thank you to God for giving me at least twenty-four hours of Heaven — after years in Hell.

  Once I was in the car, Mil put the gun away and hit reverse then accelerated out of the driveway like we were in a NASCAR race.

  Mil started crying again as she trained her gun on my head, El, “Please, just don’t move. I can’t—” Tears streamed down her face; she wiped them away with the gun then pointed it back at me. “Do you think God would forgive me for the sins I’ve committed? Do you think Chase would?” Shaking fingers covered in blood swipe under her eyes, I didn’t even realize she was bleeding. “I just wanted to prove myself, save my family—” She gulped. “And I’ve lost everything.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said softly. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “I do.” Mil sobered. “Tonight will end in blood, whether or not it’s mine or someone else’s is the only question. And I’m the reason for it.” She hung her head. “They want you. You’re a loose end.”

  “You should have married Chris, this would be over by then, you know that? The plan was simple. I wanted out. They wanted you. I had it all mapped out, the gas station he would go by before leaving town, the flat tire in his car, the freak robbery that would take place killing you both. Clean. Easy. An accident. I didn’t think Dante was capable of doing the right thing.”

  Stunned, I stared straight ahead. “You were going to kill me.”

  “To save them? To save my family? Myself? Yes. I would kill you. I would kill you and not think twice. How much is a life worth, El? You were supposed to die right along with your parents.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “No,” She snorted. “Because Luca Nicolasi put you under someone else’s protection and by the time anyone knew who you were, Xavier was owed a favor. You’re lucky you’re beautiful — it’s what kept you alive.”

  “Lucky,” I repeated. “Yeah, that’s what I’m feeling right now, lucky.”

  “I’m going to make it better,” Mil nodded. “I know what needs to happen. I just don’t want to make that phone call, you know the one where you hear the person’s voice one last time knowing that there is no going back?” She put the gun down and grabbed her phone. I couldn’t grab both the gun and the wheel without killing both of us. So I stayed still.

  Chase answered on the first ring. “Mil?” I could hear Dante in the background. My heart clenched. “Why are you calling me when you’re in the same house—”

  He stopped. Cursed.

  “Mil, where are you?”

  “I love you,” her voice was quiet, solemn. “I need you to know that. I need you to know that I will love you for the rest of my life. I don’t want this. I never wanted this.”

  “Mil!” His voice broke. “Mil what’s wrong? Just tell me so I can fix it.”

  “You can’t fix this, Chase.” Another tear ran down her cheek. “I have El. I had no choice. They all have guns, they’re good shots. Make sure Dante enters first, followed by Nixon. you have to promise me you’ll walk in last. Follow my tracker. I’ll lead you right to them.”

  “MIL!”

  “Promise me, or I’m killing her right now.” Mil mouthed a sorry to me but didn’t reach for her gun. Instead, she looked broken, as if she wanted me to steal it and shoot her.

  “I promise.” His voice hitched. “I promise I’ll walk in last.”

  “Good.” She exhaled. “That’s good.” The phone line cracked as Chase started yelling at Dante to grab his shit and get Nixon. “Life was perfect with you, Chase. I did this. This is all on me.”

  “It’s going to be fine, Mil, we’ll get you out of it. I swear.”

  “Blood in,” she whispered. “No out.”

  And hung up the phone.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Dante

  CHASE DIDN’T HAVE to tell me what was going on for me to know, I saw the anguish in his eyes first — second I saw the determination, the fierce loyalty that was torn between blood.

  And his wife.

  “Dante get Nixon now, call Sergio, Phoenix, Frank, Tex — get them all — they have El.”

  I don’t remember speaking to Nixon, my vision was red, my body felt heavy with rage as I strapped another gun to my leg and pulled out my Glock and made sure I had enough ammo.

  It took the guys three minutes to make it to the house.

  Frank was in a suit. Completely unarmed. Or so I thought, until he opened his suit jacket and I saw a glimpse of at least three guns and what looked like a grenade.

  I felt both ready to puke and ready to bomb the entire world in order to find her, in order to kill Mil for taking her.

  I paced while Chase gave everyone a rundown of the conver
sation with Mil, and with each word from his mouth the anger took over more and more until I didn’t even recognize the thoughts running through my head or the way my blood pulsed through my body.

  “Dante pulls the trigger,” Nixon said. “If it comes to that, he’s agreed for all our sakes—”

  “No.” Chase licked his lips, giving each and every one of the men a look, “This is on me. She’s my wife. I said in sickness and in death — and I meant it.”

  I wasn’t sure if I respected him more in that moment.

  Or less.

  Because his job was to protect her.

  And yet, part of me knew that maybe the only way to protect her from them — was to be the first one to kill her.

  Sergio grabbed his iPad from the front seat of his brand new Tesla and swore. “They’re on campus.”

  “Where?” Chase grabbed the iPad.

  “The Spot.” I gritted my teeth. “They said something big was going down this week, tomorrow night actually. If she’s on campus, she’s with them.”

  We all fell silent.

  Our enemy had been in our own house.

  Working with the Russians.

  “Looks like I get to shoot him first after all.” I got into Sergio’s car with Chase, while the guys got in Tex’s.

  The drive was silent.

  My nerves were shot.

  My blood pulsed, pounded. Please God let her be alive.

  I couldn’t think past the need to shed every ounce of blood from every single bastard who’d touched her.

  And Mil? My fingers itched to make her feel pain the way I was feeling pain.

  “I’m sorry,” Chase said hoarsely from the back seat. “I’m so damn sorry, Dante.”

  “Not your fault.” I clamped my jaw. “You get that right?”

  “I should have pushed harder,” he rasped. “And now—”

  “Shut the hell up,” Sergio interjected. “Both of you.” He turned off the music that was playing lightly in the background. “This is our fucking job all right? We walk in without emotion. We kill without emotion. We bleed without emotion. For a few moments in time, we stop being human and get the job done. Any questions?”

  Any other day and I’d question what kind of sick bastard my sister married.