Elect (Eagle Elite)

by Van Dyken, Rachel

  Wow, I must have been desperate. I never said please.

  “Brilliant idea, Mr. Winter.” Luca waved us off. “Remember not to be tardy.”

  “I’m always on time,” I responded, gripping Trace’s hand with mine as we exited the classroom and walked hand in hand all the way down the hall.

  The day had officially caught up with me—the seriousness of the situation, the realization that what Trace and I had would never be permanent. Ridiculous that with all the chaos going on around me, the planned death of my best friend, all I could think about was making her mine. My emotions were in hyperdrive. Part of me wanted to put Trace into hiding just to keep her safe—but the selfish half of me craved having her near. Just one more kiss, just one more touch and I’d gladly walk off to the executioner.

  When we reached outside I couldn’t take it anymore, I jerked her behind one of the buildings, dropped my bag, threw hers on the ground, and pushed her against the wall. I don’t know what touched her first—my body, my lips, my hands. I was all over the place, needing to taste her.

  Because in the pit of my stomach I knew—it would probably be for the last time. I was desperate for her to see me, not him. I needed her to feel my lips, not his. I know she’d made a choice; she’d said as much last night, but my heart was aching with the possibility that we only had today—we had now, and that was it.

  “Chase.” With a push, Trace put some distance between us. We were both breathing heavy. Her lips were swollen from my assault. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re skipping class.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can kiss you.” I grazed her lower lip with my tongue and gave her a slow agonizing kiss, then pulled back. “Is that a problem?”

  Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “No, except it seems like you’re upset or something.”

  “Not upset.” My hands shook as I placed them on her shoulders and exhaled. “Just a little… sentimental.”

  “Chase Winter.” She laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Please.” I had to touch her. My hands went to her neck as my thumbs grazed her lower lip. “I’ve been nothing but sentimental with you.”

  “You have two autopilots. Jackassery or sentimental sap. Why can’t you just find some middle ground? Hmm?” She teased.

  “Go big or go home, I guess.” I leaned in until our lips were touching again.

  She pulled back.

  Shit.

  “I…” Her cheeks stained red. “Chase, I like you, I love you, but Nixon’s only been dead a few days and I just—” Tears welled behind her eyes. “I’m not saying no. I’m just saying not right now. I need time. And the way you kiss me, the way you touch me…” She choked on a sob. “Sometimes it makes me forget him and I hate myself that I would do that after everything he’s done for you, and for me.”

  Never in my life had I ever felt like a bigger bastard than in that moment. I jerked away from her and picked up both our bags. “You’re right, Trace. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Hormones?” she joked.

  I laughed with her, but inside I was a bit crushed. Maybe for her… but for me? It was instinct. It was love.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Phoenix

  I knew something was wrong the minute Tony answered the phone. “Yes?” He was too calm, too patient, not his usual self.

  “So we doing this or what?” I snapped.

  “Patience,” Tony chuckled. “Don’t you just love when everything goes according to plan?”

  “I freaking live for it. Seriously. Oh look, I almost shit my pants with happiness at your excitement.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

  “Yeah, well.” I rolled my eyes and managed to keep my tone even. “It’s my marker; what can I say?”

  Tony was silent for a minute and then said quickly, “My house. We’ll meet there and do the exchange.”

  “If you double-cross me—”

  “You’re the one getting the better end of the deal. My silence. My loyalty. And my money. You’ll shut the hell up if you know what’s good for you.”

  I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Tony snapped.

  “You.”

  “Don’t push me, boy, or I’ll—”

  “Do nothing. That’s right. Nothing. You may have the money, you may pull the strings, and you may think I’m a dumbass puppet, but I have one thing you don’t.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Every damn card stacked against you. So if I were you, I’d start talking a little nicer before I rain a hellstorm on your freaking parade.”

  I hung up the phone then threw it across the room.

  Luca clapped behind me. “Well played. Perhaps I do have use for you in my family.”

  I shook my head. “More family is the last thing I need.”

  “Redemption.” Luca’s eyes narrowed. “Would be a first.”

  “How the hell do you redeem the damned, Luca? A shit’s still a shit even when you put a rose on it.”

  “And blood is thicker than life.” Luca slowly lifted his cigar to his mouth and took a puff. “You may say you don’t want a family, you may say you want out, but you’re forgetting one tiny thing.”

  I looked away, hoping he wouldn’t go on.

  “I. Own. You.”

  “Everything ready?” Nixon said as he came into the room.

  I quickly hid my expression and shrugged. “Of course.” My eyes darted to Luca and he gave a slight nod. “Everything’s going perfectly according to plan.”

  “Good.” Nixon’s mouth relaxed as he took a seat in the chair and looked at his phone again. I knew what he was doing; he was memorizing her face. Hell, if I had a girl I’d be doing the same damn thing. Made men were no different from soldiers headed off to war—in the end we all wanted something to fight for—whether it be a pretty girl or a cause. When facing death—every human being needed something that, if the worst happened—would pull them through.

  And maybe that’s why I was beginning to feel more terrified than anything—because I knew—I had nobody worth pulling for, and it hurt like hell.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chase

  After my make-out session gone wrong, I called for Tex to pick up Trace. We didn’t talk about it any further and it kind of pissed me off that something I wanted so badly was so close I was able to taste it, but could not fully have it.

  I was confused by my own feelings and definitely not on my A game, which meant it was possible I was going to get murdered in my own bank if I didn’t get my shit together—fast.

  Checking both of my guns for the third time, I put both of them in the back of my pants and pulled my shirt over them.

  I was a big fan of brass knuckles, so I had one of those on my left hand. It also had a knife that would snap out and slice someone if I needed it. I did all my business with my right hand anyway.

  After taking a few deep breaths, I approached the large building. It was white with large spikes protruding from the top. Tony had built it to look like more of an artful fortress than a business building. His office, and the offices of the family, were all in the bottom of the building. The basement.

  They were down there for a reason.

  No windows to jump out of, no escape.

  If you went down there and had done something to piss off the Abandonatos, you should record your good-bye on the little security video on the elevator, because it would take an act of God for you to make it out alive.

  Funny thing is, we’d had several people do just that. It was like they knew by pushing basement that it was their final descent.

  It was their hell.

  I waved at the secretary, and she smiled and waved back. With an exhale I walked toward the back of the building where the elevators were located. I pushed the button, it dinged, and I walked in and looked up at the camera as the silver doors closed.

  Basement. I
pushed the glowing B button and waited as the elevator descended to the bottom floor. With a ding, the doors opened. Complete silence greeted me. I walked directly toward the basement-level secretary.

  Her eyes revealed her fear.

  That was the first and last thing I noticed before a gun went off. A bullet whizzed by my head. I ducked and reached into my waistband for a gun. I turned to the right and saw a guy stalking toward me. The secretary started screaming and hid in the corner. I fired two shots directly at his forehead and rolled behind the desk, where the secretary was seated. Releasing my brass knuckles I grabbed my other gun and held it out in front of me. One gun was pointed to the right, one to the left.

  And then I felt something touch the back of my head.

  “Not so smart for a boss, eh?” a man’s voice said.

  I didn’t panic. It wouldn’t make anything better. “I’m smart.”

  “Oh, yeah? Then why do you have a gun pointed at your head?”

  I shrugged. “You tell me.” I looked down at his shoes.

  Not boots. He was wearing tennis shoes. Brand-new tennis shoes. Not name brand. I closed my eyes and inhaled. He smelled like fast food.

  Paid. He was a hired hit man. By the looks of his shoes he’d already gotten half his payment, too.

  He also wasn’t used to the mafia, used to our kind.

  I laughed.

  “Stop laughing!” He pushed the gun harder against my head. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

  I sighed and stepped on his foot then quickly leaned over to the right as I pulled his arm forward and smacked it against the marble countertop. His gun toppled to the ground. I turned and kicked him in the stomach, and he stumbled backward, hitting the copy machine.

  “I’ll enjoy this much more, I guarantee it.” I pulled out my gun and shot him in both knees. He fell to the ground with a loud crack and swore in agony.

  Three more. There were three more guys.

  Footsteps neared me.

  I ducked under the desk and motioned for the secretary to be quiet, but her hands were shaking. Shit. With one swift movement, I knocked her to the floor and pulled her underneath the table with me.

  “Thank you, thank you.” She shook in my arms.

  I hit her across the back of the head, rendering her unconscious. She wouldn’t thank me when she woke up with a killer headache, but at least she’d be alive.

  The footsteps got closer.

  And then three shots rang out.

  A man walked in front of the desk. His shoes were—white.

  His hand reached down to me. “Come on. I don’t have all day,” he whined, sounding genuinely irritated that he’d had to shoot someone.

  I grabbed his hand but kept my finger on the trigger in my left hand.

  Once he pulled me out from underneath the desk I was face-to-face with the last person I thought I’d see.

  “Sergio?” I gasped. “Man! I thought you moved!”

  “Nah.” He unloaded his gun. “I like to dabble every now and then when I see a damsel in distress.”

  I snorted and put my gun away. “Same ol’ Sergio. Thanks, by the way. You must be—”

  “The ghost.”

  “Didn’t think you were a man for hire these days.”

  His brown eyes narrowed. “A man does what he can do, to help family.” Sergio tucked his gun in the back of his pants and leaned against the marble countertop.

  I swallowed and looked away. “Yeah, well… think you can help me get the account information?”

  He snorted. “I could do it blindfolded. Let’s get this done. You’ve got more guns waiting for you.”

  “I wait with bated breath.” I swore and followed him into Tony’s office. It suddenly felt wrong to be calling him Tony instead of Dad. But there was no love lost, and that was damn tragic. Parentless kids, all of us. Nixon, Trace, Mo, Mil.

  “So.” Sergio sat behind the computer. “Word on the street is you need ten mil.”

  “Word on the street? What are we? In a gang?”

  Sergio chuckled. “What else would you call it?”

  “Valid point.” I leaned against the glass desk and watched him log in to my father’s computer. “How do you even know his password?”

  “I’m a ghost. I know all.” His hands sped across the keyboard so fast that it made me dizzy. “This may take a few minutes.” He motioned to a seat, but I refused to sit down. Not after having five guys shooting at my face and knowing it was my own family that had sent them.

  This was only the fifth time in all my life that I’d been in my “father’s” office. I walked over to the minibar on the far right and poured myself a whiskey.

  “Think you should be drinking, all things considered?” Sergio asked from the desk.

  Ignoring him, I took a long swig and looked at the table next to the minibar. There were pictures. But they weren’t of me.

  They were of him and Nixon.

  With a curse I turned away. Was it always about him? Would it never be about me? How selfish could I get that I would even ask that, but… I wanted something that was my own, someone that was my own, and it seemed as of late I was either stuck with second best or picking up someone else’s pieces.

  “Almost there, just keep your pants on,” Sergio called.

  Again, I ignored him and searched more around the room. There weren’t any more pictures on the tables he had set up. Two chairs were in the corner with a closet toward the main door. Curious, I walked over to it and tried the knob.

  Locked.

  I pulled out one of my picks and had the door open in seconds. Shock wasn’t an adequate word to describe what I was seeing. Shock would have been a normal response. My response was anything but normal.

  Horrified? Now that was better.

  A shrine.

  With prayer beads.

  And a picture of Nixon’s mom. I could stomach that, I could deal with that amount of crazy, but the picture had Trace’s parents in it. I’d seen them only once when I was little but I’d also seen pictures. From what Nixon had told me, they were unmistakable.

  There were red marks across every face in the pictures. My stomach heaved as I numbered how many faces had the red mark. Both of Trace’s parents… and my dad. My real dad.

  Which could mean only one thing.

  Tony had been snuffing out the entire family for over eighteen years.

  And today would be his day of reckoning. His finale.

  I hoped to God it would be a massive disappointment. I’d even tell him that to his face, right before I pulled the trigger.

  “Done!” Sergio announced. I turned around and walked toward the desk while he scribbled something on a piece of paper. “So, the wire transfer will go to this account.” He handed me the paper. “Did you remember to get a briefcase?”

  “In the car already.” I stuffed the piece of paper in my pocket and shrugged. “How are you in on this? Who are you actually working for? Me? Luca?”

  Sergio’s eyes darted behind me. I turned and saw a camera nestled quite nicely in the corner. Great.

  When I turned back around he was already walking toward the door.

  “Wait,” I called. “If this goes badly… thank you, for what you just did.”

  “We’re family.” He shrugged and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “Try not to end up with a bullet in the head, eh?”

  “I’ll do my damnedest.” I cracked a smile and took a seat on Tony’s plush leather chair.

  How long? How long had he been planning this, and why the hell were Trace’s parents involved? I wracked my brain but couldn’t come up with any solution other than pure insanity.

  I waited another five minutes then left the room and walked down the hall to the elevator.

  I was more pissed off than scared; I didn’t really get scared anymore. Impending death never scared me. Hell, it was a reality. But now? Knowing that Trace could lose both me and Nixon? At the same time? All over again? Yeah, that sucked. I refused to leave
her. Even if I had to go to hell and back and beg to be brought back to life—I refused to leave her. I couldn’t.

  The elevator dinged. I walked out and dialed Tony’s number. “I got the money.”

  “You did?” The ass sounded surprised.

  “Yeah.”

  “Complications?”

  “A few minor ones. Nothing to get upset over.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be,” I snorted. “Now, where am I meeting you?”

  “Our house, of course.”

  I paused. I thought we were supposed to meet at Nixon’s, which meant he was changing things. Why was he changing things? “Fine. See you in ten.”

  I hung up and got into my car. Shit. Things were already going sideways and I had no idea what to expect. Would he put a gun on me when I opened the door? Would he take the money, confess, and then shoot me?

  I contemplated all the ways I could die the entire way to the house. The minute I got there, I jumped out of the car and grabbed the briefcase. Birds chirped and the sun was shining, just as if something huge wasn’t going down.

  And then I heard a gun click. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  I turned around. “Phoenix?”

  His smug grin made me want to rip his head from his body.

  “Who else were you expecting?”

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chase

  Phoenix nudged me in the back with his gun. Holy shit. I would kill him. End him. If he as much as sneezed on my back. I walked in front of him and opened the door to the house.

  Tony was standing in the living room, smoking his usual cigar and looking out the window.

  “Ah, you’ve made it.”

  “Nice greeting,” I said dryly. “Can you please call Phoenix off of me before I put a bullet in his head?”

  Tony nodded and Phoenix backed off, walking over to Tony and slapping him on the back. “See how easy this was?”

  “Easy?” I repeated.

  “He needed money.” Tony shrugged. “How would it look if our family simply gave the De Langes ten million dollars? It would look like a handout. Besides, I need Phoenix to be silent, and we’ve come to a sort of agreement. I pay him to keep my secrets and he finishes the business I don’t wish to finish.”