Eulogy (Eagle Elite Book 9)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Shit, sometimes you’re an idiot. I take that back. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you’re an idiot, I’ve known you less than a year and still… This shit is…” Dante grabbed the bleach from my hand and motioned to the stairs. “Go apologize. She looked ready to cry.”

  “Tough shit. Life’s hard.”

  Dante set the bleach down on the floor then sucker-punched me across the face. I wasn’t expecting it, so I fell back against the tarp currently covering a dead body. “What the hell?”

  “Well, I feel better.” Dante cracked his knuckles. “Now, go apologize before I beat the shit out of you.”

  “You’ve never been able to before. What makes you think you can now?” I taunted.

  He shrugged. “Universe is on my side today. Plus, you’re pissing me the hell off.”

  “Get in line.”

  “Chase, you can’t just…” Dante leaned back against the table. “…you can’t just play with girls like that.”

  “Who says I’m playing?”

  “The guilt on your face when I walked in,” Dante snapped, “and the look on hers when you turned away.”

  I ran a hand over my hair and stood. “What? She looked pissed?”

  “Nah, worse, man.” Dante shoved me toward the stairs. “She looked… hopeful.”

  “Well, shit,” I grumbled making my way slowly up the stairs.

  I knocked on her door then opened it.

  She was huddled to one side of her bed, her knees tucked underneath her. Eyes closed.

  “No chance in hell you’re sleeping.”

  She didn’t open her eyes.

  I sighed and lay down next to her, putting my hands behind my head. “I built it for her, you know.”

  Luc didn’t move.

  “The house.”

  Nothing.

  “It’s why I tried to burn it down… Note to self, marble doesn’t really melt.”

  She sighed. At least it was something.

  “She broke a very important part in me, something that made me still feel human. Like she just… ripped apart what every single person on this planet thinks nothing of.” I hated how true it was. “I fucking lost my humanity, my soul. I’m not a good man, Luc.”

  She turned on her side and stared me down. Her soft lips pressed together in a thin line. “That’s a choice.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it.” I stared at the ceiling fan as it slowly went around in circles. “Trust me, if I knew how to find that part of myself again, I would. It’s gone. That man… he’s dead.”

  She didn’t say anything, just pressed her palm against my chest for a few moments then finally whispered, “No, you’re not.” And then she tapped her fingers to the rhythm of my heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump.

  I gripped her wrist. It was painful, the reminder that my heart was there but that it didn’t feel anymore, that I was cold, in over my head, dead inside, so fucking dead.

  She kept tapping her fingers.

  She tapped.

  I tried to stop her.

  It hurt too much.

  My veins burned.

  My eyes squeezed shut as memories flooded. Memories of her smile… the way she tasted… the good, the bad, the ugly.

  The end.

  I sucked in a breath.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  My heart picked up speed.

  And then, she started singing.

  To the most undeserving man of all.

  I fell asleep with her hand on my chest and her voice in my ear.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “A patient man can wait as long as it takes to gain the world.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Luciana

  Everything was warm. Especially my body. I moved toward the warmth and froze when I realized it wasn’t my mattress or the blankets giving me that warmth.

  It was a man.

  A jackass, to be more precise.

  One who kissed with wild abandon then rejected the girl after — twice.

  Not that I thought it was going to go further.

  He was too hot and cold for that.

  What I didn’t think would happen was a threat followed by an embarrassing insult in front of Dante.

  I was afraid to move.

  I’d been ready to cry myself to sleep when I realized he didn’t deserve my tears, and then he had to go and start talking to me, about her. My ears burned to hear more. What kind of woman would ever look at Chase and look away? Or think there was something more in this world?

  He was perfect.

  When he wasn’t an ass.

  Or killing people.

  Okay, so we all have flaws, but still.

  His words burrowed into my heart, splintering it into tiny pieces, until it almost hurt to breathe. To exist but not really live.

  To go day-to-day in nothing but a fog of numbness and pain, never knowing which will strike harder.

  I didn’t know what to do, to calm him, to help him.

  So I’d shown him.

  The only way I knew how.

  That he wasn’t broken.

  He was still whole.

  Feelings have a way of defining our realities, and he was letting them. He was letting his anger, his pain, dictate his actions. Rather than choosing to fight, he was giving up.

  And taking it out on everyone else.

  I tried to turn to face his sleeping form, but his arms braced me so tight, I couldn’t move a muscle.

  He pulled me closer.

  And then his nose was on my neck, his lips soon following.

  My eyes widened. “Chase?”

  Oh good, he was a sleep kisser.

  I elbowed him slightly.

  He grunted and then turned on his back, easily taking me with him. I yelped once I was straddling him.

  His erection pressed against his jeans.

  I tried not to look.

  It was nearly impossible.

  The bulge was just evidence that he wasn’t dead. Idiot.

  “Chase.” I shoved his chest.

  He gripped my wrists and pulled me against his body.

  “Chase, this isn’t funny.”

  He finally opened his eyes and then shoved me away like I was the problem. I almost fell off the bed.

  “What time is it?” He rubbed his face in confusion.

  “I would have looked, but I was getting attacked.”

  He jumped to his feet and with crazed eyes looked around the room. “Who? When?”

  I pointed my finger at him.

  He frowned, first at my finger, then up at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Just…” I held out my hands. “You got handsy.”

  His lips twitched. “Handsy?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Mock me, and I’m going to go find that gun you’re so fond of and point down.” I jerked my chin to his package.

  He gaped. “Wow, didn’t think you had it in you. Then again, you did just try to take my dick off last night, so why not point and shoot? Really.”

  I couldn’t believe I’d just threatened him.

  “I, uh…” He licked his lips and then gave his head a shake. “…I gotta go make sure Dante didn’t fall into a tub of bleach.”

  He didn’t smile.

  “Wait, you’re serious?” I asked.

  He just shrugged. “Part of the business. No finger prints, no evidence.”

  “Who were those guys?” I called as he was leaving my room.

  “De Langes” was his clipped answer.

  Terror gripped me by the throat. I waited for him to leave then quickly shut my door. With shaking hands, I grabbed my cell and sent a text to my mom.

  Me: Everything’s great. Can you do me a favor and send me my blue box?

  Mom: Blue box? With all your school records and foster care information?

  Me: I’m feeling… nostalgic. I miss you guys.

  Mom: Okay, honey. I love you!

  It was a miracle, in and of itself, that my mom
even knew how to text at her older age, but the fact that she was well-trained to keep things short when I was working was a huge blessing and mark in my favor. If anyone looked at my phone, they’d just think I was checking in with a parent.

  Not digging into my own past.

  Just to make sure.

  It wouldn’t dictate my future…

  I gulped, thinking about the bodies downstairs.

  …or lack thereof.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “All it takes is the removal of one stone for the entire wall to crumble. It must fall. It must.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Chase

  Dante had done a good job cleaning up the bodies; he was turning into a pro, which a year ago would have worried me. Now I was just thankful I didn’t have to bleach off fingerprints and blood. I moved around the room and froze when I saw a figure sitting at my kitchen table.

  Drinking my coffee.

  Reading my newspaper.

  “Can I help you?” I spat. How the hell did Vic move around so quietly without me knowing? It had always been impossible to sneak up on me, and this guy managed to do it in my own damn house.

  He didn’t look up from his newspaper, just grunted out his response. “Think of me like your babysitter.”

  “Oh, hell no.”

  “Hell yes.” He took another sip of coffee. “Don’t worry. You won’t even know I’m here.”

  I hated how true that was; he was only seen when he wanted to be seen. Just who was this guy and where had Nixon found him?

  “You’re the size of a bus and drinking my coffee. I know you’re here,” I ground through my clenched teeth.

  He set the newspaper down, and his green eyes raked over me as if I was under inspection, and then he leaned back. Two guns were strapped to his chest. “I’m on patrol. That’s two attacks on the Family. Two attacks in one week.”

  “I handled it.” I shrugged.

  “And if you can’t next time?”

  I froze on my way to make coffee. “Then I die.”

  “Nixon said you’d say that.”

  “Fuck Nixon.”

  “He said you’d say that, too.”

  I exhaled and pressed my palms flat against the granite countertop. “So what? He sent you because he wants me to live?”

  “Apparently,” Vic said in a low voice, “you mean more to him than he does to you.”

  “Why would you say that?” Guilt twisted my stomach until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  “Because…” Vic stood and washed out his coffee cup, dried it, then put it away in the cupboard. “…you touched his wife, and you’re not dead. Instead, he sent you more protection for the home you tried to burn down a few months ago. I wonder why he’s being so generous?”

  My expression didn’t waver even though I felt like shit. “Because I’m an Abandonato? Because I’m royalty? Because I’m one of the youngest billionaires on the planet? Because I’m ruthless? Because I’m lethal? Or maybe because I’m Family… Either way, he wants you here, so I won’t complain. Just stay away from Luciana.”

  His eyebrows rose slightly. “He didn’t prepare me for that one.”

  “Excuse me?” Okay, now he was pissing me off.

  “Huh.” He rapped his knuckles against the counter and gave me a salute. “I’ll just be doing a perimeter check. My number’s already programmed into your phone.”

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  “Sergio.”

  I rolled my eyes. Bastard needed more hobbies.

  He slammed the front door.

  Blanketing me in silence once again.

  I stared ahead; the windows to the back yard folded out into a perfect landscape. A firepit, salt-water pool, outdoor living area. I scowled. Only the best for the best.

  The house had cost me fifteen million to build.

  I would have spent my life savings on it, if it would have made her happy.

  “Okay, you can open your eyes now!” I pulled my hands away from her face, ready to burst with excitement. She’d said she wanted a pool, so I’d gone a step further and given her an outdoor paradise.

  Mil’s jaw dropped. “You outdid yourself!”

  I wrapped an arm around her. “I figured you needed your own space, a place to relax… wash blood off your hands.”

  She elbowed me in the ribs even though we both knew it was true.

  “So, you like it?”

  She turned in my arms and took my mouth, kissing me deep, then pulled away. “It’s perfect, just like you.”

  I scowled. “I’m not perfect.”

  “Chase…” She frowned and then gave her head a shake. “You’re impossible to even live with sometimes. You’re so perfect. I can’t even go to the grocery store without women hitting on you, and I’m with you.”

  “All I see is you,” I said truthfully.

  Guilt flashed across her face; it was happening more and more, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what the hell she had to feel guilty about. Our life wasn’t the best — but it was better than most. We still fought, but we always made up, and that was all that mattered.

  “I know,” she whispered. “Sometimes…” her voice cracked. “…sometimes I wish we weren’t married.”

  My stomach dropped. “Why the hell would you say that?” I jerked away.

  “Because…” She didn’t reach for me. “…you’ve always deserved more than I’m capable of giving.”

  She’d never admitted it before, at least not out loud.

  We stared at one another in silence.

  The truth hanging between us like a fucking chasm.

  “Mil…” I reached for her.

  Tears filled her eyes. She swiped her cheeks and did what she always did when things got serious. Defaulted. “So, we should try out that pool.”

  She stripped naked.

  And I shoved the uneasiness from my heart, my soul, and jumped in after her.

  I’d always jump in after her.

  Always.

  The coffeepot dinged. I jumped and nearly knocked over the other mug that was set out on the counter.

  For the first time in months, I could think about her and not immediately feel the need to torch the house. For the first time in months, I looked out at the pool and felt nothing but bitter sadness for what could have been, if she’d only let me in.

  I exhaled slowly and poured myself a cup of coffee then eyed the pantry. Pancakes sounded good. I could make pancakes.

  My hands shook.

  I’d cooked once since her death. And it had been for Luciana.

  It had always been a sort of self-soothing practice, and when Mil died, I didn’t want to soothe myself. I wanted retribution.

  Maybe it was time to try something else.

  My chest ached.

  I pressed a hand to it and tried to breathe evenly.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  I shook my head.

  Luc was right.

  I wasn’t dead inside.

  Not yet.

  Soon.

  But not yet.

  I wondered in that moment if Mil would have done things differently had she known her time was almost up.

  My time would be.

  It was simple logic.

  I would wipe them clean.

  And I would get taken out for doing it.

  Simple math.

  Simple all around.

  If I only had two weeks to live…

  I looked up at the ceiling and smiled as the memory of Luc offering to shoot me this morning replayed in my head.

  Pancakes, it was.

  I might even get wild and add chocolate chips.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  “Put a guard on a criminal, and it only encourages more outbursts. It proves one thing. He’s a threat.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Luciana

  My stomach growled. I pressed a hand to it and scowled at the floor, imagining Chase eating whatever he was c
ooking while burying the bodies. Thanks to Nikolai for dropping me into the twilight zone, where gorgeous men kill bad guys and have so much money that even the law backed down.

  Gorgeous men — I grabbed a stack of folders and carried them over to the desk — who are used to getting everything with a snap of their fingers, so they take it.

  Then freaking insult it within the same breath.

  I thought I was over his words.

  I thought wrong.

  I’d been exhausted last night, hungry for an apology, and a bit terrified that a man with a cruel smile had offered to buy me minutes after Chase’s mouth was on mine.

  A headache started pulsing between my ears.

  Great, just great.

  I grabbed another deposition and read it over. Nothing interesting.

  And then another stack of payouts.

  To the Chicago Police Department.

  Color me shocked.

  Donations to three of the local hospitals.

  And a new cancer wing under the Abandonato name.

  For kids.

  My eyes widened at the number.

  Ten million dollars.

  Seven zeros.

  Damn it!

  I dropped the paper and put my hands on my hips. How was I supposed to stay angry at a guy who shot bad men and donated money to cancer wings?

  Unbelievable.

  I reached for the next folder when the door to the storage room opened.

  Chase stood there, shirtless.

  His jeans hung low on his hips.

  Mouth dry, I focused in on his eyes so I wouldn’t accidentally stare too long at his perfect body.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Poison?” I countered, pointing at the plate.

  He smirked. “Close.” He moved toward me. “Chocolate chips, actually. Only poison to dogs and only in obscenely large amounts.”

  “Kill a lot of dogs, do you?” I said a bit too breathlessly, making me mentally slap myself for allowing his shirtless presence affect me when I wanted to stay pissed at him.

  “No…” Chase grinned. “…only people.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring,” I joked, even though I knew it was true, I’d seen it firsthand.

  “Isn’t it though?” He winked. “I wasn’t sure how hungry you were so I may have gone overboard.” For the first time since I’d walked into that house, he looked genuinely nervous, as if I was going to throw his pancakes back in his face.