“Commission?” She frowned. “Like the city commissioner?”
I tried not to crack a smile.
She glared.
“Sorry.” I licked my lips. “I forget you weren’t born into terror.”
Her face fell as she lifted a shoulder. “Just a different kind of terror, Chase.”
The foster system.
I reached for her, not sure what I was trying to accomplish, just maybe the old Chase recognizing the human need for comfort, and the dead Chase awkwardly trying to remember what that looked like, felt like.
I touched her hand.
She squeezed it back then pulled me closer until our bodies were inches apart. I hovered over her, at least a foot taller.
Damn, she was too small for this big world.
Too innocent.
Too dangerous.
Fear lit my blood on fire as I watched her eyes search mine. “So what is it then?”
“Wine?”
“Wine is the answer for everything?” she asked in a slightly more optimistic voice.
“It’s flavored water. That’s how often we drink it.” I grabbed a bottle and two glasses and then moved to the table.
The lights were still off, but it was shockingly bright in the kitchen, probably because of all the snow falling.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” She stared out at the snow as if it was a Disney movie, and we were the stars.
Wrong. Genre.
“Yeah.” I squinted out at the snow falling across the damn pool and all the memories of that fucking back yard. “Beautiful.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not seeing it.”
“I think I am,” I said in a stern voice. “Two inches of snow, covering all the pavers and the pool. Snow I’ll need to shovel tomorrow. Snow that will melt into dirty snow. Just… snow.”
She gaped at me. “No! That’s not it at all! You’re wrong.”
My lips parted in surprise. Nobody told me I was wrong. Unless they wanted to see what heaven looked like, or hell, depending on the person. “Well then, what do you see?”
She stared out, her smile relaxed, happy. I had no idea what those words felt like anymore. “A fresh start. Blank canvas.”
I sucked in a breath.
“Sure, the snow’s going to get dirty, but that happens after a fresh start, right? You fall down. You get back up. It’s all in how you see the bigger picture. You can blame the blank slate for missed opportunities, or you can embrace it and all the things it has to offer and learn from it. Every fresh snow…” She quirked her lips. “…when I was a kid, at least…” Her eyes met mine. “…was a promise that I could change things, that if the snow got a second chance, so could I.”
My heart thudded.
It hurt to breathe.
I broke eye contact and looked down. “People are rarely given second chances in life, Luc.”
“Because they’re the ones refusing to take them.”
Did this damn woman have an answer for everything?
“So…” I changed the subject. “…the commission.”
She grabbed her wine, swirled it around in her glass, then took a sip. “Yeah, why is it important that I stop working until then?”
I shrugged. “Burn out?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been here a little over a week. Nice try.”
“Things…” I chose my words carefully. “…will be different after the commission, alright? I won’t be around as much.” Or at all, if they have it their way. “It’s been a hard year, and you make me laugh.” Butchering it. I was completely butchering it. “I just—”
She put her hand on my arm. “You want to spend time… with me?”
I nodded.
“As my employer?”
“Hell no,” I growled.
“Okay.” She looked down at her lap.
I tilted her chin up. Her eyes were worried.
“I won’t touch you unless you want me to, I promise. Tell you what, in the mafia we have a little thing—”
She gasped.
I rolled my eyes. “Like you didn’t know.”
“Nah, it’s just weird hearing you say it.”
“Even weirder than finding a dead horse head in your bed, am I right?”
She paled.
“Shit, I was kidding.” Light spread through my chest then disappeared as fast as it came. Damn, my body felt heavy without it. “In the mafia, we have things called markers. If I give you my marker, it means I owe you a favor, and if I don’t own up, then you have a right to take my life.”
Her eyes widened. “That seems… severe.”
“Life is severe.” I looked away.
“So I spend time with you… until this weird commission thing, and I get a favor? Any favor?”
“Exactly.”
She seemed skeptical. She should be. “And this commission… it’s what exactly?”
“A meeting.” I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “We have them sometimes when there are disputes within the Families. It’s a normal occurrence.”
She sighed. “Can I ask you something, then?”
“Sure.” Maybe. My breath hitched.
“Why me?”
Because she was the opposite of everything I’d had with Mil. Because she reminded me that I was still human. Because she made breathing hurt a bit less. Because if I didn’t make it through the commission, it would be these moments with her that would remind me that humanity wasn’t all damned.
That if I could protect her now…
Be with her now…
At least I’d know I left one good thing behind the mountain of bodies I was taking to the pit of hell with me.
“Because you’re you,” I said, hoping the simple answer would be enough.
Clearly it was. Tears filled her eyes as she nodded her head. “It’s nice to be wanted for being you, isn’t it?” And then those intelligent eyes flashed to me, fucking seeing through my soul with such laser-like intensity, I almost shoved her away, almost screamed, almost lost my shit.
And then her hand was on my arm as she whispered, “Okay.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
“I’d never been jealous of my enemies — until now.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Luciana
The snow continued to fall throughout the night. As per our agreement, I sat next to Chase and sang him to sleep, worried as he thrashed in his bed as if demons were dragging him to hell. He woke up twice, yelling her name.
And my heart sank to my knees every time I heard it fall from his lips.
The love he’d had for her must have been otherworldly.
I wondered what that felt like.
What it would be like to have a man love me with such intensity, such boldness that it haunted him.
Once I knew he was fast asleep again, I stopped singing and caressed his face; it finally looked at peace. A feeling of dread filled me as I wondered if that would be the only time he’d actually find it.
When he was asleep.
Forever.
The thought had me rubbing my chest.
He should be my enemy.
Instead, I was starting to think of him as a friend, as someone who saw past people’s exteriors and searched for the good and bad on the inside of their hearts.
I had no idea why he was asking me to spend time with him.
But after hearing his screams at night…
And feeling the darkness in his gaze and touch — I knew I had no other choice.
It didn’t help that I’d had a nightmare of him screaming at me to run, only to have that Andrei guy shoot him in order to protect me.
It was the stress of this strange new world.
With a sigh, I stood to leave, only to have Chase snake his arm around me and pull me back down to the bed. “Sing them away…” he begged, agony lacing his voice.
“Who are they?” I ran my hands through his hair as he tossed and turned next to me, making only enough room to pu
ll me to his side as if I was his own personal teddy bear. “The people I need to sing away?”
He made a choking noise and then whispered, “People? I meant me. Make me stop…”
“Chase?” Worried, I gave him a shake. He didn’t wake up. “Chase?”
He burrowed deeper against my body.
Panic pulsed through my body. Just what was he needing to stop?
I kissed the top of his head and tried to fall asleep but found myself watching the window and counting snowflakes, as if my time was limited, almost as limited as his seemed to be.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
“It’s hard to see past my own ambitions. But most days it’s hard to see past theirs as well.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Tex
I hadn’t been sleeping.
What sleep I had gotten was only because my wife lulled me with sex. I wracked my brain for a way to deal with the dynasty of our families and still came up with only one solution.
A life for a life.
I knew that blood needed to be spilled when a direct order from the Capo was ignored. I just didn’t want to be the one to pull the trigger, which made me weak, when I was supposed to be their leader. But my friend.
One of my best friends.
A knock sounded on my office door. I frowned. It was one in the morning, and I’d just tucked Mo in over an hour ago.
“Come in,” I barked, irritated it was probably one of my men needing something that they sure as hell could get themselves if they used their brains.
So I was surprised when Nixon entered followed by Sergio, Phoenix, and Dante.
My gut churned.
Dante had whiskey in his hands.
Sergio had wine.
And Phoenix… well, fucking Phoenix had black folders.
“Shouldn’t we just burn those by now?” I pointed.
Nixon’s face was pale.
That couldn’t be good.
Sergio started drinking straight from the bottle.
“We need to remove her from the situation immediately.” Nixon tugged his hair and did a small circle. “Move her to your family, my family, anywhere but that fucking tomb he refuses to leave.”
“And how do you expect to do that?” I snorted. “You’re the closest to Chase, and he hates you right now.”
“He hates himself,” Nixon spat. “And I, or any one of us, if put in that position, wouldn’t listen to shit and you know it.” Fury filled his features.
I looked away.
My call to make.
Always my call.
I motioned for the wine; Sergio handed it over.
My brothers.
I would die for them.
“I don’t know what the hell to do,” I admitted out loud, “if he breaks the rules.”
“I’ll do it,” Dante gulped.
All eyes fell to him.
He shook his head. “Nixon has too much baggage with Chase. I’m the newest. He’s like a brother—” His voice caught. “He is a brother to me, but rules are rules, and Phoenix can’t do it, not again—”
“I’m fine,” Phoenix said in a lethal voice.
“You haven’t been fine for a very long time,” I said honestly.
Phoenix met my eyes and looked away.
“None of us are fucking fine!” I slammed my fist against my desk as silence blanketed around us. “People aren’t made for this kind of life. Eventually one of us will break.”
“Just like Chase,” Sergio said.
All of our gazes met.
“So we make a vow, like we did when we formed the Elect.” I licked my lips and nodded to Nixon. “Dante gets to kill Chase if he goes AWOL. If I lose my shit—”
“I’ll do it,” Sergio smirked.
We all fell into laughter. He’d been trying to kill my ass for years and now… now it was a running joke between us. At least it lightened the mood.
“Nixon?”
“You shoot me. You’re the one who fucked my sister.” He winked.
I threw my head back and laughed. “It was so good, too. You should see the way she—”
Nixon pulled out his gun and waved it around.
“And I’ll get Dante.” I nodded. “Phoenix will take care of everything else.”
“And why is Phoenix still alive?” Phoenix asked the room.
I stared straight at him. “Because someone has to carry on our legacy, and you’re the only one who’s able to cohabitate with demons.”
He sucked in a harsh breath and looked away. “Fine.”
It was the truth.
He knew it.
We all knew it.
Funny how, when this all started, he was the one you couldn’t trust, the loose cannon.
And now we would be leaving our empires in his very capable hands if it came down to it.
I sunk down into my chair. “Russian-fucking-roulette.”
“Blood in—” Nixon swiped a blade cross his palm. “—no out.”
A new pact was made in blood, above my desk, as I spoke over my men. “As burns this saint, so burns my soul.”
“Sangue en no fuori.”
My body shuddered.
“Dante,” I rasped. “If it happens, make it quick.”
“He won’t even know what hit him.”
I nodded, just as another knock sounded at my door.
It opened.
And we all stared in shock as Andrei Petrov walked right in, sat down, turned to Phoenix, and said, “We have a problem.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
“It was always easier being bad than good.”
—Ex-FBI Agent P
Andrei
I hated them more than I hated most.
And that was saying a lot.
Italians, to me, were like the scum of the earth, lover than everyone and everything. They’d single-handedly taken down my father’s empire and left my family to rot.
And I couldn’t blame them.
Because I would have done the same fucking thing.
Phoenix sighed.
I leaned back.
My entrance needed work, but I was Russian. I cared nothing for the way these men flounced their expensive suits and glossy hair. I wasn’t getting the results needed, which meant, we had a problem on our hands.
“What. The. Hell.” Dante jumped to his feet.
“Sit down, kindergarten.” I rolled my eyes and dropped my gaze to Tex, who nodded slowly at me and then to Phoenix, who slid out a black folder and slammed it onto Tex’s desk.
I knew what it contained.
My secrets.
My demons.
My demands.
And my utter control of the FBI.
“Someone’s been busy.” Tex whistled. “Why are we just now finding out about this?”
“All black folders are need-to-know,” Phoenix said in a bored tone I knew too well. “I knew, but it was too late, and the only way for Andrei to save face…”
Phoenix had saved my ass that night by killing Mil.
It was the only job the FBI had given me. Take out the rat — the snake — take down the Italian mafia, infiltrate the weakest family.
They just had no idea that the very man they trusted to do everything had been working both sides with Luca Nicolasi for years.
For the man who took a bullet meant for me, by my own father’s hand.
It was too easy to fabricate my ruthlessness; Russians were known for blood.
But did people truly believe a punk kid, at eighteen, was capable of taking over an entire crime organization in that way? With that much power? Power was not earned. It was bought, fought for, and I’d had to claw for every inch.
And be taught the correct way to do it.
So I watched.
I waited.
As each of the men I loathed, yet had no choice but to trust, read my secrets out loud, exposing them to the world.
And then, one by one, swore an oath to me in blood.
CH
APTER FIFTY-FIVE
“And now we wait. Now. We. Wait.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Chase
I’d woken up early.
It was the first time I’d done that in weeks.
Something about seeing the sunrise used to piss me off, maybe because she used to wake up early, too chipper for my liking, so I purposefully slept in so she’d roll in her grave.
But today felt… different.
The sun was bright against the snow. My darkness shuddered at all the light, and I cracked a smile as I started making breakfast.
The commission would be in three days.
I had three days until I knew the final decision.
Three days until I would be hunted.
Three. Days.
I cracked a few eggs and started making French toast. I wanted Luc to keep up her appetite, even though I had no clue how I was going to spend my time with her. I was rusty, and since I wouldn’t touch her without her permission, I was really at a loss.
What did I even used to do during the day, other than kill people?
My fuzzy brain tried to conjure up something, but all I had was watching movies with Trace and hanging out with…
My gut churned.
Brothers. My brothers.
The ones I’d shunned.
The ones who would hunt me like I was in the wrong, when they knew damn well that the De Lange line needed to be snuffed out like a light.
Hell, even Phoenix agreed with me, and he wasn’t even clinically sane!
The more I thought about it the angrier I became, until I felt a hand on my arm.
I looked up into Luc’s tawny brown eyes and fresh face. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a braid, and her face was free of makeup except for a touch of gloss on her lips that immediately drew me in. “I think you’ve beaten the eggs hard enough.”
“Yeah.” I set them down. “Want to help?”
She nodded shyly then reached for the sourdough bread, but not before glancing at me, tasting the batter, making a face, and adding a bit of cinnamon.
I burst out laughing. “You make me feel as though everyone’s always claimed I’m a good cook, but they were only trying to be nice.”
Eulogy (Eagle Elite Book 9) Page 20