Eulogy (Eagle Elite Book 9)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Why else do you think I’m wiping them out?”

  He sighed. “I want to blame you. I do.” He cursed. “I can’t.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” I tried to keep the edge from my voice. “To apologize for being such a damn hypocrite?”

  “Actually, no. You know how I hate admitting anything, especially to you.”

  Figured. I rolled my eyes and waited.

  Nixon turned, his face softening. “Don’t do it, Chase.”

  Threats, he did well.

  But Nixon Abandonato never begged. And a part of me hated myself for putting him in a position where he felt like he had to.

  “Please,” he added, “do not do this.”

  I hung my head.

  “Chase.” He grabbed me by the shoulders. “Think it through. There is no scenario where you don’t end up dead next week. None.”

  “You gonna do it?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  He released me. “No, I get to kill Tex if he loses his shit.”

  “So I’ve lost my shit?”

  He was quiet and then, “I think we all have.”

  “That’s comforting, since we have guns and lots of money.”

  Nixon smirked. “You making a joke?”

  “Feels foreign, a bit rusty,” I admitted.

  Nixon looked over my head.

  I turned.

  Luciana was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking very well tousled and kissed. Pride swelled in my chest. I’d put that stunned look on her face. I had sucked those lips, and damn if I wasn’t going to do it over and over and over again until she begged me to stop, or until I breathed my last breath.

  “Think about it,” Nixon finally said pointedly.

  “You never told me who pulled the short straw,” I reminded him.

  Pain laced his features. “Your protégé.”

  Something ugly twisted in my chest.

  The guy I’d trained to be ruthless.

  My friend.

  My brother.

  “He volunteered,” Nixon said, driving the knife deeper into my back.

  It wasn’t betrayal.

  It was the mafia.

  And I knew… had the positions been switched, I would have done the same.

  “Damn it, Dante.” I shook my head and muttered an oath. “He doesn’t need that shit on his shoulders.”

  “A little too late, don’t you think?” Nixon gave me one last pensive stare before walking back to his SUV and cranking the engine.

  I slowly closed the door and then slammed my hand against it. “How much did you hear?”

  When I turned around, Luc was right in front of me. I’d seen her sad, and I thought I’d seen her angry.

  I thought wrong.

  Her nostrils flared as she shoved me against the door with more force than I knew she was capable of. I let her. Because she’d let me talk.

  So if she needed to shove me…

  So be it.

  “What did he mean you are going to end up dead?”

  I crossed my arms. “Luc…” Damn it. “Don’t worry about—”

  “Stop!” she yelled. “Don’t patronize me and just tell me!”

  “You want to know?” I roared. “Do you really think you can take it?”

  She glared.

  I took a step toward her, a lethal one, one that showed power, anger. “I’m killing them all, every last member of that bloodline, with or without permission!”

  “And without permission means…” She quieted.

  “That you’ve been kissing a dead man.” I tried to shove past her, but she grabbed my elbow, tugging me back.

  “How many days?”

  I didn’t need to tell her.

  Because she already knew.

  Realization hit her as she dropped my arm and stared lifelessly ahead. “That’s why you don’t want me working…”

  “Do you blame me? For wanting to spend my last few days on this earth doing something other than hating the one woman who took my heart and stabbed it with a knife while it was still beating?”

  “No.” She choked out the word and then nodded her head like she was having a conversation with herself. “But don’t blame me for doing everything in my power to change your mind.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I will.” She shoved past me and ran up the stairs.

  My scowl turned into a smile as I whispered, “But I’ll love seeing you try.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  “He had to make his choice, and for the first time, I wondered if the story would end differently than I thought… differently than we’d all planned.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Luciana

  Operation save Chase was in full force.

  He just didn’t know it yet.

  But he was about to.

  I stripped off my shirt and pants, clad in only my black lacy bra and my boy-short underwear, then quickly pulled my hair back into a high ponytail so it was out of my face.

  He wanted a reason to live?

  I was going to give him a billion.

  And if that didn’t work.

  I was going to do an Internet search on how to kidnap someone; I figured Nixon would even help.

  I stifled a laugh behind my fingers. Was I really thinking about kidnapping a mafia member? I laughed even harder. Maybe I was getting delirious from all the shooting, the kissing, the chaos. But the thought had me actually smiling. That’s how easy it was for him to corrupt me.

  A week in, and I was contemplating renting a white van and parking it down by the river. Great.

  I opened my door and marched down the hall.

  The fridge door was open, the light on, I could see his boots from underneath it. The minute it shut, he choked on the water he was drinking and sputtered, “The hell are you doing?”

  One of the security guys, the scary looking one named Vic, passed by, whistled, and kept walking.

  Chase lunged.

  I grabbed his hand just as Vic flipped him off and shut the door to the garage behind him.

  “Next time…” Chase swore. “…I shoot him.”

  “Non-fatal?”

  “Flesh wound.” He joked like I had earlier in the week.

  We shared the humor, and then his smile dropped as his half-lidded gaze filled with lust. “Is this part of your plan?” He grabbed one of the bra straps and snapped it against my skin.

  The burn was such a turn-on I almost lost my nerve. I didn’t have a ton of experience, and Chase tended to kiss and touch like a puppy died every second he didn’t try his hardest.

  “Is it working?” I put my hands on my hips.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Oh, he wants me to try harder?”

  Another shrug though his eyes flashed with amusement.

  I grabbed his hands and pulled them to my breasts.

  He swallowed slowly, his lips parting as his eyes took on a lazy gaze.

  “Dead people don’t get to cop a feel.”

  “Don’t they though? Zombies get plenty of play,” he fired back.

  “Oh, so you’re coming back a zombie?”

  “How else am I supposed to stalk you?”

  I shuddered as his thumbs moved over my nipples. Rein it in! I needed to focus.

  “I’ve always been more a vampire girl, sorry.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

  I got close enough to kiss him and then grabbed his right hand and splayed it out against my stomach.

  He frowned.

  I inched it lower.

  His gaze dropped.

  I pressed his fingertips into the top of my underwear… then stopped. “You’d be missing out on a lot of… things.”

  He inched his fingers forward, digging against my skin, making me want to squirm against him and beg for more. “Oh yeah? What kind of things?”

  I was in over my head, definitely in over my head.

  He spread his palm w
ide and pressed down. “You mean this?”

  Yeah, this was a horrible idea. I should have just gotten naked and danced with scarves or something.

  Because that was what made men not want to die.

  Scarves.

  I jerked when a finger slid in. “Or this?”

  The plan was backfiring; I was supposed to be driving him crazy, not the other way around.

  He flipped me in his arms so my back was facing him, not moving his hand as he slowly touched me.

  “Good plan.” He nipped my ear. “Solid.”

  “I may have—” I gasped, arching against his palm. “—um, not thought—”

  His fingers kept teasing.

  “—not thought things—”

  “Not thought things?” His breath teased my ear.

  “—through. Not thought—” I bit down on my bottom lip and sucked as my hips rocked against him. I gripped him with my free hand. “—things through.” I finally got it out.

  “Mmm.” He was rock-hard. Hot against my ass.

  I rubbed back against him.

  He stumbled a bit and then bit back a curse.

  I wasn’t sure who was more aroused, me or him.

  He moved again.

  Good. Lord. Him. Him. Him all the way.

  “We really should stop using the kitchen as a bedroom.” He moved his hand, gripping my underwear with his fist and tugging, ripping them completely from my body. I gasped into his mouth as he pressed me against the fridge with one hand while dropping his jeans with the other.

  With one smooth thrust, he was inside me.

  It was the best idea I’d ever had.

  Poorly executed.

  But… The. Best.

  I arched under his kiss as he slammed into me again. My breasts ached as they slid against the metal of the fridge. I tried reaching for something and ended up releasing a few ice cubes onto our joined bodies.

  “Shit!” He jerked, tossed his head back, and laughed.

  A gorgeous, dear-God-the-man-is-too-pretty-for-words laugh.

  I never stood a chance against him.

  I wondered how anyone could.

  “Your laugh…” I tugged his head down and captured his lips as he pressed into me again, slower this time. “…is the sexiest thing I’ve ever.”

  He grinned down at me. “Want to know the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen?”

  He didn’t say anything else.

  Just ran his hands down my shoulders and around my ass, cupping it, angling us differently as he inched deeper, making it impossible to think. Making me lose myself in his presence, worship with his name dropping again and again from my lips.

  “So damn sexy,” he growled against my mouth in an almost painful kiss as I clawed at his chest in an effort to hold him closer, to keep him there forever.

  Incomparable loss washed over me when he pulled out, only to have him flip me around so I was bracing myself against the counter a few feet away. The shock of being shoved from him had my fingers digging into the granite to keep me standing. I gasped for breath as he stood over me. The tip of him pressed slowly, so slowly into me. I cried out as his massive body covered me in its warmth.

  “I’m going to be erect every time I make coffee because of you.”

  I smiled and then grabbed the edge of the counter as he moved. Painfully slow strokes hit every nerve ending I possessed. I squeezed my eyes shut as he invaded every part of me that was on fire for him, as if he knew I’d been waiting for this feeling, for him, my whole life.

  “People are going to say, ‘Chase it’s a bagel. Nobody gets erect over a bagel.’” He shoved the bagels off the counter with his hand and filled me completely.

  My body jerked in response.

  “Or, ‘It’s just orange juice.’” He slammed into me again.

  I lost my breath.

  “Cereal,” I whimpered as he sped up. My thighs squeezed together, closing him in.

  “Luc, princess, keep doing that, and this is over.”

  I shook my head no, but couldn’t help myself as my body naturally responded to his.

  Our hands tangled together — mine pressed against the granite, his pressed against mine.

  “I’ve always been a gentleman. I’m about to lose that track record,” he rasped. “Let go.”

  I shook my head. “What are you doing in two weeks?”

  “Next week—” He plunged forward, and the feel of him was too much — the pleasure, the situation, everything. I fell apart as he finished. “—I’ll be dead.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  “Sometimes we see only what we want to see. I pity the man most days, because he does not know what he has become — then again, neither do I.”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Chase

  She was resilient.

  Feisty.

  Showing a side of herself that had me doing nothing but grinning all day long, as if I actually had a reason to.

  There was the kitchen sex where I tasted heaven and saw a woman come completely undone because of my mouth.

  Followed by more kitchen sex where she slid a bagel onto my dick and asked if she could stack more.

  I was so embarrassingly aroused that I couldn’t even focus when she went through the entire bag, nodded approvingly, then slowly lowered her head and started taking small bites around the holes.

  The kitchen was my new favorite spot.

  Followed closely by the pantry, where she trapped me and said that it was like hell — no bathroom, boxed food, and hot. She then proceeded to tell me that was my future. Good to know she doesn’t think I’m going to heaven either.

  She let me out two hours later.

  And that was only day one.

  At the end of every day, she asked me the same thing. “What are you doing in two weeks?”

  And every day, I told her I would be dead.

  On day three, Friday, the day of the commission, something changed. I’d started breakfast like I had been doing for the past few days and noticed that she hadn’t come downstairs like she normally did.

  It made me anxious.

  Irritated at myself that I was that concerned over the fact that she was normally downstairs at the exact time every day. And that her being late messed with my head.

  I stirred the eggs.

  Then turned the stove off after another ten minutes and peeked around the corner.

  With a curse, I bounded up the stairs and knocked on her door.

  When she didn’t answer, I shoved it open, only to find her lying on her bed.

  “Luc?”

  She didn’t move.

  “Luc?” I reached her side.

  She was staring up at the ceiling, her eyes sad as she whispered, “That’s what it feels like to wake up in the morning, ready for your day, excited to see someone, only to remember that they’re no longer here, that your life is a little bit darker than it was before.” Her eyes flashed to mine. “That’s what I’ll feel like every day you’re gone, and I’m still here.”

  My stomach clenched as I closed my eyes and reached for her. “Luc—”

  “Don’t.” She sighed. “I know what day it is. I just… want you to know what you’ll be leaving. It’s not just about this giant house or your vendetta against that family.” For some reason she always had trouble mentioning their name. “It’s bigger than that. Your choices affect everyone around you, me included.”

  “I know,” I rasped.

  She reached for my hand and looked away.

  “It’s the sex, you know,” I lied. “The minute I’m out of your life, someone else is going to come barging in, and you’ll forget all about the murderer you fucked and the darkness he let you touch because he couldn’t say no.”

  She flinched and let go of my hand. “Do you really think so little of me?”

  No. “It’s not what I think. It is what it is.”

  “Another lifetime.” She hung her head.

  And I fought to keep myself from c
racking. I would not back down. I couldn’t. Not now. Not after everything. “Another lifetime,” I agreed, cupping her chin.

  “Hey, Chase?”

  “Yeah, princess?” I pulled her into my arms as she pressed her cheek against my chest.

  “What are you doing in two weeks?”

  “In two weeks…” It was harder to get out this time, harder to swallow, knowing she’d be sad, knowing it would affect her. I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered, “…I’ll be dead.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  “Sometimes the only right choice is the wrong one. Good thing none of us have a conscience. How could we with bloodstained hands?”

  — Ex-FBI Agent P

  Chase

  I didn’t see Luc the rest of the day.

  I imagined she was avoiding me, and it actually stung, proving yet again, she’d somehow found the last broken piece of my heart and held it long enough to breathe more life into it.

  I grabbed my gun then slammed my hand against the wall until it went numb.

  She wasn’t supposed to happen.

  It was supposed to be just sex.

  Nothing more.

  And I’d done the stupid thing and let her in, only enough for her to see my darkness and run in the opposite direction.

  Instead, she’d embraced it like you would a stray sick cat and had become hell-bent on saving my life.

  But she didn’t know.

  I was way past worth saving.

  And even if I had her, I wasn’t good enough to keep her.

  And this life — this life was one I would never choose for her.

  Regardless of how much I liked kissing her, touching her, just laying my head against her. She was the peace in my war.

  And the most selfish thing I could do was ask her to pick up a gun and join the fight when her job, all along, had been to end it.

  I swiped my phone from the nightstand and frowned when I saw all the new text messages.

  Tex: Commission moved to tomorrow night, try not to get killed before then.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Nixon: He’s too busy having sex.

  Dante: Who? Tex?

  I smirked at the thread.

  Nixon: Keep up. He’s banging the help.