“I need you.”
“I need you too.” Her lips moved to my neck, driving me crazy with her little nips as her teeth tugged my skin, only to be replaced by her tongue as it swirled around afterward.
The plane could be crashing, and I’d still stay exactly where I was.
“This is your captain speaking. We’ll be pushing off in about two minutes. Flight attendants, please ready the cabin.”
“Shit,” I mumbled, dropping Trace to her feet.
“Tell me the truth.” Trace’s piercing eyes held my gaze.
“Which truth? That I love you? That I’d die for you? That if you cut me open with a knife and told me to bleed out, I’d do it in a heartbeat?”
She blushed and looked away. “No, not that, though it’s nice to hear I can stab you and you’d just stand there — remind me next time you piss me off.”
“I’ll remind you tonight,” I teased, hoping it was enough to change the subject.
Trace grabbed my hand and squeezed. “About this trip to Vegas. About what’s going on with Mil. Are we in danger again?”
Hesitantly, I stroked her lower lip with my thumb. “Sweetheart, it’s always going to be dangerous. Getting eggs from the market? Dangerous. Going down the street? Dangerous. Life is dangerous, but just because we do what we do doesn’t mean we’re to live our lives in constant fear that something’s going to happen. So when you start to feel that way, like your heart’s going to explode from the intensity of the situation — use that adrenaline, channel it toward adventure. Life’s too short — and ours? Even shorter.”
A few seconds went by as I watched the information soak into Trace’s consciousness. Her eyebrows drew together, and then she gave me one solid nod. “An adventure you say?”
“Yeah.” I kissed her hand. “It’s exciting.”
“Killing equals excitement?” she squeaked.
“Absolutely not,” I said quickly. “Killing’s the shitty part — but family? Family is life. It’s mine and it’s yours. Those people sitting in that cabin, they rely on me for everything, and I wouldn’t give that up for the world — not even for you.”
“Whoa.” Trace stepped back. “So if I asked you to abandon this life, your entire family, and become a ghost, what would you say?”
My heart thundered against my chest as the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I must have bit my tongue in shock. Honesty. Damn, I hated that part of my personality. “I wouldn’t say anything, Trace. I’d let you go. I’d take care of you from afar, but we’d part ways. I’d grow up to be a really crabby and bitter old mafia boss — so basically I’d turn into Luca… and I’d dream about you every night. I’d want you every day. But I’d stay. Our love is strong. But family? What’s been bred into me? It will always win, regardless of my feelings for you.”
The curtain pulled back. “What are you doing back here?” The female flight attendant looked anything but pleased. With her tight bun and stern smile, she could almost pass for my Aunt B before she went on a killing spree.
“Talking,” Trace choked out.
“Well, you can talk in your seats. Out.” She shooed us out of the little alcove.
I grabbed Trace’s hand on the way to our seats, but she jerked it away. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was pissed, or if it was because we’d walked right by her grandfather.
His eyes narrowed as we took our seats, and then they moved to Trace and squinted into pinpoints. I followed his gaze and cursed.
A few tears slid down her perfect cheek.
I stole a glance at Frank. Yeah, pissed. He was definitely pissed; his expression reminded me of the time he’d shot at my feet and had threatened my life.
Shrugging in his direction, I reached for Trace’s hand again, this time not allowing her to jerk it free, and whispered in her ear. “I love you. Never doubt my love, sweetheart.” Her hand relaxed. “Oh, and if you ever pull away from me again, there will be consequences.”
At that her head snapped up, her eyes saturated with hostility.
Unable to help it, I smirked.
Which earned me a middle finger from her free hand as well as a really uncomfortable situation where I suddenly felt so turned on I wanted to throw her against the floor.
Her nostrils flared, and then she looked down. At my lap.
When she met my gaze again, I winked.
“Are you seriously that turned on by violence, you sick bastard?”
Damn, she wasn’t helping; I could feel my body respond with excitement. Shit, I’d take down the whole plane with me — cheerfully.
“Nope,” I whispered, my tongue licking the outside of her ear as I spoke. “I just love pissing you off — seems my entire body responds to your anger in an unusual way — I’m not complaining, and you weren’t either a few nights ago.”
“I complained,” she snapped.
“Because I made you go to sleep. It was four a.m., Trace, people have to sleep.”
Her eyes narrowed as she jerked her head away from mine and crossed her arms, but I didn’t miss the ghost of a smile on her lips as she pretended to still be pissed.
“Slap me later?” I teased.
“Ass.” She breathed, her chest heaving slightly.
“Gotcha.” I pressed my palm flat against her chest and laughed as I leaned over and kissed her on the neck again. “Admit it. You love fighting with me almost as much as you love what comes after.”
“And what comes after?” her voice begged.
“Punishment?”
“Or rewards?” She grinned.
“Either way,” I admitted.
“Flight attendants, please take your seats for takeoff.”
“Well,” I made sure my seatbelt was buckled, “this is going to be the most painfully long plane ride of my life.”
Trace giggled. “I’m guessing it’s going to be the same for him too.”
I looked back where Luca was sitting, and Mo and Tex were fighting on either side of him.
“Now that’s punishment,” I agreed.
“So is this.” Trace moved her hand underneath my shirt and began slowly caressing my back, then my stomach, then moved lower to my jeans. My hips jerked involuntarily.
“Not funny.”
“Am I laughing?”
“Damn, I wish you were.”
“Nixon…” her hand teased right above the line of my jeans, “…threaten me again, and I’m going to move this little conversation to Sunday Mass.”
“You wouldn’t!” My head fell back against the seat as my body screamed with pent-up frustration.
“I would.”
“Damn you.”
“Nixon!” Trace removed her hand. “I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.”
“Rules? What?” I looked around. “What rules?” Damn the woman had me so wound up I was ready to freaking take her right there and risk getting arrested.
“No PDA. Have a nice flight!” She pulled the magazine from the seatback pocket in front of her and started reading.
While I recited the Rosary.
Chapter Twenty-One
Chase
“Nixon looks pissed,” I said to no one in particular, halfway into the flight.
“Why are his eyes closed?” Mil asked. “And his lips still moving?”
“Hmm.” I shrugged. “Not sure, but Trace seems to be pretty amused with herself.”
Mil fell silent.
Probably not the time to have that conversation. Then again, Frank was sleeping, Luca had ear plugs in, and Tex and Mo were pouting. Leaving Trace with her magazine across the aisle and Nixon doing something that looked a lot like praying.
“You can still love her, you know,” Mil said in a low voice, her eyes darting between me and Trace. “I don’t expect you to get over it that fast, I mean you were in rough shape that night.”
“Hilarious.” I groaned into my hands and leaned back in my seat. I’d been drunk out of my mind. “I’m not sure I ever fully thanked yo
u for all that.”
Mil’s blue gaze met mine. My heartbeat sped up a bit, like I’d just taken a hit of something and was feeling the effects of it spread through my bloodstream. “Are you thanking me for slapping you out of your drunken stupor or keeping you from drowning in the shower?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” I said dryly.
“You’re welcome.” Her smile made me dizzy. It spread wide, showing me her gleaming teeth and pretty dimples. Shit. It was like a light that had finally turned on in that damn airplane. I stared — like an absolute dumbass.
“Chase?” She blinked a few times, her dark eyelashes fanning against her cheekbones like a freaking caress. “Chase, you’re not breathing.”
I sucked in air and started choking wildly.
Mil patted my back, her touch literally setting my skin on fire. I choked again, looked out the window, and watched my manhood fall into the sky along with my pride.
“Sorry, uh… bug.” I pounded my chest a few times to prove my ridiculously lame lie.
“In an airplane?” she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.
“It happens!” I snapped.
“Okay.” She lifted her hands into the air and, thank God, removed her hand from my person. I stared at her hand midair and noticed a scar on her arm. It wasn’t a typical scar — it was like a burn of some sort.
“What’s this?” I grabbed her wrist and leaned in to examine the mark; it reminded me of a cigarette burn, but it was too big to be a cigarette and on closer inspection it had definite lines, like it was drawn on her. Like it was burned against that perfect skin with a hot knife or something.
Mil clenched her fist and tried to pull away, but I pulled tighter, making it impossible for her to do anything. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something,” I half-snarled. Holy shit, who the hell would mark what was mine? I focused in on the burn; it was an old scar, not recent, but it didn’t matter. Not a shot in hell that it mattered. Her skin, her body, everything I touched was mine, not anyone else’s to tarnish. Rage like nothing I’d ever known poured through me. My heart slammed against my chest as my jaw clenched and flexed, causing my teeth to grind.
“Another bug?” Mil whispered, a smile appearing on her expressive face.
“Tell me—” My chest heaved. “Who did this?”
“Chase.” Mil’s voice was pleading. “Let’s not do this here, not now.”
“But—”
“Leave it, or I swear I’ll knife you in your sleep.”
I released her hand, a bit ashamed about how attached I clearly was to my anatomy, and looked out the window, refusing to talk to her, like a little child throwing a pity party.
Who the hell would touch her?
My first thought was Phoenix.
My second thought was how I’d find time to go to hell, raise his lifeless corpse, and kill him all over again.
And then a fuzzy memory surfaced.
That night, the night Mil and I had been together, Phoenix had been protective, so protective that it was a bit ridiculous. I mean, I was his best friend and he was still pissed. He hadn’t talked to me for weeks…
“Dude!” I slapped my hand onto the table. “You’re like a freaking dog with a bone!”
“Poor word choice, Chase.”
“Phoenix.” I dropped into the chair beside him. “It’s been a month. I said I was sorry, I offered to let you shoot me in the foot, I even wrote her an apology, by hand!”
“Not enough.” Phoenix leaned his elbows on his knees, both legs shaking with irritation. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
His head shook. “Can’t. Don’t want to, and it’s none of your damn business.”
“At least tell me she’s okay. You owe me that.”
Within seconds, Phoenix was on his feet, gripping my shirt with his hands as he used his body weight to slam me against the wall, still in my chair, I could only gape as his chest heaved, his eyes wild with fury. “I owe you nothing, you sorry piece of shit! You took the only thing she had! The only—” His lips trembled. “—the only thing that was keeping her close. And now? She’s going to have to go away. She already is.”
“What?” I shook my head. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Boarding school.” Phoenix released me and stepped back, exhaling a curse. “Don’t ask me again.”
“Ask you what?”
“About Mil.” He refused to look at me. “As far as you’re concerned, she doesn’t exist. You better cherish the one night you had, because it won’t ever happen again.”
“Dude.” I lifted my hands in the air. “I know!”
“No. You don’t.” Phoenix met my gaze. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have done what you did. You would have known the cost of your actions. Because now… I have no one, but I can thank you for one thing.” His smile was tense.
“Yeah, what?” I grumbled.
“She’s free.” Pain etched in every plane of Phoenix’s face. His mouth relaxed as he nodded his head. “She’s finally free.”
“Huh?”
“Beer?” Phoenix didn’t wait for me to answer, just walked into the kitchen, leaving me confused as hell…
“Mil?” I whispered.
Somehow, in my daydreaming, she’d found a way to lean against my shoulder without being too irritated that the shoulder was attached to the person she had just snapped at. Her head was heavy, her breathing shallow. Damn, my questions could wait until we landed.
After all, we had a year of marital bliss.
That is, if we lived that long.
Damn mafia.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mil
The smell of cigarettes burned my nose. I waited as the voices quieted and then something stung my face. My vision cleared for a brief second. Though I was still seeing double, it was better than nothing.
“Wake up, baby girl.”
I blinked a few more times, relieved to see it was my dad standing in front of me, not some crazy kidnapper. Though, why was it so dark?
A few rough men stood around my father, each of them looking worse than the next. They weren’t from our family — most of them were faces I’d never seen before.
“She looks young,” a hoarse voice said from behind me. “What is the price for this one?”
“Ah, this one.” My dad laughed. “She will be a special price.”
“How much are we talking about?” a second man asked. “The last woman I bought was tarnished, practically starved to death.”
“I said special,” Dad repeated. “Because attached to her is one thing you all want — and desperately crave.”
The room fell silent as my father’s eyes roamed around the room, stopping at each individual before finally settling on me. “Part of the family. Marry her, take her, and you will be welcomed into the De Lange family, no questions asked.”
“How do you figure?” someone brave asked.
“She’s my daughter.” My father chuckled. “Marry her, and you’ll be second only to my son.”
“But… that’s impossible. One has to be born into the family. Even some made men are never fully respected and—”
“Silence,” my father snapped. “So we lie, say you’re a cousin of a cousin, nobody has to know, and in the end nobody will care. We are the De Langes, after all. Each of you has been chosen for what you can offer.”
Silence followed.
My father cleared his throat. “Let the bidding begin at one point five.”
“One point five?” The man with the gruff voice asked.
“Million,” Father answered. “Do I hear two?”
I gasped for breath, nearly jolting out of my seat as the plane hit the runway.
“Are you okay?” Chase whispered to my left.
“Uh, yeah.” I cleared my throat and looked down at my hands. “Flying always makes me have weird dreams.”
“You were able to drea
m, all within twenty minutes?”
I leaned back against the seat. “What can I say? I’m special.” I flashed him a quick side grin and licked my lips nervously.
“Yeah.” Chase’s eyes penetrated mine. “You really are.”
Wow, could I wake up like this after every nightmare? My breathing picked up. I was annoyed that all it had taken were a few words of praise, and I was ready to jump his bones in front of everyone.
“Mil.” Chase’s smile grew. “You hot or something? You’re completely flushed.”
“Hot,” I repeated. “Yeah, really hot.” Holy crap. Someone punch me in the face ASAP. I laughed nervously and tightened my seatbelt.
The next fifteen minutes of landing almost killed me. Every time I wanted to turn and say something to Chase, he was looking directly at me. And not just one of those looks that says Hey weirdo, what the hell are you staring at?
No. Because if it was that type of stare, I’d simply flip him off and be on my merry way.
He was staring at me like he was a dying man… a man who’d just gotten out of solitary confinement and had been given a Christmas dinner. Me, being the dinner and a freaking Christmas tree.
“Mil.” Chase’s smooth voice invaded my peace and already-frayed nerves. I could have sworn his tongue just touched my ear.
“Hmm?” I pretended to be unaffected. Let it be known here and now, I’m a terrible actress.
“It’s time to get up.” As his words hit home, I looked around. People were filing out while I’d been daydreaming. Great. That’s just what we needed, my savior to be my distraction.
“Right.” I laughed and waved him away, then tried to get up, only to be held down by my seatbelt. With a groan I reached for the buckle — but was beat by Chase’s massive hand. Smirking, he reached around where it connected and lifted the buckle. I felt that effing lift all the way down my toes. Mother. Loving. Dying. Damn. Shit. Hell. Storm.
I repeated those words over and over in my head as his hand grazed my thigh. The seatbelt fell and I was frozen, paralyzed by his touch, and fighting a losing battle with actually hating the fact that I still felt the buzz from his fingertips.
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