Enforce

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The necklace

  Nixon

  Trace was pretty quiet. Then again, I would be too if I'd just gotten in a car with me. I still wasn't sure where we stood. I'd gone from bully to protector all within the course of a day, and I knew that the trust between us was shaky.

  I also knew that I had to start small.

  Thus the shopping trip.

  Paranoid, I glanced at the SUV behind us. Chase flipped me the bird out the window. Awesome to know he was still irritated with me. He usually always rode with me, but I needed him as my lookout. He was one hell of an aim, and I wanted to make sure I kept Trace safe. And Mo? Shit. When had it shifted to protecting Trace above my own sister? Something was seriously wrong with that thought, and I felt like shit because of it.

  I twisted in my seat. The car was too hot. I was going to sweat to death. But Trace looked cold, and for some reason I felt like being nice, even though I was still pissed. All I wanted to do was drive back to the school and pull off the fingernails of every single one of the students who dared touch what was mine.

  I liked to start with fingers.

  For some reason, when you threatened someone with a knife, they hesitated. When you put said knife on a finger and started slowly moving it from right to left, they apologized.

  And then pissed their pants.

  I wanted them to do more than piss their pants.

  So maybe I'd go for the cement.

  Or the brass knuckles.

  I gripped the steering wheel and imagined punching some of those bastards over and over and over again. My knuckles turned white. I wasn't paying much attention to Trace, just answering questions.

  "Are we almost there?" She adjusted her sweater.

  My eyes greedily fell to the expanse of flesh just above her breasts. Insanity poured through every inch of my body — and then a necklace fell out of her shirt.

  I'd voted for something else to fall out.

  But I wasn't in a position to be picky.

  Trying to concentrate on both the road and the necklace as it swayed back and forth, I answered, "Yup, in like ten— Holy shit!" I slammed on the brakes, nearly causing us to get in an accident. "What the hell, Trace?" Did she realize what she had on? What that meant to me? To my enemies? To Phoenix? She may as well have a big giant red X on her face. It had to be a joke. A sick joke. Phoenix had probably placed it under her door and said it was from me to make me shit my pants.

  Or maybe Chase. He'd been pissed at me anyway — I wouldn't put anything past him.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Forget sweating. I was going to murder whichever one of them had pulled that stunt.

  "Where the hell did you get that?" I stopped at a red light and tried to grab the necklace.

  She smacked my hand away.

  "Stop." I gritted my teeth as I examined the back of it. Alfero. As if I'd just gotten burnt, I jerked back, my heart slamming against my chest. Without realizing it, I'd started cursing in Sicilian.

  "It's not worth cursing over." Trace shrugged. "It's just a necklace."

  And I'm the bloody pope. Oh right, no big deal, not worth cursing over. Wait, how'd she know I was cursing? "You understood me?"

  Trace's eyes narrowed, and then she looked back at the road. Her jaw went slack, her eyes closed, and then she was yanking at her seatbelt like it was choking her.

  "Crap," Mo muttered. "I think she's having a panic attack."

  Trace started pulling at the seatbelt harder. We were going at least fifty, and I couldn't take the chance that she would open the door and jump out. I'd knock her out before I let her kill herself.

  "Damn it!" I gripped her hand over the seatbelt. "We're in the middle of traffic. You're staying here. I don't care if you think your freaking heart is going to explode. We can't be vulnerable, and right now, we are." Especially considering it was entirely possible I wasn't the only one who had seen that necklace.

  Shit. I looked in the rearview mirror, half-expecting an Alfero SUV to be tailing me, guns blazing.

  Luckily, I saw nothing except for Chase in the other SUV.

  For the next ten minutes, my cursing got so creative that even I had to give myself credit for making up words I'm pretty sure hadn't existed until that very moment.

  When we pulled up to the store, I snapped. "Leave. Both of you. I'll deal with this."

  Trace tensed next to me, her hand still on the seatbelt, and mine still covering it.

  I needed to concentrate on something — anything but her smooth skin. She could be the enemy. She could have been planted there to distract me. Hell, anything was possible at that point. I wasn't sure if I should pull a gun on her or calmly ask what the hell she was doing with that necklace. A necklace that basically said I couldn't have her, and that even if I did, I never deserved her in the first place. Not that I liked her. Or wanted to kiss her — my eyes fell to her lips. Damn it!

  Popping my knuckles, I closed my eyes for a brief minute before asking, "What's your last name?"

  "Rooks," she said slowly. "Why, what's yours?" Well good. At least she still had her sense of humor. She'd need that — if she lived to make it to the grocery store. I lowered my hand to the side door where I kept another gun. It sucked.

  My life sucked.

  A girl that reminded me of one I'd lost.

  And I may be ending her life in a few minutes.

  A life wasted.

  Another life wasted.

  Too much blood on my hands.

  I shifted the safety off. "I'm asking questions. You're giving answers. You understand?" I tried to give her my most threatening glare, pissed at her for lying, pissed at myself for not realizing she could be out to get my entire family. Revenge was a bitch. "Now, I can ask nicely. Or I can use force. What is your last name?" My finger was on the trigger. I'd never wanted someone to lie to me so badly. I wanted her to say I was crazy. I wanted her to laugh it off.

  Nausea overwhelmed me. I didn't want to kill her.

  But I would.

  To protect Mo, to protect my family. It wasn't just blood in, blood out for the Sicilians. It was blood in — no way out, except death.

  "Rooks!" Tears pooled in Trace's brown eyes. "It's all I know!"

  I carefully pulled my hand away from the gun and reached across to unbuckle her seatbelt. She was telling the truth. Her eyes were scared. She was damn-near shaking the car she was trembling so much.

  I grabbed the necklace and turned it over. "Damn it!"

  Alfero. I hadn't been wrong. The worst part? It had their family crest on it. Not that she would know that.

  And I wasn't about to tell her what it meant to have a picture of an owl as part of the design.

  "What?" Trace whispered. "Look, Nixon…" She tried to pull away from me. "…this was a bad idea. Take me back to the dorms. I don't need the security detail like you guys do. I'll just come back in a cab or something. Plus, you're freaking me out. I'll just find my own way home."

  Home.

  She was home.

  She just didn't know it.

  Because a necklace like that? Didn't get into the wrong hands. Which meant only one thing.

  She was one of them.

  And she was in my SUV… under my protection. Did Frank know? Was it a setup from the beginning? How could I be so blind! And WHO the hell did she belong to?

  "The hell you will," I mumbled, dropping the necklace against her chest and reaching for her hand. "Let's just, let's just get this over with, okay?"

  With a grunt, I pulled the same gun that not minutes before was going to be pointed at her head and stuffed it in its holster on my hip.

  "Uh…" She pointed. "…why are you packing a gun?"

  Yeah. Wasn't ready to explain that one. Because it would probably sound exactly like a bad Mafia movie. "Because it's part of the rules."

  "Of the school?" she blurted, sounding cute as hell.

  I fought the urge to smile. Damn, it was too easy around her. "No." My smile felt forced, s
ad. "My family. Now, let's go."

  She stormed off. I trailed after her, letting her have her tantrum while looking for any suspicious characters.

  Once I checked in with Mo, I went in search of Trace. She was mumbling to herself and tossing stuff into her cart like she wasn't going to eat ever again.

  "Almost done?"

  She screamed.

  Shit.

  Her eyes went wide as saucers. I turned and shook my head. "I scared her. Nothing's wrong." My associates nodded and walked off.

  "Who are you?" she whispered.

  I leaned in, almost plastering myself against her as I breathed in her scent. "I could ask you the same thing." Her eyes beckoned me, as if she was asking me some sort of hidden question that she was too afraid to voice out loud. I could get lost in those eyes. They were the same as… hers. Adrenaline surged through my body. Was it possible?

  Her breathing turned ragged.

  Yeah, I was probably scaring the shit out of her.

  "Brown. Interesting."

  "They're plain," she whispered.

  "They are beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you any different, Bella." I used the nickname I used to call my childhood friend — the little girl who used to chase me around the house and call me names. The little girl whose name I never even knew because when I was little, I'd decided in my heart that she deserved a beautiful name — to equal her beauty. So I'd called her Bella… beautiful.

  She didn't flinch.

  And the hope that had once blazed inside me slowly died. It wasn't her. She was lost to me. Never to be found.