Enforce

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  We own the world.

  Nixon

  "One more stop." I took the next exit and sighed as we pulled up to the bank. Just something else we owned next to car dealerships, garbage companies — hell, sometimes it just felt like we owned the freaking world. I'm sure it looked that way too when you typed our name into a search engine.

  Anthony was going to flip his shit, but I figured the best way to let him know about the dire situation was to wave her in front of him like a bull. I could text him, but seeing her in the flesh, yeah, it was going to be one hell of a day. Besides, she couldn't just walk around with that type of cash.

  So what if we had GPS trackers in every card we made?

  So what if I was using it as an excuse to make sure she was never out of my sight?

  "The bank?" Trace looked up at the spiky modern building.

  "Yup."

  "Why?"

  I let out a laugh, "Asks the girl who's carrying around thousand-dollar bills. I take it you don't have an account?"

  She hung her head, shoulders hunching. Damn it, sometimes she was so fierce it knocked me on my ass; other times, like a beaten puppy.

  "Well, let's go then." I jumped out of the car and grabbed her hand, leading her toward the glass four-story building.

  "Nixon, where'd the rest of the suits go?"

  I didn't answer because there were enough lies for the day, couldn't really say "Well, they're all downstairs drinking coffee and watching you on the big screen while cleaning their guns." The bank was another hangout for lots of the men; nobody would dare attack me there. It was a freaking fortress, not to mention it had some of the best security in Chicago.

  We walked right past all the desks where people were answering phones and working and went into the elevator.

  She let out a little gasp as it descended into hell. Ha, kidding — just Anthony's main office, but it sure felt like hell sometimes.

  The doors opened, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee burned my nostrils as I dragged Trace down the hall.

  "Hey, Priscilla, where's Anthony?" I asked, almost hoping I could just do everything myself without Anthony seeing Trace first.

  She didn't look up. "Oh, you know, sharpening kn—" Her mouth shut she glanced up and offered her hand to Trace. "I'm sorry, and you are?"

  "Trace. Trace Rooks."

  Priscilla nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing in on the necklace that just so happened to have turned to show the glaring Alfero family crest. "Rooks, you say?"

  "Yup."

  "Doesn't sound like—"

  "Pris, we need to open an account." I leveled her with a glare.

  Her smile didn't reach her eyes. Yeah, bitch was trying to put two and two together. I made a mental note to take care of that later. Make sure she didn't talk to any of the men; that's how rumors spread, and that's how heads rolled — literally.

  "Of course you do. I'll just let Anthony know you are here."

  I shook my head. "No need. I'll let myself in."

  "Enter at your own risk, Nixon."

  "Come on." I tugged Trace's hand and went down the stairs through the hall of bosses — men who served us or were actually bosses of our family. I purposefully didn't look at the newest picture — the one of my father. Hell, if I had it my way, it wouldn't have gotten the honor of a spot on the wall. But respect was everything, and it was my job to show the men that yes, even though I'd killed him, we still respected blood — unless we were double-crossed; then we just killed them.

  I pressed my thumb against the magnetic strip. The door opened. "Anthony?"

  "In here."

  I walked into the wide office and grimaced. All the windows were open looking out onto the pond. To Trace, it would look like a penthouse.

  "We need to open an account." I hoped he'd keep the questions to a minimum and just work his magic on the computer.

  "We?" Anthony turned around.

  My uncle turned, leveling me with a curious stare before setting his cold blue eyes on Trace. He looked just like me; then again, Chase and I could be brothers for how similar we looked. When we were little, people thought we were twins, rather than Mo and I.

  I cleared my throat. "Technically, she needs to open an account. I would have gone to one of the other branches, but lucky girl has thousand-dollar bills."

  Anthony's eyes widened briefly before he turned to Trace. "What did you do? Rob a bank?" He cracked a smile. Awesome, so now the man had jokes when I was ready to lose my freaking mind with all the information I had stored.

  She returned his smile with an innocent one of her own, making me immediately want to rush her out of the room. This was a bad idea, all of it, but there was no backing out now. Leaving would show Anthony she was worth something; staying was already doing enough damage. Hell, I'd just purposefully dropped her into my world; she would never escape, not now, not ever.

  "I didn't know they were big bills. My grandpa gave me some money before I was dropped off at school, and there was a fiasco with my uniform and bags and…"

  "Fiasco?" Anthony's brows lifted. "This I have to hear."

  "Anthony—" I tried to interrupt but was dismissed. Right. In public I was always dismissed because people would ask questions if I was the guy ordering around the man who was old enough to be my father.

  "Make yourself useful, Nixon, and grab yourself a drink," Anthony barked.

  I muttered a curse and walked over to the bar, purposefully clanging the glasses as I made myself a drink.

  "So, you were saying?" Anthony's smooth voice was like nails on a chalkboard to me.

  "I, uh… the people at school kind of drenched me in sugar water and raw eggs. My messenger bag suffered a very slow, sticky death."

  "The worst kind I'm sure," Anthony agreed. Damn, I forgot how nice the man could be when he was curious… you know what they say about curiosity. Couldn't he just make the account, do the background check that I'm already one–hundred-percent sure is going to come back positive and let us leave?

  "Absolutely," Trace agreed. "I guess technically, it's my fault since I rejected that one's rules on the first day." I pointed at Nixon who narrowed his eyes. "But he did save me from social suicide. Not that I was already high on the popularity totem pole anyways… but yeah. Long story short, we went shopping. I busted out my money. Nixon almost had a stroke. Men in suits entered the grocery store with guns. Pretty sure I'm going to see that on the evening news, and… now we're here."

  "Alright. Sounds like a normal day in the life of Nixon. Welcome to the family…" Shit, shit, shit. I leaned against the bar, my fingers digging into the granite countertop. Trace had no way of knowing what Anthony was really saying… it was more of an invitation to hell. By welcoming her in, he was saying she had no out. Only she didn't know that; she probably assumed Anthony was teasing her about our relationship, when really, that should be the least of her worries at this point.

  "Oh, no, no, no, no." She let out a nervous laugh. "No, it's not like… that."

  "I've known Nixon for a long time, and I can tell you one thing for sure. It is very much… like that."

  Hell, we were going to have words later. I cursed and turned around, leveling him with a glare.

  "Now, an account... Do you have your social security number?" Anthony completely ignored me.

  Trace tucked some hair behind her ear and shrugged. "Grandpa said it was lost in the move." She was so damn innocent. Hadn't she thought to ask her Grandpa how the hell he'd registered her for school without a social security number?

  "The move?" Anthony repeated, walking around his desk and hitting a few keys on his computer. "Where did you move from?"

  "Chicago."

  I had just taken a huge sip of my drink. The word Chicago startled me enough to spit its contents out onto the floor. What the hell was my problem? I knew who she was, but just hearing her confirm my suspicions, damn but it made my heart hammer in my chest, made me want to collapse into a sobbing mess at her feet.
Bella, my Bella, the little girl I would have died to save, was standing right in front of me, and instead of saving her? I was throwing her back in with the wolves. Me, being the alpha… "Sorry, Uncle Tony."

  Tony shook his head in annoyance but said nothing. "So, you're from Chicago. Why did you move? Your parents come with you?"

  Trace's eyebrows knit together in confusion. Shit, either she had no idea or she'd suppressed all horrible memories of her childhood, not that I could blame her.

  I walked over to where she stood and grabbed her hand, giving it a little squeeze.

  "My grandparents thought the city was too violent, I guess? I don't know. My parents were killed in an accident when I was six so…"

  "An accident?" Anthony repeated, while my heart damn-near ripped from my chest and threw itself onto the floor.

  It was hard to breathe, hard to think.

  "My sincere apologies for your loss."

  She shrugged. "I don't remember much." Thank God.

  "Probably for the best," Anthony said pointedly, giving me a look I couldn't decipher but probably meant we'd have words later.

  "Um, what does this have to do with opening a bank account? I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. I'm just really exhausted."

  "Shopping does that to you," I said jokingly.

  Anthony laughed. "I'd say Nixon does that as well…"

  "Very funny." I shook my head and then nodded toward his computer, my way of saying "Alright, jackass. You've questioned her enough. Get to typing."

  "Very well. Miss Rooks, was it?" He coughed into his hand.

  She nodded, still clenching my hand.

  "I'll work some magic and open your account without your social security number. I'll add the address of the school you attend. Do you have a phone number where I can reach you?"

  She gave him her phone number. I mentally stored it, just in case I wanted to text her, or call, or make sure she hadn't gotten stolen by the Alfero bastards.

  "And the cash?" Tony held out his hand.

  I reached into my back pocket and handed it to him, knowing that pretty soon the bills would be traced back to Alfero or another crime family, again confirming our suspicions. Bills like that were always marked, which made me wonder. Why the hell would Frank give her bills that would put a giant red X on her forehead? Did he want her to be discovered? Or was he just turning senile?

  Anthony counted out ten grand and put it through the machine. Once the paperwork was signed, he gave Trace one of our temporary cards that had the GPS device in it. She quickly put it in her purse, and all the tension left my body. At least I knew I could keep her safe. At least I would know where she was at all times.

  "We good?" I asked, folding some of the paperwork and stuffing it into my pocket.

  Anthony nodded. "For now."

  "Alright." I grabbed Trace's hand again. "See you Sunday, Uncle Tony."

  "You too, Boss. Don't forget the time, or your pops is gonna throw a fit."

  "Yeah, yeah." I waved him off and forced myself to look happy, when really, I knew Tony was just testing me to find out how much Trace knew about our family.

  Luckily, she just grinned like a fool. Sunday dinner. How nice!

  Right. With my dead father, that should be interesting, and considering I didn't make a habit of conjuring up demons, pretty sure his seat was going to be empty. Then again, I sat at the head of the table now.

  I fought the groan rising up from my chest and managed to get her out of the building without turning on my heel and pointing a gun at Tony's head for daring to challenge me like that in front of her. Blood roaring, I almost didn't hear Trace's question.

  "Why are people afraid of you?" she finally asked after the silent car ride all the way back to school.

  We pulled up to the dorm. The radio played softly in the background, but I was anything but relaxed. "Aren't you afraid of me?"

  She gulped. "Sometimes."

  That hurt, and I had no one to blame but myself. I reached across the console and gripped her hand, "You know I would never let anyone hurt you, right?"

  "See!" she yelled. "That's what I'm talking about! A few days ago you were telling me I was basically the cockroach beneath your shoe! And now you're taking me shopping? I'm sorry. It doesn't add up." Her eyes filled with tears before she looked down at our clenched hands.

  "Yeah, well, life rarely does." I swore then groaned. I felt too old and tired — so damn tired of this shit. "Look, I was just warning you, that's all. And just because I'm being nice to you doesn't change the fact that you have to follow the rules if you want to survive here."

  "Thanks. Got that memo loud and clear once I was drenched with sugar water and drugged." Trace rolled her brown eyes.

  "Damn it, then why not just do what I say?"

  She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't like being bossed around."

  "No shit," I smirked, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Hell, something was wrong with me if I was watching her breathe and liking it. "But sometimes it's for your own safety. Can't you see that? Maybe the world isn't as shiny and fun as you once thought. People are mean. Humanity is a cruel joke, Trace. I'm just trying to prevent them from getting the last laugh."

  She sighed, turning to face me, and a curtain of brown hair fell across her face. "So, why do they listen? Why do you get to make the rules?"

  I froze as the moonlight hit her cheek, casting a glow across her lips. With a sigh, I cupped her face. "I wish that wasn't the case. I wish I didn't have to make rules… or enforce them."

  "Then don't." Her hand pressed against my chest. I wasn't sure if she was stopping me or encouraging me.

  It felt good — her touch. Especially now that I knew the girl from my past and present were one in the same. "Sometimes we aren't given choices. We just are."

  "What does that even mean?"

  Slowly, I opened my eyes and removed her hand from my chest, "It means that you should have listened to me on the first day of school. Don't touch the Elect. Don't breathe the same air as the Elect, and don't…" I cursed. "…just don't."

  "Why?" Her lower lip trembled. I wanted nothing more than to take that lip between my teeth and then kiss that mouth for hours. I wanted to comfort her, but I was stuck between needing to protect her from everything. I'd failed once, I wouldn't fail again, and it wasn't going to be on my head if she was brought back into her world. I would fix it. I had to fix it.

  "Because you are up to your eyeballs in shit, and you don't even know it. And once you know… what everything's about… the choice will be taken from you too. Hell, what am I saying? The choice was gone the minute your gramps dropped you off." I'd said too much.

  "Choice?" She rolled her eyes. "You're pretty serious and cryptic to boot. You know that, right? What are you? Some kind of famous celebrity? A politician's son? The president's dirty little secret?"

  I smiled. Right. I wished I was a dirty little secret. That would make things so much easier than admitting I shot people for a living and ruled the world with an iron fist.

  "Hmm, that dirty little secret thing sure rings a bell. Don't worry your pretty little head over anything, alright? Go do your homework and relax."

  With a huff, she grabbed her bag and opened the door. "Thanks for… everything."

  "My pleasure. Now go get some work done. I'll send Chase over in a few."

  "Chase? Why?" She placed her free hand on her hip.

  Damn, the girl had no idea how inviting her every single movement was. To a man like me? It was like getting to see perfection up close, every second, but each time I wanted to touch, a wall was thrust in place, making it so I could look, but that's all. To do more would be like inviting her in, and that would be a death sentence, one I wasn't sure she would ever forgive me for.

  I shrugged. "So no one bothers you, why else?"

  "Why don't you check on me yourself? Why send a minion?" Her eyes narrowed.

  I had to admit to being pretty damn pumpe
d. She'd just referenced Chase, sex-god Chase, as a minion.

  I barked out a laugh and made a mental note to tell Tex. "A minion, huh?" I bit down on my lip and then sucked the metallic ring into my mouth. "If I came and checked on you, I'd definitely be bothering you."

  "Annoying the hell out of me is more like it," she shot back.

  "Bye, Farm Girl."

  Yeah, fighting with her was turning me on way more than it should. The longer I stayed the more danger she was in. I could send Chase. I would send Chase.

  "Thanks for that." The girl flipped me the bird!

  I responded in the only way I knew that would make her laugh. I mooed and drove off.