Ember

  “Oh, I’m the bastard?” Tex said, though his voice sounded fuzzy. “You were kissing—”

  “Guys, arguing isn’t helping,” Nixon said in a calm voice.

  “I will kill you,” Tex said in a hateful tone. “Maybe not today, not tomorrow, but soon I will end your pathetic excuse for a life for even thinking you could touch her and—”

  “Son of a bitch!” Chase roared. “Tex, Cappo or not, I will seriously shoot you in the face if you keep yelling that loud.”

  That was definitely Mil.

  I blinked my eyes open. The room was blurry. I saw blood again, a black T-shirt, and Phoenix’s stained white T-shirt. I reached for him before I reached for anyone else.

  He took my hand.

  My brother’s jaw clenched so tight I heard a pop before he swore under his breath.

  “Phoenix is alive?” I croaked out.

  “Unfortunately,” Tex answered with a bur to his voice. “You gave us quite a scare, little sis.”

  “I hate you,” I mumbled.

  “Me?” Tex’s eyebrows knit together. “What the hell did I do?”

  “Wow, sounds like he wants a list,” Nixon said from the other side of me. “I don’t know. Shot her friend in front of her?”

  “Bee and Phoenix aren’t friends,” Tex said in a confident tone. “She’s his job. There’s a difference.”

  Tears threatened again as I looked at my brother, like really looked at him. He didn’t know me at all; he was going about this whole family business wrong, all wrong.

  “I have one friend,” I whispered in a hoarse voice. “And you shot him. Twice.”

  “One friend?” Tex repeated.

  Phoenix simply stared at me, his gaze concerned. His blue eyes didn’t reveal anything except for something I was beginning to think was admiration. His shoulder was wrapped in white gauze, and he was pale, but, other than that, he looked alive, breathing, not six feet under or attached to some cement object that was going to be thrown into the lake.

  Everyone fell quiet.

  “She’s scared of blood,” Phoenix finally said, gripping my hand and pulling me up to a sitting position. “Which you would know if you took your head out of your ass long enough to actually get to know your sister.”

  “He’s seriously asking to be shot again,” Chase mumbled under his breath.

  “Oh, bite me,” Phoenix snapped. “Nixon shot Tex in the shoulder for kissing his own sister. I’m surprised I still have all my teeth.”

  “A dental exam can be arranged.” Tex’s chest puffed up.

  “Oh yeah? Try me, Cappo!” Phoenix shoved my brother hard enough to send him stumbling backward a few steps.

  “That’s it!” Tex threw down a towel he was holding against his face and lunged for Phoenix.

  Another gun went off.

  I turned.

  It was Nixon; he’d just shot at Tex’s feet.

  “What the hell, man? In my own home?” Tex roared.

  “Next time, I shoot your hand.” Nixon’s voice was low, gravelly, his eyes were dark as he approached the group, gun still raised. “You’re bosses. For the love of God, act like it. This is not how we do business.”

  “Pot.” Tex seethed at him.

  “Kettle,” Nixon said right back with a smirk.

  “Son of a—” Tex slammed his hand on the wall and paced in front of me, his steps most likely making permanent marks into the hardwood floors. “Fine, why the hell were you kissing my sister?”

  “Which time?” Phoenix asked in a calm voice.

  Tex clenched his teeth and closed his eyes then took a deep breath and swore. “The first, asshole.”

  “Pike,” I said in a quiet voice. “He was outside, talking to someone. It sounded… bad, and then my cell phone went off, so we needed him to think we hadn’t heard him.”

  Tex scratched the back of his neck and mumbled under his breath. “Fine, so the first excuse flies, and the second kiss?”

  Phoenix opened his mouth.

  “I begged him!” I said in a rush. “I’ve been begging him for weeks, months.”

  Phoenix’s eyes narrowed.

  “And…” I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “I just… the first kiss was so nice. I’d never actually had a kiss, a real kiss before, so I begged him, and then I just… it was me, I attacked him, I’m nineteen. I have hormones… and needs.” I choked out the last part while Tex’s face flushed a bright red.

  Chase looked down at the ground, his smile nearly breaking his face while Nixon rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle.

  “This isn’t funny,” Tex growled.

  “Pretty damn funny, if you ask me.” Nixon put his gun away. “Looks like you shot him twice… for no reason.”

  “He still touched her,” Tex pointed out.

  “He was just following orders,” Chase piped up. “…from the Cappo’s sister, which, if we’re going to be real legal about shit, outranks any one of us. Right, Bee?”

  “R-right.” I nodded my head and glared at Tex. “He was just listening to me.”

  “Well, maybe he should stop listening to you.”

  “And maybe you should stop being such a-a-a big bully!”

  Nixon and Chase burst out laughing.

  Tex crossed then uncrossed his arms. “I’m not a bully, I’m just… protecting you…”

  “By killing my only friend,” I said in a sad voice.

  “Make new friends, Bee!” He threw his hands into the air. “When I assigned Phoenix to you, it wasn’t so that you could paint each other’s nails and braid hair, damn it! He’s to protect you, never touch you, and make sure you have enough to eat during the day.”

  “Don’t forget drive her to school,” Chase interjected with a chuckle.

  “Or go to class,” Nixon added, grinning.

  Tex lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. “I’m not equipped to handle girls. I’m really not.”

  “Pray for sons.” Nixon patted him on the back.

  “Bee…” Tex reached for my hands and shoved Phoenix out of the way. “Next to Mo, you are my life. I can’t…” His eyes filled with tears. “Phoenix is with you because he’s the best.”

  I glanced sideways at Phoenix. His expression reflected the surprised I felt.

  “But he’s…” Tex let out a sigh. “…he’s—”

  “Damaged.” Phoenix said it for him. “Completely and totally damaged, used goods, dark, evil, Satan himself.” With a terse nod, Phoenix kept talking. “I’m no good, Bee. You’re brother’s right, and the sooner you learn that, the better off we’ll all be.”

  “I don’t believe it,” I whispered through the searing pain in my heart.

  The guys were silent. Even Nixon and Chase looked uncomfortable as Tex and Phoenix shared a look.

  “I’ll talk to her,” Phoenix said quietly. “Just give us a minute.”

  “No kissing.” Tex released my hands and shoved past Phoenix.

  When we were alone, I reached for him, but he didn’t put his hands out, didn’t return the affection. In fact, he stepped away, putting visible distance between us.

  “Bee…” Phoenix licked his lips, and his eyes held that same haunted look I’d grown to hate, as the black circles beneath them seemed to pulse with each second that went by. “Thank you for defending me.”

  I opened my mouth, but he reached out and pressed his fingertips against my lips.

  “Let me finish.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for protecting me, for taking the blame, but it wasn’t yours to take. Your brother’s right, so damn right, to shoot me for touching you, for even thinking that it was okay for one second to expose you to the person I am. It’s wrong. It’s so damn wrong that I wish he would have killed me.”

  Tears filled my eyes.

  “You are everything.” His full lips trembled as he spoke. “You are everything that’s beautiful and pure in this world, and you deserve so much better than this life, than what any of us have to offer. Than what I have to of
fer.”

  My heart sank to my knees; it wasn’t just rejection I was feeling, but complete loss, like he’d taken my heart out, broken it into tiny pieces and scattered them into the wind.

  “I can’t believe that about you. I won’t, Phoenix.”

  “Damn it, Bee!” Phoenix gripped my shoulders. “How much do you want me to tell you? Do I have to show you every ugly thing I’ve ever done in order to scare you away? Clearly you aren’t getting the picture.”

  “You aren’t like that anymore.”

  Phoenix’s fingers dug into my arms. “Bee, you don’t know what goes through my head, the nightmares, the images. Hell, I can’t freaking eat a hot meal without feeling guilty at the pleasure it brings me. I can’t experience good, because every time I do, it pushes me closer to the edge, closer to the breaking point, and, Bee, you are that final push. It would be too easy.” His voice broke. “Too damn easy to allow it… and in the end…” His eyes turned completely black. “…I would destroy you.”

  “So confident in your own darkness,” I whispered, cupping his face. “But what about the light, the good?”

  He pulled my hands away from his face and took another step back. “It died the minute I flat-lined two months ago, Bee. I may be alive, but I’m not living.”

  Tears streamed down my face. “What if you just tried?”

  “You think I don’t try?” he spat. “You think I don’t want more?”

  “I think you punish yourself.”

  He slammed his hand on the table next to me. “Because I deserve to be punished, Bee! Don’t you get it? I’m the murderer on death row that gets no appeals. I’m alive to do a job. I don’t get a second chance.”

  “Says who?”

  He swallowed and removed his hand from the table, turning his body so I couldn’t see his face anymore, only the muscular build I’d become so obsessed with.

  “Do you want me to ask Tex to assign someone else to you?” he asked, voice hollow.

  “What?” Panic rose in my chest. “No, no you can’t!”

  “Fine.” Phoenix nodded, his body still turned from me. “But from here on out, Bee… no kissing, no touching, no taunting or teasing. Leave me alone, because I can only handle so much temptation before I take that bite, before I allow you to push me, and I’ll hate myself forever for destroying what you are.”

  “I can’t make any promises.”

  “Then I’ll tell Tex to give you someone else.”

  “Phoenix, wait!” I jumped off the table I’d been sitting on and gripped him from behind. Instantly, I started melting from the inside out; his body was so warm pressed against mine. He went rigid in my embrace. “Fine. I — I promise. Just don’t leave me.”

  “Bee…” He hung his head and slowly unwrapped my warms from his torso. “I couldn’t leave you even if I wanted to. You’re a part of me, always will be.”

  “If I told you I loved you, would it change things?”

  He heaved a choked sigh. “Everyone loves a bit of darkness — until it consumes them.”

  Phoenix walked down the hall, opened the front door, and slammed it behind him. The sound of the car starting was my only cue that the conversation was finally over.

  And that Phoenix De Lange was officially walking out of my life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Even his sister doesn’t believe in him. What does that even mean?

  Bee

  “YOU OKAY?” MIL TOOK a seat next to me on the couch, coffee mug in hand. “I’m not really great at girl talk, but if you want me to kick your brother’s ass, I can hire it out.”

  I suppressed a laugh and shrugged.

  “Tough cookie.” She sighed and leaned back. “I used to be tough like that. Don’t let people see the hurt, the pain, the complete and total fear I felt at just waking up and breathing every day.”

  “And now?” I croaked, my eyes trained straight ahead at whatever was on the TV.

  “Now,” Mil said calmly, “I have someone to lean on, makes things easier.”

  “Chase?”

  “No, my Glock, but Chase helps too.”

  I laughed and turned to face her.

  “Kidding.” She winked. Mil had just cut her hair to her chin; it was a silky black. She had strong features just like Phoenix. Even though they were step-siblings, she resembled him in a way; maybe it was the harshness she always carried with her. Mil used it as armor; Phoenix used it to hide.

  “I don’t have a gun.”

  “Ask Tex for one.”

  “Yeah.” I snorted. “Because he’s been so generous lately.”

  “You don’t get it do you?” she said in a harsh tone.

  I reared back, a bit shocked she’d react like that. “Get what?”

  “This is war.” Mil’s eyes flashed. “We’ve spent the last two years getting shot at, fought against at every turn, conspired against. Hell, we shouldn’t even be alive. Your brother is doing the best he can to keep you alive. There are people who would stop at nothing to get to you — in order to get to him.”

  “And here I thought he was just being overprotective.” I swallowed down the fear and wrung my hands together. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

  “Yeah well…” Mil shrugged. “…maybe you should. This isn’t a game. Every day we’re given is a gift. And Phoenix? He’s been dealt a rough hand. How much do you know about his past? About The Elect?”

  I chewed my lower lip. “Enough to give me nightmares.”

  “Good.” She patted my leg. “Maybe you should stop fighting us and listen to what everyone’s been telling you all along. My brother.” She looked down at the carpet. “He’s not the same as he used to be, which is a good thing, in a way… but he can’t be both at once.”

  “I’m confused.”

  Mil tried again. “He doesn’t know how to balance it. The killing, the darkness, and dirty side of the mafia and real life. He lost the ability to do that a long time ago. It’s not something he’s ever been really good at anyway. He’s either all good or all bad; there is no in between for him. He doesn’t know how to do it, can’t function in that way. Tex… hell, the guy can rip toenails then kiss his wife afterward and give a high five to a toddler. Nixon freaking smiles when he shoots people, and Chase?” She shuddered. “He tortures people and eats takeout while doing it. I guess what I’m saying is Phoenix isn’t like them, so don’t think that this is going to end the same way it has for all of us. The best thing you can do is let him do his job and love him from afar.”

  “But I want to love him close.” I choked on the words. “I want to save him. I can do it. I know I can, if he just tried—”

  “It slices me open to say this, Bee, but Phoenix—” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s beyond saving.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Rip my soul out and feed it to the birds.

  Phoenix

  I STARED AT THE glass of whiskey in my hand like it was poison — as if it would bite me in the ass if I touched it.

  Two hours had passed since I’d poured the glass.

  And I was still staring at it. Each time I’d brought it to my lips, I’d set it back down, hands shaking, unable to take one simple drink.

  An image of a girl screaming flashed through my mind; she was faceless. They all were. After all, what type of sick bastard remembers their faces? But their eyes… I never forgot their eyes. When people say they’re the window to a person’s soul — it’s absolute truth.

  Eyes reveal too much. They show pain, fear, excitement— Every damn emotion is visible through the eyes.

  Her eyes were fearful.

  I’m sure mine were as well; after all, when a monster acts out of necessity, it’s usually fear that’s the driving force. I was afraid of losing everything, afraid of the person I was becoming, afraid of turning into my father.

  And by feeding that fear…

  I became exactly what I’d been trying to run away from.

  My fingers tapped ag
ainst the glass as I stared at the amber liquid. Another image came and then another, until I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing them away, forcing away the screams of terror, the way the girls’ nails had felt against my skin as they’d fought for their very lives.

  And the taste of their fear as I’d taken and taken until they’d had nothing more to give, until I’d had it all.

  When I was five, I’d wanted to be a superhero.

  Batman, to be exact.

  When I told my dad, he’d said that heroes were weak; it was the villains who had real strength — because they were the only ones willing to do whatever it took to survive.

  The hell with that. I just wanted a cape and cool gadgets; I wanted people to adore me, to applaud me. I wanted approval, and maybe that’s what had driven me to become the villain.

  Being the hero had gotten me nowhere.

  But being the villain? For a while? Got me everything.

  It sated me, for a brief moment.

  Until I needed more.

  Until I stopped recognizing the man I’d become.

  With a forceful exhale, I pushed away from the kitchen table and reached for my glass. My hands shook as I dumped the contents into the sink and eyed the fridge.

  “Just lasagna,” I whispered, opening up the door and examining the food. I reached for my usual green apple, and my hand brushed up against Greek yogurt.

  It was blue.

  Son of a bitch, was I actually afraid of blue now too?

  Would eating something that actually tasted good… something other than fruit or vegetables… actually kill me? Probably not, but it would make me crave. It was like an alcoholic’s first taste of the finest whiskey; it’s so good, why not pour a little more? In the grand scheme of things, one drink is almost like having two, if you go really slow. A person can justify absolutely anything.

  Tasting Bee wasn’t enough.

  Holding her wasn’t enough.

  Feeling her — would never be enough.

  I craved her in a way that was bordering on obsessive because I’d taken that leap, and now I didn’t know how to get back on the damn ledge. Just being around her was going to be difficult; smelling her, knowing that she was actually willing to touch me, black as I was?