“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “Every pregnancy is different.”
“Just like life,” Nixon added. “Sleep tight Mo.”
I nodded, emotions clogging my throat.
Two hours later, a heavy weight descended on my bed and large arms cocooned around my body.
“Tex?” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Enemies or lovers right now?”
He sighed and kissed my head. “Both, we’ll always be both.”
And I had my answer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sometimes all you want to do is pull the covers over your head and pray the truth out of existence.
Tex
THE NEXT MORNING came too soon. Sunlight flickered through the dark curtains, landing on my face. My body ached, my bones felt brittle, and I’d lost all feeling in my left arm.
Mo snuggled closer to my body.
My body decided it liked it and pressed against hers.
I told it to stop.
But yeah, it had a mind of its own. Besides, when you fit so perfectly with someone, it’s kind of hard not to want to fuse the pieces together. With a sigh, I pried myself away from her, the tingling sensation in my arm reminding me of the loss of her body.
The chat with Nixon the day before hadn’t gone well. My uncle had suddenly decided to go off the map. All the Sicilians were currently in flight to the states for The Commission, and he’d disappeared like the bitch he was.
Sergio, aka shit for brains, even tried tracing the cell number and it was disconnected, meaning only one thing, he’d heard about The Commission and he knew what my next move was.
Mother freaking splendid news.
The meeting of the powers wasn’t to take place for another week—we needed everyone to get adjusted. And Nixon had cheerfully given Luca and Frank the job of making sure no shots accidently misfired, yeah I didn’t envy them.
Mo made a little noise in her sleep and flipped onto her back.
God, she was beautiful.
God, I was an asshole for not telling her that every damn day.
Someone knocked softly on the door then opened it. Trace’s head poked through, staring at a calm Mo and then glaring at me.
“Whoa.” I held my hands up in innocence. “I was staring at her, not aiming a gun.”
“You choose her,” Trace whispered. “When it comes to making a choice, you always choose love, screw blood.”
“Are you drunk?” I took a few steps towards her.
“No.” A tear streamed down her cheek. “I just… you need to know, in the end… your life is about choices, they either make or break you, don’t let your past destroy your future.”
“And if it already has oh wise one? And by the way this is weird, I haven’t even had breakfast, how are you even able to think this early?”
Trace’s brown eyes narrowed, with a flip of her dark hair she shrugged. “I’m an Abandonato. I’m always watching.”
“Vacation,” I muttered. “You should try it—you know away from the boss.”
“Tex,” Trace snapped. “I’m serious. When the time comes it’s not about what Nixon wants, it’s what’s best for her.” With that, she closed the door, leaving me confused as hell and a bit curious as to what she put in her Cheerios to make her so awake at seven a.m.
Damn Nixon had his hands full with that one, always had, always will.
I took one last look at Mo and left the room making my way to the kitchen for some breakfast.
Trace was sitting calmly at the table eating, what do ya know, her Cheerios. Chase was in the process of stealing the box from her fingers while Mil hit him on the head with a newspaper, you know like owners do to their dogs when they piss on their shoes, and Nixon, he was deep in conversation with Sergio, Luca, and Frank.
“Did I sleep in or something?” I yawned gaining everyone’s attention.
“Ahh, the beast’s awake.” Luca smirked.
“Says the trained house cat.” I flipped him off. I’d never been afraid of Luca. Hell, if anything, he should be afraid of me, of what I represented.
He ignored my slight to his scariness and shrugged, taking a long sip of his coffee.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and joined everyone in the kitchen. Nixon was the first to speak.
“We’ll do it at The Spot.”
“The meeting?” I clarified.
Nixon nodded and leaned back in his chair. “We can control the environment there.”
“And what exactly are we hoping to accomplish?” I asked.
“What we always aim to accomplish.” Frank ran a shaky hand through his silver hair. “Peace.”
Just then Chase fell out of his chair on account of Mil pushing him, just as Trace freed the box of Cheerios and made a run for the pantry.
“Can’t even control our own breakfast, but world domination and peace, good luck with that.” I snickered.
Luca licked his lips, his cold eyes watched me drink my coffee as though memorizing each movement. “You will help us.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll shoot you.” Luca picked a piece of lint off his suit and glanced back at Nixon. “It really is a lovely day. Why don’t you take Tracey out for a nice morning walk? We have time to plan later.”
“My death,” I grumbled.
“What other choice do you have?” A muscle popped in Nixon’s jaw. “Either you stand with us or you stand with them. You stand with us, they try to kill you but at least we protect you. You stand with them, they still try to kill you, and in the end we have to.”
“And why’s that?” I licked my lips. “Why the hell would you have to kill me if I took my rightful place? Because really, that’s the only messed up piece to this entire puzzle! I killed my own father, so why shouldn’t I take his spot? What makes you, Nixon, any better than me? What makes what I have to do any less damning than what all of you did when you became the head of the family?”
The entire room fell silent.
Even Chase and Mil stopped fighting.
“You truly do not know,” Frank finally whispered. “Do you, son?”
I set my coffee onto the table and wiped my face with my hands. “Know, what?”
Frank placed his hand across mine, mumbling a prayer in Italian before whispering, “You have a sister.”
The room went red, and then black, and then red again. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Damn near everything.” Luca snorted. “I think it’s time we adjourn, let Tex savor the fact that he still has some family worth seeking out…”
I was still stunned when Frank put his hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Blood always wins.”
Mo.
My sister.
Nixon.
Holy shit.
Choices.
They’d been leaving hints all along.
They were going to make me choose. One look at Nixon said it all—because I knew he would choose Mo every single time—if he’d never met her, he would choose her.
Just like I would choose my sister.
To protect her, I would join the devil.
To protect her, I would fight my friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Being in the Mafia is like playing house. Everything is fine until someone pulls out a gun.
Mo
BY THE TIME I made it down to breakfast it was more like lunch. Chase and Mil had left a note that they’d gone out shooting and Nixon was just getting ready to take Trace to the grocery store.
Weird.
How normal we all seemed.
But nothing about our family was normal, which I was reminded of yet again when Nixon strapped ammo to the inside of his ankle.
“Where’s Tex?” I cleared my throat and crossed my arms.
Nixon and Trace shared a tense look.
With a curse Nixon mumbled, “Hell if I care.”
Trace smacked him in the shoulder, but he just shook his head and gently too
k her arm, leading her out of the house.
“We’ll be back this afternoon,” Nixon called. “I left plenty of men and you do still have Tex here with you, so all should be well, you know, unless he’s asked to choose—”
“Nixon!” Trace yelled his name so loud even I was shocked, she never yelled. Ever.
He blushed slightly and ducked his head as they walked out the door. Okay, that was weird.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and grabbed a granola bar from the pantry. It was a really pretty day, no way was I staying inside while everyone else was out doing something. I was sick of being babied, even if I did get shot, it wasn’t like I’d almost died or anything.
I ate the granola bar and choked down the coffee, then limped towards the back door.
“Going somewhere?” Sergio asked, peeking out from behind the newspaper.
“Hell.” I smiled sweetly. “Care to join me?”
His gaze unwavering he simply answered. “Too late.”
I shrugged and shouldered open the door limping across the back yard. The tree, just like everything else, looked harmless.
I’d spent years climbing that tree.
I imagined I was a princess in a tower, just waiting for my prince to come rescue me. It didn’t help that Nixon always told me stories about princesses in towers convincing me that I was like the girls in the story—it’s kind of how the whole Mafia princess thing came into play. Tex thought it was hilarious and teased me about it relentlessly when we were little.
Yeah, I’d kill to have him tease me right now.
What had I been thinking?
One hour? Was I insane? Delusional?
And, further to the point, was that one hour enough to bond him to me forever? It had to be, because I wasn’t so sure he would give me another chance with him. He wore his anger like a shield. Even when we slept, I could feel it coming off of him in waves.
With a sigh I placed my hands on the tree and lifted myself into the air, my bum leg swinging against the bark. At least it only ached a bit today.
My legs dangled nearly touching the ground.
How pathetic, I couldn’t get any higher.
But at least I was alone.
With my thoughts.
I wondered if I would do things differently, if I could go back in time, would I have chosen not to protect Tex? Or would I have gone to Nixon first, asked for his help rather than make a deal with a ghost?
My text alert went off.
G: You tried Mo, and that’s all we could ask. In the end… hopefully it will be enough to keep them from killing him. Nobody wants the head to come down on the tail.
Me: We’ll have to just keep trying.
G: Yes. We will.
I thought back to that night… closing my eyes as the memories wrapped themselves around me like a choking sensation.
“Mo?” Sergio caught me as I stumbled against him. “Are you alright?”
“Stupid Tex.” I grumbled, my words felt heavy in my throat. “I hate him, make me forget him, please, it’s only ever been him! I need it to be someone else!” It was after Mil and Chase’s wedding and I’d drunk way too much wine, thinking I could drown my sorrows in the glass apparently.
Sergio sighed and pulled me into his arms. “You think I want what isn’t mine to take?”
“I know you do!” I pulled back, more like stumbled back and poked him in the chest. “You’ve always liked me! Admit it!”
Sergio chuckled and held his hands up in the air. “Guilty, but you’ll hate yourself and in the end, I’m positive you’ll hate me.”
“Let me hate you too, then… let me hate you as much as I hate him, as much as I hate me.”
“Oh Mo.” Sergio pulled me back into his arms and kissed my forehead. “Fill the world with hate, and all you get is hate. Fill your soul with more hate and it breeds hate. Hate this world needs less of. Love, however, I could do that.”
“Don’t love me,” I spat. “The last person that loved me didn’t mean it.”
“He did,” Sergio whispered. “And you know that.”
“Please!” I begged, my voice hoarse. “Please just make love to me.”
“What lengths would you go to… to save him?”
“Save him?”
Sergio gently placed me in the chair next to his bed and ran his fingers through his long thick hair. “Tex. What would you do to save him?”
“Anything,” I choked. “I would do anything, but why does he need saving?”
“Everyone,” came a familiar voice behind me, “should be given a second chance, Monroe. Don’t you think?”
I turned and with a gasp promptly passed out.
I jolted awake. Crap, Mafia rule number one, don’t fall asleep in a tree unarmed. I stretched my arms above my head.
“What are you doing?” Tex yelled running towards me, fury etched in every plane of his face. Oh yay, another lecture. Like I hadn’t been getting that enough, what with Sergio, Nixon, and Tex it was like living under constant parental guidance.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” I closed my eyes again and leaned back.
“Funny you should ask.” Tex’s voice was closer now; I could almost feel the heat of his body. “Because it looks like you’re climbing a tree but we both know you wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that, right?”
I blinked my eyes open. “What?”
“One of us is pregnant. News flash, it isn’t the one with a penis!”
“So I can’t climb trees now? The injustice of it all!” I challenged, hating how much I loved his stormy blue eyes, and how fiercely protective they looked in that moment.
“Sure you can.” He gripped the branch above my head and lifted himself effortlessly next to me. “But for future reference I’d just appreciate it if you’d at least put a net underneath the tree and strap tiny parachutes to your ankles, you know just to be safe.”
I opened my mouth to speak but he interrupted me.
“Oh, and when I say tree I mean that one.” He pointed to a tiny little tree that was planted next to the house and probably couldn’t even support the weight of a bird.
“Are you saying you want me to sit on that tree when I have an itch to climb?”
Tex grinned, his smile reaching the corners of his eyes as he winked and looked back at the tiny tree. “Sure? Why not?”
“And I’m not strapping parachutes to my ankles, weirdo.”
“Hmm?” Tex tiled his head and flicked my shoe. “At least they’re swollen enough that they may break your fall. So you’ve got that in your favor.”
“My ankles are not swollen, you ass!” It was an impossibility not that he needed to know that.
“Mo, if I was in a shipwreck and holding onto your ankles was my only hope for survival—I’d live.”
I cracked a smile then pushed against his muscled chest. “Why are you picking on me? Don’t you have spiders to kill and ants to examine with a magnifying glass?”
“Aw, low blow.” Tex chuckled. “You had to bring up my childhood torture methods.”
“I saved those ants.” I sniffed. “No thanks to you.”
“Want to know a secret?” Tex asked, looking back at the house and then leaning in until our lips were an inch away.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Tell me.”
“I wanted you to save the ants.”
“Oh, really?” My eyebrows arched in surprise. “So you tortured things in order for me to… what?”
“Well, that’s easy.” Tex shrugged. “You had a weakness for the innocent, if I wanted you to come running, all I needed to do was harm the weak…”
“Evil.”
“Necessary,” he said with a firm nod. “Especially necessary given I wanted the great princess’s attention.” He cleared his throat. “So we’re in the tree, why?”
“Because I—not we—I was thinking.”
“Awesome, well can we think somewhere on the ground where I’m not an easy target for would be assassins? I
mean it’s been twelve hours since I’ve been shot at. I really don’t want to push my luck.”
“Aw, where’s the bravery? Let’s put a target on your back and paint your face red, think that will work?” I laughed.
“Aw, baby, if you want to see me blush all you have to do is ask.” Tex said in a gravelly voice, all notes of humor drained from his tone as his eyes drank me in.
I shivered.
“Are you cold?” His eyebrows knit together. “Let’s get you inside and I’ll find a blanket.”
I nodded, hating myself even more. He was treating me like a princess and I wasn’t even pregnant—that I knew.
Wow, I never thought I’d be one of those girls, the ones who actually plotted how to get the Mafia boss to slip up and impregnate me so the lie could be true.
Tex jumped out of the tree and turned, holding his hands up to me. I smiled and fell against his chest.
Just as a figure in black stepped out on the back deck, and shot Tex in the leg.
I screamed.
But my scream was silenced by a blunt object hitting my temple. And everything went completely black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Blood always tastes metallic but before the metal even enters your consciousness, it tastes forbidding, like you know something’s wrong but you’re powerless to stop it.
Sergio
SHIT, THAT HURT. I rubbed my head, my temples were pounding. Was I hungover? Wait, it was morning and—
I jolted to my feet and grabbed my gun.
The house was silent.
Quietly, I stepped around the corner into the kitchen, two men were laying on the ground. Blood pooled at their backs. Mother of God, what had happened?
I walked out into the front of the house where a few of our men were normally stationed and cursed.
Dead.
Five of them.
All dead.
Shot in the head. I leaned down to feel each pulse. Nothing. A piece of white paper fluttered on the last man’s chest.
Are you listening now? said the note.
“Shit!” I kicked the ground and pulled out my cell. Nixon answered on the first ring.
“What?”
“It’s the men—”
“My men?”
“I was knocked out, we’ve got seven dead.”
“Where’s Mo?”
His question swamped my body with a chill. I dropped my phone and raced full blast to the back yard, almost tripping on my own feet as I made it to the place where I’d last seen her.