Elicit

  “Mass murder by Tex Campisi trending on Twitter, right, that would be the day, okay so the only way to do something that… extravagant is either put fireworks in Alfonso’s ass or—”

  “Kill them,” Phoenix snapped. “You have to kill them all.”

  “All?” I swallowed.

  “A cleanse of… sorts.” Phoenix shrugged. “Luca, Frank, Nixon, Chase, Mo, Mil…”

  Each name he fired off was like a hammer to my head. My blood broiled beneath the surface of my calm-as-hell smile. “A demonstration.”

  Phoenix’s hands shook as he grabbed the bottle and poured himself a shot, only he scooted it to me and nodded. “Blood always wins.” He lifted his glass and clinked it with my shot. “Cheers.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  People fear death even more than pain. It’s strange that they fear death. Life hurts a lot more than death. At the point of death, the pain is over. Yeah, I guess it is a friend. – Jim Morrison

  Sergio

  MY HEADACHE HAD EVERYTHING to do with the fact that I wouldn’t know what choice Phoenix made until it was too late.

  “Don’t interfere.” Luca had instructed, like the freaking Godfather himself. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew Luca thought of Phoenix like a son. Really, good for them, they had a life and death bonding moment and now he was trusting Phoenix to be the man he hoped he’d saved, not the one who had died that day.

  I wasn’t sure who to trust.

  Maybe a bottle of Jim? Yeah, that sounded good.

  Bottles never let me down.

  Like women, like Phoenix, like Luca, Frank, hell I came out of retirement to help them save The Family not put it in more danger and wave a red flag in front of the Feds.

  Nixon walked into the room with Trace close behind him, they were laughing about something and then he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her mouth.

  I looked away as knives of jealously surged through my body. I’d never wanted Trace, yeah she was beautiful, but it had always been Mo.

  The same girl who was not but an hour ago wrapped up in enemy territory with stars in her eyes.

  That girl had no idea the lengths Tex would go—I did. I knew. I knew that in the end you could deny your blood all you wanted, but it still flowed through your veins, a daily reminder of the person you were destined to be.

  He was a killer.

  The enemy.

  So the way I saw it, we were putting our lives in the hands of two of the most messed up people in the world. Tex and Phoenix.

  That bottle of Jim Beam was looking better and better.

  “…Maybe he needs a girl.” Trace whispered.

  My head jolted up. “You guys talking about me?”

  “Never.” Nixon smirked. “You okay, man?”

  “Nothing a bottle or two can’t fix.”

  Nixon winced, his eyes taking in my bouncing knee and inability to focus on anything for more than three seconds before looking back at the bottle.

  “Trace?” Nixon turned to her. “Why don’t you go see what Mil’s doing? And tell Chase I need him.”

  “Yes, master.” Trace rolled her eyes. “Where’s the please?”

  I coughed to hide my laugh as Nixon clenched his jaw tight. “Please.”

  “Better.” She grinned and skipped away down the hall.

  “Someone’s got your balls in the palm of her hand.”

  “Let’s leave my balls and her hands out of this.” Nixon grabbed the bottle from me and retrieved two glasses. “Mind telling me why you look like shit?”

  “It’s a new style I’m trying.” I pulled at my long hair and winced. “Jared Leto meets Sicily.”

  “Try harder.” Chase said strolling into the room. “Or at least put eyeliner on.”

  “Right, that’ll make associates quake in their boots. Long hair and eyeliner.” I rolled my eyes. “Why hadn’t I thought of that?”

  “I got the brains in the family.” Chase grinned. “Simple.” He angled his head. “Mind telling me why you look like shit?”

  I groaned into my hands.

  “Great minds.” Nixon elbowed Chase.

  “No sleep?” I offered. “It takes a toll.”

  “So does sex, but I look awesome.” Chase popped his knuckles. “What do you know, man? It’s better to tell us.”

  “Can’t,” I snapped. “Just be prepared for Tex to be different when he gets back, that’s… that’s all.”

  “Where is he?” Nixon pushed away from the table and looked around. “Shouldn’t everyone be sleeping anyway?”

  “Out,” I seethed. “Drinking and whoring? How am I supposed to know?”

  Nixon’s eyes narrowed in on me. “Frank and Luca?”

  “Sleeping.” I shrugged. “They’re old.”

  “I’m old.” Chase groaned. “My knees cracked today… it was sad.”

  “Vitamins.” I snapped my fingers. “Like Centrum Silver?”

  “I said they cracked not that they needed replacements, you ass.” Chase got up from his chair. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

  “Other than surviving?” I grinned.

  Nixon stared hard at me, making my comfort level basically dissipate into thin air. “People start arriving tomorrow, we’ll make them as comfortable as possible… actually.” He grinned. “I think a good old fashioned family dinner is in order.”

  “Please tell me you’re drunk.” I rubbed my face with my hands.

  “I’ll cook.” Chase rubbed his hands together. “Besides it’s only a few of Luca’s men and The Alferos that will be here that early.”

  “Fantastic. What? Do we pat them down at the door?”

  “What’s a family dinner without a little gunfire?” Nixon slapped my back and stood. “You worry too much.”

  No sooner did the words leave his mouth then Tex barreled through the door looking a hell of a lot worse for the wear and ready to shoot anyone in the face who as much as breathed in his direction.

  “Rough night?” Chase piped up.

  Tex’s eyes narrowed in on Chase, without saying a word he stomped towards him, punched him in the face and then spat on him as Chase tumbled to the floor. To be fair, it was a total sucker punch, unlike Tex.

  “What the hell?” Chase roared from the ground.

  “You dare talk to me like that?” Tex sneered. “I have more blood in my pinky finger—more freaking royalty then you do in your entire body. Next time you address me as Sir or I shoot you. Understood?”

  Chase’s face twisted in rage, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he clenched his fist at his side. Any minute the guy was going to launch himself at Tex and try to break his jaw in half.

  Nixon reached for his gun, but I grabbed his hand and shook my head.

  The girls came charging into the room. Mil went immediately to Chase’s side, calming him down, which was a necessity since a pissed Chase was a violent Chase. “Are you okay?”

  “Peachy.” Chase growled.

  Trace looked between us and Tex. An expression of worry crossed her features as she saw Nixon’s hand on the gun and my hand on his.

  And lastly there was Mo.

  Shit, this wasn’t going to begin or end well. I fought the urge to groan as I watched her face twist with concern.

  “Tex?” Her voice was soft, dripping with sensitivity that Tex didn’t deserve nor want. “What are you—”

  “Stop talking.” His teeth clenched so tight the muscles to his jaw strained with the need to release. “Now.”

  Mo crossed her arms. “This is my house and—”

  “It’s Nixon’s house.” Tex shrugged, though it did nothing to relax his shoulders; hell they were up by his ears he was wound so tight. “Now get out of my way before I physically remove you.”

  “You wouldn’t—”

  Without a word he picked her up off the floor and set her roughly against Nixon before stomping off to his room.

  “And so it begins.” I whispered under my breath.

  Tea
rs filled Mo’s eyes as she ran towards her room and slammed the door.

  “Someone mind telling me what the hell that was?” Chase rose from the floor and touched his swollen cheek.

  “That—” I lifted my glass into the air. “—was Vito Campisi Jr. I suggest you sleep with a gun under your pillow.” I was sure going to.

  Standing, I slowly made my way down the hall and knocked lightly on Mo’s room. Without waiting for her to answer, I let myself in, closed the door and sighed.

  “He didn’t mean it, he didn’t—” She fell into a fit of sobs against the bed.

  My heart strained and twisted with rage.

  “He’s just not himself and—”

  “He’s exactly,” I said softly, “ “himself, and that’s been the problem all along. When you finally accept who you are—the old you is gone only to be replaced with the one true thing in life.”

  “Blood,” she whispered.

  “Blood,” I agreed sitting on her bed. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Mo. Sorry this didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”

  “Are you going to hit on me now? Kiss me and make it better? Hug me and pat my hand then just wait for my heart to heal itself so you can marry me and give me fake promises of a fake future?”

  I licked my lips and offered her my hand. “Absolutely not. I’m just going to hold your hand.”

  “Oh.”

  I squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be here… if you let me… I’ll be here.”

  “I don’t know what I want.” She clenched my hand tighter.

  “That’s okay too.” I lie down next to her, holding her hand but not touching her. “Sometimes it’s okay just to… be.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  When you marry the man, you marry the mob. Nobody ever tells you that… until it’s too late.

  Mo

  SERGIO’S HAND SQUEEZED mine tight, so tightly that I swear I lost feeling. I think in his own weird way he was trying to comfort me—but the thing about comfort? It only works if it’s the right person, and yeah, he was the opposite of right. He’d always been.

  Wrong for me.

  Bad timing, bad memories, just all around bad decisions surrounded me and Sergio’s weird relationship.

  Tex, I wanted Tex, but he didn’t return. No, the man that just picked me up and freaking sat me against my brother like a toddler? That wasn’t the man I loved that was someone else entirely. I had to believe it was an act, a way to push us away because of what he was planning to do. After all, people can’t just stop being themselves, can they?

  “You’re thinking awfully hard for someone who should be sleeping.” Sergio yawned and turned to me. His dark silky hair fell across a strong jaw with a bit of scruff. He really was pretty to look at.

  But I didn’t want pretty.

  I wanted bad for me.

  I wanted dirty, dangerous. I craved stormy blue eyes, Sergio’s were too green for my taste.

  “Did I pass?” He smirked, his white teeth flashing in the darkness.

  “Pass what?”

  “Inspection?”

  I smiled and looked away.

  “Ouch.” Sergio sighed. “Guess not.”

  “It’s not you—”

  “It’s not you, it’s me…” he sang. “Heard it once, heard it a thousand times. Mo, against my own better judgment I’m in here with you. I know who owns your heart, I’m not going to try to pull you from the dark side. Comfort, that’s why I’m here, so stop staring at me like I’m going to try to take off your shirt or kiss you.”

  “Sorry.” I croaked, immediately feeling guilty for thinking that exact thing of him.

  “Sleep.” Sergio kissed my head. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep and shoot anyone who comes through that door.”

  “Even Nixon?” I yawned and turned on my side.

  “Especially Nixon. That guy’s had it coming for a while. Don’t worry your pretty little head though—I’ll just graze him.”

  “Wow, great bedtime story, Sergio, really, you should teach children or something.”

  “Damn, are you saying I missed my calling?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  His warm chuckle calmed me down, not enough to actually relax, but enough to not want to scream or cry or rip my own hair out or Tex’s for that matter.

  “Sleep.”

  “Bossy.”

  “Sleep,” he whispered, this time more harsh. “If you don’t close your eyes I’ll sing, and I have a shit voice.”

  “Believe me, I know. I used to sit next to you during Mass.”

  Sergio laughed softly. “Guys aren’t meant to sing, we’re meant to shoot things.”

  “Again, you’re like walking wisdom.”

  “Goodnight, Mafia princess.”

  “Night.” I sighed and succumbed to the heaviness in my body, as my eyelids got heavy the last vision I had was of Tex’s mouth right before he kissed me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  The Mafia is an organization, it’s planning, it’s strategy, but most of all it’s Family. People rarely understand how loyal the Mafia is, that is until it’s too late and that loyalty is tested. Most of those people end up dead.

  Tex

  I SLEPT LIKE ABSOLUTE crap. Correction, I slept like the crap that feeds on the crap that your goldfish craps out when it has the craps—hell yeah, you’re in a bad place if you compare your life to goldfish poop.

  It probably had to do with all the plans Phoenix and I had gone over. Right, that was the worst possible thing to think about before going to bed. I tried to think about Mo but every time I did, my stomach rolled with sickness and worry. I’d been a complete ass to her and to Chase, but like Phoenix said… everything from here on out depended on my ability to fully step into the role.

  No regrets.

  He’d made me swear it on not just my life, but my sister’s and Mo’s.

  And I took my vows seriously—all of them.

  By the time five a.m. rolled around, I knew I wasn’t going to get any more sleep so I threw on a pair of running shoes and grabbed my phone.

  Two hours later, I had sweat pouring down my entire body and still felt like that damn goldfish, all belly up and sick. Things were going to get worse before they got better, which was probably why I was having trouble dealing.

  When you know there’s a storm coming you do everything you can to prepare yourself, but when you’re the storm? When you’re the one causing all that damage? It sucks. People talk about the after effects of the storm, but they never talk about the before… the before is worse. After all, anticipation is always worse than the actual outcome.

  I had to believe that there was a light at the end of the tunnel and if there wasn’t, well I was screwed.

  Whistling, I pulled open the door to the house and walked into the kitchen. Chase was standing there shirtless, sweat pouring down his chest as he devoured a cinnamon roll and cup of coffee. My stomach growled at the smell of fresh rolls.

  “I made the rolls.” Chase’s eyes narrowed over his steaming cup of coffee. “After I punched a bag with your face on it.”

  “How’d my face turn out?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Wouldn’t know.” Chase shrugged. “I got tired of punching and eventually pulled out my gun. I’ll buy Nixon another punching bag tomorrow.”

  “Hmm, got a little rage, Chase?”

  “I don’t know Tex, care to sucker punch me again and find out?”

  “Ladies.” Nixon stormed into the room. “Tuck those ovaries back into your pants and grow some balls—nobody’s punching anyone.”

  “Says who?” I snorted bracing my hands on the counter top.

  “Says the guy who’s going to put a bullet in your head if you as much as hint as disrespecting me in my own home.” Nixon yawned and reached for a cup, then offered me one. “Coffee?”

  “Probably time to retire when threatening your friends over coffee seems normal, Nixon.” I took the cup. “J
ust saying.”

  “Probably time to take Xanax if you’re punching your best friend in the face for breathing.” Chase lifted his cup mockingly into the air. “Just sayin’.”

  “Fair.” I seriously had to fight the urge to laugh as Chase’s bruised cheek flashed under the kitchen lights. Phoenix had said to change the tables, be unpredictable. Punching Chase was the only way I could think to shake things up without actually shooting someone. It raised suspicion, but still kept me in the house until it was time.

  “I hate mornings.” Trace shuffled into the kitchen, her hair in a ponytail and eyes barely open. “Coffee me.”

  Chase handed her his own cup and got another one for himself. “Sleep well?”

  “I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me right now? Before I even take a sip?” Her eyes widened as she leaned in towards Chase.

  Note to self, coffee first, chat later.

  Chase grinned patronizingly and patted her head. “Aw, you’re so feisty, like a little… mouse.”

  “Name calling gets you nowhere,” Trace fired back.

  Chase smirked. “That’s not what Mil says.”

  “Mil says her husband needs to stop picking fights with people smaller than him.” Mil announced walking into the room.

  Chase’s entire face lit up.

  I looked away. I didn’t want to see everyone happy and together, not when my own freaking life was such a mess. Not when I had to do what I was going to do. Damn, I couldn’t even look into their eyes without feeling guilt slice through me.

  I grabbed the newspaper just as the entire room fell silent and tense as hell. I knew it was Mo. I could tell from the way the air shifted, from the way my body heated by just having her near. With slow movements I lifted my head over the paper and stared.

  What I saw had me reaching for my gun.

  Sergio was whispering something in her ear as he poured her a cup of coffee. Holy shit, I was going to break his hand.

  He snaked his other arm around her and touched her shoulder. Just kidding I was going to break both his hands and stuff them into his mouth.

  Mo smiled at him.

  I gripped the table with my left hand, my fingers digging into the wood.