I checked my phone just as Mo came breezing into the kitchen. That’s what she did. She breezed. She never did something so common as walking. It would be impossible for her. Every movement was fluid, purposeful, graceful. It was distracting as hell when the person you were in love with, moved like some sort of goddess out of a mythological tale.
She was my Aphrodite.
My Athena.
I freaking worshipped that woman.
But our relationship was like the nerd of the class trying to date the popular girl, I think in essence, she felt sorry for me. Then again, I’d never let her know the real me, so maybe it was my fault.
“Tex?” Mo approached, tilting her head to the side. Black hair swirled across her shoulders. “Did you hear what I said?”
Nope, too busy being distracted by those hips. “Sorry I was just thinking about what I was going to say.”
Mo’s eyebrows drew together. “Just stick to the story, right?”
“Right,” I repeated. Damn, she didn’t even realize that with every look she pulled another string, I was like a puppet, and I hated that analogy because I’d felt like a puppet my whole life. “I’ll just say we’re in love.”
Mo nodded slowly, her eyes filling with tears.
“And that I messed up.” My teeth clenched. “That I’m so freaking in love with you I didn’t use a condom? Is that what you want me to say? Help me out because I really don’t think that’s a good plan, Mo. Not if you want me to live in the foreseeable future.”
Mo rolled her eyes, the tears turning into amusement. “Well, maybe don’t use the word condom.”
“Right.” I offered a smile. “How about I tell Nixon that I wanted to beat him at something, so I decided to get his twin sister knocked up?”
At that Mo laughed out loud.
“You what?” A voice roared from the door.
I closed my eyes and hung my head as Mo’s face froze into a smile in front of me. Right, in love. Happy about baby. Happy, happy, happy. Shoot me in the mother effing face.
I turned and opened my arms. “Friends! You’re home!”
“What. The. Hell. Did you just say?” Nixon roared, throwing his bag so hard against the countertop it skidded off and collided with one of the chairs nearly sending it through the window. His hands barreled into tight fists as he stomped towards me.
“Friends?” I offered backing up so that Mo was behind me. If Nixon pulled out a gun I’d take the bullet. She knew that, I knew that, Nixon most likely knew that, which probably meant the odds were I was getting shot in a few seconds.
Nixon grabbed me by the shirt and pushed me against the countertop. The hard granite bit into my back making me momentarily wince. He pushed harder; my skin was going to get rubbed raw if he kept doing that. I pushed back a bit to give us some space. We were pretty matched for height and strength. I could have fought back, but I owed him this. He couldn’t beat up the guy who actually did get his sister pregnant so he might as well use me as the punching bag. Ha! Story of my life. The freaking Abandonato punching bag. Fantastic.
“What did you do?” Nixon’s voice damn near shattered the windows as he slammed my body against the counter again. The granite scratched against my back for the third time, the sharp slice of pain in the small of my back telling me the skin had been pierced. Yeah, I was going to start bleeding all over the floor any second.
“Nothing,” Mo answered for me. I peered around Nixon and glared at her. It was my fight not hers, because she’d made it mine, so she needed to stay the hell out of it and let me protect her.
“Wouldn’t really call getting you pregnant nothing, Mo, but to each his own.” The minute my lips formed a smile, I received a bunch in the jaw, then another. My bottom lip was sliced by my own teeth causing the blood to start trailing down my chin.
“Nixon stop!” Mo wailed. “Please!”
The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. With a jerk Nixon released me. I grabbed a nearby towel and wiped my face.
Chase walked into the kitchen, hands raised. “Nixon, calm down.”
Yeah, not something you say to the boss.
Nixon turned his rage-filled eyes on Chase and pulled out his gun. “Stay out of this.”
“Nixon!” Trace pushed Chase out of the way and moved in front of the gun that was aimed for Chase’s heart. Aw, family drama. “Put the gun down! Let them talk.”
“Trace…” Nixon’s jaw flexed, his teeth ground together. “Stay the hell out of it.”
“No.” She crossed her arms. “Not until you put the gun away.” Swear his ice blue eyes turned the exact color of Hell, flashing completely black before he waived the gun around.
“Does no one listen to me anymore?” Nixon looked around the room. “If I want to shoot Chase in the face for defending Tex, I’ll do it. If I want to shoot Tex because he touched my sister, I’ll do it. I’m the boss. Rules don’t apply, and right now I’m jet lagged and a bit pissed off that that jackass—” He pointed the gun at me, just in case there was any confusion as to which jackass he was referring to. “—basically just admitted to getting my sister pregnant.” As if remembering about the fight to begin with, Nixon let out a groan low in his throat and moved towards me again. This time the gun was homed in like a beacon to my head. “Tell me she isn’t pregnant. Tell me you did not just ruin my sister’s life. Tell me, Tex. Tell me.”
I eyed the gun. “Are you really going to kill the father of your soon-to-be niece or nephew?”
Nixon hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say I was going to kill you. I could shoot you, and you’d still be perfectly fine, maybe walk with a limp but then again that would be a reminder not to do stupid shit. Don’t you think, Tex?”
I’d known Nixon my whole life.
He wasn’t bluffing.
I nodded my consent and braced for impact. “Go ahead.”
His teeth clenched as he gripped my shirt with his free hand and pressed the barrel of the gun to my shoulder. “Don’t mind if I do.”
The shot rang out like a bomb going off in the kitchen.
The impact burned like hell. The bullet lodging somewhere between my clavicle and my deltoid.
Everyone started screaming at once.
But I held Nixon’s gaze.
I didn’t blink. I didn’t yell. I made no sound whatsoever. I was a hit man. Hit men didn’t cry. Made men didn’t cry. The only remaining descendent to the Cappo? Did not cry.
Liquid started staining my shirt and dripping down my chest onto my stomach as I waited for Nixon to say something—anything. I probably needed to stop the bleeding before I passed out.
“Clean yourself up.” Nixon shoved a towel in my hands. “Meet me in the living room in fifteen.” He slammed the gun on the counter and grabbed Chase by the arm. “Get the bullet out and pull some morphine from the stash, but don’t give him too much. I want him to feel every damn punch.”
As Nixon walked out of the room I did what I’d always done in the family to alleviate tension; I made a joke. “Welcome home Nixon!”
Mo groaned into her hands next to me while Chase gently grabbed my arm and ripped my shirt open so he could look at the wound. “Tex, your humor isn’t helping the situation, not this time.”
“Made Trace laugh.” I pointed with my good arm.
Chase looked behind him and shrugged. “She doesn’t count, she laughs at commercials and butterflies.” He turned back to me and froze.
I smiled as Trace held the gun to his back. “You were saying, Chase?”
“Damn this family’s violent,” Mil said from her corner near the door. “But seriously Trace, put the gun down. I want my husband to live so he can get me knocked up some day.” She winked.
Chase paled.
“Mil,” I babbled, nodding like a bobblehead hit man. “Have I told you how much I love you? Cause I do, I really do.”
Mil rolled her eyes. “You’re getting blood on the hardwood, rock star. Let Chase clean you and drug you.
Trace and I will make the popcorn and grab the whiskey.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Lies are almost impossible to repeat backwards because whatever you’re lying about didn’t really take place making it so your brain creates no memory to pull from.
Mo
CHASE TOOK TEX out of the room, most likely to shield us from the cursing that would take place once he pulled the bullet out of Tex’s shoulder. I shuddered. My fault. Everything was my fault.
One stupid choice.
One moment of weakness.
“What’s wrong dolce ragazza?” He took my hand in his and kissed my open palm. “Your face isn’t normally so sad.”
I shrugged. “Oh you know, the life of a Mafia princess, lots of drama and broken crowns.”
His face fell, I’d always thought of him as some tragic hero. The way his features were framed made him look like a soldier or hero from King Arthur’s Court or something. He always acted that way too. Like he was a hero. Too bad I knew all his secrets. I looked up into his eyes again. Definitely too bad, because he was gorgeous.
“Sit,” he ordered. “Drink.”
“Drinking won’t help,” I said dryly. “Believe me.”
“Wine.” He scooted the bottle closer. “It always helps, no?”
“Yes.”
“No?” He teased and winked. “Seriously Monroe, you need to take better care of yourself.”
“Right, I’ll just schedule that pedicure when I get home. Happy?” I pushed a wine glass towards him. Everyone else was in bed, but I was awake. Awake, and oh so blatantly aware that Tex had brought home another girl.
I heard her moans.
I heard her screams.
And then they turned into mine when I finally couldn’t take it anymore and got the hell out of the house.
The only place I knew I could go that was actually safe belonged to my family. It was one of our many investments. A fancy bar and grill a few miles away from the house in one of the nicer subdivisions. I knew some of our men would be there blowing off steam. They’d recognize me, and if anyone tried anything, they would shoot them first and ask questions later.
I hadn’t expected him to be there, however. He rarely went out in public.
And that was when it hit me.
“Nixon sent you, didn’t he?” I licked my lips and stared at the red liquid as he filled my glass.
He didn’t answer right away, instead his strong hand reached for the stem of the glass, his fingers wrapping around it, caressing the smooth surface for a minute. “And if he did?”
I shrugged.
He leaned closer until I could smell the warm swirling scent of honey and whiskey on his breath. “And if he didn’t?”
“Then…” My voice shook. “That means you’ve been following me? Like a stalker?”
“Stalker.” He laughed and leaned back. “I like the sound of that. Stalker of the Abandonato family gem.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What?” he whispered, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Don’t tell me… you think I’m full of shit.” His lips grazed the same ear. “When really, I’ve been watching you your whole life. Always close. Always ready to attack. Always ready, ready for the time…”
“The time?” I sucked in a breath. “For what time?”
He pulled back, his eyes snapping to my mouth. “For the time when you finally say my name—when you finally need me.”
“And that time is now?”
“That time was six months ago.” His voice dropped lower. “But I’m a patient man.”
And that was it. He released his hold on me, his sensual gaze took in the people around us, and then he pointed to my glass. “Drink, Monroe. We have much to discuss.”
“Mo? Everyone’s in the living room waiting. I figured…” Trace’s voice trailed off. “Well, I figured you’d want to make sure Nixon doesn’t kill him.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Be right there.”
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and sent one simple text.
Me: It’s done.
He replied back immediately.
G: Good. I knew I could count on you do get the job done. You’re an Abandonato after all. For what it’s worth… thank you.
Me: Don’t mention it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Getting shot hurts. The end.
Tex
I LICKED MY LIPS, and winced as I tried to stand to my full height. This was going to hurt. That much was true. Just shooting me wasn’t going to appease Nixon. Had the positions been switched—I would have done the same, possibly worse, because I was a possessive son of a bitch, and I loved Mo with my whole heart. Well, at least the heart that wasn’t in Hell for all the crimes I’d committed.
“The truth.” Nixon paced in front of me. “All of it, I need to hear it.”
Mo swayed into the room, her face pale. I offered a wink of encouragement. I had this, I had her. I wouldn’t let her down.
“I love her.” I nodded. “I made a mistake. Mistakes happen. Condoms don’t protect one hundred percent and—”
“Please—” Nixon lifted his hand in the air “—spare me a sex-ed lesson. Pretty sure you’re the last person who should be giving advice on safe sex.”
The room fell into a tense silence. My voice cracked. “Well, that’s basically everything. Don’t tell me you weren’t aware of our… extracurricular activities.”
Nixon’s eyebrows shot up, swear they almost went through his forehead. “That’s what you think I’m upset about?”
Next to me, Chase groaned and took a step out of the line of fire.
Nixon let out a laugh that was anything but amused. “You son of a bitch. I should just end your life right now. Tell me not to do it, Chase.”
Chase didn’t say anything. Bastard.
I glared to my right. Chase kept his face impassive. Great. I officially had no fans. Even Mil and Trace were silent. Thanks Mo, really, so awesome to be hated by the only family I’ve ever known because I’m protecting you and some prick’s unborn child. Felt good. It was all good. Totally what I deserved. After all, I was a Campisi; we freaking breed mayhem.
“You,” Nixon spat, “were in bed with two girls, not one, two.” His nostrils flared. “Not less than three weeks ago. So yeah, sorry if I’m a bit pissed that you were screwing my sister while you were screwing every whore within a fifty mile radius!” His fist went flying, hitting me square in the stomach. I hunched over and puked as he hit me again and again.
Unable to hold myself up anymore, I collapsed onto the floor, holding my stomach so that I wouldn’t puke again.
“Enough,” Mo said quietly. “Nixon. Enough.”
“It will never,” he said in a hoarse yell, “be enough. Never. Do you hear me?” He lunged for me again but was stopped by Chase, because apparently he wasn’t as heartless as I’d first assumed.
“Walk away, Nixon.” Chase grabbed Nixon by the shoulders and directed him towards the door. But Nixon, wasn’t having any of that, he fought against Chase so hard you’d think I’d actually killed Mo rather than getting her pregnant. There were worse things in the world, weren’t there? I mean, didn’t we face death every day?
“Nixon.” Mo cleared her throat; her voice seemed shaky. Damn it, she was afraid of her own brother. “Tex didn’t do anything wrong. He simply gave me what I asked for.”
Say what?
Wow good to know the story changed from something totally believable to mass insanity—I was as sure as dead.
“What do you mean?” The anger had faded slightly from Nixon’s voice.
Mo shrugged. “I missed him. We slept together. Once, for old time’s sake. That’s all it took. It’s not Tex’s fault I seduced him.”
Yeah I would have loved to be a part of that seduction. Freaking loved it. Too bad it didn’t happen, because Mo was a dirty little liar.
“I basically attacked him.” She looked down at her feet. Was she blushing? Seriously? “He didn’t really have
a choice but to appease me—and we all know Tex, he doesn’t choose himself. He always chooses me, every single time, to a fault. I’m his weakness.” Something about the way she said it didn’t settle with me. Because if she knew that, others knew, which meant I was a giant-ass chicken walking down the middle of a road directly into oncoming semis.
Damn her. I hated that of all the weaknesses in the world—hers was the one I couldn’t shake. The one I couldn’t overcome. I would never conquer my love for her. Ever. I could die tomorrow, and her name would be the last thing to cross my lips.
“That true?” Nixon directed the question towards me. Mo’s gaze was intense, as if she was praying I wouldn’t take the higher road and say no man, it’s my fault, I messed up. Instead, feeling like a jackass, I nodded my head.
Nixon put the gun down and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ll do the right thing, still. Right, Tex?”
The right thing? My head snapped to attention. Even Chase looked confused, his eyes pinched together causing a line to form on his forehead.
I looked at Mo for help. Realization must have dawned, because her face went white as a sheet before she launched herself into Nixon’s arms. “No! Nixon, no you can’t make us!”
“Chase,” Nixon barked, “make the arrangements.”
“Uh?” I raised my hand. “For my funeral? Is that what we’re discussing? Kind of in the dark, man.”
“Maybe to you.” Swear Nixon’s eyes were dripping black as they pierced through mine. “But some may call it a celebration.”
“What?” I repeated. “The hell. Is going on?”
“Do the right thing.” Nixon popped his knuckles. “Unplanned pregnancy out of wed-lock.”
My mind did the calculations.
And apparently two plus two really does equal four.
And I was screwed.
I wondered how bad it would be… to marry someone who you loved with so much of your soul that it hurt to breathe. Only to know that you’re her second choice. Or maybe not even a choice in the first place. Just a happy replacement until something better came along.
I wasn’t so sure I could live with that.
And suddenly I felt like Chase did all those months ago. When he was in love with Trace, when I couldn’t understand why the hell he was acting like such a hormonal woman over his feelings when we had bigger things to worry about.