Elect (Eagle Elite) (16 page)

“So this is fun,” I grumbled, wondering why I was literally sitting a foot away from the scariest mafia boss known to Sicily. He smirked and said nothing, while Frank, my father’s murderer, kept a gun pointed at my head.

Low point. Definite low point.

“I never said thank you.” I cleared my throat and tried not to sound as freaked as I felt.

“For?” Frank answered.

“Killing my father, of course.”

Frank snorted. “I cannot tell if you are upset I beat you to the punch or if you truly mean what you say.”

“Had he not done it, I would have,” Luca piped up from the front seat. The driver was taking us through a series of subdivisions, almost making me dizzy as trees and perfect houses flew by the windows.

“Come again?” I asked.

“Your father, I hope he’s burning in Hell,” Luca said crisply. “And I hope when I meet him there, I’m able to experience his death by my hands for an eternity.”

Shit. I really hoped Luca wasn’t going to be the one to kill me. I knew I’d already pissed him off enough for a lifetime of torture—which begged the question why was I still sucking in air when he’d made it perfectly clear a few weeks ago that if I double-crossed him, or as much as talked—he’d end me.

“Why am I here—”

“Not now,” Luca snapped. “It isn’t safe.”

“Right. Never is,” I mumbled.

“You’re lucky I need you. If I were you, I’d pray for my soul—because if this ends badly—yours will be damned right along with your father’s.”

“Can’t pray for something you never had.”

I always hated “family” meetings. For normal people, a family meeting meant a talk over curfew or maybe even game night.

Right. Our games included blood and guns. Pretty sure a family meeting at my house was like inviting the devil to dinner.

The only thing I couldn’t really figure out was why we were meeting at my house of all places. I mean, I understood that Nixon was gone, but Mo wasn’t, and since that family was
the
family, it just seemed strange.

At any rate, it was totally possible that my dad had thought it would be too hard to stay at Nixon’s. I put on nice black slacks and a white button-up with a green tie. The other thing about family meetings?

You had to be respectful. My dad hated that I had tattoos, said they made me look like a punk, which only encouraged me to get more. He wanted me to cover them during meetings.

It had always been tougher for Nixon, considering he even had tattoos behind his ear, not to mention the lip piercing that pissed almost everyone off who met him.

He’d rebelled because it was the only control over his life that he’d had—what he did to his body, it was his and only his. Other than that, his life, the journey he’d been on, had been solidly planned out for him.

“Chase?” my dad called from downstairs.

“Coming.” I grabbed my gun and sent a quick text to Trace for her to stay out of trouble and to keep the doors locked. The Abandonato house was like a freaking fortress—still it didn’t make me feel any better about leaving her alone, especially in her emotional state.

The Abandonato family was huge. Everyone was present, at least all the men. Typically, the women would meet with us for a meal and then we’d all go our separate ways. The men went into a separate room to talk business and smoke cigars and the women gossiped in the kitchen.

You could tell it wasn’t a typical meeting.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, looked like they’d had about an hour’s sleep.

Hushed murmurs came from the living room when I walked in. Why was everyone staring at me? Shit, could they see my tattoos through my white shirt?

Feeling awkward, I nodded once, and walked over to the bar to make myself a drink.

I needed something strong if I was going to make it through the night. Just talking about Nixon made me feel sick.

“How’s it going?” Tex appeared at my side.

“Oh, you know.” I shrugged and took a sip of straight whiskey. “Fantastic.”

Tex chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He poured himself a similar drink, only he added more whiskey to his tumbler. “It’s just that, maybe you and Nixon are more alike than you realize. It’s like he’s left his dark mood with you as well as the stick that was permanently fused in his ass.”

“Thanks, man.” I cracked a smile, not because I thought he was funny but because his words actually made me feel better. It made me feel like somehow Nixon was still with us.

My dad cleared his throat and tapped his glass. “Would everyone please get comfortable? We have much to discuss.”

Tex and I took a seat by the fireplace and waited. A few men grumbled but everyone quieted down when my dad began talking again.

“While we mourn the loss of Nixon…”—he sighed—“we are thankful for the sacrifice he made in order to save our family.”

A few men nodded in agreement while others made a cross over their chests and kissed their fingertips in prayer.

“God bless him.” My father’s voice was choked. “May God continue to watch over this family.”

“Amen,” we all said in unison, making a sweeping motion from our foreheads to our hearts and across our chests.

“Now.” My father clapped his hands. “I hope we can move past the murder that took place so long ago. Nixon’s death proves a life for a life. The Nicolosi family has made it right and we are not to continue searching into something that no longer holds any value in this family.”

That didn’t sit well with me because I still wanted to know who’d killed Trace’s parents, and I knew there was no way that Nixon’s dad had actually committed the murder. For one thing, he’d been a better assassin than that. He’d been set up, and if it wasn’t by the De Lange family… then it had to have been by someone else. Someone who had reason enough to want to knock out not only Trace’s family, but Nixon’s as well.

“… it only makes sense to keep it in the family,” my dad finished. I’d blanked out the first part, but I assumed he was doing what he did best. Taking control.

“Who?” My cousin Vin spoke up. “The only choice would be you, but—”

“Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” My dad put his hands up. “I do not want the job. My job is to be the right hand of the one in control. I like it that way and though it naturally would fall to me… I believe there is one who deserves it, dare I say, even more so than Nixon.”

Confused, I looked around the room. Who the hell deserved to lead the family more than Nixon? His father had been the boss, as had his father and his before him? Pissed, I was about ready to storm out of the room when I heard my name.

“Chase,” my dad ordered. “Please stand.”

I wanted to say no thanks, but I couldn’t disrespect my father in front of everyone. On shaky legs I walked to the middle of the room. Every eye was on me. I felt hot then cold all over. This couldn’t be happening—it was too soon. I’d never wanted this.

My dad pulled something out of his pocket. “I nominate my son, Chase. Nixon’s best friend and right-hand man. He’s been here since the beginning; he watched the horrors of Nixon’s childhood and stood by his side during the investigation, going as far as to enroll in Eagle Elite to flush out the murderer. He saved Tracey Alfero’s life. There is no one that deserves this title more, not even myself.”

Stunned, I stood there, hoping to God people would think my dad was drunk and spouting absolute nonsense. I opened my mouth to say something but was too late.

“I second.” Vin raised his hand.

“Third.”

“Fourth.”

Men kept agreeing, and with each agreement I felt like I couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening. I didn’t want it. I’d never wanted it. I imagined what was happening to me felt a lot like slavery, like watching yourself getting sold to the highest bidder knowing your life would never be your own again.

“It must be unanimous.” My dad cleared his throat and looked at Tex.

My eyes pleaded. I stared him down. Hard. I was going to kick his ass if he raised his hand. “I’m sorry, Chase.” Tex closed his eyes and raised his hand.

Words wouldn’t come. I couldn’t think. Not with everyone staring at me, not with my dad holding my hand in the air.

And when he thrust a ring on my right hand, I almost puked.

Nixon’s ring.

I’d said I wanted to be him.

And now I was.

I closed my eyes to keep the tears of rage in.

It should have never happened this way.

And now I was stuck just like he was, chained to the family in more ways than one, and poor Trace—history was on repeat.

“You okay, man?” Tex brought me my fifth glass of whiskey and smacked me on the back of the head.

“Use a baseball bat instead of your hand and I’ll let you know.” I sipped the drink and let the alcohol slide down my throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re an ass,” I spat. “All you had to do was say no.” My words were already beginning to slur but I didn’t care.

“I know that.” Tex took a seat next to me. “But your dad was right. He isn’t the man for the job, you are. Maybe by taking his place, you’ll set things right.”

“I don’t do well under pressure.” I took another sip.

“Seriously?” Tex laughed. “Chase, you’ve always done well under pressure. Come on, out of the four of us, you were always the scary one. The one that never cried and laughed when we did. When you fell out of that tree at four you set your own arm before telling your ma you had to go to the doctor.”

“This is a hell of a lot different than a broken arm.” I cringed.

“Yeah well.” Tex sighed. “At least now, you have the power to protect those you love—those we both love.”

“Mo?” I asked.

He nodded. “She’s not doing well. I mean, she lost her father—granted he was a jackass, but she never saw that side of him, he reserved all that for Nixon. And then her brother? Her twin? Can you even imagine what she’s going through right now?”

“No.” I licked my lips. “I’ve heard it’s worse for twins, that they aren’t ever the same… after.”

“She won’t talk to me.” Tex smacked his leg with his hand. “She keeps saying she’s fine, but I think she’s just numb.”

“You could always try the whole tough love angle.”

“Yeah, and how did that work with Trace? You’re lucky she didn’t pull a gun on you or something.”

With a laugh I took another sip of my drink. “True. But it was worth it. At least her fire’s back.”

There was a moment of silence and then Tex said, “I know you love her.”

“So damn much,” I answered honestly. Clearly the whiskey was having its effect.

“Kinda sucks.”

“Yeah.” I shook the ice in my glass and stared at the ground. “It feels so wrong. His girlfriend, his title, his money? It has to be some cruel joke, you know? I just can’t help but wonder how this is going to play out with Frank and Luca.”

“I was thinking about that, too.” Tex scratched his head. “They said to just act normal and keep doing what we’re doing.”

“Yeah, they also said to kiss my girlfriend, meaning they clearly still don’t know that it was all an act.”

“Or maybe they did,” Tex offered. “Maybe that was his way of giving you permission.”

“Permission?” I snorted. “Permission to kiss a girl who, every damn time I touch her lips, will imagine I’m Nixon. Hi, Chase, welcome to a living hell. Oh wait, I’ve been camping there for months now.”

“I was just saying.”

“Yeah, well, stop saying.” I rose from my seat. “Let’s go check on the girls. I need to get out of here.”

* * *

I found my dad and told him I was leaving.

“You can’t leave.” He grabbed my arm. “There are things we need to discuss.”

“Then you should probably wait until I’m not this drunk.” I jerked my arm away from him. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Fine.” He slipped something in my pants pocket. “Do yourself a favor and tie up all the loose ends, sooner rather than later.”

“Loose ends?” I shook my fuzzy head. “Everyone’s dead, or haven’t you noticed?”

“Not everyone.” He grinned and slapped me on the shoulder. “Now, do your job.”

Did he just threaten me? And who the hell would be a loose end?

“Ready?” Tex held out the keys and shook ’em. “I’m driving because I’m pretty sure if you did we’d be seeing Nixon sooner rather than later.”

“Right.” I followed him out the door.

Once I was in the car, I pulled the envelope out of my pocket. Inside was a picture of Mil with her face crossed off in red. And then a picture of Nixon and Trace. Both of them smiling with ugly red marks across their faces.

“Pull over!” I shouted.

“We’re on the freeway! I can’t exactly pull over!” Tex yelled right back.

“Pull the hell over or so help me God I’m going to jump out of this damn car!”

“Shit…” The car jolted as Tex pulled over to the shoulder, cursing the entire way.

I opened the door and threw up.

“Ah hell,” Tex grumbled. “Did you have to drink that much?”

“Not the alcohol.” I wiped my mouth. “We gotta get back to the house, now!”

I pulled out my cell and dialed Trace’s number.
Pick up, pick up, pick up.

“Hello?”

“Trace?” I yelled.

“Yeah? What’s up? How did it go?”

“Lock the doors.”

“They’re locked.”

“Trace, I…” I gripped the car door with my free hand. “Just don’t answer the door for anyone, okay? I don’t care if the Pope suddenly decides to come bless our entire family. You stay inside. You wait for us, okay?”

“Okay. You’re scaring me, Chase.”

“Good. You should be scared, because I’m about five seconds away from losing my damn mind.”

“That’s not good,” she said just as Tex said, “Already lost it.”

“Just… we’ll be home in ten.” I ended the call and slammed my hand against the seat.

“Calm down. What the hell has gotten into you?” Tex asked.

“He wanted Nixon dead.”

“Who did?”

“My father.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he wants me to kill Tracey.”