When we reached the kitchen he placed me on the counter like a little kid and stalked over to the cupboard. “You want ice?”
“Please,” I whispered gripping the counter top with my hands like it was my only lifeline.
Sergio gripped the cup in his hands and went over to the freezer, the ice plunked into the glass, making the room feel that much more tense.
“He’s going to destroy us all.” Sergio’s back was to me as he filled the glass with water, his voice was so matter-of-fact and cold I wanted to shiver. “I hope you know that. He’s a Campisi, one doesn’t just stop being a Campisi.”
Deflated, I tried to ignore the truth of Sergio’s words. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” He turned around and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “And what makes you the expert?”
“I just…” I chewed on my thumbnail. “I know his heart. He’s good, and what we’re doing…”
“What we’re doing…” Sergio threw his head back and laughed. “Had nothing to do with you seducing him then screwing with his head, Mo. Absolutely nothing. So what the hell are
you
doing? Because I’m pretty sure the others would like to know as well.”
“I’m making it real.” I swallowed the tightness in my throat and stretched my hand out for the water.
Sergio sighed and placed the cold glass against my fingertips, not removing his hand but keeping mine trapped against his. “Mo, regardless of how real you make it—you can’t save him.”
“But the plan was—”
“—marriage.” He shrugged simply. “And you still got shot.”
“But—”
“Mo.” Sergio released the glass and placed his hands on either side of my hips, pressing his body against mine so forcefully I gasped. “He will die.”
“No.” I shook my head forcefully. “I won’t let it happen. They said if we did it this way it would protect him.”
“You do realize…” He lifted his head and brushed his knuckles against my cheek. “I will save you before I save him.”
“Don’t.” My lips trembled. “I’m not worth it.”
“Let
me
decide your worth Monroe.” He took a protective stance in front of me. “And in the end, once this is over, I want you to remember, I was the one that was willing to forgive and forget whereas the one you claim to love—the one you want to save—is going to be dead in a month—for choosing blood.”
Cursing, Sergio backed away and stalked out of the kitchen leaving me alone with my thoughts. No longer thirsty, I placed the glass on the counter and tried to get off the countertop. Yeah, that wasn’t working very well. My leg wouldn’t let me maneuver.
After five minutes of trying not to kill myself. I slumped against my knees and waited for footsteps to come down the hall.
Wonder of all wonders, it wasn’t Tex that had come searching for me but Nixon.
“You weren’t in bed,” he snapped, his cold eyes fierce.
“Right.” I sighed. “I was trapped on the countertop.”
“Mind telling me how you got there?”
“I flew?”
Nixon grinned. “Smart ass.”
“Love you too, brother.”
His smile fell; he took a few tentative steps towards me. “Tell me you know it’s bad.”
I nodded.
“Tell me you know there will be death.”
I nodded again.
He cursed and wiped his face with his hands. “Tell me in the end—” His voice shook. “Tell me you’ll do what I say.”
“I can’t.” With trembling hands, I wiped away the tears already running down my face. “I still love him.”
“I know.” Nixon picked me up into his arms and carried me down the hall. “That’s the damn problem.”
I sighed against Nixon’s chest. His tattooed arms were hanging onto me so tight you would have thought I was the most precious thing in the world to him. Then again, we were all we had. Everyone else… dead.
“Mo.” Nixon’s voice cracked as he placed me on the bed and then sat down on the mattress, his weight causing it to creak. “The Commission, we weren’t born yet…”
“The first one.” I laid my head on his shoulder. “Did lots of people die?”
“Well.” Nixon chuckled. “It wasn’t exactly a fiesta.”
“Bite your tongue,” I scolded. “Sicilians do not have fiestas, we have parties, blood baths, you know, the cool kind.”
“Right.” He sucked in his lip ring and leaned against his legs. His right foot tapping against the floor, made him appear nervous which, if you knew my brother, was totally out of character.
“Are you okay?”
“That would be a giant-ass no.” Nixon’s laugh was hollow. “I think she may be pregnant.”
“Who?”
His foot stopped tapping. “Who else, genius? Trace.”
“Oh.” Well that was a bit of a shock. “Why do you think that?”
“Because I know her, know her body.” And there went that foot tapping again. “And it suddenly all makes sense, you know?”
“What does?”
“Blood.” Nixon whispered hoarsely. “It makes so much damn sense, Mo. I would do anything—anything for blood.”
“Like a vampire?” I joked, punching him in the arm.
“Like a vampire,” he echoed, his voice losing its edge. “Mo.” He grabbed my hands. “I will always protect you, I’ll always protect what’s mine, but the choice Tex is going to have to make.” He squeezed lightly. “I guess I just need you to understand the pull that blood has on someone’s loyalty.” His eyes filled with sadness. “Regardless of how he feels for you—you aren’t—”
“—blood,” I whispered. “So you’re saying.”
“I’m saying in the end remember who you are.” Nixon shrugged. “Remember who he is.”
“I’m tired.” I faked a yawn.
“Right.”
“Oh, and Nixon.” I gripped his hand together. “Tell Trace I’m happy for her.”
Nixon’s eyes narrowed. “Interesting.”
“What?”
“I would have thought you would have noticed by now… what with experiencing the same things… similar symptoms and such.” He crossed his arms.
“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
T
HE 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
B
Y 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 took 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.