Elect

Chapter Twenty-five Nixon

I made it as far as my Range Rover before I felt my control snap. I punched the driver’s seat five times as hard as I could with my fist… it didn’t help. I needed a baseball bat, or something; everything was so messed up and I didn’t know how much longer I could handle being around her—around them—before I blew my own cover.

“Remind me to never piss you off,” a voice said from behind me.

I turned to see a woman about my age with chestnut hair and bright blue eyes. She was wearing an Eagle Elite uniform but I’d never seen her before in my life. “Can I help you?” I asked, trying my best not to sound scary.

“Depends.” She put on a pair of black sunglasses and walked over to me. She was tall for a chick, probably around five-ten.

“On?” I leaned against the SUV.

“On you, I guess.” She reached into her red leather purse and pulled out a small flash drive. “Take it.”

“Why?” I paused before taking the drive into my hand and shoving it into my pocket. “What does it have on it that I need? The answers to my final at the end of the semester?”

“Well, you’re right about part of that.” She sighed. “You’ll find some answers, but they won’t be what you expect.”

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

The girl sucked in a breath and then fell against me. I caught her around the waist, and my hands came into contact with blood. Lots of blood.

Mind going into overdrive, I quickly lifted her into my arms and put her in the backseat of the SUV. She’d been hit in the back, but I couldn’t tell exactly where and I wasn’t taking any chances.

I quickly dialed Uncle Tony’s number as I drove to the nearest hospital.

He answered on the first ring.

“Yes, Nixon?”

“Minor problem. Some random girl just gave me—”

“Gave you what, Nixon? I don’t have time to hear about your extracurricular activities.”

Remembering the way he’d acted earlier, I lied. “She said she had information to give me… but she was shot before she could say anything. I have her with me right now. I’m on my way to the hospital—”

“No, Nixon. We’ll take care of it.”

“She could die,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “I’m not letting one of our own take care of her. She needs a hospital, not some cousin who used to be a surgeon back when he was still able to see straight without a bottle of liquor.”

“I said”—Uncle Tony cleared his throat—“we’ll take care of it. We can’t have any loose ends. We have no idea who she is, and we cannot alert any of the cops. Gunshot wounds are basically like waving a red flag in their eyes. They’ll investigate and they’ll stop at nothing to get to us.”

“I know that,” I yelled. “Don’t you think I know that? But what if—”

“Nixon.” His irritation shone through the way he said my name, as if it was a curse word rather than an identifier. “For once in your life, just listen to someone who’s older and has more experience than you.”

“Fine,” I snapped. “I’m on my way.”

I hung up the phone and turned toward the bank. Most of the family would be there working, meaning that by now Tony would have told them what was going on and how they needed to prepare.

“Don’t,” a raspy voice said behind me. “Don’t take me to him.”

I ignored her plea. Hating myself the entire time.

“He’ll kill me.”

“You’re dead either way,” I said as softly as I could.

“I can help you.”

“You almost died just trying to help me. Correct me if I’m wrong, but if that’s the type of help you’re offering, I think I’ll pass.”

“Fine.” Her voice was getting weaker. “Just tell him I’m sorry I failed.”

“Who? Tell who?” I pulled up to a stoplight and turned around.

She smiled sadly. “Tell Phoenix I failed.”

“Phoenix? How the hell do you know Phoenix?”

“I thought you didn’t want my help.” She grimaced and reached behind her. “Thank God. I think the bullet just grazed me.”

Biting on my lip for a second, I thought of what I needed to do. Damn if the web wasn’t getting more tangled. With a curse, I pulled off to the side of the road and turned around. I pulled out my gun and pointed it at her head. “If you’re dead either way it shouldn’t matter, right? Now, you have exactly five seconds to plead your case, or I shoot you here. And I promise you, what I have planned is kinder than where I’m taking you to.”

“I know who killed Tracey’s parents.”

I pulled back my gun and stared at her. “Fine. Who killed them then?”

“Your father.”

I pointed the gun back at her head again, this time with the intention of shooting her, except she shook her head and looked almost… sorry for me. Which was weird because she was the one who was going to die.

“Not the father you’ve always known, Nixon. Your real father.”

Well, shit.

I pulled the gun back and shot her in the foot. I needed more blood in order to prove my case.

She screamed in pain and fell back against the seat. “What the hell was that for?”

“If you’re lying”—I shrugged—“you know I’ll be good on my promise to end your life. If you’re telling the truth, I officially have to lie for you and put you into hiding. Now, take off your clothes.”

“What?” She began to shake. Great; now she was going into shock.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Take off your damn clothes.” I put my gun away and held out my hands so she could hand over her clothing.

Fumbling with her shirt, she pulled it off over her head and followed suit with the rest of her clothes, until she was lying there in nothing but her bra and underwear.

“ID?” I held out my hand.

Closing her eyes she thrust her purse forward. “You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

“Aw, people been talking about me, sweetheart?”

She shivered and then cringed. “People say you’re the devil.”

“I’m much worse.” I fumbled through her purse and pulled out her ID and nearly passed out when I read the last name. “Emiliana De Lange?”

“Pleased to meet you…”

“But that would mean…” Shit. “You’re Phoenix’s stepsister.”

“Ah yes, the redheaded stepchild the family doesn’t like to talk about. Yes, that would be me. Now can we please hurry before I pass out? I’m really close and as much as I’m enjoying being naked in your backseat, we have to go.”

“Phoenix isn’t going to like this.”

“Phoenix can go to hell. I’m saving his sorry ass!” Emiliana yelled.

With a curse, I got out of the car and grabbed the bloody clothes. I put them in the trunk with her ID and then pulled out a blanket so she could wrap herself in it.

I hopped back in the SUV and made a beeline for my house, dialing Uncle Tony on the way.

“Where the hell are you?” he yelled.

“Lake Michigan. She didn’t make it. I did what I had to do.”

“Any ID on her?”

“Nope, but she did say something about someone wanting to kill her. Any ideas?”

Tony sighed. “How am I supposed to know? This business is delicate. Did you burn the clothes?”

“On my way to do just that. She’s sinking so fast, I doubt they’ll find her. I’ll let you know if I have trouble cleaning up.”

“All right, Nixon.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone and slammed the steering wheel with the palm of my hand.

“Thanks.” Her voice was getting weaker. I really needed to pull the bullet out of her foot. Well, first things first. We had another person to hide. But first, I was going to find out what she knew. Apparently, I was a bastard. Great. Add that fun fact to my list of damning qualities.

If the father I’d hated my entire life wasn’t my real father, then that begged the question, who was? Because right now… it also meant… I wasn’t the boss.

I never had been. I’d just been allowed to play the part—why?