Entice

Chapter Twenty-One

Chase

“Nixon looks pissed,” I said to no one in particular, halfway into the flight.

“Why are his eyes closed?” Mil asked. “And his lips still moving?”

“Hmm.” I shrugged. “Not sure, but Trace seems to be pretty amused with herself.”

Mil fell silent.

Probably not the time to have that conversation. Then again, Frank was sleeping, Luca had ear plugs in, and Tex and Mo were pouting. Leaving Trace with her magazine across the aisle and Nixon doing something that looked a lot like praying.

“You can still love her, you know,” Mil said in a low voice, her eyes darting between me and Trace. “I don’t expect you to get over it that fast, I mean you were in rough shape that night.”

“Hilarious.” I groaned into my hands and leaned back in my seat. I’d been drunk out of my mind. “I’m not sure I ever fully thanked you for all that.”

Mil’s blue gaze met mine. My heartbeat sped up a bit, like I’d just taken a hit of something and was feeling the effects of it spread through my bloodstream. “Are you thanking me for slapping you out of your drunken stupor or keeping you from drowning in the shower?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” I said dryly.

“You’re welcome.” Her smile made me dizzy. It spread wide, showing me her gleaming teeth and pretty dimples. Shit. It was like a light that had finally turned on in that damn airplane. I stared — like an absolute dumbass.

“Chase?” She blinked a few times, her dark eyelashes fanning against her cheekbones like a freaking caress. “Chase, you’re not breathing.”

I sucked in air and started choking wildly.

Mil patted my back, her touch literally setting my skin on fire. I choked again, looked out the window, and watched my manhood fall into the sky along with my pride.

“Sorry, uh… bug.” I pounded my chest a few times to prove my ridiculously lame lie.

“In an airplane?” she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

“It happens!” I snapped.

“Okay.” She lifted her hands into the air and, thank God, removed her hand from my person. I stared at her hand midair and noticed a scar on her arm. It wasn’t a typical scar — it was like a burn of some sort.

“What’s this?” I grabbed her wrist and leaned in to examine the mark; it reminded me of a cigarette burn, but it was too big to be a cigarette and on closer inspection it had definite lines, like it was drawn on her. Like it was burned against that perfect skin with a hot knife or something.

Mil clenched her fist and tried to pull away, but I pulled tighter, making it impossible for her to do anything. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” I half-snarled. Holy shit, who the hell would mark what was mine? I focused in on the burn; it was an old scar, not recent, but it didn’t matter. Not a shot in hell that it mattered. Her skin, her body, everything I touched was mine, not anyone else’s to tarnish. Rage like nothing I’d ever known poured through me. My heart slammed against my chest as my jaw clenched and flexed, causing my teeth to grind.

“Another bug?” Mil whispered, a smile appearing on her expressive face.

“Tell me—” My chest heaved. “Who did this?”

“Chase.” Mil’s voice was pleading. “Let’s not do this here, not now.”

“But—”

“Leave it, or I swear I’ll knife you in your sleep.”

I released her hand, a bit ashamed about how attached I clearly was to my anatomy, and looked out the window, refusing to talk to her, like a little child throwing a pity party.

Who the hell would touch her?

My first thought was Phoenix.

My second thought was how I’d find time to go to hell, raise his lifeless corpse, and kill him all over again.

And then a fuzzy memory surfaced.

That night, the night Mil and I had been together, Phoenix had been protective, so protective that it was a bit ridiculous. I mean, I was his best friend and he was still pissed. He hadn’t talked to me for weeks…

“Dude!” I slapped my hand onto the table. “You’re like a freaking dog with a bone!”

“Poor word choice, Chase.”

“Phoenix.” I dropped into the chair beside him. “It’s been a month. I said I was sorry, I offered to let you shoot me in the foot, I even wrote her an apology, by hand!”

“Not enough.” Phoenix leaned his elbows on his knees, both legs shaking with irritation. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.”

His head shook. “Can’t. Don’t want to, and it’s none of your damn business.”

“At least tell me she’s okay. You owe me that.”

Within seconds, Phoenix was on his feet, gripping my shirt with his hands as he used his body weight to slam me against the wall, still in my chair, I could only gape as his chest heaved, his eyes wild with fury. “I owe you nothing, you sorry piece of shit! You took the only thing she had! The only—” His lips trembled. “—the only thing that was keeping her close. And now? She’s going to have to go away. She already is.”

“What?” I shook my head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Boarding school.” Phoenix released me and stepped back, exhaling a curse. “Don’t ask me again.”

“Ask you what?”

“About Mil.” He refused to look at me. “As far as you’re concerned, she doesn’t exist. You better cherish the one night you had, because it won’t ever happen again.”

“Dude.” I lifted my hands in the air. “I know!”

“No. You don’t.” Phoenix met my gaze. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have done what you did. You would have known the cost of your actions. Because now… I have no one, but I can thank you for one thing.” His smile was tense.

“Yeah, what?” I grumbled.

“She’s free.” Pain etched in every plane of Phoenix’s face. His mouth relaxed as he nodded his head. “She’s finally free.”

“Huh?”

“Beer?” Phoenix didn’t wait for me to answer, just walked into the kitchen, leaving me confused as hell…

“Mil?” I whispered.

Somehow, in my daydreaming, she’d found a way to lean against my shoulder without being too irritated that the shoulder was attached to the person she had just snapped at. Her head was heavy, her breathing shallow. Damn, my questions could wait until we landed.

After all, we had a year of marital bliss.

That is, if we lived that long.

Damn mafia.