Entice

Chapter Thirty-One

Nixon

I watched her.

Like a damn stalker from Criminal Minds.

She twirled her hair around her fingers and then threw her head back and laughed, exposing that long delicate neck — just one of the things I was obsessed with.

“Trace?” I licked my lips, suddenly nervous as hell to interrupt her girl time. “You ready for bed?”

“I think,” she said, standing and wrapping her arms sloppily around my neck, “the correct answer is are you ready for bed?”

“Don’t you mean question?”

“That’s your answer!” She laughed and sagged against me.

“Shit. Who gave her wine?”

Mo and Mil both pointed at each other. I glared at my sister. She covered her mouth with her hand and hiccupped.

“Damn shame for a Sicilian to get drunk off two glasses of wine,” I muttered.

“Sorry.” Trace nuzzled her face in my neck. “I was just so stressed, and now I’m sleepy.” There went all plans for seduction.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I kissed her forehead. “Why don’t I carry you?”

“Nixon, it’s fine. I’m—”

Ignoring her, I lifted her body into my arms and nodded to the girls. “See you tomorrow. Oh and Mil, Chase already went back to the room. He seemed… upset. You should go.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Holy shit, I was officially turning into Tex, all cheese and no seriousness. I needed some damn sleep.

“Oh.” She stood so suddenly that I could tell she got dizzy. She grasped the chair and gave me a weak smile. “Uh, is it safe for me to—”

“No problem,” I interrupted. “Vegas is basically the safest place for you to be. Cameras are everywhere, especially in this hotel. It’s why Luca chose it.”

“Thanks.” Mil walked by me, leaving Mo all by herself.

“Should I send Tex?”

Trace was starting to get heavy, but clearly she didn’t care. She was already sleeping against my chest.

“I’m a big girl.” Mo took a drink of wine. “I’ll go up when I’m ready.”

“Text me if you need anything.” I nodded and walked back into the hotel and down the hall to the Rush Tower.

“Nixon…” Trace moaned in my arms.

“What, sweetheart?” I hit the top floor button and slipped in my key card. The elevator jolted.

“Why won’t you marry me like Chase?”

“Chase proposed?” I joked. Well, it was kind of a joke, as in, I would have laughed before I pulled the trigger.

“No, he’s married.” She pushed against my chest like she was irritated with me for not tracking. “I mean, why won’t you and I marry?”

“Why won’t we?”

“Mmm.”

“Who says we won’t?”

“Mo.” Trace didn’t open her eyes but they squinted as if she was trying to open them but lacked the energy. “She said your head’s stuck in your ass.”

At that I laughed. “Oh yeah? What else did my favorite twin say?”

“You’re scared.”

And there went all that beer I’d just drunk… threatening to come right back up. Because my brilliant twin sister had hit the nail right on the head. Damn her.

I was terrified.

Of losing Trace.

Of having her.

Of losing her again.

It always went in that order.

“You’re drunk, Trace.” The doors opened. I carried her to the penthouse and shifted my weight so I could slide the card into the slot without putting her down. Once we were inside and by the couch, I gently placed her on the cushions. A few sensor lights clicked on, causing a dim glow to invade the room.

Trace seemed totally alert. Her wide eyes examined me from head to toe before stopping at my mouth. “I love you.”

“Trace.” I growled, kneeling down so we were at eye level. “You know I love you. I’m obsessed with you. I can’t live without you.”

“Is that why you’re scared?”

“Damn it.” I let myself sink to the floor, leaning my back against the couch as her legs dangled by my shoulders. “I can’t give you what you want, Trace.”

“What do you think I want?”

“Out.” I laughed without humor. “You want out. Out of this lifestyle, out of the family, out of the country, preferably anywhere but the US and Sicily.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t a good response; it reminded me of the way teachers answer you when you’re in school. The oh sounded mocking, irritated, sarcastic, and hot as hell.

“I know you, Trace.”

To be fair, I should have expected her to get upset; whenever she drank wine, she went from being bone weary to so aggressive I’d tied her up once.

Best night of my life.

Until she’d puked.

So it was a really good half hour.

“I hate you sometimes.” Trace moved from the couch to my lap, smacking me lightly on the cheek. “I don’t want out, you bastard.”

What? “But, Trace, you asked on the plane—”

“I was being a woman.” She all but shouted. “Yes, I wish circumstances were different, but leaving this life would be like leaving part of you behind, and I’m kind of a fan of every part.”

I smirked. “Admit it, you have your favorites.” I moved against her just to show her exactly what I was talking about then nipped her ear, slowly kissing down her neck and pulling back to gaze into her eyes.

“Ass.” She punched my shoulder. “I swear, the more time you hang out with Chase and Tex, the more ridiculous you get.”

“Part of my charm.”

“You’re not charming.” She crossed her arms and looked away. “You’re sexy but not charming.”

“Charming and sexy,” I corrected.

“Nixon…” Her hands cupped my face. “I just want you. Forever. That’s what I want. I don’t want to have to worry that you’re going to run.”

“So you do want to tie me up?”

Trace rolled her eyes. “Be serious.”

“Fine.” I kissed her mouth. “Tell you what. Anything — and I do mean anything — you want is yours. So ask.”

“I can’t.” Her face fell. “Because then it’s not romantic.”

“Romance isn’t really a strong point for me. Sex? Absolutely, but romance?”

“Stop.” She pushed against my chest. “You’re better than you give yourself credit for. I just want to know that it’s you and me for eternity, get it? I want proof of that.”

“Proof.” I repeated the word, letting it roll around on my tongue like slow, melting chocolate. And then, a light bulb went off. She was talking about marriage again. Romance? She wanted romance? In the middle of some unknown mafia war where we might all end up in caskets? Done. I could multitask. I was going to romance the hell out of her. “Done.”

“What?” She reared back as if I’d just told her that her ass looked fat in her jeans.

“Done.”

“But—”

“Now it’s time for you to be patient. Can you do that?”

Her smile lit up the room, — scratch that, her smile lit up my freaking world.

“Yes.”

I lost track of time as we sat on the floor talking, catching up, teasing each other… I was almost asleep when Trace asked, “Why are you being such an ass to Chase and Mil?”

With a sigh, I turned and pulled Trace into the curve of my body, resting my chin on her head. “You know Chase just as well as I do, sweetheart. You can’t just order him to do things. It’s hard for him. Hell, it’s hard for me. They need each other. She needs to trust him, and he needs to allow himself to trust her to fall for her, if he can.”

Trace let out a heavy sigh. My chest clenched at the thought that she wasn’t okay with his relationship with Mil. I was damn possessive of her heart and hated that it was possible he still held a tiny sliver. I would start a war over that sliver. I would kill for it, steal for it, destroy for it.

“I’m glad.”

“Hmm?” I pretended that my heart wasn’t beating out of my chest, that my breathing hadn’t hitched, that my damn mind wasn’t ready to explode.

“That you’re pushing them. It’s what they need. It’s why I love you.”

“Because I push people?” I laughed nervously.

“Nah, because underneath that bad-ass mafia mojo, you really care, and you’re willing to do anything, including killing your own damn happiness, to save the world.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but my heart beat faster.

“You’re like my Superman.”

“Whoa, let’s not go putting me in tights or anything.”

“It’s the cape that does it for the girls, not the tights.”

“Noted.” I kissed her head. “Trace?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you still love him?”

No answer. I gripped her body harder, hoping and praying it was just my imagination, that I wasn’t seriously thinking about marrying a girl I didn’t completely have.

I was just about ready to pass out when she answered, “Yes.”

My world exploded. If it were possible for a body to burst from the inside out to spontaneously combust on the impact of one simple word, mine would have.

“But not how you think,” she clasped her hands together pausing too long for my comfort. “Chase was my best friend — you were my soul mate. There’s a difference. It’s like asking me if I love Tex or Mo. I love them, I even love Mil. Chase will always shave a special place in my heart, but he doesn’t own it — you do.”

Amazing how the human body can go from overdrive to complete serenity in six seconds. Even more amazing? That my physical reaction was caused by something completely emotional. On the outside I probably looked fine, but on the inside I was completely destroyed, just like Phoenix had been by his father and the ridiculous life he’d put him through.

I had no idea why Trace’s confession was making me think of Phoenix, but there it was. Maybe because in that moment, when I was hanging on Trace’s every word, I could almost glimpse into how he must have felt when his dad had told him…

“It’s complicated.” Phoenix broke the beer bottle against the rocks and stuffed his hands into his pockets. His sister had just gotten shipped off to boarding school. He said he wanted to talk — said he was having a rough time with it, which was just weird, considering they weren’t even that close.

“So try to explain it.” I took a seat on the rock and watched as the waters of Lake Michigan lapped around the rocky terrain.

“My father, he’s been into some messed up stuff and finally — he finally got desperate, like real desperate.”

“How desperate?”

“Let’s just leave it at that.” Phoenix sniffed and rubbed a gloved hand under his nose. “I think he was going to use Mil.”

“Use?”

“In his prostitution ring. One of the men asked if she was available, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like she was some whore.” He cursed and picked up a rock, throwing it into the ocean. “When I asked him about it later, he laughed it off. Said to mind my own shit.”

“Did you tell Mil?”

Phoenix winced. “Didn’t have to. Somehow, her ma caught wind of it. When I asked my step-mom if I could help, she said no, that she already had a plan.”

“A plan? Which means that clearly your father was—”

“I know,” Phoenix interrupted. “Can we not talk about him, though? It’s Mil I’m worried about… after Vegas, after Chase, she’s just… not the same. It’s like something happened to her, like Chase did something.”

“He didn’t,” I snapped. “He wouldn’t.”

“Look.” Phoenix’s eyes looked crazed. “When she got back from Vegas she had cuts up and down her arms and a scar on her wrist, an ugly-as-hell scar that looked like someone had burned a cigar into her skin. I’m not saying Chase did it. I’m just not saying he didn’t, either.”

“That why you’re being such an ass?”

“Well that.” Phoenix smirked. “And he did sleep with my sister.” His face sobered. “It’s a strange feeling.”

“What is?”

“Wanting to kill someone yet be their friend at the same time. Sometimes I’m scared of my own brain, my own emotions. I swear everything keeps building inside me, Nixon and I don’t know how long I can keep it all in.”

I slapped him on the back. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ll be fine.”

But after that conversation he’d changed. Everything had changed. He wasn’t the same Phoenix. And he died before I could find out the truth of what had changed him. The only clue was Mil.

Something had happened to her. Something Phoenix was protecting her from. I jerked away from Trace and grabbed my cell. No calls from Chase.

“What’s wrong?” Trace mumbled sleepily.

“Nothing.” I sent Chase a quick text. “Go to sleep.”

Me: Get her to trust you then ask her what caused the scars — mention Phoenix, but be ready.