Trace took my coffee out of my hands and took a sip. “Don’t be a prude.”
Laughing, I jerked my coffee away from her. “Honey, that’s the first time I’ve ever been accused of such.”
“My mistake.” Tracey snatched the coffee back. “Chase, don’t be such a whore.”
“Better.” I stole my coffee back. “Now stop taking my coffee. It’s eight a.m. and I’m still not fully ready to face the day, especially that professor in your Women’s Studies class. Seriously, the chick needs to get laid. I think she hates men.”
“To be fair”—Trace tried to grab my coffee but I held it over my head so she’d have to get a ladder to grab it—“she”—Trace jumped—“only hates you”—she jumped again—“because you called her fat.”
“Not true.” I yawned and kept the coffee in the air. “I asked when her baby was due.”
With a huff Trace gave up and put her hands on her hips. “Right, and she wasn’t pregnant, so basically it’s the same thing.”
I shrugged. “My mistake.” Trace was still eying my coffee. “Fine, we’ll go get you some coffee, but remember you can’t be late to any more classes.”
I checked my watch. “Okay, we have exactly fifteen minutes to go across campus, buy you coffee, and head up to the Social Sciences building.”
“We’ll be fine!” Trace grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”
We ran across campus and stood in line at the coffee shop. Luckily, there was only one person in front of us.
But as my own personal luck would have it, the person standing in front of us just happened to be Luca.
What the hell was he doing on campus? And how would he have any idea we were even heading to get coffee? Was he truly watching us that carefully?
I gripped Trace’s hand hard within mine.
She looked up at me. “Chase, seriously. Get over the cow thing.”
I laughed and went into action. “I’ll get over it, if you get under me.”
Her mouth dropped open. I tilted my head to the left. She didn’t need any more information. In an instant her arms wrapped around my neck and she leaned into me, her mouth inches from mine. “Hmm, how about we skip class then?”
“Nice.” I was seriously sweating. Everything felt awkward and off limits. If I just went with instinct I knew it would make Tracey uncomfortable and I only had seconds to decide what the hell I was going to do. Luca turned just as I leaned in and pressed my lips against Trace’s.
I was counting on her reaction to be timid—and it was.
Mine, however, was like unleashing a starving tiger from its cage. I thrust my tongue into her mouth and tasted her, like really tasted her. Shit, I was going to go to Hell for enjoying this so damn much. With my body as tight as a drum, I opened her mouth with my tongue and continued to take what wasn’t mine to take. She put her hand on my chest, almost as if she was pushing me away, but I shook my head as I deepened the kiss and slid her hand down my abs to the loop in the front of my jeans.
A throat cleared. Slowly, I pulled away from Tracey and looked up into Luca’s amused face.
“Chase.” He nodded. “And you must be?” He was looking at Trace with more curiosity than anything. Shit, did he know we’d played him?
“Oh, um,” Trace giggled. “Sorry we got carried away, I’m Chase’s girlfriend, Tracey.”
“Lovely.” Luca took her outstretched hand and kissed it. “What a beautiful couple. A pleasure, Miss Tracey. Chase, we’ll be in touch.”
I nodded as he walked off with his coffee, saw that a few of his men were with him.
I faintly heard Trace order a drip and then she directed me out of the coffee shop toward the Social Sciences building. I pretended everything was fine on the inside, but it wasn’t.
I was far from fine.
I was ripped to shreds on the inside.
Because until a few minutes ago, I’d had no idea what I’d been missing. And now… now I did.
And suddenly betraying everyone I loved was back on the table. Because Tracey—she held a part of me I couldn’t take back, and it scared the hell out of me.
Chapter Fifteen
Nixon
I reached into my shoulder bag and felt around for my gun. I knew I was seriously going to lose my mind if I was checking my gun every five seconds of the day, but I couldn’t help it. I was worried about everything.
Damn, if my ma could see me now.
I went to my one and only Tuesday class and tried to look scary. No way was I in any shape to talk to students or my professor with the whole Trace and Chase situation hanging over my head. Holy shit, their names even rhymed. How the hell had I missed that?
I groaned aloud.
“Mr. Abandonato, something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Mr. Smith asked.
Hell. No. “Sorry, headache.”
He grimaced but said nothing. Probably a good idea since I was literally two minutes away from losing my shit.
Class ended five minutes later. I made my way toward the opposite end of campus—toward the Space.
I called it the Space because calling it anything else just seemed weird. We used the building for special things; having it on campus was reserved for special purposes.
And I had a hell of a purpose today.
Ruin Phoenix’s life and gain my sanity back. Easy, right?
I burst through the door only to find Phoenix glaring at me from a metal chair. His hands were cuffed behind him and a gag was in his mouth.
I pulled the gun from my bag and tucked it into my pants.
“How was your sleep, sunshine?”
Phoenix’s eyes were dripping with hatred, but he didn’t make a sound.
Sighing, I went over to the cupboard of death, as Tex liked to call it, and pulled out my tools.
Phoenix started jerking against the chair, but I continued to pull out the medical instruments. I wasn’t really going to do anything to him—not yet. The unfortunate part was that I’d been trying to clean up the family business—apart from the Sicilian influence.
The mafia was alive and well in Sicily, but here? Here we’d been keeping the peace, flying under the radar. As long as we didn’t red flag our business dealings, we were left relatively alone.
It had all started with Trace’s parents’ murders and I hoped to God it would end there. I knew there wasn’t an out; there would always be people trying to get my family. Greed would always exist. But it was order that I was counting on. The Sicilians had a certain way of doing things, a respectful way to keep order within the families.
They were here because if for some reason things went south, they didn’t want it traced back to them.
Too much money was at stake. And Phoenix knew that, so I may not torture him, not now, but I knew that was where it was headed. I hated that I would have my ex-best friend’s blood on my hands almost as much as I hated myself for wanting to kill him every damn second of the day.
I pulled out the concrete mixture and poured water into it.
Phoenix’s eyes widened but he said nothing.
It was a fast-setting concrete. I mixed it for a few minutes then pushed the bucket over to where Phoenix sat.
“So.” I bit down on my bottom lip and crossed my arms. “I want you to look at this. I mean, really look at it.”
Phoenix’s eyes flickered to the concrete-filled bucket.
“Now.” I pushed the bucket closer to him. “This is your future. Do you see it? Look really hard. Your future is in this bucket. Know that if you double-cross me I won’t hesitate. Your feet will be so heavy from the concrete surrounding them that when I drop you into Lake Michigan you won’t even have time to suck in one final gasp of air. Nobody will find you. Nobody will care. So it’s your choice.”
Phoenix closed his eyes.
I pulled the gag from his mouth so he could talk. “Now, say thank you.”
“What?” His voice was hoarse.
“For giving you a choice. Say thank you. And tell me everything you know. Or else… I’m placing your feet into the concrete bucket and praying for your damned soul.”
Phoenix seemed to actually think about it, which proved his idiocy right then and there. If he had to think about whether he’d rather live than die? That meant his shit was deep and he didn’t see a way out of it except death on both ends.
“Damn.” I pulled up a metal chair and took a seat across from him. “That bad, huh? Who’s got you, Phoenix?”
“It’s…” He cursed. “It’s complicated.”
“Families always are.”
There was a pregnant pause while he continued to stare at the bucket. “I’m imagining it.”
“What?”
“Which death would be quicker.”
“I won’t shoot you.” I laughed. “Sorry, but the minute you tried to rape Tracey was the minute you lost all rights to a quick death.”
“I know,” Phoenix snapped. “I’m just—”
“Thinking.” I pulled out my brass knuckles and slid them onto my right hand. “Allow me to help with your decision.”
The knuckles dug into the flesh on the right side of his jaw as I pulled back from the punch.
Phoenix swore, but otherwise did nothing.
“Say thank you.” I swore.
“Thank you.” Blood dripped from Phoenix’s face onto his white shirt.
“Thank you, what?” I cupped my ear.
“Sir. Thank you, sir.”
“For?”
“Being gracious and giving me a choice.”
“Better.” I took off the knuckles and wiped them on my jeans. “Now, what would you like to tell me?”
He smirked and leaned back in his chair. “You’re all going to die—and you don’t even know the worst part.”
“Oh, it gets worse?” I laughed bitterly. “Tell me. Now.”
“A shitstorm’s coming your way and you have no idea. Neither does the Nicolosi family. Everyone thinks this is about some old beef, some jealousy between the Alfero and Abandonato families? Hell no. It’s not about jealousy. It’s about blood. It’s about the wrong blood leading; it’s about the secret your family’s been keeping—is still keeping. And the best part?” He leaned forward, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’ll take it all the way to the bottom of Lake Michigan. Hell, I may not get a last breath, but I’ll die with a smile on my face knowing that you never even knew who your real father was.”
I don’t remember how many times I hit him before he passed out. Blood dripped from both my hands and I still wanted more. What the hell kind of mind game was Phoenix playing?
I quickly dialed Uncle Tony’s number and told him to meet me. We needed to move faster than I thought—I needed all the information, the leads that we’d collected over the years, the evidence. I wanted and needed it all.
Something told me we were running out of time faster than I could possibly imagine, and I knew Phoenix held the key. The only question? Who was holding the information over his head?