Elicit (Eagle Elite #4)(47)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Nixon reached for his gun, but I grabbed his hand and shook my head.

The girls came charging into the room. Mil went immediately to Chase’s side, calming him down, which was a necessity since a pissed Chase was a violent Chase. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” Chase growled.

Trace looked between us and Tex. An expression of worry crossed her features as she saw Nixon’s hand on the gun and my hand on his.

And lastly there was Mo.

Shit, this wasn’t going to begin or end well. I fought the urge to groan as I watched her face twist with concern.

“Tex?” Her voice was soft, dripping with sensitivity that Tex didn’t deserve nor want. “What are you—”

“Stop talking.” His teeth clenched so tight the muscles to his jaw strained with the need to release. “Now.”

Mo crossed her arms. “This is my house and—”

“It’s Nixon’s house.” Tex shrugged, though it did nothing to relax his shoulders; hell they were up by his ears he was wound so tight. “Now get out of my way before I physically remove you.”

“You wouldn’t—”

Without a word he picked her up off the floor and set her roughly against Nixon before stomping off to his room.

“And so it begins.” I whispered under my breath.

Tears filled Mo’s eyes as she ran towards her room and slammed the door.

“Someone mind telling me what the hell that was?” Chase rose from the floor and touched his swollen cheek.

“That—” I lifted my glass into the air. “—was Vito Campisi Jr. I suggest you sleep with a gun under your pillow.” I was sure going to.

Standing, I slowly made my way down the hall and knocked lightly on Mo’s room. Without waiting for her to answer, I let myself in, closed the door and sighed.

“He didn’t mean it, he didn’t—” She fell into a fit of sobs against the bed.

My heart strained and twisted with rage.

“He’s just not himself and—”

“He’s exactly,” I said softly, “ “himself, and that’s been the problem all along. When you finally accept who you are—the old you is gone only to be replaced with the one true thing in life.”

“Blood,” she whispered.

“Blood,” I agreed sitting on her bed. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Mo. Sorry this didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”

“Are you going to hit on me now? Kiss me and make it better? Hug me and pat my hand then just wait for my heart to heal itself so you can marry me and give me fake promises of a fake future?”

I licked my lips and offered her my hand. “Absolutely not. I’m just going to hold your hand.”

“Oh.”

I squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be here… if you let me… I’ll be here.”

“I don’t know what I want.” She clenched my hand tighter.

“That’s okay too.” I lie down next to her, holding her hand but not touching her. “Sometimes it’s okay just to… be.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

When you marry the man, you marry the mob. Nobody ever tells you that… until it’s too late.

Mo

SERGIO’S HAND SQUEEZED mine tight, so tightly that I swear I lost feeling. I think in his own weird way he was trying to comfort me—but the thing about comfort? It only works if it’s the right person, and yeah, he was the opposite of right. He’d always been.

Wrong for me.

Bad timing, bad memories, just all around bad decisions surrounded me and Sergio’s weird relationship.

Tex, I wanted Tex, but he didn’t return. No, the man that just picked me up and freaking sat me against my brother like a toddler? That wasn’t the man I loved that was someone else entirely. I had to believe it was an act, a way to push us away because of what he was planning to do. After all, people can’t just stop being themselves, can they?

“You’re thinking awfully hard for someone who should be sleeping.” Sergio yawned and turned to me. His dark silky hair fell across a strong jaw with a bit of scruff. He really was pretty to look at.

But I didn’t want pretty.

I wanted bad for me.

I wanted dirty, dangerous. I craved stormy blue eyes, Sergio’s were too green for my taste.

“Did I pass?” He smirked, his white teeth flashing in the darkness.

“Pass what?”

“Inspection?”

I smiled and looked away.

“Ouch.” Sergio sighed. “Guess not.”

“It’s not you—”

“It’s not you, it’s me…” he sang. “Heard it once, heard it a thousand times. Mo, against my own better judgment I’m in here with you. I know who owns your heart, I’m not going to try to pull you from the dark side. Comfort, that’s why I’m here, so stop staring at me like I’m going to try to take off your shirt or kiss you.”

“Sorry.” I croaked, immediately feeling guilty for thinking that exact thing of him.

“Sleep.” Sergio kissed my head. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep and shoot anyone who comes through that door.”

“Even Nixon?” I yawned and turned on my side.

“Especially Nixon. That guy’s had it coming for a while. Don’t worry your pretty little head though—I’ll just graze him.”

“Wow, great bedtime story, Sergio, really, you should teach children or something.”

“Damn, are you saying I missed my calling?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

His warm chuckle calmed me down, not enough to actually relax, but enough to not want to scream or cry or rip my own hair out or Tex’s for that matter.

“Sleep.”

“Bossy.”

“Sleep,” he whispered, this time more harsh. “If you don’t close your eyes I’ll sing, and I have a shit voice.”

“Believe me, I know. I used to sit next to you during Mass.”

Sergio laughed softly. “Guys aren’t meant to sing, we’re meant to shoot things.”

“Again, you’re like walking wisdom.”

“Goodnight, Mafia princess.”

“Night.” I sighed and succumbed to the heaviness in my body, as my eyelids got heavy the last vision I had was of Tex’s mouth right before he kissed me.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

The Mafia is an organization, it’s planning, it’s strategy, but most of all it’s Family. People rarely understand how loyal the Mafia is, that is until it’s too late and that loyalty is tested. Most of those people end up dead.