Elicit (Eagle Elite #4)(35)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“Then walk away.” Sergio grit his teeth. “Leave Mo out of this.”

“No.” Phoenix licked his lips. “She may be the only one close enough to him to make it work.”

Sergio groaned in his hands. “Just this once I’d like to stay out of the Abandonato family drama.”

“Why?” Phoenix shrugged. “When it’s so damn fun?”

I finished telling the girls what happened in the hotel room, my idea about lying to Tex about the pregnancy. I knew he was loyal, above all of us. God, did I know he was loyal. And I used his love, that precious love he had for me, and turned it into a weapon.

“Does he know?” Trace asked softly.

“No,” I whimpered. “I’m afraid to tell him.”

“Rip the damn band aid off.” Mil nodded. “Otherwise he’s going to be pissed and a pissed Tex is not a happy Tex I think we can all agree on that. He’s like the anti-Happy Meal.”

“Right.” I giggled. “With a gun as a toy.”

“And spikes on his box,” Trace joined in.

A knock on the door jolted us from our talk. “Trace?” It was Nixon.

“Yeah?” She walked to the door.

“A minute.” Nixon eyed all of us in the bathroom. “Actually, all of you, in the kitchen, now.”

“Has he gotten more demanding as he ages?” I asked aloud. “Or is it me?”

“He should wear more color,” Mil added. “I think it would make him happier.”

“Trace makes me happy, thank you very much and I’m walking right in front of you, if you girls want to gossip about me, I suggest you text.”

“You monitor our phones,” I pointed out.

“Aw, shucks I guess that leaves no gossip then. Bummer.” Nixon said ahead of me as he wrapped his arm around Trace.

I stuck out my tongue.

“Saw that.” Nixon laughed.

I flipped him off.

“Saw that too, c’mon, Mo, be original.”

“How about I just punch you?” I asked.

Nixon stopped walking and turned. “I’m trying to decide if being married to Tex has made your comebacks worse or better.” He angled his head. “Hmm, worse, I’m going with worse. Now, hurry up.”

By the time we made it into the kitchen it looked like a freaking bomb had exploded on the table.

An empty bottle of whiskey sat in the middle. Phoenix cradled his face as purple bruises blossomed across his left cheek and jaw. He kept clenching and unclenching his teeth as if to try to alleviate some of the ache. Tex was leaning heavily on his chair, his breathing ragged. Sergio had the start of a black eye, and Frank and Luca were talking in hushed tones with Chase all the while Phoenix sent him seething glares.

“Tension.” Mil nodded. “Fantastic.”

“Girls.” Nixon cleared his throat. “You should probably know what’s been going on.” He filled them in on the parts I had left out. When he was done, he looked exhausted.

And I just felt like hell.

I glanced at Tex, hoping, praying a look of understanding would pass between us, water under the bridge, I tried to save his life, that sort of thing.

Instead he looked right through me.

As if I didn’t exist.

Anger, I could handle from him.

Indifference?

It was like twisting a knife into my heart and leaving it there, I took a step towards him but was held back by Nixon.

“So.” Nixon sighed. “Phoenix is going to be staying here just until The Commission.”

All eyes darted to Trace, who had gone suddenly silent.

She licked her lips and walked over to Phoenix and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t.” Phoenix said hoarsely. “Whatever your about to say, don’t say it. I don’t think I could handle it, don’t think I want to. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or the peace it would bring me. So don’t be yourself, Trace. For once in your life be the bitch. Slap me or something, because it would hurt a hell of a lot less than your forgiveness.”

Trace nodded as a tear fell down her face.

“I don’t have a leg to stand on,” Phoenix whispered. “But I’ll protect you, all of you.” He lifted his head. “With my life. My word is all I have now. It’s my air, it’s my soul, it’s my heart. All I have to offer is my gun.”

“We’ll take it.” Trace answered for Nixon.

Nixon and Chase nodded while Tex continued to stare at the wall.

I tried to move towards him again and Nixon again pulled me back like I was some sort of child.

“Sleep,” Nixon demanded. “Grab a bite to eat and go rest, I know it’s only seven but we have a big day of planning ahead of us. And a pissed off Campisi that wants Tex’s head.”

“Just give it to them, then,” Tex mumbled. “It’s what you want.”

“What I want?” Nixon roared. “Doesn’t really matter, now does it, Tex? What I want is peace. What I get is war. What I want is for my sister to be happy. What I get, is you,” he freaking growled before pulling me tighter against him. “You’re going to help us fix this whether you like it or not, then you’re going to be the man you were raised to be.”

Tex lifted his head. “That I can do.”

“What do you mean?” I jerked free from Nixon. “What the hell do you mean?”

“Your husband,” Nixon said in a cold voice, “is choosing blood.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Mafia isn’t romantic. Regardless of what people believe, there is nothing romantic about gunshot wounds and death. Only tragedy, yet there is romance in the perfect death, knowing you’ve died to save others. That’s as romantic as we get.

Tex

THE LOOK ON MO’S FACE damn near broke my heart… then again, she’d been breaking my heart only to put it back together then break it again for the past year so why should now be any different? I hated that my number one concern wasn’t staying alive—but making sure she was okay. I was freaking bleeding all over the floor and I was worried about the cut above her eye, about her bum leg, and about the fact that I’d just told her to her face that when it came down to it.

I wasn’t going to choose her.

But did she know? What that decision cost me? What it would end up giving her? An actual life. A chance at happiness. Probably not, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to defend myself, not after finding out that she’d lied to me.