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  “Right.” I nodded. I’d like to think I’d come a long way with the whole anger-management thing. At least now I could be decent and ask questions without pulling out my gun first. “Does that upset you?” Wow, I was borderline channeling a therapist with that deep-as-shit question. I inwardly groaned.

  “Do you know anything?” Trace’s eyes pooled with tears. I lifted my hands in surrender.

  “Trace, I—”

  “I love you!” She all but shouted, causing people to look in our direction. I know I shouldn’t have laughed, but I couldn’t help it; her expression was so confused.

  “I love you too,” I said slowly, my smile fading as her eyes laced with more sadness. “So what is this about?”

  Her nostrils flared just a bit as she lifted up her left hand.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  She pointed at her hand.

  I kept staring. Did she cut herself or something? Hell, did she know I was packing and was pissed that I had a gun a few feet away from the priest? Or had Chase’s nuptials caused her to lose her mind?

  She pointed at her ring finger.

  And then, I felt like an absolute idiot. “Oh!”

  “Shh!” Tex nudged me then kicked me in the calf. We were all standing side by side waiting to go in to the ceremony, but Chase and Mil had yet to return.

  “You mean you’re…” I couldn’t find the words. When had that ever happened? I was born to talk my way out of any and every situation. If the President of the United States needed me to sweet-talk a terrorist, I wouldn’t even blink, but now? Nothing. Game over.

  “She’s not pregnant, you idiot.” Mo hissed from behind me. “What I think she’s trying to say, you know, without actually saying it—”

  “Thanks, Mo,” Trace grumbled.

  “—is that she wants to get married.” Mo grinned triumphantly. “So… grow a pair and put a ring on it.”

  Tex snickered behind me.

  I lifted the back of my jacket to reveal both of my pistols.

  The snickering stopped.

  “Still the boss,” I said.

  “Still an ass,” Mo sang.

  “Or the devil,” Tex added. “However you want to put it.”

  Trace gave me a sassy smile. “I was trying to be suggestive.”

  “Suggestive, huh?” I licked my lips and looked at her chest. “You sure that’s what you meant?”

  “I had a plan.” She grinned. “Suggestive first, seduction next—”

  “Unplanned pregnancy to trap mob boss, third.” Tex coughed.

  “I’m sorry.” Mo released his arm. “I can’t walk down the aisle with this ass hat. Change partners? Anyone? Anyone?” she called.

  “Get in line.” I nudged my sister and looked behind her just in time to see Chase and Mil walk hand in hand toward the front of the line.

  “I love you, baby.” I kissed Trace’s cheek. “We’ll talk later, alright?”

  She nodded and let me go while I took my position with Chase at the front of the church. I was his best man. Thank God it wasn’t for his wedding with Trace. I would have had to be three sheets to the wind to stay good on that particular promise.

  Chapter Five

  Mil

  I watched each of the couples slowly walk down the aisle. The entire church was lit with candles. It was meant to be beautiful — special, but all I felt was sick to my stomach and trapped — as if I was screaming and drowning, yet no one was able to offer help. No life raft. No savior. Just… nothingness.

  “Ready?” Luca Nicolasi held out his elbow. I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to yell no and run screaming out of the church — but I couldn’t be that girl. That choice was made for me. My dreams of a normal life? Stolen, just like my childhood. I pushed back the dark memories and regained control of my emotions. I was going to be okay. Everything was going to be fine.

  “I’m ready,” I said, more confident than I felt, taking Luca’s arm with mine. Never would I have imagined that I’d be getting married at twenty, or that Luca, basically the most hated boss known to all the American mafia families, would be walking me down the aisle.

  Well, at least I had evil on my side; that had to be good, right? Nobody would try to shoot me as I made my way toward Chase.

  I took one step then another. People stood. Everyone was wearing black. Funny, because it really fit my mood. Forced smiles, undying loyalty, suspicion, riches — this was my life.

  Every girl imagined marrying someone she loved — a prince or a knight in shining armor. Not the villain who has an A-plus in torturing information out of people, and not the one person who was the equivalent to the final nail-in-the-coffin called life. By marrying him, I was solidifying myself within the family. The only escape for me would be death — and I had a choking feeling it would be sooner rather than later. After all, it was only a matter of time before the truth about my family was discovered.

  In that moment, I realized I wasn’t a bride on her wedding day — I was a prisoner on death row, and they’d just unlocked my cell. By saying yes I was securing my fate. The way I saw it, marrying Chase just prolonged the inevitable. Funny, because death wasn’t something brides usually contemplated while taking those final steps to the altar — but hell if I didn’t reek of it.

  I stopped directly in front of Chase and licked my lips. His clear green eyes looked about two seconds away from bursting into flames. Either he was really pissed or — nah, I couldn’t even entertain the thought of him being attracted to me. At least I knew with Chase my heart was safe — because his had been spoken for a long time ago, and I knew it would take a lot more than a desperate girl in a wedding dress to put the mess that was Chase Winter back together again.

  “Who gives this woman?” the priest asked.

  “I do,” Luca said with a menacing grin. “I give her.” As he bent over to kiss my cheek, he whispered in my ear. “I give, I take, I steal, I destroy — never forget who truly pulls the strings, my dear. I will be watching.” He pulled back and sighed as if he hadn’t just threatened my life, and took a seat in the front row. I couldn’t shaking as I put my hand in Chase’s grasp.

  His eyes darted down to our hands. Quickly, he pulled me closer to his side and whispered so his lips were touching my ear. “I’ve got this. I’ve got you, Mil.”

  It was the first time in months I’d actually felt safe.

  Chapter Six

  Chase

  She was shaking like a damn leaf. Had it really been necessary for Luca to scare her half to death on her wedding day? Didn’t she, of all people, deserve a break? I tried to focus on keeping myself calm as we recited our vows. What seemed like seconds passed, and then the announcement was made.

  “I present to you Mr. And Mrs. Chase Abandonato.” They had to use my legal name, rather than Winter. Damn, if it didn’t feel weird hearing it out loud.

  The audience, mostly filled with family who weren’t currently serving prison time — and those who visited from Sicily — clapped and stood.

  I raised Mil’s hand into the air and forced a smile, just as my gaze fell on Trace. And just like that, I was done. No longer was I the one comforting Mil. I needed comfort. Damn, I needed something, because I was ready to put a gun to my head. Breathing suddenly became overrated as I watched Trace’s teary smile.

  Her. I’d always wanted it to be her.

  Life wasn’t merely unfair; it was unjust, uncontrollably bleak, and dark — because the only thing I’d ever wanted had been her, and I’d lost her, lost everything dear to me and gained another full responsibility. How shitty of a husband could I be? I mean, less than two minutes after saying I’d love and protect Mil with my life, and I wanted to end it — all because Trace had smiled at me.

  “Let’s go.” Mil tugged my hand, pulling my gaze away from Trace’s and back to all the smiling faces around me. No one knew the reason Mil and I were getting married. Nixon had fabricated such a ridiculously good story that even I would have believed it, had I not be
en living my own personal hell these past few months.

  According to every person present at the wedding, Mil and I had reconnected at Phoenix’s funeral, and the rest was history. Love at first sight and all that.

  We walked arm-in-arm down the aisle, wordlessly gripping one another as if each of us was waiting for the other to be the first to crack. To hell with that. I wasn’t going to show weakness — I couldn’t. I’d messed up too much in the past few months. It was time to do my job regardless of my personal feelings in the matter. I had been slacking — I’d allowed a girl to get so deep under my skin that I’d forgotten what I was. A born killer, a made man, son of a very dead mafia boss — and husband to one of the De Lange leaders.

  As far as Mil was concerned, I was it. I just needed to prove to her that I could take it — that I could push past my sorry-ass heartbreak and be the man she needed me to be, because after seeing the look of sheer terror on her face as she walked down the aisle, I had come to one conclusion. She was hiding something big. The pit of my stomach dipped — whatever that something was — it could very well get us all killed.

  ****

  “Ten bucks says the only person not packing is Mil’s grandma by marriage,” Mo said once we’d all finished eating our dinner, which had basically been a painful process of chewing, swallowing, drinking unhealthy amounts of wine, and trying to stare at my plate to keep from looking at Trace, while my wife sat next to me. Hell had officially risen to earth, and I was smack-dab in the middle of it, trying my damnedest to remember how to swallow without choking — without dying a little bit inside each time I saw him touch her face. And trying not to feel like an ass when Mil caught me staring — again. I’d resolved about an hour ago to actually be the man she needed me to be, and I was already failing. Horribly. The second time I looked, Mo kicked at me under the table but accidently hit Tex instead, causing everyone to look up, which was probably why Mo had said what she had.

  We all turned heads to look at the hundred-year-old woman. She was currently on her fourth glass of wine and looked to be about two seconds away from falling into her chicken cacciatore.

  “Nope.” Nixon shook his head. “It’s always the ones you don’t suspect. My money’s on Grandma.”

  “I’ll take that bet.” Tex rose. “Seems like someone needs to fall on their own knife and all that. This has to be the most depressing wedding I’ve ever gone to, and that includes the fake one Mo made for her kittens when she was four.”

  “They lived happily ever after.” Mo tilted her head into the air and narrowed her eyes.

  Tex leaned down and tapped her on the nose. “Yes, if happily means they lived for five damn minutes before marching directly into oncoming traffic.”

  “I think the wedding reception just hit its low point,” Mil muttered. “Save us, Tex. I beg you. Find the gun, and I’ll give you a prize.”

  “Prize?” Tex’s eyes lit up. “As in—”

  “As in her new husband won’t punch you in the face. You’re welcome. Hooray for prizes!” I did a fake punch into the air. “Now go create some excitement before Nixon starts picking people off with his semi-automatic.”

  Nixon rolled his eyes. “Right, like I’d even bring—”

  “It’s in the SUV,” Trace answered, sounding bored. “Saw it when I took out my dress.”

  “Damn.” He looked away.

  Just then a very drunk-looking cousin, Vinnie, got up and took the microphone from the band. “Look here! I have a toast to the bride and groom!” Shrill feedback from the microphone pierced the air, and Vinnie staggered, seemed to struggle, but finally found his footing. The microphone stand wobbled and then fell onto the stage with a loud clang. In a rush to grab it, Vinnie tripped over the cord and landed flat on his ass with a loud “Oomph.”

  “For the love of God, save us all,” I grumbled, pushing Tex toward Grandma. Hopefully that would provide us some entertainment even if it was just watching them talk. Right, that’s how bad things had gotten.

  We all sat at the table, the very depressing bridal party table, and watched as Tex slowly made his way toward the elderly woman.

  “This won’t end well,” Trace said under her breath. “The man has the subtleness of a bomb.”

  “Exactly.” Mo grinned from ear to ear. “I did say we needed entertainment, didn’t I?”

  “Mo…” Nixon warned.

  “He cheated on me, Nixon. Let me have my fun,” she said smoothly.

  “He what?” Nixon roared, jumping to his feet. Curious stares pinned in our direction as Mo grabbed his hand and pulled him back to his seat.

  I let out a low whistle. Dysfunctional didn’t even begin to cover it.

  “I’ve got this. You aren’t the only one who knows how to use his powers for evil, brother. Revenge is a bitch. Isn’t that what they say, Trace?”

  She looked guiltily down at her hands. Yeah, double meanings I could really do without. Hopefully, Mo wasn’t going to get Tex shot at our wedding, not that I’d be against it. This was the first I’d heard of him cheating. Granted, Mo hadn’t really been all that for sharing recently. She’d been as secretive as ever. Something told me it was for a reason, but I’d been too wrapped up in my own drama to even ask. How bad did I suck as a half-brother? Bad, real bad. On a scale of one to ten in the suckiness department, I’d be around an eleven.

  Tex finally reached his unlucky target and sat down in the chair next to Grandma, his smile wide. I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but his hands were all over the place, and then he set one hand on the old lady and winked.

  “Oh, this isn’t going to end well.” Mo chuckled. “She hates being touched.”

  “It is Tex,” I pointed out. “She could do a lot worse.”

  “Doubtful.” Mo snorted, crossing her arms.

  Holy shit, what the hell? I really had been living under my own personal rock somewhere. What had gone down? And how didn’t I know about it?

  I winced when Tex moved his other hand next to Grandma’s leg. Probably wouldn’t be a good time to tell him that she’d seen her fair share of murder. I almost closed my eyes when she looked down at his hand.

  “Aw, shit.” Nixon shook his head. “You had to challenge him, Mo.”

  Mo’s face twisted into a murderous smile as she pointed and exclaimed, “Game. Set. Match!”

  Grandma had Tex by the balls.

  “Ouch!” This from Mil.

  “Look, I know it’s not me.” I cringed when Tex’s face twisted in pain. “But I can literally feel my sperm dying.”

  “That’s too bad.” Nixon smirked in my direction. “Because I was hoping to see little Chases running around now that you’re married.”

  I didn’t laugh.

  Neither did anyone else.

  Nixon immediately looked apologetic, but it didn’t matter. It was done, he’d released those idiotic words out into the atmosphere. No take backs.

  And it had officially gotten more awkward — didn’t think that was possible, but there it was. The only sounds were those of Vinnie still trying to make his toast, and Tex’s screams coupled with Mo’s laughter. I was officially ready to call it a night.

  I stood. “Let’s go, Mil.”

  Wordless, she put her hand in mine as we said our goodbyes and walked out the door. Not once did I look at Trace or Nixon. It was as if the door was my only salvation. In walking out, I was leaving them and starting my own life. Hell, even if it ended in death, it would still be better than sitting on the sidelines while my best friend screwed the girl I loved.

  Past tense.

  My feet crossed the threshold. I paused. I hated that hesitation was becoming my new thing, but I had to know. Was she watching, or did she even freaking care?

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  They were gone.

  And my answer was again made clear. So I walked forward and gripped Mil’s hand a little tighter, damning my family to hell the entire freaking way.

  Chapter Seven

/>   Mil

  If you asked me, rejection sucked worse than getting shot at, and I’d been shot at a lot. Chase’s muscles tensed as we walked to the waiting SUV. Because of the seriousness of the situation, I’d turned down the opportunity for a vacation. Right. That was the last thing I needed, but Chase wouldn’t have any of that, so we were stuck together for four days in the last place I wanted to be.

  Vegas.

  To be fair, it was close to fly to, and the cabin we were supposed to rent for the extended weekend had fallen through.

  Our flight left tomorrow.

  I had seven hours alone with the man before I was able to drink myself into a stupor on the plane. God help us all.

  I stole a glance at Chase. It would be easier if he were ugly — unfortunately, he was a god masquerading as a mortal. He was so sexy that I swear it strained my eyes to look in his direction for periods longer than five seconds. Dark hair fell just below his ears, meeting a strong jaw line that was just as muscular as the rest of him. When he was pissed, that same muscle twitched like crazy. His teeth were a perfect white and almost looked predatory when he smiled. A large warm arm wrapped around my waist, and I was reminded all over again why I’d wanted him in the first place. Chase was anything but safe. In fact, he was damn hazardous to my health. But he was also loyal. And I needed loyal more than anything.

  I knew whatever he learned from me — he’d take to his grave.

  If he hadn’t totally ruined my first sexual experience when I was fifteen, it’s possible I’d like him — well, that and the whole fact that his heart wasn’t even in his possession anymore. But maybe that was a good thing; it made what we both had to do easier. He killed, bribed, worked — and I stood by and let him.

  “You okay?” Chase asked after he’d gotten into the car and buckled his seatbelt.

  “Peachy.”

  “Don’t say peachy, Mil. It doesn’t suit you. Kinda scares the hell out of me.”