Envy: An Eagle Elite Novella Read online

  It was hard.

  They were mafia bosses—I got it.

  Or at least I thought I understood it since I had grown up around it. But my upbringing wasn’t as severe. My dad was a Nicolasi and always kept things quiet around us. It wasn’t until I was twelve that I realized it wasn’t normal for us to make as much money as we did through two jewelry stores and five laundromats.

  I wrongly assumed that every business owner with a lot of cash drove a bulletproof Mercedes to protect their family. The older I got, the more horrified I became of the life my father lived, the life he forced us to live, and the complete unrest I felt every time I closed my eyes and prayed for him to come home.

  He was a made man.

  One of the best in the family, which meant Phoenix trusted him, which in turn meant he trusted me to watch his little boy. And every time Phoenix looked at his phone I wondered if it was my dad texting, if he was alive, if he was okay. He’d been gone for a month. We hadn’t heard from him except for a few “hey, I’m alive” texts.

  I hated this life.

  And I wanted out.

  “Renee.” Nixon leaned down and touched my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  I stilled.

  Remembered not to look directly into his eyes and forced a smile. “I’m just tired, you know how it is.”

  “Kids do that to a person,” Phoenix piped in, finally sheathing the knives he’d apparently pulled out in the last few seconds that I’d been thinking about my dad. “We need to leave in five.”

  Nixon stood.

  I looked away.

  I had to.

  It made me sick to my stomach the blood these men had on their hands and the way they so casually talked about killing as if they were discussing the latest episode of This Is Us.

  I forced a smile at Serena and Junior just as the front door swung open, nearly coming off its hinges.

  There he stood.

  My nightmare.

  Vic Corazon Abandonato.

  In all his gory glory.

  Tight black pants.

  Tight black shirt.

  Enough guns strapped to him to win an all-out war.

  And no smile.

  The man never smiled. It wasn’t in his makeup to smile. The one time he smiled was at Chase, and I think it was just a happy accident because Chase looked as shocked as the rest of the group did. I glanced away, again making sure I wasn’t drawing attention to myself, and fed the kids.

  Vic was a silent killer. I imagined that people didn’t even know they were dying until they saw the blood running like a river from their chests.

  I shivered.

  That’s what assassins for the mafia did. They weren’t made men, they weren’t in line for boss. They did the dirty work-and they took the fall for it. They had one job. Protect the family at all costs.

  He was the exact opposite of what I wanted for my life. He wasn’t the happily ever after.

  I suddenly couldn’t wait to leave for school the following week. I was studying journalism at Brown, and even though I was going to be leaving the kids behind, I was ready to leave all of this behind too.

  Freedom. Finally.

  The death, the blood, the stares from Vic when he thought I wasn’t looking.

  I self-consciously tucked my cropped black hair behind my ears and stood, picking up both kids and carrying them out of the room just as Nixon laughed and said, “You scared her away.”

  Vic’s smooth, arrogant voice fired back. “It’s what I do best. Scare people.”

  Seconds later I walked back into the room to grab one of the discarded toys Serena needed. I didn’t miss the way his eyes locked on me before he gave me his back. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding with a shudder and moved the kids as far away from the devil as I could.

  If only I could save them.

  Protect their innocence for more than one summer.

  And keep the darkness at bay just a little bit longer.

  Chapter Two

  Vic

  She made it impossible not to stare, with her luscious pink lips and hooded brown-eyed gaze, almost like she was Sleeping Beauty waking up from a long, much-needed nap. It hurt like hell knowing that a woman like that would never look twice at a man like me.

  A foot soldier.

  Killer.

  Demon.

  I had no heart or soul to give her—I’d already sworn it to the families. Besides, what use did I have for fairytales?

  “You’re scarier looking than usual.” Nixon piped up from the back seat, smug expression firmly in place. Between the ink on both arms, chest, and the lip piercing, he looked anything but a mob boss. More like a motorcycle gang leader who’d gotten lost in the Chicago suburbs.

  Phoenix cracked a rare smile while I kept my eyes locked on the road ahead of me, on the task at hand. I pulled up to Chase’s house and waited.

  When he didn’t show after five minutes, Phoenix leaned over the console and honked the horn.

  Bringing attention to us.

  To me.

  I scowled and quickly checked the perimeter.

  Behind us all clear.

  Next to us clear.

  No cars in sight.

  I exhaled in relief. “Boss, I would really appreciate you not letting everyone know our location.”

  Phoenix shrugged. “I’d like to see someone try to kill the three of us, on the street we own, in the city we command.”

  A throbbing headache pulsed behind my eyes. “And yet, they do, on a daily fucking basis.”

  “Language.” Nixon piped up from the backseat, waving his gun in the air.

  We’d been trying to cut back on account of the kids.

  I’d already lost a solid fifty dollars to that damn swear jar, and I barely spoke! Nixon said it was because whenever I did speak it was inappropriate for small ears.

  I inwardly rolled my eyes just as the front door opened. Chase’s wide stride ate up the distance as he finally made his way to the SUV and got in.

  “Sorry.” He slammed the door behind him.

  It was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  With a frown I finally looked to Phoenix, whose eyebrows were raised to his hairline.

  Nixon was biting down on his lip with a smirk. “You, ah, you forgot a spot.”

  Chase frowned and then touched his mouth with the back of his hand and wiped off a smear of red lipstick. His voice took on a threatening tone. “Not another word.”

  Nixon held up his hands.

  I chuckled.

  Gaining everyone’s attention.

  “What?” Chase kicked my seat. “Out with it.”

  “Shirt’s on backwards,” I said as I pulled out onto the street to the guys’ howls of laughter and two middle fingers directed at the rearview mirror. “And it’s inside out.”

  “I knew that,” he grumbled, peeling off his shirt and flipping it right-side out. “I was just in a hurry…”

  “Bullshit.” Phoenix coughed.

  “Like I can’t hear you,” Chase growled.

  “You know, it’s okay to have sex with your new wife. Nobody’s going to judge you for that,” Nixon said quietly.

  The tension in the car was so thick I almost jumped out my side and let them fend for themselves.

  Chase’s first wife had betrayed the families.

  He had just gotten married again.

  She was pregnant.

  And things were tense.

  Tense because he didn’t trust anyone anymore.

  Tense because he kept losing his soul with each De Lange kill.

  Tense because we were in a war that I often wondered if we could win, especially with the De Lange family trying to constantly pick a fight. They had nothing left to lose.

  Which meant they were a dangerous foe.

  And since Chase had been nominated as their keeper until we could get them under the four remaining families’ control—that meant he was bloodthirsty and still dealing with a bit of guilt ove
r how his new wife had nearly died just to save him.

  It was a clusterfuck of drama that would keep a sane person awake at night.

  I stayed out of it.

  I stayed out of all of it.

  It was a lonely existence.

  Which made me always circle back to Renee.

  Beautiful. Innocent. Renee.

  Every time I saw her I wanted to yell at her to run. To escape this place and never come back. I’d seen the toll it took on the bosses’ wives. This was no place for a wide-eyed innocent college student who played nanny during the summers.

  I gripped the steering wheel so hard my fingers turned white.

  “What’s wrong with Vic?” Chase’s voice cut through the tense silence. “He’s quieter than usual. Hey, big guy, you pissed I flipped you off?”

  “You flip him off every day,” Phoenix pointed out.

  “He’s always quiet.”

  “You know what would be great?” Chase grinned menacingly into the rearview mirror.

  I didn’t like where this was going. Months ago, I had basically been his babysitter—make sure he doesn’t kill himself or anyone else without permission. And he said he’d get even for cockblocking him early on with Luciana, his wife.

  The worst he could do was kill me.

  I’d probably welcome the peace.

  “What?” I finally asked, taking the next turn and hitting the accelerator. “What would be great, Chase?”

  “If you—” He pointed his knife at me, tapping me on the shoulder. “—got laid.”

  “Here we go,” Phoenix said under his breath.

  “I’m serious. He’s almost as fun to be around as I used to be, and that’s not just sad, that’s bordering on pathetic. You need an orgasm.” I rolled my eyes as a growl escaped my lips. “Or…ten.”

  A prickling sensation ran down my spine as Nixon cut in. “You know he can’t—"

  “—We’re almost there, cut the small talk,” Phoenix barked.

  I turned the next corner and pulled up to the warehouse.

  It was the perfect setup for what we had to do.

  Dante and Sergio were already there with Tex, the cappo. And if things went smoothly, Frank, one of the older, retired bosses, would be there too.

  He played the good cop since none of us really knew how to do that.

  We were bad. Through and through.

  After I parked, I got out of the SUV first, followed by the guys. Every move we made carried the potential for a deadly change in circumstances. I held up my hand for them to stop and opened the warehouse door ahead of them, pointing my gun into the darkness beyond, tensed and waiting for gunshots.

  I always prepared for the worst.

  Body bags.

  Death.

  Cover ups.

  Dante, the Alfero boss, poked his head around the corner and sighed. “They finally gave you a gun?”

  “Shut the hell up.” I shoved past him. “I could have shot you.”

  “Eh, bet you’d miss.”

  I rolled my eyes. Little shit drove me to drink on a daily basis. Literally.

  “You guys finally made it to the party, huh?” Dante crossed his arms and led the way across the cement floor and into the next section of the warehouse. The section that was soundproof, for obvious reasons.

  A man was hanging from the ceiling by his hands next to two others sitting in chairs, their hands tied behind their backs. A gag was in each of their mouths and blood caked their cheeks like a bright blush.

  Frank was standing in the corner with a cigar in his mouth. His scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, and his black fedora—always a hat with that guy—perched on his head like he was on his way to fashion week and decided to stop and dirty himself up a bit.

  Tex had his sleeves rolled up and was slowly loading his gun, taking time with each bullet while the hostages watched. And Sergio was standing next to him with a needle in his gloved hands, always ready to inject some sort of concoction that helped people talk.

  “See?” Dante shrugged. “Party.”

  “Looks like you have things…handled.” Phoenix stepped around me and pulled out one of his knives, then held it out in front of him. “Which one wants to go first?”

  Nobody said a word.

  “Hmm.” Phoenix shrugged. “Guess it’s ladies’ choice…Chase?”

  Fuck you, Chase mouthed before walking over to them. His eyes roamed over their faces like he was memorizing their fear to use against them later; or maybe he was just saving it for himself so he could feed off of it late at night when he needed energy.

  “You.” Chase nodded to the guy hanging from his hands. “You look…petrified.”

  The man didn’t flinch.

  “Fear, it has a certain smell… To some it smells like death, but to men like us? You may as well have given us a shot of adrenaline and added a line of cocaine for kicks… Your fear makes it harder on you. Keep your secrets and die. Keep your secrets and suffer. Those are your choices. Blink once if you want to die.” The man started blinking violently.

  Chase smirked. “That’s what I thought. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me everything you know about who’s currently leading the De Lange family, who’s suddenly decided to start helping finance them and make a war between us—and then Vic here is going to beat you until you lose the ability to ever speak again.” He lowered his voice. “Aren’t I merciful?”

  “A regular fuckin’ saint.” Tex chuckled as he kicked a chair toward the guy’s feet. He stood by while Chase sliced the rope with his knife.

  And when the guy sat on the chair, and the gag was pulled, the first thing the idiot did was spit in Chase’s face.

  I lunged, ready to force the respect out of him.

  Chase held up his hand.

  I hated that feeling. The feeling that I needed permission to end someone when they deserved it.

  This guy deserved it.

  “Something on your mind?” Chase sneered.

  “How’s your new wife?” he countered with a bloody grin; he was already missing two front teeth and his nose looked broken.

  The tension in the room skyrocketed. The De Langes had not only tried to kill Chase’s current wife—they were also the same blood line of his dead wife, the one who’d betrayed the families. Suffice to say, nobody really wanted the De Langes alive, and if you wanted to stay alive, you’d best not mention Chase’s wife to anyone.

  “Alive.” Chase’s voice snapped, causing the tension to thicken even more. “Which is more than I can say about you.” He backed away slowly. “Have fun, Vic…not too much though. Leave some for the rest of us.” He gave me a simple nod. A nod full of respect, full of justice, vengeance. We did not allow rats to live. And I would kill anyone who threatened my family. It was my vow. My curse.

  “I don’t like sharing,” I growled as I moved toward the chair and locked eyes with the next man on the list of men I’d been ordered to kill.

  Tunnel vision.

  Darkness.

  My demons came out to play.

  I smiled.

  While he screamed.

  Chapter Three

  Renee

  “The kids are asleep.” I yawned behind my hand while Trace motioned for me to follow her down the hall. It had been a long day.

  My feet hurt.

  Note to self: Don’t wear new shoes to work when you have kids who run to each new activity like it’s a race. I’d never wanted a massage so bad.

  “Thank you.” She had dark circles under her eyes and wasn’t wearing much makeup, which wasn’t typical of any of the wives. They always looked put together, fierce, expensive, almost like it was part of a uniform. Though if any of them just went natural it would probably be Trace more than the others.

  “Hey.” I touched her arm without thinking about it, then snatched my hand back. “Are you okay?”

  She stared past me like she wasn’t really there in the kitchen with me. “I just…I hate
it when they’re late, you know?”

  “The bosses?”

  “All of them.” She shrugged. “Ever since…” She looked down at the ground. “When you lose one person, it kinda makes you worried you’re going to somehow lose them all. I know it sounds stupid and morbid, but it just wears on you, and when you’re fighting a stupid cold it doesn’t help.”

  I scrunched up my nose. “The cold I can help with. The death. Well, I can only hope and pray that they come home safe.”

  “Thank you.” She pulled me in for a hug.

  I stiffened, then returned it. “For what?”

  “For listening. I try not to burden the other girls. They have enough to worry about without me falling apart.”

  I pulled away. “Being strong sucks, but somebody has to do it.”

  “I know.” She smiled. “So what about the cold, what’s your secret?”

  “Ah.” I went in search of a coffee mug and then went over to the liquor cabinet and poured two shots of whiskey. “Do you have any lemons?”

  “In the fridge.”

  “Great.”

  I grabbed the tea kettle that had been on from the drink I’d made earlier and poured the still hot water into the cup then added the splash of lemon from the fridge. I knew the honey was in the pantry because I’d added it to some toast that morning.

  “Here you go!” I handed the drink over. “Old family trick. Helps with sore throats, but it also makes you sleepy.”

  “Sleep.” She closed her eyes and let out a little moan. “Sounds amazing.”

  “I leave for a few hours and you’re making my wife moan?” Nixon smiled as he walked into the room. His face was tight. His hands didn’t have blood on them, but I imagined that at one point tonight, they had.

  They all had blood on their hands—always would.

  I inspected his clothes like it would make me feel better.

  It didn’t.

  Because they weren’t the same clothes he’d left in, meaning he’d changed so he wouldn’t come home with blood speckles all over his shirt.

  “It’s this stupid cold.” Trace looked ready to stomp her foot. “Sorry, I kept her late tonight so I could try to power through.”

  Nixon bent down and captured her mouth in a searing kiss that had me averting my eyes and looking out the window awkwardly just in time to see Phoenix walk in. He was paranoid about someone kidnapping Junior and hurting Bee whenever he was gone, so they stayed the night at Nixon’s fortress whenever business was serious.