Enrage Page 4

  I closed my eyes.

  I’d promised.

  I’d promised her never again.

  I’d promised no fighting.

  I’d promised.

  Chicago was a fresh start.

  A new start.

  But I salivated at the thought…

  Of fresh blood on my knuckles, of the sound of flesh tearing open, bone against bone.

  “Midnight,” he dropped casually.

  Something was thrust into my right hand, the one without the knife.

  I stood there.

  Swaying in the wind.

  Feeling like nothing but a failure.

  Because it wasn’t El I was thinking of.

  Or my sister.

  Or the family I swore to serve.

  It wasn’t any of them that I was thinking of.

  It was me.

  And only me.

  And the fact that it had been too long since I’d tasted blood.

  When I opened my eyes, I expected fear. I expected El to be horrified, to look away in disgust to try to reprimand me like my sister would.

  Instead, she sighed heavily and said, “I’ll cover for you.”

  “Why?” My voice was hoarse with emotion that sure as hell didn’t belong in any cell of my body. Emotion got you killed. Emotion had never done me any favors.

  “Because.” She licked her lips, a flush spread across her cheeks. “That’s what friends do.”

  “We aren’t friends.”

  “That’s my condition.” Her chin lifted in defiance. “Friendship for lies.”

  “I don’t need your lies or your friendship.”

  She was quiet before her hand closed over mine, as she tugged the knife free and wiped it on the inside of her skirt and very carefully closed it and placed it in my backpack on the grass. “That’s where you’re wrong. I think you need both… more than you’ll ever know.”

  “I can’t trust you.”

  “I never said trust was a condition.”

  We stared each other down. I hated looking at her, hated recognizing her beauty. It was why I tried not to focus on her mouth, her eyes; instead I stared at her forehead like it was going to give me answers. The only hint that she was bluffing, that she was trying her best to be strong, was the slight crease in her brow, and the way that, when I did glance at her mouth, she sucked in her bottom lip only to release it when she realized it was a tell.

  “You’re afraid,” I finally said.

  She hung her head and whispered, “Friendship for lies. What will it be?”

  I swung my backpack over my shoulder and pulled the keys for the Mercedes out of my pocket. “Let me think about it.”

  We drove in silence the entire way home.

  CHAPTER TEN

  El

  I COULD SMELL the blood on my skirt. It was metallic, burned my nostrils, made me feel dirty. By the time we made it home I was already mentally stripping away all of my clothes, imagining a life where blood wasn’t a normal part of my existence.

  Where I didn’t have to be strong.

  Where I was allowed to feel something other than fear.

  I’d kissed him.

  I shouldn’t have.

  I’d had no other choice.

  I’d had to prove that I belonged to someone — something.

  If there was anything the mafia had taught me, it was that when you belonged to blood you were protected by it.

  And I’d never been in such dire need of protection in my entire life, even if it meant I was exchanging one monster for another.

  “How was school?” Chase smirked at us the minute we waltzed into the house.

  I opened my mouth.

  Dante slapped a hand over it and shrugged casually. “Homework, when’s dinner?”

  “Do I look like your bitch?” Chase’s eyebrows rose.

  “No, you just make pasta like one,” Nixon said sweeping into the room, his smug grin firmly in place. “But seriously, Chase, what’s for dinner?”

  I didn’t know how to deal with these people.

  With their easy teasing.

  It was equal parts laughter.

  Equal parts violence.

  I was always confused.

  Never prepared for either.

  Before I could respond to the fact that Nixon was tossing an apron at Chase while Mil popped open a wine bottle and Trace, Nixon’s wife brought a baby for Nixon to kiss.

  On the face.

  Like he didn’t have multiple kills on his hands.

  Dante had jerked me down the hall.

  And into his bedroom.

  A place I’d never been.

  I was always on the other side.

  Living in fear of the three hundred square foot bathroom that separated us, always watching, waiting, for him to pounce.

  For anyone to see what Petrov had seen.

  And take.

  The door closed with a dull thud. Dante flicked on the lights and fan then very slowly started stripping out of his T-shirt.

  It was happening.

  I tried to calm my nerves.

  The sickness that spread throughout my stomach, because no matter how good-looking he was, I was going to be another chess piece in a game I had never asked to play.

  In a game I would never win.

  He faced me. “They see blood anywhere and they’re going to ask questions, especially if it’s not yours or mine.”

  I froze, my hands were dead at my side.

  He scowled. “El, you need to take off your skirt so I can wash it, I’ll shower after so they don’t suspect anything, but we can’t just toss it into the hamper.”

  Stunned, I just stared.

  And then he was reaching for me.

  I jerked back.

  He winced as a muscle popped in his jaw. “I only like the willing.”

  It was my turn to flinch.

  “The skirt.” He held out his hands. “Trust me, I’ve seen it all, if it makes you feel better I can turn around, but the longer we’re in here doing homework the more they’re going to suspect something, so if you want to be my friend, if you want this to work, you have to suck it up and make a sacrifice — compromise.”

  With a slow nod, I unzipped my skirt and let it drop to the floor.

  True to his word, his eyes only focused on the material, not my legs, ass, or anything else.

  Not even the scar that still marred my thigh.

  Or the ugly stitches that were still healing with it.

  “Hey, Dante?” Chase pounded on the door. “I know you said you were doing homework, but I heard the shower turn on, can I talk with you—” The knob turned.

  Dante cursed and shoved me into the shower clothes and everything, then hopped in to join me, jerking the curtain closed just in time for Chase to walk in.

  Dante blocked my body with his. “Is this prison? Do I have no privacy?”

  Chase laughed. “Nope. Never. Welcome to the family.”

  Dante sagged against me.

  And I let him.

  For the first time in a long time, the heaviness of a man’s body didn’t feel suffocating — it felt — protective.

  I kept my arms pinned at my sides as he breathed out a curse. “Chase, I’ll be done in a minute.”

  “I was twenty once, I know what long showers are all about.”

  Dante smirked. “You do realize you’re like three years older than me, right? You’re not old, Chase.”

  Chase was quiet and then. “Wouldn’t get too comfortable in there, we have thirty minutes of boxing before dinner.”

  “Since when?” Dante roared, slamming his hand near my head.

  I winced.

  He sent me an apologetic look.

  “Since I need to blow off some steam,” Chase raged.

  “Can’t you beat the shit out of someone else?”

  “Nope, you’re my new favorite.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Glad you see it my way.” Chase chuckled. “Oh, and wh
en you see El again tell her Frank’s looking for her.”

  “Yup.” Dante sucked in another breath as steam billowed around us.

  The door clicked shut.

  Dante and I locked eyes.

  He was beautiful. The type of man that was bad for you, the kind that I knew I would never be able to trust, because he was able to be whoever you needed him to be.

  In the moment.

  And I’d known a guy like the once.

  He’d promised me everything.

  And I’d believed him.

  Because he told me he’d keep me safe.

  He’d lied.

  I had believed all the pretty lies because of the package, but when it counted, I suffered for it.

  My only job had been to live.

  To survive.

  I wouldn’t fail again.

  Dante’s eyes raked over me, his half-lidded glance told me everything I needed to know.

  “Why?” his eyes searched.

  “Why what?” My weak voice betrayed me.

  “You could have hugged me. Why kiss someone you hate?”

  I sidestepped him, our arms brushed, my body shivered. “Why kiss them back?”

  The first smile I’d seen on his face appeared, like he was letting me see behind the cool chilly mask he liked to wear.

  I sucked in a breath and nearly fell back against the curtain.

  No man had any right to be that beautiful.

  Or haunting.

  “Because,” he whispered gruffly, “it felt good.”

  I wasn’t expecting that.

  Or the way his eyes darted to my mouth before quickly looking above my head like the tile was more interesting than anything I had to offer.

  “Play with fire…” he said in a low voice. “Don’t kiss me again.”

  I tried not to react, but something about Dante always made it… difficult, like I wasn’t physically capable of putting on the armor I was so used to wearing in order to survive.

  I bit down on my lip, buying time to gather my thoughts, if I reacted to him, he’d see I was weak, if I did nothing he’d think I was stupid, and if I flirted with him, he’d call me on my bullshit.

  The only choice I had was to give him a slow nod of my head, making sure he understood that there was nothing he had that I wanted.

  We might as well be brother and sister.

  “Friends don’t kiss,” I finally said. “And I’m sorry.” And I was, I really was.

  “The truth?” He finally looked down at me again as his icy eyes swirled with intensity. “Tell me the truth.”

  I opened my mouth, and then closed it.

  He tilted my chin toward him with nothing but his right hand, one finger, his pointer finger, and I was already feeling an awakening pulse through my body.

  This was wrong.

  All wrong.

  I hated men.

  Right?

  Men were the reason I was in that damn shower.

  They promised to protect.

  To save.

  They killed.

  “The truth,” he said again, his eyes raking me over as if I was being interrogated, and if I answered wrong I’d suffer for it.

  I gulped then met his stare. “I was afraid.”

  “Of what?” his mouth was so close, I memorized the way his lips slid together like he was waiting for bad news.

  I measured the seconds by my heavy breathing and finally said, “Everything.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dante

  THE FEARFUL LOOK in El’s eyes haunted me the entire way to my twin Val’shouse. And when it became unnervingly clear that Chase was suspicious about my homework — considering it was only the second time I’d even mentioned it — he decided it would be best if he joined in on dinner at my sister’s.

  This was, of course, delivered in typical Chase form, after clipping me in the chin at the end of our sparring session.

  I tried not to touch the already bruising skin as I scowled across the table at him.

  Chase had said he needed to blow off steam.

  Which basically translated as, don’t fight back until I tell you it’s allowed.

  And wouldn’t you know? He never asked me to fight back.

  So I defended myself and let him hit.

  His cold eyes met mine briefly before shuttering.

  Normally this would be a point where he’d crack a joke, or say something inappropriate that would call out all the tension swirling around the dinner table.

  Instead, he drank more wine and leaned back in his chair like it wasn’t awkward as hell that I was sitting between my sister and her new husband.

  Literally in between them.

  She had to know it made me want to crawl out of my skin, the fact that the guy who touched her, who killed without blinking was sitting to my left and my innocent young sister was sitting to my right, all easy smiles with stars in her eyes, like Sergio Abandonato was fucking responsible for the moon being hung in the sky at the exact angle she preferred.

  “So…” Val elbowed me and reached for another piece of bread. Everything had shifted between us the day I confessed to knowing about our family, our heritage, the day I confessed to the lie I’d been living in order to protect her. A chasm had fractured between us and then when she’d gone and married into the family, it had grown until I barely recognized what we’d been before all the shit hit the fan.

  We used to be close.

  Now I was uncomfortable in the same room as them.

  And that fed the anger, because I hated that they had taken one more thing from me that I didn’t even realize I was at the risk of losing before it was too late.

  “How are classes?”

  “How. Are. Classes.” I repeated in a surly voice. “It’s been one day, Val.”

  Sergio cleared his throat on the other side of me.

  I dropped my fork onto my plate and leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “They’re good, Val.”

  Sergio put another piece of bread on my plate, followed by another. “Eat.”

  Chase snickered across from me, still not eating a damn thing, but drink he did. I was ready to steal the bottle from him and make a run for it.

  “Good!” She sounded so damn hopeful, I felt guilty. “Do you think you’re going to declare a major—”

  I groaned at about the same minute Chase’s eyebrows lifted. He scooted a glass of wine across the table. I shook my head no, and his look seemed to say, your loss.

  “Val,” I started, and Sergio gave me a murderous look that I was one hundred percent certain he’d follow through on if I lost my temper again. Last time I’d broken dishes. This time, well this time I showed up after having gotten the shit beat out of me, so I was more… calm. I mentally thanked Chase for that. “I’m not going to major in anything other than business, you know that.”

  She frowned down at her plate. “You used to draw.”

  I fucking froze.

  Chase looked away while Sergio went completely still.

  “That was a lifetime ago, Val,” I murmured. “You know that’s not really a choice, not anymore.”

  Val’s expression darkened. “It could be.”

  “That’s not my reality, Val, you know that.”

  “That’s because you’re just letting everyone choose for you!” she yelled.

  I rarely heard my sister raise her voice. Stunned, I watched her with a shuttered expression.

  “You don’t have to do this!” She threw her hands up, and her dark hair whipped around her sharp jaw. “You have a choice!”

  “You mean like you did?” I glared at her. “Don’t sit there and tell me I have a choice, when you would have done — and did do the exact same thing. The choice was taken from us the minute we were born and claimed as Nicolasi blood.”

  “But—”

  “Enough!” I slammed my fists onto the table causing Chase’s empty wine glass to rattle and then tip over.

  He grinned across at m
e. “How many dishes is that now, Sergio?” He tilted his head with amusement. “Six? Seven?”

  “Thirteen,” Sergio said in a bored tone. “But I think I’ll stop keeping track.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  Tears filled Val’s eyes. “Let’s just sit and have a nice family dinner.”

  I snorted. I couldn’t help it, only to wince in pain as something sharp edged into my left thigh.

  I didn’t look at Sergio, didn’t have to, to know a blade was making its way centimeter by centimeter past the roughness of my jeans and into the skin of my thigh.

  With a bored expression, I used my left hand to quickly flip open my own blade and hover it over his dick.

  “God I love family dinners.” Chase laughed.

  “Touché.” Sergio pulled the blade back.

  I did the same.

  Val groaned into her hands at about the same time Chase said, “Hey, Val you made cannoli, right?”

  “Don’t you have a wife for that?” Val fired back with a laugh.

  Chase’s eyes darted back to his wine glass. “I think it would be extremely generous to use the word cook and Mil in the same sentence. I get my calories from drinking.”

  He polished off the bottle.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Sergio’s hands were under the table, but he pointed a finger at Chase, then tapped me on the thigh.

  And started using sign language, neither of us flinching as Val and Chase started arguing about cannoli recipes.

  “Something’s off.” Sergio signed.

  “He’s been on edge.” I signed right back. “I let him beat the shit out of me, though before dinner, you’re welcome.”

  “Mil? Where is she?”

  I tried to think back to the last time I’d seen her. It had been that afternoon, but she hadn’t been at the house. “Not sure.”

  “I’ll get Phoenix on it.”

  “Why not Nixon?”

  “Too close. Too emotional. Chase and Nixon are… like brothers. No, no emotions.”

  “Cold soulless bastard,” I signed.

  He gave me the middle finger, and then said, “Thanks.”

  I reached for a piece of bread just as Chase glanced over at us with a comical expression on his face. “Val thinks her lasagna’s better.”

  Sergio shrugged. “Her lasagna’s… delicious.”