Eulogy Read online

  “Like I said, don’t fall asleep until I get back. Don’t touch anything and try not to burn the house down. It’s harder than it looks.”

  I left her on the ground trembling.

  I shoved on my sunglasses and felt zero guilt as I got into my new Maserati and drove like hell to Nixon’s.

  Answers. He was going to give me answers.

  Or I was going to shoot him in the lung.

  I smiled.

  And my hate grew a little bit more.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Tex Campisi, the Italians’ version of a Godfather, if there ever was one. Sicily bows to his every order, and the Russians are petrified of pissing him off again. He’s royalty. He will crush anyone who stands in his way, but we all have weaknesses. Lucky for you, I know his.”

  — Notes from interview with Agent P, FBI

  Tex

  “Sixty people total,” I whispered under my breath in disgust as Nixon shook his head at me.

  We both knew what was happening.

  What would happen.

  “We either join him, or fight him.” Nixon slammed his hands against the table. “We can’t justify killing sixty people, including teenagers. Are you kidding me right now? Is this what she did to him? Is this what we did to him?”

  I was quiet.

  We all had a darkness inside us.

  Some of us fed it.

  While others feared it.

  I was safely between both options, wondering if there would come a day when I would watch myself lose my soul to it and embrace the darkness as my friend.

  I grabbed my gun and stared it down then put it in the holster strapped to my chest. “Look, Nixon, there is no right answer here.”

  Nixon started to pace a hole through the wood floor as I sat in silence in his office.

  Chase wanted his vengeance.

  And while we killed rats.

  We didn’t take out entire bloodlines.

  That was more Russian than Italian.

  But Chase wasn’t listening to reason.

  All he wanted was every memory of her dead.

  None of us blamed him to begin with.

  But now? Now he needed a fucking leash.

  And nobody had a chain big enough to tie him down.

  We’d lost complete control because each of us figured he’d snap out of it and start with the jokes again, and easy laughter. That one day he’d wake up, and it wouldn’t be all gloom and darkness.

  But Chase Abandonato, my brother, my friend… I hadn’t seen him since the day she left this world, and a part of me feared she’d taken him with her, leaving only a shell of a man.

  With no soul.

  “Call a commission,” I whispered.

  Nixon’s head jerked to attention. “The last time we did that—”

  “I know. I shot my dad. Good times. All I’m saying is… if we call a commission, we can at least have the Families’ vote, bring in the big guns from Sicily to stand with us, and if need be—”

  Nixon closed his eyes.

  I didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  If need be… we’d end him.

  Was he even human anymore?

  How many times had Nixon’s little girl walked to Uncle Chase and clung to his leg only to have him walk away from her?

  One time she’d even fallen and scraped her hand.

  I’d never been so pissed in my entire life.

  I’d been surprised Nixon hadn’t pulled a gun on him right then and there.

  Nixon stared me down, his eyes filled with so much sadness it gutted me, ruined me. These were the days I hated being the Capo, hated making the tough decisions.

  “Make the call,” Nixon finally said. “I’ll tell the others.”

  “Tell the others what?” came Chase’s voice as he pushed the door open and found a seat in one of the empty chairs.

  Blood caked his fingertips.

  He was a stranger to me.

  A stranger to us.

  I eyed him up and down. “You look… great.”

  He flipped me off.

  But there wasn’t even any joy in the way he tried to verbally spar with me. Everything was just… dead inside.

  My chest tightened. I looked away. I had to.

  I’d always given Chase shit.

  I would do anything to get that Chase back.

  Instead of this haunted stranger sitting in front of me.

  “We should talk.” Nixon sat.

  Chase scowled. “Yes, let’s talk about the sexy woman you sent to my house this morning.” His eyes flashed with fury. “She can’t stay with me.”

  “Sexy?” This was news. My eyebrows shot up. “What’s she look like?”

  Nixon gritted his teeth. “Tex, any time but now would be good, literally any time but now for you to be yourself.”

  Chase didn’t even flinch — no smile, no laugh, no joining in. God, he sucked ass.

  “I pulled a gun on her.” Chase shrugged. “She has no clue how deep she’s in, and she’s been at my house for two hours.”

  “Two hours, and she’s already driving you insane?” Nixon pointed out.

  “Her presence is irritating.” Chase’s jaw clenched. “I want her gone.”

  “The contract states we provide a place to stay during her training, and since you volunteered to house all the records and documents in your several safes, that means it makes sense for her to stay there.”

  Chase looked ready to explode.

  I intervened. “Chase, I looked at your plan.”

  Chase leaned forward. Blood in his eyes. Killing in his soul. “And?”

  “The five families can’t sign off on this. Hell, not one of us is willing to sign off on a contract that ends up killing sixty people. You’re talking four generations of—”

  “Rats,” Chase finished. “This is what we do!” He stood and slammed his hands onto the desk.

  I stood. “Let me finish.”

  He crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”

  My eyes flickered to Nixon; he gave one small nod of encouragement.

  I didn’t need his blessing, but I was glad to have it anyway. I continued. “We’re going to call a commission, explain the situation, if you get a winning vote, you have our support.”

  God, it hurt to even contemplate it.

  “And if I don’t get a winning vote?”

  The room crackled with a tense silence.

  “What happens if I do it anyway?”

  Nothing.

  I said nothing. Just stood to my full height.

  “Unbelievable!” Chase roared. “The one time I need you guys to have my back, and you’re plotting my own death against me!”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’ve never been dramatic. Don’t start now.”

  “I need this!” Chase’s voice was filled with so much anguish I wanted to pull him in for a hug, but he’d only answer with his gun. He’d refused to let anyone touch him since the funeral. “No!”

  He jerked backward from the room.

  Nixon reached for him.

  Chase just shook his head. “If you won’t support me, maybe I’ll challenge your position.” He eyed Nixon with hatred. “Boss.”

  Nixon glared. “Fucking. Try.”

  “Alright, then.” I separated the two of them and stood in between. “Let’s go have some wine… I’m sure the commission will agree. After all, this isn’t crazy, your idea of vengeance, totally normal. I’m sure they’ll see it your way.”

  I rolled my eyes once I left the room.

  And nearly puked when Mo walked toward me and winked then rubbed her flat stomach.

  Shit.

  Sometimes, I hated the mafia.

  Today.

  These last four months.

  I hated it the most.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “The only way to infiltrate is from within. We’ve already noticed how fiercely they protect their own. That’s the Italians for you. So how do you attack a monster in full
body armor? You find the chink. And believe me, there are several.”

  — Notes from interview with Agent P, FBI

  Luciana

  I didn’t move from the spot on the floor.

  My stomach growled as I stared at the open door and the empty hall. The house felt haunted, forlorn; there was a heaviness to it that managed to suck the life right out of a person.

  Everything about it screamed enough money to buy an island for every friend of the family, but it was half empty, and what furniture I had seen was either covered in plastic, or broken.

  What the heck had I gotten myself into?

  I contemplated calling the police.

  My fingers had hovered over my cell screen for at least ten minutes before I finally put my phone away and continued to wait.

  Because what was I going to say? “My employer, the one paying me an obscene amount of money that I’m now realizing he most likely got illegally, just pulled a gun on me. Send help?”

  Plus, the phone in my hand had just been given to me. I suspected there was a reason I wasn’t allowed to use my old phone, mainly because he was going to track every single conversation I had.

  I was a logical person.

  Rational.

  Until I walked in that door and saw my life flash before my eyes.

  It was unfortunate he was so gorgeous.

  Then again, even his inked skin and blue eyes couldn’t cover up the monster lurking beneath. He’d threatened me, yelled at me, made me feel unsafe and unwanted.

  Ugly.

  Stupid.

  All within the span of six minutes.

  The sound of a door slamming jolted me out of my pity party long enough for me to start to panic again as footsteps neared. I could feel my heart racing beneath my chest as I counted the steps.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Pause.

  I lifted my head.

  Chase stopped directly in front of the doorway and braced on it with both hands gripping the sides. His middle finger and pinky both had black inky tattoos on them in Italian. I couldn’t make out the script, but they stuck out against his tan skin and the white walls he was currently clutching as if he was seconds away from snapping the wood in half, or maybe just the door.

  “You.” His blue eyes jerked to mine in such a jarring, hateful way that I almost made a run for it; probably would have if I hadn’t been trapped in a small room with him blocking the exit. “You didn’t move.”

  Was that a question?

  I gulped.

  “Why?”

  Was he crazy? I licked my lips and answered in a small voice. “Because you said not to.” Dumbass. Was this guy for real?

  “I had you pegged as a more defiant type.” He waved his hand in front of me and then turned around and started walking away. “Keep up.”

  I stumbled after him and nearly ran into him when he stopped in the middle of the hall and turned around.

  I was still barefoot.

  “There’s glass.” He pointed to the floor.

  “Okay.” I turned to grab my shoes when he suddenly heaved me over his shoulder and stomped down the hall as if it was completely normal to manhandle employees.

  My ass was pressed against his right cheek.

  Great.

  I looked down.

  His ass, on the other hand…

  Firm.

  He clearly didn’t miss a squat day.

  A black handgun was tucked in his jeans.

  I gulped.

  Guns freaked me out in a very serious way.

  So the fact that he casually waved one around and kept one on his person made me so nauseated I almost puked down his back.

  He walked a few more feet then set me down and jerked open a door. “This is where you’ll be working.”

  About twenty different screens faced us; it was like the inner workings of a control room.

  The screens showed the back of the house and several of the rooms and common areas.

  “Okay.” I nodded. Freak. Did he have a camera in my room, too? I made a mental note to only change in the bathroom. Then again, someone like him? Constantly armed? Probably had cameras in the freaking shower. “Is there a computer I can—”

  “A computer will be provided,” he interrupted. “Those…” There were at least seven free-standing metal files. “…are all the old records of transactions, payments, court cases, pay offs—”

  Did he just say pay offs?

  “—everything you need to know about our business dealings and our past is in these files. This key…” He held out an old-school-looking key. “…is how you access them. If you make a copy of it, I’ll slit your throat.”

  He looked as if he meant it.

  With shaking hands, I took the key. “Noted.”

  He crossed his bulky arms. “I don’t want you here, but I also don’t have much of a choice, unless I feel like killing the boss and taking his spot.” He didn’t even flinch at the idea, just smiled down at me.

  Did he say boss?

  “I suggest you get started.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Wait!”

  His back flexed beneath his shirt before he turned to look over his shoulder. “Yes?”

  I had so many questions.

  Mainly, was I allowed bathroom breaks and food?

  “I’ll need sleep. Bathroom breaks. Food. Water…” I tried to steady my voice. “You can’t just assume I’m going to lock myself up in here until I finish.”

  “Of course I can.” He smiled.

  I hated that smile.

  It was spiteful.

  Smug.

  It was also gorgeous.

  Beautifully cruel.

  As if he only smiled to mock people, never to convey joy or laughter. What the hell had happened to this beautiful man to make him so cold and bitter?

  “And if I don’t? Do I get my throat slit? Or will you just pull that gun on me again?”

  “See.” He performed a slow clap. “You’re getting the hang of it. This is my house, my world, my business. I don’t want you existing in any of the air around me. As far as you’re concerned, I own it. I own you. Finish the damn job, and then you can leave.”

  “That’s—” I clenched my fists. “—that’s abuse!”

  His eyes flashed. “You don’t know the first thing about abuse. Try not to throw around words you aren’t capable of understanding.”

  Fear trickled down my spine.

  This man. He would hurt me.

  It was in every fiber of his body, in the way he carried himself. He didn’t make light, empty threats.

  He meant every word.

  “I’ll… try,” I finally managed, when all I wanted to do was yell at him for being such a jackass. I suddenly wished I had taken karate so I could at least make him hurt and make a run for it. Was this punishment from Nikolai? Was this why I got paid so much?

  Because I was going to end up dead anyway?

  At least from starvation and lack of sleep.

  “Bathroom.” Chase pointed to the right. “And the only reason I’m even allowing bathroom breaks is because I don’t want your filth getting all over a room that cost me over a million dollars to set up.”

  I frowned and looked around. “But it’s just cameras and—”

  He held up a finger. “First off, don’t insult the room. It’s rude.” A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “And things aren’t always what they seem.”

  He left it at that.

  Left me.

  With all the files.

  And when I stopped hearing his footsteps down the hall, I finally released a few tears and slunk to the floor.

  Trapped.

  In a prison I’d signed up for.

  And afraid for my life.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Look.” I spread my palms flat against the table. “I’ve been here for six hours. I voluntarily walked into that door and took that assignment for my
own reasons. I promised you eight hours, and when that ends, this is over. I’m grabbing my gun and walking out that door knowing that you’ll have nightmares of my face. It’s really the only reason I keep smiling with my entire family murdered. Hey, there it is, that look. Right. There.”

  — Notes from interview with Agent P, FBI

  Chase

  The shaking wouldn’t go away.

  No matter how many times I tried to tell myself it wasn’t real, it was just a waking nightmare. I’d see my reflection in the mirror and stare, in disbelief, at the man looking back at me.

  It seemed like a sick joke.

  She was the first woman I’d touched in over six months. I’d been annoyed, so I’d lifted her over my shoulder.

  And I’d been an idiot.

  Because I’d forgotten.

  I’d forgotten the softness of a woman’s skin.

  The way her rounded hips felt against my fingertips.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, reached for the bottle of whiskey, and took a swig. I’d forgotten.

  And now my hands were shaking.

  My body pulsed with awareness.

  And I hated myself for it.

  I hated that I’d responded.

  Reacted.

  Hated that she’d brought it out in me.

  Hated.

  She was the exact opposite of Mil. She was soft, didn’t talk back, and stared at me as if I was seconds away from ending her life. Her innocent eyes took everything in with fear and trepidation. She would run from me if she could.

  Whereas Mil… Mil had pushed back.

  Always pushed back.

  Pushed me to the point of insanity most days.

  Because she’d never listened to me.

  It was her downfall.

  It had ended up being her death.

  Thinking that for one second, she could move the chess pieces in ways to benefit her.

  It was a competition between us.

  In the bedroom.

  Out of the bedroom.

  Both of us always trying to one-up one another.

  We had laughed about it in front of others.

  But behind closed doors, when she thought I was sleeping, I’d see her working on her phone; I’d see her order men to ruthlessly kill people that didn’t deserve it, just to prove a fucking point.

  She ruled…