Elect(4)

“Nope.” I put my arm around her. “Just imagine Phoenix’s face when you’re punching Spike.”

Trace shuddered beneath my arm. “Yeah, when I imagine Phoenix I have a knife to his balls. Pretty sure that would either scar Spike for life or get me kicked out of Elite.”

“Fair enough.” I pulled her closer. “He’s taken care of, Trace. Nobody’s seen him in two weeks. He’s either in hiding or across the Atlantic. He’s not stupid enough to attack you again. Let Nixon do his job. We may not be able to kill him for what he did to you—but we sure as hell can make his life a bitch.”

Trace nodded, but didn’t say anything. I knew she was still traumatized over the whole ordeal. Shit, I was still traumatized and I’d done my fair share of dirty work in the name of the Abandonato family. Finding her on the floor with her clothes bloody and ripped from her body was one of the most horrifying experiences of my life.

I still wanted to kill Phoenix.

But Nixon wouldn’t let me.

It had to do with some sort of code about killing off direct descendants of mafia bosses and them being next in line. Considering Phoenix’s dad got a bullet to his head a few weeks ago by Trace’s grandfather, our hands were literally tied.

Didn’t mean I couldn’t dream about his death every freaking day. It seemed unfair that the bastard could breathe the same air as Trace, let alone walk around as if he hadn’t tried to kill her.

“You’re late,” Trace’s professor announced when we walked in.

“My fault,” I lied. “My shoe was untied, I fell, pulled Trace down with me, got her shirt all—muddy, and she had to go change.”

Professors hated me. Nixon was the golden boy, kind of like a god around this place. I was just the assistant, the one who did the dirty work. Didn’t help that my grades were less than stellar ever since I’d been trying to get homework done while Trace slept. It was the only free time I had.

Keeping her safe was a full-time job. Not that I was complaining.

The professor’s sharp eyes focused on me with chilling indifference. “You’re wearing boots without strings, the sun’s shining, and one more tardy and your grade falls, Tracey.”

“Ouch,” I mumbled next to her, “I can order a hit on any professor you want, just remember that.” I patted her back and winked at the professor.

Trace rolled her eyes, but it did make her smile.

“Your partner has fallen ill, so you’ll be working with Chase today.” With that, the cranky professor walked to the front of the room. “Now, today we’re working on footwork and self-defense techniques. Instruction packets are on the desk; be sure to work through every scenario before you leave.”

Trace grumbled beside me and went to fetch a packet. Her face fell when she read the first page. “I-I can’t, Chase. I can’t…”

Suddenly, the Trace I was used to was a shadow of her former self. Shaking, she wrapped her arms around my neck like I was her lifeline, her savior, her everything. As much as I hated seeing her freaked out—my body responded to her proximity like she was my gravity. She gave another shudder. I gently pulled her away and looked into her fear-stricken eyes.

“What the hell?” I grabbed the papers from her and quickly scanned the first scenario.

A guy and girl alone in his apartment. He tries to take advantage of her, she gets away but he’s able to grab her wrist and overpower her on the ground. What do you do?

Freaking hell.

I reached for Trace’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s just you and me, Trace, okay? You’ll power through this, and you know why?”

Her hand shook inside mine.

“Because you’re an Alfero.” I gritted my teeth and pulled her closer to me. “Do Alferos back down?”

“No,” Trace whispered.

“I’m sorry; what was that?”

“Hell no.” She nodded.

“Do you let people walk all over you? Do you let people attack you, Trace?”

“No.” Her nostrils flared as she jerked her hand away from mine and glared.

“Good girl.” I nodded. “Now, try not to forget that it’s me, not Phoenix. I’m really partial to my anatomy, and I’d like to, you know, in the future have kids someday.”

Rolling her eyes, she took a stance next to me. I muttered up a prayer as I quickly tripped her and pushed her down against the mat. She struggled against me, but I held her wrists firmly above her head—just like Phoenix had. Shit, it was killing me. Her face contorted in pain as she closed her eyes, and shook her head back and forth. I waited for the fear to pass—waited for the moment when her body would switch from being terrified to being pissed. But it was hard as hell.