Elect(53)

Her teeth began to chatter as she clung to me for dear life.

I held her so tight it was hard to breathe. “Never, Trace. You hear me? I’m never leaving you. Got it?” I gripped her as hard as I could and crushed my mouth to her cheek. It was impossible for me to show her how important she was to me—how keeping her safe and happy was my number one priority.

“Say it again. P-please say it again.”

I pried her arms from my body and cupped her face with my hands. “I swear to you. I will never leave your side.”

“Okay.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “Okay.”

I have no idea how long we stayed like that, but it was long enough for my legs to fall asleep and for Trace to stop hiccupping.

“Chase?” Tex knocked on the door and let himself in. “We need to take care of something.”

“All right.” I helped Trace up and led her to the door. “Go hang out with Mo. I’ll come get you in a bit, okay?”

I could tell the last thing she wanted me to do was leave; her eyes begged me to stay, but this was the job. Death or no death, we had a job to finish. Finally, she nodded and walked off like a zombie down the hall.

“Hell,” Tex muttered under his breath. “I don’t know how she’s able to even function at this point.”

“Shock,” I muttered. “Not the choice I would have made, Tex.”

“Me either.” His brow furrowed. “But since he’s gone, we need a new boss. There’s some confusion on who’s next in line so while the men discuss and meet, we need to go take care of one final loose end.”

“What loose end?”

Tex cursed. “Phoenix.”

“I hate this family. I hate what they’ve made of us. We’re too young for this shit.” I scratched the back of my head and walked to the kitchen counter to grab my gun. I checked to make sure it was loaded and put on the safety.

“I’m going with you,” Mil piped up from behind us.

“No.” I stuffed the gun in the back of my pants and pulled my shirt over the gun to cover it.

“Yes.” She slammed her hand on the countertop. “He’s my stepbrother. He’s… he’s family. Just let me go with you, please?”

“So you can save his sorry ass?” Tex spat.

“So I can save yours, you prick.” Mil pushed against Tex’s chest and then turned to glare at me. “Family sticks together, and I’m the only sure thing you guys got right now.”

“How do you figure?” I snorted.

Grinning, she pulled out a note from her back pocket and handed it to me. It was in Nixon’s handwriting. Holy shit.

“Because,” she sighed, “he left instructions.”

I almost didn’t want to open the letter. Shaking, I handed it to Tex and told my stomach to stop heaving, otherwise I would pass out from lack of food and dehydration.

“What’s it say?” I asked as Tex opened it. His grin grew as he continued to read, until finally he started laughing. I couldn’t tell if it was hysterical laughter—you know, the kind of laughter people get when they’re about to lose it—or if he really just thought the letter was funny. He wiped at his eyes. And handed me the letter.

“See for yourself, but Mil’s coming with us.”

I snatched the paper out of his hands and scanned it.

“ ‘She’s a smart bitch. Protect her at all costs. Where you go, she goes. She’ll help you put Phoenix into hiding. It’s the only way. I’m sorry—for everything. Nixon.’ ”

I laughed, but mine was more bitter, more painful. If I listened really carefully I could almost hear Nixon’s voice in the room, and that sucked. He didn’t deserve any of this.

His entire life had been spent protecting others and in the end, when it was our turn to protect him, when he needed us most—we’d failed.

“Let’s go.” Tex grabbed the keys. I followed him with my head down. I didn’t feel like I could meet anyone’s eyes and not want to shoot myself. Was it just last week that I was contemplating betraying Nixon just because I was in love with what wasn’t mine?

Yeah.

It should have been me. I should have taken the fall, because in the end, Nixon had more to lose and I had nothing. What a freakishly depressing thought.





Chapter Thirty-three


Chase


You’d think I would have calmed down a bit by the time we reached the Space, where Phoenix was being held.

I hadn’t.

I wanted to shoot something—anything.

If a squirrel were to cross paths with me, it wouldn’t end well for it. Hell, if a spider looked at me funny I was going to end it with a bullet.