He smirked.
I snatched a glass of orange juice and sat down.
Mil was reading the paper in the corner, still in her pj’s. “Your eye’s healing up,” she pointed out without actually looking up from the paper.
“No thanks to you.” I snatched a piece of toast. “I’m lucky I survived.”
“Survived what?” Mo asked from the kitchen and then looked at me. “Holy crap! What happened!”
“People really should learn not to drink and walk at the same time.” This from Tex.
Glaring at Tex, I answered Mo. “Apparently, I fall on tables and shit.”
“You should be more careful.” Mo put a plate of food in front of me.
“Right,” I answered. “I’ll be more careful next time I’m around tables named Mil.”
“Huh?” Mo asked.
“Nothing.” Mil smiled sweetly at my sister and then sent me a seething glare. I smiled and took another bite of toast.
“Oh my gosh, that smells amazing.” Trace walked into the kitchen and immediately I started choking.
“Dude, chew your food.” Tex patted my back and handed me a glass of water but I waved him off. Water wouldn’t help. I needed freaking CPR.
Beautiful. Damn, she was so incredibly beautiful that it hurt to look at her. Her soft brown hair was in a high ponytail and for the first time in two days her uniform looked ironed, clean, perfect on her body.
And the killer?
The part that had me ready to jump out of my chair and slam that perfect girl into the wall and kiss her senseless?
She was wearing the boots.
My boots.
The ones I gave her.
I smiled as she stuck out her leg for approval.
With a wink in my direction she grabbed a plate from Mo and took a seat next to me. The smell of coconut wafted off of her and into my airspace. I was starved for it. I leaned closer to her and placed my hand on her bare knee.
We ate with the rest of the group.
Things were almost normal.
Except they weren’t. Which I was reminded of the minute I opened the door to go outside, only to find every single one of the men I had placed to guard the house—gone.
“What the hell?” I dialed my father’s number. We needed those men to get us to school without anyone seeing Trace. My father would have been the only one who suspected she was dead and I was taking a huge risk by even allowing her to go about life.
We needed a driver. And we needed to be able to sneak her in and out of classes, not because a college education was that important but because Nixon had specifically said to go about life as did Luca. Besides, the last thing we needed was for Tony to show up at the house now that my men were missing. School was probably the only place he wouldn’t go snooping around.
The phone rang and rang.
Finally my father picked up. “Chase, I’m a bit busy right now.”
“My men,” I barked into the phone. “Where are they?”
“Son, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right,” I snorted. “Let’s try this again. You work for me. I’m your boss. If I don’t have my men back within the hour I will personally drive my ass over to your house and slam my fist into your head. Got it?”
My father made a choking sound as if he was laughing at me. “To be young again.”
“Yes.” I hissed. “To be young and actually able to get shit done rather than staying at home being completely useless. I mean it. I did what you asked last night, but this is the final straw. You either want me in power or you don’t.”
He sighed heavily on the other end of the line. “It’s complicated, Chase. I’m not safe, not at the house, I needed extra security. Just in case.”
I was silent for a moment. “Did someone threaten you?”
No doubt Nixon was poking around.
“Not exactly.” He cleared his throat. “I just… you know what happens when you drink a lot and…”
“And?” I prompted.
“Nixon,” my dad laughed. “I could have sworn I saw Nixon, but instead it was the De Lange kid. He wants to make a deal.”
Things had just gotten interesting. “Oh?”
“I was going to speak to you—”
“It’s your lucky day. You’re speaking to me now. What does Phoenix want?”
“Money,” my father blurted. “He wants money and then he’s going to disappear for good. But the thing is, Chase… I don’t have access to the funds we use for bribery. I’m going to need you to make the withdrawal.”
Son of a bitch. My own father was going to betray me. Did he think I was that stupid? The boss never made the withdrawal. Not unless he wanted to get A) shot, or B) flagged by the Feds.