Elect(77)

I stole a glance at Trace. Her nostrils flared. Damn, in the past five minutes she had gone from looking terrified to completely pissed.

“So…” I moved closer, into the room. “Why kill Trace’s parents? They weren’t involved in your little melodrama.”

“Mario, Tracey’s father—he discovered us one evening. Said his loyalty was to the Alfero and Abandonato family. He was going to ruin everything.”

“So you eliminated him, and pointed at the one man everyone would suspect.” I shook my head in disgust. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

Tony threw his cigar into the nearby fireplace and stalked toward me. “I survive! I keep the family together! I may be heartless but at least I know what it costs to keep our blood strong!”

He stopped directly in front of me, his chest heaving.

I shook my head. “You. Are. Nothing.”

His fist flew across my jaw. I knew he was going to hit me, so I let him. The minute I fell to the ground I scooted away from him like I was afraid and dug a knife from my pocket.

“And I’m pathetic,” Tony snorted. “Yet you crawl away from me like a little bitch. At least Nixon died with honor, whereas you—” He reached for his gun. “You’ll die shaming everyone.”

Ignoring him and his raised gun, I slid my knife underneath the first pair of feet I touched and then quickly slipped my hands away.





Chapter Forty-eight


Phoenix


Things were going to hell fast. What was worse—I’d been given the job of tying up each of the girls. Luckily, I was able to make the knots loose enough so they could at least wriggle free without too much trouble.

Tony was clearly insane. He pointed the gun at Chase while I took another step into the living room.

“Are the theatrics really necessary?” I tried to sound bored as I examined my fingernails.

Trace shouted at me through her covered mouth; by the fiery look in her eyes I could tell she wasn’t exactly singing my praises at the moment.

Tony threw his head back and laughed while I mouthed, Forgive me.

I’d never asked anyone to forgive me before—never had to. My dad had always said our calling was above forgiveness, that we were above reproach because of what we did—who we were.

Tony wiped at his eyes. “How proud, Chase, do you think it makes me to see you… my bastard son, on your knees?”

“Here we go again,” I muttered, trying to distract everyone.

Tony took a swing at Chase, knocking him to the ground again, and that’s when I saw the knife. He was going to get himself killed to save the girls—my sister, Trace, Mo. Acting fast, I rushed in front of them and knelt.

“What the hell are you doing!” Tony spat.

“The knots. They came untied. I’m fixing them, you bastard!” I yelled back then slid the knife slowly up Trace’s leg, knowing it was probably scaring the hell out of her. But instead of flinching, she focused on my eyes the entire time. I imagined that would just make it worse—staring into two soulless holes, but she wasn’t staring at me like I had no soul. Instead, she was staring at me like I was her only hope. My heart pounded a bit harder as I finally got the knife into her hands. I stood up and turned around so that she could undo her ropes without Tony seeing.

Tony kicked Chase in the stomach over and over again. I knew Chase was tough, so I didn’t stop it, even though I wanted to. Chase would rather suffer a few broken ribs, knowing the girls were safe, than save his pretty face and be responsible for their deaths.

Blood trickled down Chase’s chin. His eyes had started to swell shut, and he glanced behind him and saw that the girls were free then looked up to me in confusion.

I made a move to help him to his feet just as Tony cocked the gun.

“I’m not sorry.” Tony tilted his head and aimed in between Chase’s eyes. “Say hello to Nixon when you see him.”

“Or you can just say hello now,” a voice said from the doorway.





Chapter Forty-nine


Chase


I heard girlish whimpers from behind me as Nixon made his way into the room, gun pointed directly at Tony’s head. He was followed by Luca, who was clapping.

“Beautiful performance,” Luca said. “Do you think we got everything we needed, Nixon? Or should we make him suffer.”

“Do I get a vote?” I asked from the ground, still pissed.

Nixon looked around at me and rolled his eyes. At least he looked like he was still in good humor.

Tony jumped over my body and in front of the girls on the couch.

Shit.

“How are you alive, Nixon?” Tony trained his gun on Trace. “Hmm? How is that possible?”