Enforce(11)

Her giant brown eyes ate me up. So trusting, so… loving. “Okay, Nixon… and you won’t hurt me?”

“No.” I gripped her pudgy little hand in mine and kissed it “I would never hurt you.”

I released Trace’s hand so quick I damn-near tripped, fell over backward, and collided with the back of the stage. Was that it? Was this one girl going to make me lose my mind? Maybe because she reminded me of her innocence, of what I’d lost. Of what I’d ruined by my inability to be old enough to avenge her death. Throat tightening, I quickly spoke into the microphone, “Trace Rooks, everyone.”

I flexed my hand and released it, then stepped off the stage as people started clapping.

“She’s going to throw up,” Phoenix said next to me. We were on one side of the stage while Chase waited on the other.

“Think so?” I whispered.

“She’s paler than a ghost. She looks like…” Phoenix shook his head. “Is that what you want? For us to humiliate her?”

“Yeah,” I snapped. “It’s what I want.”

“Hmm, your new toy…”

“What about it?”

Trace waved from the stage. Good God, it was worse than I thought. Forget eating her alive. They were going to destroy her, rip her to shreds, and laugh while doing it.

“I can help…” Phoenix whispered.

What the hell were we talking about?

“Sure fine, whatever.” I kept my gaze on Trace as she cleared her throat again and spoke confidently into the microphone.

“Trace Rooks. If that isn’t a backcountry name, I don’t know what is,” she joked. “I come from a place where cows outnumber people, and the local bartender knows everyone by name. I guess you could say I’m completely out of my element, but I’m thankful nonetheless. I’m thankful for the opportunity to expand my education, and, even more so, I’m thankful that while I’ve been standing here, Nixon hasn’t attempted to trip me or knock me off the stage. Guess there’s hope for me yet. Moo.”

“Holy shit, did she just moo?” I asked aloud.

Phoenix about died laughing.

My mouth dropped open slightly as I watched her wave at the crowd and gain approval from at least half of them.

Funny. I’d meant for them all to hate her then leave her alone.

And without knowing it? Trace had just painted a cow-sized target on her back…. because she’d proven she’d fight.

And what fun is torture if your prisoner doesn’t at least kick back once or twice? I mean, that’s the point.

You don’t shoot the slowest animal if you’re hunting for sport. You shoot the one that poses the biggest challenge.

And she’d just done that.

“Her funeral.” Phoenix sighed. “Am I right?”

I tried to hide my expression as it fell on Trace. She slowly backed away from the stage and took Chase’s hand.

What. The. Hell.

Without hesitation.

She gripped it in hers and then offered Chase, of all people, a smile. Chase, the same Chase that spent the better part of his morning assassinating an informant and ripping his fingernails off.

Really?

He whispered in her ear.

She colored.

And I freaking saw red.

“Tsk, tsk,” Phoenix whispered to my right. “Doesn’t little Chase know not to mess with the boss’s favorite new thing?”

With that, he walked off. Leaving me pissed and wondering what Chase had that I didn’t, and why the hell it mattered in the first place.





CHAPTER SEVEN

Marking my territory — maybe



Chase

SHE WAS FREAKING MAGNIFICENT. My entire body went rigid with desire when her eyelashes fluttered across her high cheekbones. She waved to the crowd, and I had the sudden temptation to wrap my arms around her and protect her frail body from what I knew would come.

Not just Nixon.

But them.

The ugly.

The world.

Us.

The Elect.

Wow, just make a freaking list, why don’t I? It was bad, and yeah, she’d just made it so much worse, but I had to admire her bravery. Hell, a lesser man would have pissed his pants. Instead she’d mooed.

Like a cow.

Yeah, we were in over our heads. Who knew the hardest part about senior year would be trying to keep the new girl alive?

“I knew you would be different,” I whispered as I helped Trace off the stage. Her warm hand fit perfectly into mine. Possessiveness washed over me as I felt the heat of Nixon’s gaze on both of us. When I looked up and met his eyes, I was suddenly thrilled we were in a crowd.

The man looked ready to pull a gun.

Cheerfully.

“Different?” She turned slightly, her eyes searching mine, asking more than just if she was different, but if she was safe. I knew that look. I couldn’t find my voice at first.