Enforce(8)

“I hate today.” Nixon swore and grabbed the fifth off the counter and took a giant swig. “God created the earth in seven days, right? Rested on the last day?”

“Yeah.” I squinted. What the hell was he babbling about?

“So…” Nixon took another swig. “…why did he create women again?”

I smirked. “You really need me to give you an anatomy lesson? And if the answer’s yes? Number one, you’re already drunk, and number two, pretty sure Tex would do a better job, you know, on account that he uses hand gestures.”

Nixon gave me his own hand gesture.

I’d never seen him so… upset, and I’d seen him upset a lot. The kid was tortured half his life and still found a reason not to murder people in their sleep.

“So…” I sat down next to him and grabbed the bottle. “…what’s up? Some chick turn you down?”

Nixon snorted. “Please. Like I’ve ever been turned down.”

“Holy shit.” I gaped.

Nixon looked away and rubbed his hands through his hair then slapped his face.

“Someone rejected you?”

“No.” Nixon’s jaw flexed.

“Yes.” I grinned. Wow. Best day of my life. “Who was it? I won’t tell Tex or Phoenix.”

“The hell you won’t.” Nixon swiped the bottle from my hands. “And it was just a misunderstanding.”

“Oh.” I licked my lips, enjoying myself way more than I should. “So was it a language barrier? You spoke sweet Sicilian nothings into her ear, and she thought you were high?”

“Chase—”

“Or were you speaking English, and she just wasn’t the crunchiest fry at the bottom of the box? Hmm?”

“She—” Nixon’s mouth slammed shut. His teeth clenched together. “She’s irritating, stupid, and not even pretty.”

“Not even pretty?” I repeated. “So why do you care?”

One thing about Nixon? He was a freaking raccoon. Loved things that were shiny and pretty. His cars? All black and shiny. His guns? Shiny. He was a collector of all things pretty — almost OCD about it. We all had our quirks, so I didn’t judge him for his.

Me? I loved women. LOVED them — all shapes and sizes. They all had something to offer, you know, as long as they weren’t talking.

Tex, on the other hand, memorized body language. Never play poker with the guy because your chances are higher of getting hit by an asteroid than actually beating him. It was part of his ploy. Act stupid and nobody suspects anything. Sometimes it freaked Nixon out — how intelligent Tex was. He was like one of those child geniuses, not that Nixon wasn’t. That guy was also terrifyingly smart.

And Phoenix.

Well Phoenix was the guy you wanted on your side when you killed people, because he enjoyed it so effing much that it was a bit terrifying. Watching Phoenix and Tex torture someone? Well, let’s just say it brought a whole new meaning to the word nightmare.

Nixon groaned. “I’m just tired, didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Right, you’re tired. That’s why this chick didn’t like you. Stupid bags under your eyes. Damn you, sleep!” I shook my fist and punched him in the arm. “Seriously though, get your shit together.”

“When have you ever,” Nixon spat, “and I do mean ever had to say that to me?”

“When we were ten,” I said softly, “and her parents died and—”

“Fine.” Nixon got up, his knees cracking. “You’re right. It’s time to get ready for the party. Screw her…”

“Because you kind of want to?” I offered jokingly.

Nixon rolled his eyes. “She means nothing.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I have to,” Nixon whispered. “I really do.”





CHAPTER FIVE

And it just keeps getting better.



Nixon

EVERYTHING WAS IN PLACE. De Lange, the ass, couldn’t be more thrilled about enrollment that year. But me? It made me nervous. Too many kids, too many background checks, too many possible loose ends. Mother of God, just shoot me now and get it over with. If I wasn’t so tired from staying up until four a.m. doing said background checks, I’d probably be more amused at the fact that Mo had taken Trace as her new pet.

Like a cow.

Only cows weren’t pets.

And Trace was like a goddess come to life. No make that a freaking ghost of a goddess come to make my life an absolute freaking hell.

I pasted a smile on my face like I always did and waited in the middle of the room as students started trickling in for the welcome party. The ones that waved were regular students. The ones that nodded? All in my pocket. Let’s just say, I had more in my pocket than was probably legal at a private university, but this was the last year we had.