We made our way through the dark parking lot.
Chase paused and looked up at the dorm. “You think she’s going to be pissed?”
“Yeah.” I croaked. “Wouldn’t you be?”
“Depends.” Chase shrugged.
“On what?”
“If I felt like I was being used… like a game piece.”
“It’s not like that.”
Chase nodded his head. “Then make sure she knows it.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
And the walls came a-tumbling… hard.
Chase
NIXON KEPT CHECKING HIS text messages like a damn teen. Finally, probably because I didn’t hold back my scowl, he put his phone away.
“She’s freaked.”
“Can you blame her?” I grunted. “She has no idea what she’s walking into, not one clue.”
“Hell,” Tex piped up. “That’s what she’s walking into.”
“Helpful.” I smacked Tex and kept on driving. I’d never been on the Alfero estate — that was all Nixon. His creepy childhood had included many visits here. He said I’d been, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember.
The large iron gates opened, revealing a massive brick and white mansion with a circular driveway.
I pulled the car in, my heart hammering in my chest.
“No going back now,” Tex whispered under his breath.
The minute I put the SUV into park, at least ten men shuffled out of the front door, guns already trained on us. Fantastic. Luckily, we had at least five cars following us with men of our own. It wouldn’t be an easy battle, but it would be a hell of a bloody war.
Nixon cursed and got out of the car. “Call them off. We’re not here to fight.”
The guy in charge stepped forward. “Frank doesn’t want any trouble.”
“And he thinks we do?” Nixon countered. “Where is he?”
The man nodded to the men who slowly lowered their weapons. “He’s bringing the girl. They should be here in a few minutes.”
“Tracey.” I gave him a cold stare. “She has a name.”
The man narrowed his eyes.
I knew it was hard for the older guys, the ones who had been in the business so long they’d almost forgotten what the real world looked like. They saw Nixon and I with our tatted-up arms and what they no doubt assumed was a bad attitude and assumed we had nothing but disrespect for the old ways, when really we were the ones fighting to keep things calm within the families.
“Follow me.” The man nodded as we all walked up the stairs into the mansion. White marble flooring greeted us. A chandelier hung in the middle of the entryway, and a nice man with a patch on his eye started patting us down, Tex first.
Which naturally earned him a punch to the jaw. He staggered back, swearing in Italian. Tex grunted and lifted his shoulders to Nixon. “What? He was getting too friendly.”
Nixon rolled his eyes and addressed the guy in charge. “Look we have guns, our men have guns, you have guns — let’s not pretend any different.”
“Fine.” He gritted his teeth. “We’ll be meeting in the family room.”
He motioned for us to follow him, but Nixon stayed put, his boots planted against the marble like it would take an act of God to move him.
“You coming?” I called back.
“Nah,” He wiped his face with his hands. “It’s probably best I wait right here for Trace.”
Actually, that was the worst idea I’d ever heard in my entire life. One look at him, and she was going to get the shock of her life, all before he was able to even defend himself.
Well shit. With a curse I went to stand by him. I may want Trace more than anything, but I wasn’t going to let him take the fall on his own.
The front door opened, my breath hitched, and in walked my father. He looked every inch the made man from his black Italian suit, shiny leather shoes, and his dark sunglasses. The man screamed Mafia while Nixon and I just screamed hellions.
“Nixon.” Anthony nodded in his direction then turned his cool gaze to me. “Son.”
I bristled. Couldn’t help it. I had no reason to hate my father. He’d sheltered me my whole life, fed me, kept me warm, but there was no love between us, only competition. Maybe that was it. When he looked at Nixon, he saw more of a son than when he looked at me. It was a reminder that I was, again, second best, not as good — never have been, never will be.
Anthony moved to stand beside us just as the front door opened a second time.
I heard Frank’s voice.
And then Trace appeared, her eyes wide with fear her, mouth open in amazement.
Her gaze was at the ceiling and then it flickered to Nixon, Anthony, and finally, myself.