Rachel Dyken - Entice

I used to be that towel.

White.

“Maybe you should sit down.” Trace pushed me onto the bed just as Mo came out of the bathroom, her eyes puffy.

“Wow, you took that news well.” Mo wiped her cheeks and smiled through fresh tears.

“His son?” I repeated. “But—”

“I’ll give you the short version,” Mo interrupted. “Tex was sent away when he was really little to stay with our family. A sort of mafia war or something broke out in parts of Sicily, and they thought the heir to the awesomeness that is the Campisi family would be safer in America with one of the most powerful families in the States.”

Trace joined us on the bed, quiet as Mo continued the story.

“I don’t know exactly what happened. I mean, we were all still in diapers, but the truce was broken by one of the families — either the Campisis or the Abandonatos. Nobody really knows, but in the end, um… in the end, Tex stayed until he was old enough to make a choice. See, he didn’t really know his own family. Again, I don’t know the whole story. Some say the Abandonatos stole the heir and caused an all-out war — another fun reason we don’t ever deal directly with the Campisi family, but go through Luca, the minion, if you will.”

I nodded, taking my time to process what she’d just said. “But what about five years ago? You said he’s had five years to adjust.”

“Right.” Mo sniffled again. “Thanks to my jackass of a dad, nobody told Tex — or any of us — until five years ago. By then the choice was basically made for him. Turn his back on the family he’s known his entire life, never to see them again, move to Sicily and take his place… or stay.”

“And be cut off.” Trace finished.

“Cut off?” I repeated. “What does that even mean?”

“He’s not an Abandonato, and he’s not technically a Campisi. — I mean, I guess he is. Blood and all that. He’s just not recognized by them. Tex is a made man. His birthright is bluer than anyone in America, but to claim it means—”

“Losing everything,” I finished. “So he stayed.”

“And he gets paid handsomely,” Mo said tightly. “But nothing like what he deserves.”

After a few moments of silence, I giggled.

Trace’s and Mo’s eyes widened with horror, but I couldn’t stop the fit of laughter erupting out of me.

Wow, I wasn’t making any friends, but I couldn’t help it. “After all that, you still want to eat everything in the mini-bar and charge it to his card?”

“Hey.” Mo cracked a smile and then started laughing. “He could be a freaking saint, and I would still charge to his damn card. That guy is a pain in my ass!”

“But you still love him.” Trace smiled, patting Mo’s leg. “Admit it.”

“I admit nothing.” Mo closed her eyes and crossed her arms, then with a loud laugh said, “Except… I’ve been eyeing those stupid M&M’s for the last ten minutes. I don’t care who pays for them. I just need food. Too many tears were shed, and chocolate cures everything.”

“And wine,” I added. “Chocolate and wine.”

“And hot men.” Trace winked at me.

“Weird, because aren’t the hot men what drive you toward the chocolate and wine? Yet after you’re done with all that self-loathing, you crawl right back to the six-pack with a silly grin on your face and stars in your eyes.”

“Hmph,” we all said in unison. I took a swig of wine directly from the bottle.

“Speaking of six-packs.” Trace cleared her throat. “How’s Chase?”

The wine spewed out of my mouth, landing on the red floor. The dark carpet soaked up the red immediately leaving a large wet spot that looked more like water than anything.

“We’re so going to have to pay damages.” Mo shook her head. “And we’ve been here like fifteen minutes.”

“Our damage is a wine stain in their red carpet. It’s Vegas. That’s normal.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “The boys’ damage is gonna be blood.”

We all looked at one another and then started laughing all over again. “Then again…” I stole an M&M from Mo. “It is Vegas.”

“To Vegas!” Trace took the wine bottle from my hands and lifted it in the air.

“To six-packs!” Mo held up an M&M.

Both girls set their eyes on me, waiting. I laughed and lifted my one M&M into the air. “To the craziest honeymoon in history.”

Nixon

“That’s enough, Chase.” I jerked him away from the bloody mess and semi-mangled body. But Chase lunged again for William’s face. “I said…” I gripped his shoulders and shoved him toward Tex. “…that’s enough.”

“Sorry.” Chase stepped away from the rat bastard, a smirk of self-satisfaction plastered all over his face. “I didn’t hear you.”

“My ass,” Tex said from the corner, grinning like an idiot as he took Chase’s place and pulled out a switchblade. “Now, we can do this the easy way.” He pointed to himself. “Or the hard way.” He pointed to me and smirked. “And word to the wise? Always choose easy.”

William spat in Tex’s face.

With a laugh, Tex wiped his face, handed me the switchblade, then walked toward the bar and poured himself a drink. “He’s all yours, man.”

Smirking, I pulled the little freak to his feet and dragged him to the bathroom. “Don’t feel like talking, hmm? Think you’re tough? A mafia bad ass?”

I threw him against the wall, his head cracked against the tile. After a second push, blood ran from the back of his neck. I leaned in and growled, “You disgust me.”

To his credit, the guy didn’t even yell. Maybe he wanted to die, maybe he didn’t care, but I couldn’t take that chance. I needed to know for sure who he worked for because if it wasn’t Campisi, someone else was tailing our every move.

I kicked his legs out from underneath him and pushed him into the shower, motioning for Chase to hold him against the floor. I grabbed a washcloth and put it over William Herald’s face and then started the Jacuzzi tub. Chase’s hands were on either side of William’s body, holding him down as he choked and gasped for air.

“Enough,” Tex said from behind me.

Obviously I’d done enough if Tex was the voice of reason. That happened once every ten years.

I turned off the water and pulled the washcloth from his face. “Ready to talk yet? A simple nod will do.”

Hatred dripped from his eyes.

I tilted my head to the side. “Impressive.”

With a grunt, I pushed him down again and motioned for Chase to hold his jaw open as I turned on the water, this time leaving it on twice as long. William’s body started to shake.

Cursing, I turned off the water and pulled the cloth off for a second time. “Memory still fuzzy? Or you think we can have a nice little chat. Tell you what.” I tapped his face with my hand. “I’ll even pour you a drink, and when you’re done spilling your guts, put you up in one of the nicest rooms in the hotel, William. How does that sound? I may even send you a nice call girl, someone real classy, maybe two. Hell, I’ll send you three.”

Snot mixed with spit trailed down William’s chin and onto his chest. He gave a jerky nod. Chase got off of him and tugged him to his feet.

We walked in silence back to the main living room and each poured a drink. When I handed our guest his whiskey, he could barely hold it in his hand, let alone drink it without getting it all over his face. Maybe we’d beaten him too much. Or maybe he was just a really good actor.

“Spill,” I pulled out my gun and aimed it at his face, “or this ends here and now.”

“You’d kill me without knowing who sent me?” William threatened, his voice gravelly and hoarse.

“Absolutely.” I laughed. “What’s one less person in the world? Hell, what’s one less hired man? You’re replaceable, even to the people you’re working for. You mean absolutely nothing. Damn shame, I doubt anyone would even mourn your passing. Ten bucks says when I bury your body out in the desert, people won’t even file a missing person report for another two weeks.”

His eyes flared to life, his lower lip trembling.

“Aw.” I tilted my head. “Did I hurt your feelings? Strike a sore spot in that greedy little heart? Let me be very clear.” I lowered my voice. “You don’t matter. You never did, you never will. You’re a joke. An idiot, actually. Tell me, how much did you get paid to spy on us? Were you even told what you were dealing with? As far as you’re concerned, I’m the judge, jury, executioner, and the only prayer you have of walking out of this hotel alive. As it is, I’m debating whether or not I want to cut out your tongue first or start with your hands. It’s an art form, you know… breaking the tiny bones in a person’s fingers. You want to be sure to snap them at just the right angle to inflict enough pain and swelling to render a person utterly useless.”

The man’s leg shook as a stream of piss ran out of his pant leg and across his shoe into a puddle on the floor.

“I take that as a yes, then?” I grinned. “You feel like having a nice long chat now?”

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “I didn’t know.”

“Know?”

“They didn’t say who you were. I don’t know who you are,” he repeated. “I’ve been taking odd jobs for years from him. I got the tattoo after the first job. He said I was part of the family, that this was the last test.”

Him. At first he said they, now he said him. Why? I stored that piece of information in my memory and asked, “How many years?”

“Six, maybe seven.”

“You a local?” I bared my teeth and leaned in.

He nodded his mouth trembling again. “I never met with the main guy. My orders always came from someone else.”

“Name?”

“I don’t know.”

I cocked the gun and pushed the point of it against his skull. “Name?”

“I don’t know!” William whimpered, his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.

Rolling my eyes, I rose from my seat and slowly approached him. With a grunt, I pulled William’s arm out and twisted until I heard a pop. “Name?”

The man started screaming. I covered his mouth with my hand, muffling the sound.

“You can kill me.” He dry heaved. “You can threaten me… all I know is he goes by Angel Santiago, but I think it’s a made-up name.”

“No shit.” I dropped him to the floor and wiped my hands on my jeans.

“Hey.” Tex pointed to the clock in our room. “Our meeting’s in a few minutes. What’s your call?”

I shrugged. “We take him with us. If he works for Campisi, we’ll at least see some recognition on his face. If not, then we’ll set him up in a room, put a few men outside, and let him eat his last meal.”

William let out a low whimper from his spot on the floor. Whoever he was, clearly he hadn’t been broken before. The man was already dead and he didn’t even know it.

“I’m not killing you.” I rolled my eyes. “So stop being dramatic. Believe me, if I wanted you dead, your ass would be dead.”

“Uplifting.” Chase nodded in approval.

“Always.” I popped my knuckles and stretched my arms high above my head. Tex yawned from the corner.

“Should I call the girls?”

A soft knock sounded at the door. I whipped my head around. “Shit.” I held up my hand and motioned for the guys to be silent as I made my way toward the door and looked through the peep hole.

“Of course.” I rolled my eyes and opened it wide as the girls all shuffled in. Trace’s eyes bulged as she looked at William. I had to give it to her, she didn’t even flinch. The guy was an absolute mess. Dislocated arm. Two swollen eyes, blood still spewing from parts of his body, and of course he still smelled like piss. Really he was a sight. Trace sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples briefly before flashing me a confident smile. God, I loved her. I loved her for dealing with this, for not running away screaming, for trusting me. Most of all? For seeing the ugly, and loving me anyway.

Mo was used to that type of scene. She was examining her nails while Mil stepped around her and stared in curiously.

William’s face flinched just enough to give me pause, his eyes on Mil. “What? You recognize her?”

He shook his head violently.

Before anyone could say anything, I grabbed Mil by the elbow and thrust her into his face. “Think really hard.”

“Nixon!” Chase yelled frantically. “Let her go.”

“Think.” I squeezed her arm, causing a little yelp of pain to escape her lips. In the corner of my vision I spotted Chase’s lunge for me. As Tex tried to push him back, the man’s eyes watered, and then he closed them as a tear slid down his cheek. Hell doesn’t make him break, but an attractive girl makes him cry?