Rachel Dyken - Entice

“Oh, and Chase,” Mil called.

I turned.

She lifted her shirt, revealing a lacey pink bra that I could have sworn spoke to me. It said, “Chase, stay. Chase, make love to me, Chase.”

“Chase,” Mil interrupted. “Have fun at your meeting.”

I must have looked like an idiot. My smile was so huge it actually hurt my face, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t sober up. It was like I was drunk — only a hundred times better. “Thanks.”

I half-walked half-staggered in a lust-filled dream all the way to the elevator.

The euphoric sensation lasted through the entire elevator ride.

And during my walk to the bar, flashes of pink invaded my senses making me drunk with lust.

And again as I took a seat, her face beckoned me, her body screamed. Damn it! I wanted to make her pay, hell I wanted to make us both suffer. The release alone would be my undoing.

“Chase…” Nixon cleared his throat. “You look happy. Hope that smile’s for me and not because of your tardiness.”

“Shit.” Tex winked. “You cheating right in front of me, Nixon?”

“Huh?” That snapped me out of my stupor as I glanced between the two of them.

“Oh right, you weren’t there. Let me catch you up…” Tex leaned in and whispered in Nixon’s ear. “Loverrr…”

“Stop purring in my ear, or I swear I’ll cut your tongue out.”

“Rawr.”

“Tex,” I interrupted. “If you ever — and I do mean ever — touch me the way you just touched Nixon, I will end your life and send your body parts back to Sicily in greeting card form. Capiche?”

Tex merely shrugged and ordered another beer.

“Luca and Frank still here?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Nixon leaned back in his chair. The bar was located right next to the casino, meaning it was noisy as hell, but at least people weren’t paying a lick of attention to us. “They’re here for reinforcements, nothing more. Too many loose ends now.”

I grunted. “Tell me about it.”

We sat in silence.

“Chase.” Nixon leaned forward clasping his hands together. “It’s your call.”

“What is?” Confused, I leaned forward, thinking I hadn’t really heard him correctly.

“What you want to do.” Nixon shrugged.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t know what you mean.”

“We could all go home,” Nixon said in a low voice. “Live our lives, wait for them to come to us. Or we can draw them out.”

My eyebrows pinched together. “How do you figure we draw them out?”

“The wife,” Nixon said offering a casual shrug. “Tanya knows Mil. That was her connection.” He popped his knuckles. “Obviously she knows how to contact her. Maybe the wife has information on what to do. It’s possible we have more than one family after us. The dots need to be connected, and until we have any leads, we’re sitting ducks. It’s the only other way, beside going home and waiting to get shot at, which to be quite honest, might do Tex some good.”

“Heard that,” Tex grumbled.

“You were meant to,” I fired back.

“So.” I swallowed. “Get Mil to give me Tanya’s information?”

“Simple, after all, the last thing the Campisi family wants on their hands is more blood, you know? I imagine they’re hoping we’ll just drop it.” He took a long swig of beer. “Mil’s mom has been estranged from the De Langes for such a long time. They’re probably assuming she doesn’t matter.”

I groaned into my hands, hating every second that ticked by, because it meant I was that much closer to having to talk to Mil about her past — about her mom — things I knew she’d tucked away into her own personal Pandora’s box. Her mom and dad had separated soon after Mil and I’d had our little Vegas romp.

Feeling a headache coming on, I drained the rest of my beer and stood. “I’ll do what I can tonight and text you when I have answers — how long before everyone’s flights leave?”

“Seven p.m. the day after tomorrow.” Nixon rubbed the back of his head. Weariness wore at the edges of his mouth. “Good luck.”

“Right. I think I need prayer more than luck.”

“Well, I’ve got the Rosary memorized.” He smirked as if hiding some private joke. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“Why’d you go and memorize that and make yourself a better Catholic?”

Nixon waved me off. “One of the Seven Deadly Sins got to me.”

“Dude,” Tex piped up laughing — he’d been silently listening the whole time. “One? How about all seven?”

“I’m too tired for this. See you guys later.” I stood and gave half-hugs to both of them then made the trudge back to my room.

I had to keep myself from killing Nixon.

Keep my hands off my wife.

Keep it in my pants.

Discover all her secrets.

Get her to confide in me.

And do it all without looking at her breasts or thinking about sex.

Yeah, Rosary was right.

Nixon

I watched her.

Like a damn stalker from Criminal Minds.

She twirled her hair around her fingers and then threw her head back and laughed, exposing that long delicate neck — just one of the things I was obsessed with.

“Trace?” I licked my lips, suddenly nervous as hell to interrupt her girl time. “You ready for bed?”

“I think,” she said, standing and wrapping her arms sloppily around my neck, “the correct answer is are you ready for bed?”

“Don’t you mean question?”

“That’s your answer!” She laughed and sagged against me.

“Shit. Who gave her wine?”

Mo and Mil both pointed at each other. I glared at my sister. She covered her mouth with her hand and hiccupped.

“Damn shame for a Sicilian to get drunk off two glasses of wine,” I muttered.

“Sorry.” Trace nuzzled her face in my neck. “I was just so stressed, and now I’m sleepy.” There went all plans for seduction.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I kissed her forehead. “Why don’t I carry you?”

“Nixon, it’s fine. I’m—”

Ignoring her, I lifted her body into my arms and nodded to the girls. “See you tomorrow. Oh and Mil, Chase already went back to the room. He seemed… upset. You should go.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Holy shit, I was officially turning into Tex, all cheese and no seriousness. I needed some damn sleep.

“Oh.” She stood so suddenly that I could tell she got dizzy. She grasped the chair and gave me a weak smile. “Uh, is it safe for me to—”

“No problem,” I interrupted. “Vegas is basically the safest place for you to be. Cameras are everywhere, especially in this hotel. It’s why Luca chose it.”

“Thanks.” Mil walked by me, leaving Mo all by herself.

“Should I send Tex?”

Trace was starting to get heavy, but clearly she didn’t care. She was already sleeping against my chest.

“I’m a big girl.” Mo took a drink of wine. “I’ll go up when I’m ready.”

“Text me if you need anything.” I nodded and walked back into the hotel and down the hall to the Rush Tower.

“Nixon…” Trace moaned in my arms.

“What, sweetheart?” I hit the top floor button and slipped in my key card. The elevator jolted.

“Why won’t you marry me like Chase?”

“Chase proposed?” I joked. Well, it was kind of a joke, as in, I would have laughed before I pulled the trigger.

“No, he’s married.” She pushed against my chest like she was irritated with me for not tracking. “I mean, why won’t you and I marry?”

“Why won’t we?”

“Mmm.”

“Who says we won’t?”

“Mo.” Trace didn’t open her eyes but they squinted as if she was trying to open them but lacked the energy. “She said your head’s stuck in your ass.”

At that I laughed. “Oh yeah? What else did my favorite twin say?”

“You’re scared.”

And there went all that beer I’d just drunk… threatening to come right back up. Because my brilliant twin sister had hit the nail right on the head. Damn her.

I was terrified.

Of losing Trace.

Of having her.

Of losing her again.

It always went in that order.

“You’re drunk, Trace.” The doors opened. I carried her to the penthouse and shifted my weight so I could slide the card into the slot without putting her down. Once we were inside and by the couch, I gently placed her on the cushions. A few sensor lights clicked on, causing a dim glow to invade the room.

Trace seemed totally alert. Her wide eyes examined me from head to toe before stopping at my mouth. “I love you.”

“Trace.” I growled, kneeling down so we were at eye level. “You know I love you. I’m obsessed with you. I can’t live without you.”

“Is that why you’re scared?”

“Damn it.” I let myself sink to the floor, leaning my back against the couch as her legs dangled by my shoulders. “I can’t give you what you want, Trace.”

“What do you think I want?”

“Out.” I laughed without humor. “You want out. Out of this lifestyle, out of the family, out of the country, preferably anywhere but the US and Sicily.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t a good response; it reminded me of the way teachers answer you when you’re in school. The oh sounded mocking, irritated, sarcastic, and hot as hell.

“I know you, Trace.”

To be fair, I should have expected her to get upset; whenever she drank wine, she went from being bone weary to so aggressive I’d tied her up once.

Best night of my life.

Until she’d puked.

So it was a really good half hour.

“I hate you sometimes.” Trace moved from the couch to my lap, smacking me lightly on the cheek. “I don’t want out, you bastard.”

What? “But, Trace, you asked on the plane—”

“I was being a woman.” She all but shouted. “Yes, I wish circumstances were different, but leaving this life would be like leaving part of you behind, and I’m kind of a fan of every part.”

I smirked. “Admit it, you have your favorites.” I moved against her just to show her exactly what I was talking about then nipped her ear, slowly kissing down her neck and pulling back to gaze into her eyes.

“Ass.” She punched my shoulder. “I swear, the more time you hang out with Chase and Tex, the more ridiculous you get.”

“Part of my charm.”

“You’re not charming.” She crossed her arms and looked away. “You’re sexy but not charming.”

“Charming and sexy,” I corrected.

“Nixon…” Her hands cupped my face. “I just want you. Forever. That’s what I want. I don’t want to have to worry that you’re going to run.”

“So you do want to tie me up?”

Trace rolled her eyes. “Be serious.”

“Fine.” I kissed her mouth. “Tell you what. Anything — and I do mean anything — you want is yours. So ask.”

“I can’t.” Her face fell. “Because then it’s not romantic.”

“Romance isn’t really a strong point for me. Sex? Absolutely, but romance?”

“Stop.” She pushed against my chest. “You’re better than you give yourself credit for. I just want to know that it’s you and me for eternity, get it? I want proof of that.”

“Proof.” I repeated the word, letting it roll around on my tongue like slow, melting chocolate. And then, a light bulb went off. She was talking about marriage again. Romance? She wanted romance? In the middle of some unknown mafia war where we might all end up in caskets? Done. I could multitask. I was going to romance the hell out of her. “Done.”

“What?” She reared back as if I’d just told her that her ass looked fat in her jeans.

“Done.”

“But—”

“Now it’s time for you to be patient. Can you do that?”

Her smile lit up the room, — scratch that, her smile lit up my freaking world.

“Yes.”

I lost track of time as we sat on the floor talking, catching up, teasing each other… I was almost asleep when Trace asked, “Why are you being such an ass to Chase and Mil?”

With a sigh, I turned and pulled Trace into the curve of my body, resting my chin on her head. “You know Chase just as well as I do, sweetheart. You can’t just order him to do things. It’s hard for him. Hell, it’s hard for me. They need each other. She needs to trust him, and he needs to allow himself to trust her to fall for her, if he can.”

Trace let out a heavy sigh. My chest clenched at the thought that she wasn’t okay with his relationship with Mil. I was damn possessive of her heart and hated that it was possible he still held a tiny sliver. I would start a war over that sliver. I would kill for it, steal for it, destroy for it.

“I’m glad.”