Rachel Dyken - Entice

I sent a quick text to Joe, telling him what was going on. Not to put us in more jeopardy, but because I figured that the guys would need all the help they could get.

Me: If you don’t hear from me in 40 minutes. Come to this address, guns blazing.

Joe: How many men do you need?

Me: Every last one you have.

Joe: Should I be concerned?

Me: We found Campisi. I wouldn’t be against you bringing hell to his doorstep.

Joe: And to think I wanted to kill you a few days ago.

Me: Um, thank you?

Joe: It was a compliment. Keep in touch, boss.

“Do you trust them?” Trace whispered next to me.

I nodded. “Right now? We have no choice but to trust them. And if they turned on us, they’d bring four of the most powerful families down onto their heads. They have more to gain by joining us than going against us.”

Trace squeezed my hand. “Good thinking.”

Mo leaned forward so that she was touching both of our shoulders. “Girls, I love you both but I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Nerves?”

Mo shook her head. “He could be dead.”

“He’s not dead,” Trace reassured her instantly. “You know Tex. He’s smart. He’s very, very capable.”

“That’s just the problem,” Mo grumbled. “He talks way too much.”

“But he’s good, right?” I asked lamely. “I mean, he can hold his own?”

The girls both burst out laughing.

“What am I missing?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mo said. “It’s scary as hell that they have him. My heart hasn’t stopped racing since I saw the exchange, but Tex kills people. It’s what he does.”

“Don’t they all kill people?” I asked confused.

“They do.” Mo nodded. “But to Nixon and Chase, it’s a necessity. Nixon likes hitting things, Chase likes shooting things, and Tex? He’s like an artist. It’s not a profession to him. It’s a lifestyle, something to perfect. He would do well as a gun-for-hire because nobody could trace him.” Mo laughed. “I remember the first time I watched the stupid Jason Bourne movies I asked Tex if he was taking special serum.”

We all giggled.

“Is he?” I asked.

“Negative.” Mo shook her head. “Though he did say they should make a serum out of his genes.”

“Of course.”

“Almost there, ladies.” Frank said from the front seat. “Be sure to keep alert, and remember, shoot first, ask questions later.”

“You’re a great grandpa.” Trace patted his shoulder.

“Trying to soften me up before battle?”

“Never.” Trace swore. “Just glad you’re finally okay with me shooting things.”

“Well, let’s hope those lessons with Nixon paid off. A shotgun is a hell of a lot different than a pistol.”

“Me and Annie will be just fine.” She patted her own gun and smirked.

“You named your gun?” I asked.

She nodded. “Makes it seem less violent.”

“Women,” Frank muttered under his breath.

Tex

We arrived at our destination. A nice little warehouse that had a possessed-looking bird on the side of it. The paint was chipping and, as I’d predicted, the location was next to water. Great. Were they going to drown me or just shoot me? I wonder if I’ll be given a preference? Probably not.

“Out.” The man opened the door, pointing the gun at my face. I lifted up my hands and blew him a kiss.

I strutted in the middle of the two remaining men. They knocked three times on the door. It flew open and I was pulled inside. A bag was put over my head — it smelled like the man I’d just killed and had to sit next to for a few minutes. Lucky me. Even in his death, his stench was haunting me.

“So,” a gravelly voice said. “This is—”

“The man who shall not be named.” I tried to sound bored. “But everyone just calls me Tex. I wonder if they’re afraid of the curse.”

“The curse?”

“Yeah, the one that says that whatever family who is responsible for my death has blood that can’t be cleansed from their hands — their souls will rot in hell for eternity. Their children, their families — completely killed off.”

“Lies,” the voice spat. “We made that up for our pride.”

“Oh, so now he admits it.” I shook my head. “Really, Pops, you think you could come up with a better story? I mean, I’m a freaking legend because of that curse. Why couldn’t you have given me magic powers or something?”

“You do talk a lot.”

“One of my many flaws, other than being sired by the Capo himself.”

Air whooshed by my ears, and then the bag was pulled from my head. I could actually — for the first time in my entire existence — get a look at the bastard who’d abandoned me; I could look directly into his cold icy eyes.

He glared.

I glared right back and then forced a smile. “My apologies. Did you want me to cry?”

“No.”

“I might be able to conjure up a tear if one of your guards gets a feather and starts tickling me, but I think that would be frowned upon.”

“Your mouth will be the death of you.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what that guy’s mom said when I screwed her last night, though I think it was the other way around. Something like my mouth will be the death of her.”

The guard I’d pointed at just glared then rolled his eyes. “Thinks he’s funny.”

“I know I’m funny.” I winked. “Thinking has nothing to do with it. I’m freaking hilarious, and the longer you listen to me talk, the shorter the time is before you die.”

“Me?” My father laughed. “Who’s going to kill me? You? Your little friends?”

“My little friends. It almost sounds like a play date, only with guns, and knives, and well… Chase does have this weird bomb fantasy, but whatever.”

“They will come for you,” my dad said coldly. “And I will end what I should have ended years go.”

“Just out of curiosity…” I leaned forward. “What would that be?”

“The list is quite long.” He scratched his face and took a step forward into the light.

He was a large man, and by large, I meant large. Over three-hundred pounds and at least six-and-a-half-feet tall. His dark hair was thinning around the crown of his head, and I could tell he hadn’t shaved for a few days.

“Been running, Pops? Or have you just let yourself go now that Mom’s finally left you.”

“Your mother is dead.” He said it so matter-of-fact that my first reaction was to laugh, and then I wanted to cry because I’d never met her, and I’d been so freaking close that it destroyed me to know I would never see her smile.

“So?” I shrugged, lying my ass off. “I didn’t know her.”

“You look like her.”

“She must have been very attractive.”

“She was a conniving bitch.”

“Ah well, I’m more of a conniving ass, so I guess I must have inherited that from your side. Can’t have it all, looks and smarts. How would that be fair?”

“Sir?” One of the guards rushed to my father’s side. “A car pulled up to the restaurant a few minutes ago. We think it’s them.”

“O-oh, them,” I mocked. “Tell me Nicolasi doesn’t make you want to shit your pants right here, right now, and I’ll let you shoot me.”

“Nicolasi?” My father’s eyes narrowed. “With an Alfero? And an Abandonato?” He chuckled. “The world is not big enough for those three to be in the same place at the same time, my son.”

“I have no father,” I said quietly. “And you have no son.”

“We’ll see.”

My response was to smile and pretend like what I’d said wasn’t something I’d recited over and over in my head since I’d been old enough to form an actual thought…

I said it in the mirror when I was four. Nixon overheard me and asked why I was so upset. I told him it was stupid that he and Chase looked so much like everyone else, while I had stormy blue eyes and weird-colored hair.

He said it was the Spanish in my Italian heritage.

I cried.

And told him I didn’t know what Spanish was, but was Spanish mean too? Did he not want me either?

Nixon hugged me like a brother.

Chase came in and did the same thing. We played Legos for a few hours afterward, and they promised that even though I didn’t look like them. I’d always be family…

So my real father?

He could rot for all I cared.

“Check it out, Marco.” Father nodded toward the door. “And keep eyes on the perimeter.”

“How many men?” I asked casually.

“Pardon?”

“How many men do you have here, protecting you? You’re a cocky son-of-a-bitch. I assume you can’t imagine a world where some of the families you helped build would turn on you.”

“It would never happen.” My father set his gun out on the metal table and took off his rings. “I am the Capo. To kill me would be like killing God.”

“Holy shit, I’m surprised you haven’t been struck by lightning yet, you blasphemous idiot.”

“He put me in this position.” My father closed his eyes and lifted his hands into the air. “He put me on this earth to create order, to make money, to make a better life for my family.”

“Question.” I winced. “Did His plan also include you buying a fourteen-year-old’s virginity so you could gain control over her family as well as buy silence for involving yourself in what’s been known as the sickest prostitution ring known to the underground?”

He slapped me so hard across the face that I fell to the ground. Blood dripped from my face onto the dirt floor causing a cementing mixture to attach to my face. I spat onto the ground and laughed. So violent, I wonder if he even realized how long I could withstand torture? He punched like a bitch and I craved to tell him that. I touched my lower lip. Great. Now I’d never be able to get a lip ring like Nixon. I’d look like a fool. Damn pipe dreams.

“Who told you that?”

“The girl you tried to kill.” I got up to my knees and made it to my metal chair. “The one you sent the De Langes to kill.”

“I helped the De Langes.” He popped his knuckles. “After all, they came to me, bitching and complaining that a mere woman had been named boss. The few that agreed to it were too terrified of Nicolasi to say no and too greedy about the money he used to buy them off. A few of the members approached one of my associates and asked if I could help.” He grinned. “After all, I am a very helpful man.”

“Oh I can see that.” I saluted him.

“I gave them the location of the girl. It was a win-win. She dies, they die, no loose ends.”

“Misjudged Chase a bit, you think?” I laughed. And got slapped. Again. Damn it.

But this time I got back into my chair I was more irritated than in pain over my throbbing cheek.

“I wasn’t informed of his skill set.”

I raised my hand. “It’s the same as mine. We kill people. We assassinate. What else is there to know?”

“So do the De Langes.” He cursed. “Clearly this Chase was better.”

“And the branding? I mean, was that totally necessary?”

“Easy.” He chuckled. “I brand any associate who works with me or for me. That way, if they ever piss me off, I put a hit on their head. The contracted men know who to kill because of that mark. As I said, I’m a fair man. It wouldn’t be right to kill those who don’t deserve it.”

“Wow, you really should be sainted.”

“The church said no.”

“Shocking.” I put my hand over my heart. “So what’s this about? You want to shut everyone up? Me included? Because it’s not going to happen. It’s—”

He gripped me by the throat and lifted me off the chair. Holy green giant.

“The American mafia is a joke!” He spat. “A pimple on the land of Sicily! I will put a stop to your fighting, your childish bickering, inability to stay out of prison, hard-headed ways for good!” His eyes flashed with something. At first I thought it was anger, then I looked again.

“You’re terrified,” I croaked. “You’re scared shitless of what the De Langes have on you.”

He dropped me to the ground and kicked me.

“The only way out is blood,” I muttered. “And it’s going to be yours.”

Nixon

It looked empty. But I knew better. It was probably crawling with associates just waiting to get another kill in so they could be made men. I rolled my eyes and strapped another magazine to the holster around my chest.