Elect - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 43

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“What’s up with you?” Trace laughed. “We’re supposed to be working.”

“Screw work.” I pushed her paper onto the floor, earning a glare from the students at the table next to us. “Let’s leave early. The way I see it, Luca has to let us go. Plus, I need to make that really fun errand after school and we both know how fun that’s going to be.”

She seemed to think about it.

I grabbed her hand. “Just follow me, it’ll be fine.”

We grabbed our stuff and approached the desk hand in hand.

“Mr. Winter, Miss Rooks, what can I do for you?”

It hadn’t occurred to me until now that both Trace and I were hiding our identity, our bloodlines with our last names.

With a heavy sigh I answered. “It’s kind of loud in here. May we study in the library?”

Luca’s eyebrows knit together. I gave him a firm nod. I was hoping my mafia mojo was going to work. Hoping he’d see the underlying issue, not the work or the noise excuse. Shit, it was dead silent in there. But I needed to get away. I slowly tilted my head toward Trace and then mouthed please to Luca.

Wow, I must have been desperate. I never said please.

“Brilliant idea, Mr. Winter.” Luca waved us off. “Remember not to be tardy.”

“I’m always on time,” I responded, gripping Trace’s hand with mine as we exited the classroom and walked hand in hand all the way down the hall.

The day had officially caught up with me—the seriousness of the situation, the realization that what Trace and I had would never be permanent. Ridiculous that with all the chaos going on around me, the planned death of my best friend, all I could think about was making her mine. My emotions were in hyperdrive. Part of me wanted to put Trace into hiding just to keep her safe—but the selfish half of me craved having her near. Just one more kiss, just one more touch and I’d gladly walk off to the executioner.

When we reached outside I couldn’t take it anymore, I jerked her behind one of the buildings, dropped my bag, threw hers on the ground, and pushed her against the wall. I don’t know what touched her first—my body, my lips, my hands. I was all over the place, needing to taste her.

Because in the pit of my stomach I knew—it would probably be for the last time. I was desperate for her to see me, not him. I needed her to feel my lips, not his. I know she’d made a choice; she’d said as much last night, but my heart was aching with the possibility that we only had today—we had now, and that was it.

“Chase.” With a push, Trace put some distance between us. We were both breathing heavy. Her lips were swollen from my assault. “What’s going on?”

“We’re skipping class.”

“Why?”

“So I can kiss you.” I grazed her lower lip with my tongue and gave her a slow agonizing kiss, then pulled back. “Is that a problem?”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “No, except it seems like you’re upset or something.”

“Not upset.” My hands shook as I placed them on her shoulders and exhaled. “Just a little… sentimental.”

“Chase Winter.” She laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Please.” I had to touch her. My hands went to her neck as my thumbs grazed her lower lip. “I’ve been nothing but sentimental with you.”

“You have two autopilots. Jackassery or sentimental sap. Why can’t you just find some middle ground? Hmm?” She teased.

“Go big or go home, I guess.” I leaned in until our lips were touching again.

She pulled back.

Shit.

“I…” Her cheeks stained red. “Chase, I like you, I love you, but Nixon’s only been dead a few days and I just—” Tears welled behind her eyes. “I’m not saying no. I’m just saying not right now. I need time. And the way you kiss me, the way you touch me…” She choked on a sob. “Sometimes it makes me forget him and I hate myself that I would do that after everything he’s done for you, and for me.”

Never in my life had I ever felt like a bigger bastard than in that moment. I jerked away from her and picked up both our bags. “You’re right, Trace. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Hormones?” she joked.

I laughed with her, but inside I was a bit crushed. Maybe for her… but for me? It was instinct. It was love.

I knew something was wrong the minute Tony answered the phone. “Yes?” He was too calm, too patient, not his usual self.

“So we doing this or what?” I snapped.

“Patience,” Tony chuckled. “Don’t you just love when everything goes according to plan?”

“I freaking live for it. Seriously. Oh look, I almost shit my pants with happiness at your excitement.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Yeah, well.” I rolled my eyes and managed to keep my tone even. “It’s my marker; what can I say?”

Tony was silent for a minute and then said quickly, “My house. We’ll meet there and do the exchange.”

“If you double-cross me—”

“You’re the one getting the better end of the deal. My silence. My loyalty. And my money. You’ll shut the hell up if you know what’s good for you.”

I laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Tony snapped.

“You.”

“Don’t push me, boy, or I’ll—”

“Do nothing. That’s right. Nothing. You may have the money, you may pull the strings, and you may think I’m a dumbass puppet, but I have one thing you don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Every damn card stacked against you. So if I were you, I’d start talking a little nicer before I rain a hellstorm on your freaking parade.”

I hung up the phone then threw it across the room.

Luca clapped behind me. “Well played. Perhaps I do have use for you in my family.”

I shook my head. “More family is the last thing I need.”

“Redemption.” Luca’s eyes narrowed. “Would be a first.”

“How the hell do you redeem the damned, Luca? A shit’s still a shit even when you put a rose on it.”

“And blood is thicker than life.” Luca slowly lifted his cigar to his mouth and took a puff. “You may say you don’t want a family, you may say you want out, but you’re forgetting one tiny thing.”

I looked away, hoping he wouldn’t go on.

“I. Own. You.”

“Everything ready?” Nixon said as he came into the room.

I quickly hid my expression and shrugged. “Of course.” My eyes darted to Luca and he gave a slight nod. “Everything’s going perfectly according to plan.”

“Good.” Nixon’s mouth relaxed as he took a seat in the chair and looked at his phone again. I knew what he was doing; he was memorizing her face. Hell, if I had a girl I’d be doing the same damn thing. Made men were no different from soldiers headed off to war—in the end we all wanted something to fight for—whether it be a pretty girl or a cause. When facing death—every human being needed something that, if the worst happened—would pull them through.

And maybe that’s why I was beginning to feel more terrified than anything—because I knew—I had nobody worth pulling for, and it hurt like hell.

After my make-out session gone wrong, I called for Tex to pick up Trace. We didn’t talk about it any further and it kind of pissed me off that something I wanted so badly was so close I was able to taste it, but could not fully have it.

I was confused by my own feelings and definitely not on my A game, which meant it was possible I was going to get murdered in my own bank if I didn’t get my shit together—fast.

Checking both of my guns for the third time, I put both of them in the back of my pants and pulled my shirt over them.

I was a big fan of brass knuckles, so I had one of those on my left hand. It also had a knife that would snap out and slice someone if I needed it. I did all my business with my right hand anyway.

After taking a few deep breaths, I approached the large building. It was white with large spikes protruding from the top. Tony had built it to look like more of an artful fortress than a business building. His office, and the offices of the family, were all in the bottom of the building. The basement.

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