The entire room fell silent.
Even Chase and Mil stopped fighting.
“You truly do not know,” Frank finally whispered. “Do you, son?”
I set my coffee onto the table and wiped my face with my hands. “Know, what?”
Frank placed his hand across mine, mumbling a prayer in Italian before whispering, “You have a sister.”
The room went red, and then black, and then red again. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Damn near everything.” Luca snorted. “I think it’s time we adjourn, let Tex savor the fact that he still has some family worth seeking out…”
I was still stunned when Frank put his hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Blood always wins.”
Mo.
My sister.
Nixon.
Holy shit.
Choices.
They’d been leaving hints all along.
They were going to make me choose. One look at Nixon said it all—because I knew he would choose Mo every single time—if he’d never met her, he would choose her.
Just like I would choose my sister.
To protect her, I would join the devil.
To protect her, I would fight my friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Being in the Mafia is like playing house. Everything is fine until someone pulls out a gun.
Mo
BY THE TIME I made it down to breakfast it was more like lunch. Chase and Mil had left a note that they’d gone out shooting and Nixon was just getting ready to take Trace to the grocery store.
Weird.
How normal we all seemed.
But nothing about our family was normal, which I was reminded of yet again when Nixon strapped ammo to the inside of his ankle.
“Where’s Tex?” I cleared my throat and crossed my arms.
Nixon and Trace shared a tense look.
With a curse Nixon mumbled, “Hell if I care.”
Trace smacked him in the shoulder, but he just shook his head and gently took her arm, leading her out of the house.
“We’ll be back this afternoon,” Nixon called. “I left plenty of men and you do still have Tex here with you, so all should be well, you know, unless he’s asked to choose—”
“Nixon!” Trace yelled his name so loud even I was shocked, she never yelled. Ever.
He blushed slightly and ducked his head as they walked out the door. Okay, that was weird.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and grabbed a granola bar from the pantry. It was a really pretty day, no way was I staying inside while everyone else was out doing something. I was sick of being babied, even if I did get shot, it wasn’t like I’d almost died or anything.
I ate the granola bar and choked down the coffee, then limped towards the back door.
“Going somewhere?” Sergio asked, peeking out from behind the newspaper.
“Hell.” I smiled sweetly. “Care to join me?”
His gaze unwavering he simply answered. “Too late.”
I shrugged and shouldered open the door limping across the back yard. The tree, just like everything else, looked harmless.
I’d spent years climbing that tree.
I imagined I was a princess in a tower, just waiting for my prince to come rescue me. It didn’t help that Nixon always told me stories about princesses in towers convincing me that I was like the girls in the story—it’s kind of how the whole Mafia princess thing came into play. Tex thought it was hilarious and teased me about it relentlessly when we were little.
Yeah, I’d kill to have him tease me right now.
What had I been thinking?
One hour? Was I insane? Delusional?
And, further to the point, was that one hour enough to bond him to me forever? It had to be, because I wasn’t so sure he would give me another chance with him. He wore his anger like a shield. Even when we slept, I could feel it coming off of him in waves.
With a sigh I placed my hands on the tree and lifted myself into the air, my bum leg swinging against the bark. At least it only ached a bit today.
My legs dangled nearly touching the ground.
How pathetic, I couldn’t get any higher.
But at least I was alone.
With my thoughts.
I wondered if I would do things differently, if I could go back in time, would I have chosen not to protect Tex? Or would I have gone to Nixon first, asked for his help rather than make a deal with a ghost?
My text alert went off.
G: You tried Mo, and that’s all we could ask. In the end… hopefully it will be enough to keep them from killing him. Nobody wants the head to come down on the tail.
Me: We’ll have to just keep trying.
G: Yes. We will.
I thought back to that night… closing my eyes as the memories wrapped themselves around me like a choking sensation.
“Mo?” Sergio caught me as I stumbled against him. “Are you alright?”
“Stupid Tex.” I grumbled, my words felt heavy in my throat. “I hate him, make me forget him, please, it’s only ever been him! I need it to be someone else!” It was after Mil and Chase’s wedding and I’d drunk way too much wine, thinking I could drown my sorrows in the glass apparently.
Sergio sighed and pulled me into his arms. “You think I want what isn’t mine to take?”
“I know you do!” I pulled back, more like stumbled back and poked him in the chest. “You’ve always liked me! Admit it!”
Sergio chuckled and held his hands up in the air. “Guilty, but you’ll hate yourself and in the end, I’m positive you’ll hate me.”
“Let me hate you too, then… let me hate you as much as I hate him, as much as I hate me.”
“Oh Mo.” Sergio pulled me back into his arms and kissed my forehead. “Fill the world with hate, and all you get is hate. Fill your soul with more hate and it breeds hate. Hate this world needs less of. Love, however, I could do that.”
“Don’t love me,” I spat. “The last person that loved me didn’t mean it.”
“He did,” Sergio whispered. “And you know that.”
“Please!” I begged, my voice hoarse. “Please just make love to me.”
“What lengths would you go to… to save him?”
“Save him?”
Sergio gently placed me in the chair next to his bed and ran his fingers through his long thick hair. “Tex. What would you do to save him?”
“Anything,” I choked. “I would do anything, but why does he need saving?”
“Everyone,” came a familiar voice behind me, “should be given a second chance, Monroe. Don’t you think?”