Nixon smirked. “I’ve always liked you, Mil.”
“Funny, I’ve always hated you.” I smiled sweetly.
“Lies.” Nixon waved the gun in the air and licked his lips. “Your own family wants you dead. That tells me one thing.”
“They’re pissed?” I offered.
“The De Langes are always pissed.” This from Tex.
I nodded in agreement.
Nixon pulled the chamber back on his pistol. It was still aimed at my head. “They’re afraid.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” I nodded to the gun. “Why do you think I asked for Chase to marry me?”
All eyes fell to Chase; he was still unable to move, since Tex had pinned his arms behind his back, but he managed a shrug. “And here I thought it was my good looks and sexual prowess.”
“Don’t forget cooking skills,” Tex added.
“Helpful.” Chase groaned. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Tex kept his firm grip.
Nixon laughed and returned his attention back to our conversation. “You needed his protection. I get that. Chase gets that. But what I don’t get is how you knew you needed his protection, his help. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I don’t care if you’re the last woman alive. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if your heart is pure gold, your intentions totally selfless. I will freaking put a bullet in your head if you put my family in jeopardy. So I’m going to ask again. What. Do. You. Know?”
I had to close my eyes. If I kept them open, I’d see the look of betrayal on everyone’s faces — the absolute shock and disgust that my family were spawns of the devil himself. “Everything.” My voice was hoarse. “I know every damn thing.”
Chapter Ten
Chase
My body relaxed when Nixon lowered the gun. Did I think he’d really shoot her? Yeah. He would. Because I knew it wasn’t just about his family but Trace as well. Hell, he’d kill me if it would keep her safe. And I wouldn’t blame him. I’d probably just look up at him with smiling eyes and tell him he’d done the right thing. Damn, we were a messed up-bunch.
“Everything,” Nixon repeated, nodding his head as he put the safety back on his gun. “What is everything?”
Mil looked at me. Why me, of all people? I tried to give her a reassuring nod.
Her voice was quiet. I hated when she acted docile and compliant; it was so against her character that it pissed me off, making me want to get in a fight with her just so she’d get some of that spark back.
“Sex trafficking.” She swallowed. “My dad was desperate for money. He had a… um, a bit of a drug problem.”
“What drug?” Nixon squinted.
She looked down at her hands. “I think the better question would be what drugs didn’t he have an interest in?”
“So that’s how,” Nixon muttered. “So the family ran out of money really fast, and without our support, it just got worse, I imagine… so he dabbled in prostitution?”
He made it sound like he had it all figured out, but I knew it was just the tip of the iceberg. Mil would never tell him everything all at once; she didn’t work that way. None of us did.
“What we’re dealing with,” she continued. “It’s bigger than just our family, it’s—”
“It’s what?” Nixon asked.
When she didn’t answer, he leveled the gun on her and thumbed off the safety. She rolled her eyes in frustration.
“It’s what?”
“Phoenix tried to protect me,” Mil whispered. “I didn’t know that by taking his protection, by going to school, I was damning him to hell. He was too deep in to see his way out. He found out too much — he discovered the connections my father had made — and by then it was too late.”
“What connections?”
“I can’t say.” Tears formed in her eyes as she looked at each of us in turn. “Please don’t make me say it. Please.”
“Mil.” Nixon’s voice was cold as death. “Please don’t make me force you in front of Chase. Don’t turn me into the villain.”
“Don’t think I’ve ever heard him say please,” Tex muttered.
I think he was trying to lighten the dark-as-hell mood, but it wasn’t working. I debated on whether or not to try to punch him in the throat or just wait until Mil was done confessing, not that I could do anything with my arms pinned, but still.
“Nixon.” Her voice shook. “My family has broken every single one of the rules for the Sicilian Mafia. Every last one. They’ve stomped on them. They’ve spat at them. But worst of all, they’ve decided the only way to get even with everyone is to do the worst possible thing a member can do.”
“Look at another man’s wife?” Tex said under his breath.
“Tex,” we said in unison, all of us clearly annoyed.
“Exposure.” Nixon cursed a blue streak and stood. “Tell me you don’t mean exposure. Tell me your family isn’t hell-bent on flushing every last member of our families out of the country. Tell me they haven’t made a deal.”
Mil lifted her head, tilting her chin in defiance. “That’s just the thing. I can’t.”
Tex gripped me harder. I tried to get free, cursing in the process, nobody moved.
It was their worst fear. It was mine.
Our lifestyle, our legacy, our money — property of the US government, compliments of one of our own families.
That’s where jealousy got you. A shiny seat in prison next to every last family member you used to joke around with at family dinner. Only the De Langes would come out smelling like roses while everyone else burned in hell.
Chapter Eleven
Nixon
She wasn’t telling the whole truth. Every time I questioned her, she bit down on her lip, her eyes always focusing on the floor to the left, and then her body language would change. She’d tap her foot or turn her knees away from me toward Chase.
He was the key to everything.
Because if he could get Mil to trust him with her heart, with her life, with her secrets, then it would be possible to save everyone before the shitstorm hit our family.
He’d hate me for it.
But Mil never had to know, and as far as I was concerned, it was good relationship therapy. Pretend to be in love — hadn’t he done that a few months ago? Only, it wasn’t fake — it was as real as death.