Empire (Eagle Elite Book 7) (31 page)

I opened my mouth but she held up her hand.

“No,” she seethed. “You don’t get to talk to me. In fact, I don’t want you here. At all. It’s my birthday, right? Did you get me a gift?”

“I would have but—”

“Here’s the perfect opportunity.” Tears streamed down her face. “Give me the gift of your absence. Because looking at you hurts too much, and I want to be happy on my birthday.”

“You want me to leave?” My chest cracked open. Hell, I was bloodied, bruised, dying inside. “As a birthday present?”

“Yes.”

I had no choice. I stood and nodded slowly. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“You lost the right to ask what I wanted a long time ago, and the sad thing is, I’m easy, Sergio. I’m a really easy person to please. Really, it’s pathetic, being so starved for any sort of affection that had you even smiled at me once since we got here I’d want nothing more than to have you at my side.”

She might as well have picked up a gun and fired direct hits into my heart, I was dead, flailing, falling.

How had I messed up so horribly?

Not seen her hurt?

Because I’d been so focused on me.

On keeping a memory alive that was long ago dead.

Shame. Shame was worse than anger.

I swam in it, I embraced it, I was shame.

The anger was gone.

And what replaced it was worse, because at least you can justify anger, but shame?

There’s no justifying shame.

It is what it is.

Horrifying.

Val stomped off and rejoined my family —her family, and I numbly went to the garage to grant Val her wish.

Over hill, over dale, thorough bush, thorough briar, over park, over pale, thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere. Swifter than the moon’s sphere. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Valentina

I WANTED DANTE.

And Gio.

And Sal.

And Papi.

And oddly enough, at times like this, I wanted my best friend from high school, the one who’d moved away without a word. She’d always understood me and had been so kind when I was frustrated, almost like she knew me better than I knew myself.

But people get busy.

And we lost touch.

I stared at the door to the house and took a deep breath only to have it open before I even had the chance to touch the knob.

“So.” Nixon smiled. “How are things in Jackass Land? Do I need to bury a Sergio sized body?”

Nixon never really spoke to me much, I mean he did, but not like the rest of the guys; he was constantly watching, calculating. Funny how I used to be afraid of Phoenix and now it was Nixon that had me uneasy, probably because the girls talked way too much, and I learned just how brutal he could be, how brutal he wanted to be when he was angry.

He reminded me a lot of my twin.

Hah, maybe because he was a twin himself. Who knew?

I shrugged.

“Not the shrug.” Nixon sighed, and opened his arms. “Anything but the shrug. When Trace shrugs, I hide the guns.”

I smirked.

“Ah, a smile?”

“I didn’t kill him.”

Sergio’s car peeled out of the driveway, making my ears hurt, but my heart hurt worse.

Nixon swore under his breath. “What did you say to him?”

“After I punched him?” I offered.

His eyes widened. “You punched him?”

“It felt right.”

“Atta girl!” He rubbed his scruffy chin and laughed harder, his lip ring drawing attention to his young face. Even though they were twins, he and Mo looked nothing alike. She was gorgeous, but there was a harsh beauty about Nixon, one that told people like me that we could look all we wanted but to touch was taking our lives into our own hands. “So what happened after the punch, Rocky?”

“I yelled… a lot.” Slumping my shoulders, I moved forward into his embrace and pressed my head against his strong chest as he rubbed my back. He wasn’t Dante, but again, it felt like Dante. “And told him that since he didn’t get me anything for my birthday, my present could be his absence.”

“Harsh,” Nixon whispered.

“Necessary,” I fired back.

“Pain has a way of wrecking us from the inside out, Val. Physical pain is nothing. Damn, shoot my leg, slice my throat, but when it comes to loss?” He shook his head. “I remember when I thought I lost Tracey to Chase.”

“Lost?” I stepped back. “What do you mean lost?”

“The point is.” He avoided my question. “Emotional pain scars but never truly heals. It’s like a scab that refuses to stop bleeding. You think you’re fine, until you bump into something and the bleeding continues. It’s confusing as hell, and it hurts. I’m not saying to give it time, but know that I know my cousin.” He looked out at the road. “He’s not fighting you. He’s fighting himself. If he didn’t like you, if he didn’t care for you, he’d keep you close.”

“Well that’s… confusing.”

“If I were him,” Nixon said as he opened the door and led me inside. “I think I’d be stuck in a place where I was forced to lay my past to rest in order to accept my future, and because guys are idiots, he probably thinks he has to release the only woman he’s ever loved, in order to accept one he isn’t even sure likes him. Tell me, would you take that risk?”

“No,” I mumbled hoarsely. “I don’t think I would. Because I’m not a sure thing.”

“Love is never a sure thing.” Nixon hugged me again. “All right, enough sadness, go open your presents. Chase made lasagna.”

And that was it.

Nobody talked about Sergio.

And there was laughter.

Mainly because Tex bought me a pink gun and a teddy bear that said killer. I’d confessed I was lonely at night.

“You need children.” Chase tossed a chip at Tex’s face. “And soon, I mean pink guns? Teddy bears? Isn’t that a sign?”

“Maybe for you.” Tex glared.

A loud knock at the door interrupted the conversation.

I was out of my chair before anyone could say anything, running toward the door as though my life depended on it.

When it swung open, I burst into tears.

Dante had two suitcases in his hands and a smile on his face. “Happy birthday, sis.”

I launched myself into his arms and kissed his face. “I missed you.”

“Clearly.” He chuckled wrapping his bulky arms around me and squeezing me tight. “God must love me because I smell lasagna, and I’m starving.” He set me down and made a beeline for the kitchen. Maybe that was just part of being a guy? If there was food, you knew where it was. Period.

I smiled and walked after him.

The minute he entered the kitchen, the girls eyes widened. I went to grab a plate from the table while Bee started choking.

“Are you okay?” I asked concerned.

“Holy shit,” Mo said under her breath. “Is he for real?”

“Who?” I frowned then looked at Dante. “My brother?”

Trace and Mil had huge grins on their faces.

Mil shook her head. “No wonder Joyce had an affair. No offense Trace, but I second Mo, holy ever loving shit, he’s hot.”

“I’m right here.” Chase raised his hand. “Sitting right next to you.”

Mil swatted his hand away and kept staring while Bee took a large sip of water and cleared her throat. “I almost choked to death. You should warn people, Val!”

I burst out laughing. “Um, he’s my brother.”

“But not my brother,” Mo joked while Tex flashed her a glare.

Dante was in deep discussion with Phoenix, I tried to see him through their eyes. He was tall, just like the other guys, and had a similar body type to Nixon and Chase. Bulky, but lean at the same time. His biceps were clean of tattoos though.

He had baby skin.

Geez, and they were all still staring at him like he was a stripper!

He laughed out loud, his crystal blue eyes twinkling as he ran his fingers over his buzzed jet-black hair, his shirt lifted, just slightly, showing an amazing set of abs. Gross.

One of the girls, I didn’t know which, sighed, while another cursed.

So, he looked like a model. It wasn’t like they were married to hunchbacks, I could make a killing off of a mafia-themed calendar.

“Where’s Sergio?” Dante asked the room, while Phoenix elbowed him and slowly shook his head.

But Dante, being Dante, wouldn’t drop it.

“Val.” His nostrils flared. “Where the hell is he?”

Trace started fanning herself while Mo poured wine and leaned forward.

“I punched him then asked him to leave,” I said in a quiet voice. “How many helpings did you want? Of Lasagna?”

“I’m going to kill him,” he hissed.

“I’ll help!” Tex said in a cheerful voice.

“Put your hand down.” Nixon sighed sounding bored. “Nobody’s killing Sergio.”

“Clearly he needs to be killed if he made my baby sister punch him. She’s the least violent person I know!”

That was true.

I winced. “Well, to be fair, I’ve been taking lessons from the girls so…”

His eyebrows shot up. “Lessons?”

“Baking.” I nodded. “Shooting. Fighting.”

Dante cursed. “You’re twenty.”

“I’m an Abandonato,” I said proudly.

“Hear, hear!” Nixon lifted his whiskey into the air and winked while Chase clinked his glass.

”Damn it, I hate being outnumbered.” Tex pouted.

“Enough gossiping.” Phoenix eyed me. “I say we initiate our two new members… family style.”

My eyes widened. “I can’t kill someone.”

Everyone was silent and then burst out laughing.

“Capture the Flag,” Nixon said, through his laughter. “Paintball style.”

“In the dark?” I was excited just thinking about it. Then again, they were trained killers so maybe I’d just hide in a dark hole and rock back and forth.

“Suit up!” Chase stood. “Tonight, we war!”

I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Sergio

I DROVE IN
circles and then drove to her grave.

For the first time since her death, it felt like a grave. There was nothing alive about the marble headstone that stared back at me, just a marker of the life that was lived, and the body the dirt contained.

It started to rain as I fell to my knees in front of the marker and yelled at the top of my lungs. Lightning flashed across the sky, matching my mood.

I’d fucked everything up. And for what?

This?

This grave.

This grave that I’d put a soul into.

That I put a heart into.

A memory that I wound up like a robot and played over and over again in my head until I was bordering on insanity.

Having sex with Val had changed everything.

I craved her.

And, to make matters worse, two nights ago she’d left her door open, and I’d snuck in and just watched her sleep like a total maniac coming off a drug high.

I was worried about her.

I wanted to talk to her, ask her how her day was, see her face light up when she told stories.

Damn it, I really just wanted to hold her hand.

Pride kept me hesitant.

And fear kept me distant.

Because the more I
fell
for her, the harder it was to remember Andi.

To
still
love Andi as if she were alive.

Because that’s what I was doing, loving an object that didn’t hold me at night, didn’t comfort me, didn’t do anything except lay peacefully in the ground like bodies are supposed to do. The grass touched more of her essence than I still did.

And yet, the memories they kept her living, breathing, a walking ghost right along beside me.

Maybe that’s how people who are left behind by loved ones go insane; they carry on as if the person is still there, until it becomes their reality, even though there isn’t anyone next to them in bed, they still arrange the pillows as if there was.

I would always love Andi, but it was like Val was fighting for a position in my heart, a position I didn’t even know was vacant, it didn’t feel vacant, not when I closed my eyes and forced myself to think about Andi’s lips, her touch, her laugh.

But the laugh? Wasn’t as strong.

The touch of her lips no longer made my mouth buzz with awareness — because it was air — I was kissing air.