REMEDY: A Mafia Romance (Return to Us Trilogy Book 3) (22 page)

Jacade

As I stride through the cabin, Ivy turns her cheek to me. Brilliant. She's pissed.

"Sit tight, folks. It's gonna be awhile."

Ivy rises from the sofa and traipses by me without a glance. I snatch her wrist, and she yanks it from me.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To the bathroom. Or am I expected to do that on the couch as well?" Her slitted eyes glow with venom.

"Make it quick. Shane, stand outside the door."

She throws her hands up. "No way! Are you losing it?"

"Wanna find out?"

Her frustrated growl is really fucking entertaining. "You're such a pain in my ass!"

I watch her ass jiggle as she stomps down the hallway. I'm gonna be a pain in your ass again soon too. And you'll scream for more.

"Well, come on, Shane. I might need help wiping!" she calls over her shoulder.

Jett covers his mouth and hides his laugh behind a fake cough.

Patience, Trip. Ivy isn't aware of the quisling in the room.

Chowder's been slouching in his chair this whole time, probably happy my attention has been focused elsewhere.

"Chowder!" Everyone tenses at the undertone of malice in my demeanor.

He smooths out his shirt and gulps as he peers up at me. "Yeah?"

"Help me split some wood."

He glances at the huge stack of wood next to the fireplace and starts to shake. "Uh."

Yeah, friend, it's not looking good for you. "C'mon. I've got an axe to grind with you." I keep my voice friendly and my smile amiable.

Chowder follows me through the kitchen door to the side of the cabin.

The bit of the axe wedged in a tree stump comes out easily, and I test its weight in my grip. Yes, this is a nice, hefty maul with a sharp edge—ideal for splitting wood. I stand a section of Douglas fir upside down on my cutting stump. My first swing cleaves into the wood with a loud crack.

Chowder jumps back, his eyes following the path of the two halves thumping to the ground on opposite sides of the trunk. Sawdust floats up between us.

"How many years we been friends, Chuck?" I ask.

"Since we were kids. We played fucking GI Joes together."

"True."

The panther puffs a dewy breath on the back of my neck. He's arisen. I nod and set up the half section I just created.

Crack
!

His shoulders retract, and he stares transfixed at the quartered wood planks as they plonk to the dry, fall grass.

"Don't worry. I've never had an
ax
-ident."

I wedge the bit in the center of the stump again. The setting sun elongates the
L
-shaped shadow of the axe and darkens his shoes.

It's cold out here, but he has my blood boiling and this shirt restricts my movement. I unbutton it quickly and sling it over an uncut log next to us. Lucky the first snow hasn't hit here yet. Harder to dig a grave when the ground's frozen.

"Trip…" He says my name and searches my face. What do you see there, Chowder? Your grim future?

I yank the axe from the wood, pick up an uncut bolt, and load it on the stump. "Ya know, friendship can be like this log—a solid piece of timber bonded by trust, fidelity, and admiration. But if you sever their coalition…"

Crack
!

"The strength of their solidarity dwindles to weak fibers, as if it were never there to begin with."

His focus darts from my face to the axe and back. "What are you getting at? Is… is this about the blow?"

"Why'd ya kill Bernard?"

"I- I don't know what you're talk—"

"Do not lie to me! The truth now is your only chance to survive! I'd suggest you take it."

"Fine, okay. I went to Lucero for drugs. Bernard cut me off and you were going clean."

The panther's claws dig into the tree trunk while he climbs. He crouches on a branch and waits for the ideal moment to ambush.

My fist tightens around the grip of the polished wood shaft. "Go on."

"I told Lucero about Bernard's plans. He offered me a reliable supply if I iced Bernard and brought you his head."

"Bernard liked you, Chowder. He said he liked your company." How desperate would he have to be to kill his own lover?

"He cut me off!"

"I'm sure he would've taken you back. He was just lying low before the vote."

"Well, I didn't think so."

"You're a rat and a traitor. All for what? A damn high!"

"I may be, but once that bitch came into your life, you went soft!" He throws his hand out toward the kitchen window of the cabin.

"Don't you say shit about her!"

Chowder points an accusing finger at me. "I didn't exist to you anymore once she showed up. The Trip I know wouldn't be going dirt free!"

"The old Trip would've tied you down and poured gasoline on you, letting fire char justice into your corroded skin. You're lucky you got the new, kinder Trip that's giving you this opportunity to beg for your life."

"We were best friends, Trip." He holds out his hands, palms up and trembling. His eyes water in the corners.

"You'll refer to me as boss."

"I'm sorry, boss."

"What you did is unforgivable. Friends or not. You didn't kill some low-level associate. You burned the second in command! A fucking elder, Chuck!"

With my step forward, he stumbles and falls on his ass.

"Although, I gotta thank you for doing it for me. Less blood on my hands."

His terrified eyes stare at my raised axe. Yeah, there's gonna be more blood soon.

"Don't do this. Have mercy." He crawls away on his hands and knees.

"I have no choice. They'll expect me to retaliate."

"No, boss. No."

"Run. Run for your fucking life."

He scrambles to his feet and limps away like a lame animal. Injured prey. The panther delights in an energetic chase before devouring his meal. Let's see how far you can get.

***

Ivy

"And another thing." I amble into the kitchen, ready to give Jacade a few more words.

I encounter Jett munching on a bag of chips, his hip propped against the counter, one knee bent and one Converse crossed over the other. Dix lounges at the table like he's hanging out in a ski lodge after a day on the slopes.

"He's outside." Jett tips his head toward the window above the sink.

I take three steps and stand on my tippy toes to peer out the square panes.

"Uh…"

I'm not prepared for the sight that accosts me. My beautiful hunk of man stands in a forest clearing like Paul Bunyan. A huge axe sticks up at an angle out of the trunk.

Jacade unbuttons his plaid mountain-man shirt and wrenches his shoulders to work it down his back. He tugs off the cuffs and reveals his sculpted torso.

I'm clutching the edge of the stainless steel sink so hard, my fingers turn white.

Oh my lanta.

His shoulder blades constrict and the descending sun illuminates his vibrant tattoos like wings on an angel. He tugs the axe from the stump and lets it swing by his side as he talks to Chowder.

My tongue dashes out to wet my dehydrated lips. My belly vaults up and lands in my throbbing yaya region.

Need gratification now.

I reach over and snatch the bag of chips from Jett's hand.

"Hey! I was eating those!"

My hand brushes the smooth edges inside the bag until it cups a sizeable amount of chips. Maybe junk food will curtail my starvation for this man. I gaze at my sex god on a stick and shove a mound of Ruffles in my mouth.

Crunch
.
Crunch
.

His waistband droops on his hips below the supple curve of his back. If I climb up on the counter, I could see crack. Would that be too much with Dix and Jett watching?

Crunch
.
Crunch
.

The salt collects in my cheeks and sucks the moisture from my mouth, yet I eat more to reduce my hankering for him. If my mouth weren't so dry, I'd be drooling.

His nipples form brown little buds, and a vein pulses in his neck. They say chopping wood for an hour can boost male testosterone levels by almost fifty percent. Dayum, on Jacade's already astronomic hormone levels, the result is one hundred percent man.

Crunch
.
Crunch
.
Crunch
.

Abs notched into eight flawless checkerboard squares. What I wouldn't give to lay him down and play a wicked game of potato chips versus chocolate kisses on his stomach. At the end, I'd jump his chip with my kiss.

Crunch
.
Crunch
.
Crunch
.

"Wanna share, darlin'?" Jett asks.

"No." Chip fragments fly from my mouth.

Crunch
.
Crunch
.

Jacade takes a step back with his left foot and raises the axe above his head. A lethal stare overtakes his features. The look of a killer. He swings at the log and it cracks into pieces.

Chowder gestures to the window and for a moment, I think they see me. That must be one hell of a heated conversation. Chowder has pissed off the beast.

Jacade steps toward Chowder. Chowder jumps back and falls down. He squints and stares up at Jacade with terror in his eyes. He scampers away through the leaves and dirt.

What the hell?

"Jett, something's not right…" I choke on bits of crisp potato.

"Huh?" Jett swivels to see what I'm looking at. "Oh fuck. I thought he'd take him somewhere else. Ivy, get away from the window."

His hands grab my shoulders and jerk me from the counter. The bag of chips cascades to the floor and scatters on the rug. My fingers latch onto the worktop but the grease from the chips won't allow them to stay put.

"Jett! Stop!"

I shake him off my shoulders, but his arms lock around my waist, pulling my back to his front. I tumble against Jett's solid body and onto the floor. Shane dives into the kitchen and restrains my ankles.

"You don't wanna see this." Jett sits up with me on his lap, his limbs remaining impenetrable.

Aunt Helen runs to us and kneels beside me.

"Someone, please. What's happening? What's Jacade doing to him?"

My breaths are erratic as I glance from Aunt Helen to Shane and then to Dix, who's still sitting dispassionately at the table. I can't see Jett's face, but he's mute behind me.

"Sweetie, he murdered your uncle. Chowder chose his own destiny," Aunt Helen says, stony faced.

"Jacade's going to kill him? Here? But they're friends."

He should've warned me.

"Yes. Loyalty to the council above friendship. Always." Aunt Helen strokes my cheek. "This is the life. It's Jacade's life."

This is our lives.

"Someone go help him! What if Chowder comes across a weapon!" I say and push against Jett's hold with all my might.

Shane shoots Jett a worried look over my shoulder.

"Go!" Jett yells at Shane. Shane sprints out the door.

"Let me go, Jett! I can't lose him!" I shriek.

Not again.

This isn't happening.

It can't be.

***

Jacade

Before Chowder makes it to the forest, he stumbles on a log and falls face-first into the damp leaf-litter.

The panther's foamy saliva trickles over the bridge of my nose. He's prepared for his juicy buffet. His claws sink into the branch, and he shifts his weight over Chowder's head.

"Be a man and face me!" I order him.

He stands and labors to breathe, rusted leaf fragments clinging to his face and clothes. "I'm begging you! Don't do this!"

"You did this to yourself."

Tears pour from his eyes. "I just need to go to rehab again. I swear the fourth time is it."

"I believe in second chances—third, fourth even. I always hold out hope for redemption. Would love nothing more than to bury the hatchet with you, Chuck." I point the axe at him. "But you fucking flipped on the council! And me!"

"I know, I know. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. It's the drugs, man. I'll get clean. I swear." His words run together like a brakeless freight train weighted with anvils.

"It's over, Chowder."

His eyes widen, and his heels shuffle backward. He's about ten feet away. Easy kill.

It's time. The panther drops from above and pins Chowder to the underbrush. He surveys my face for permission to kill.