Elude, Page 2

  “Promise?”

  “To put you down.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not an animal.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Banging a pot with a baseball bat at seven in the damn morning? I’ll believe it when I see it. Now step aside before I physically remove you.”

  “I’d like to see you try.” I poked him in the chest.

  “Fine.” He smiled. I wasn’t sure if I liked that smile; it threw me off course, made my stomach get little butterflies, while at the same time telling me that he was dangerous.

  The next minute I was in his arms, getting carried down the stairs toward the kitchen.

  I was saved by the ringing doorbell, but instead of setting me down, he simply hefted me higher over his shoulder and opened the door.

  His brother Ax stood on the other side. His amused grin made me want to go back and search for the bat. “Carrying the wife over the threshold already, huh, bro?”

  “Eat shit.”

  I waved at Ax. “He always this cheerful in the morning?”

  Tex, the Cappo suddenly appeared behind Ax and smiled. “Having never been one of Serg’s one-night stands, I can’t actually say yes or no, but if I was a betting man, I’d say many a woman leaves unsatisfied.”

  Sergio growled.

  I giggled at Tex’s wink. I’d liked him the minute I’d met him.

  Heck, I liked all the mob bosses. The five families were like royalty in the mafia world and ever since they’d been taken over by the younger, better-looking sons, they’d basically thrown organized crime into a tailspin.

  My own biological father was even singing their praises — which basically meant he just wanted to be the one taking credit for killing them all.

  The mob world was weird.

  Sadly, it was the only thing that made sense to me. So maybe I was just as off-kilter.

  “Put her down, Sergio…” Ax shoved past us. “…before you hurt her.”

  “You heard him.” I slapped Sergio on the ass. “Put me down. Wouldn’t want to hurt me.”

  Sergio slowly, methodically hoisted me forward and slid my body down his. I felt every hard plane of muscle and noticed the fiery need burning in his eyes — to throttle my ass.

  “Thanks…” I licked my lips then rose up on my tiptoes, grabbing his face at the same time and kissing his cheek. “You’ll be such a good husband.”

  He paled.

  Tex burst out laughing.

  All in all, it was a typical mob morning… a little bit of violence, some sexual tension, some laughter, and a loud wakeup call.

  “Andi…” Tex cleared his throat. “…before everyone gets here I—”

  “Everyone?” Sergio repeated, his voice laced with dread. “What do you mean everyone?”

  “It’s a wedding,” Ax answered for Tex and slapped Sergio on the back. “Come on. I’ll make coffee.”

  I followed the guys into the kitchen. Tex shot me curious glances while Sergio avoided all eye contact, making sure we were very aware that he was all but molesting the kitchen counter with his eyes. Well, to each his own.

  “Everyone,” Sergio said again, while Ax sighed aloud and passed me a hot cup of coffee.

  “The girls.” Tex reached for a mug while Ax poured the dark liquid into it. “The women, I should say.”

  “And why are they coming?” Sergio tapped his fingers against the counter, the sound causing my nerves to leap into action.

  Most men I could figure out — Sergio, on the other hand, was too cool, calculated. He rarely showed his emotions, and when he did, you realized you were wrong about wanting to see them in the first place. He was scary, too controlled, too everything, and the minute he let you see that, you wanted to nail Pandora’s box to the bottom of the ocean and put a giant ass whale in charge of guarding it.

  Tex eyed me carefully. Ah, I knew that look. With a sigh, I brought the coffee to my lips and blew. “Just say it, boss man.”

  He cursed. “I suck at this.”

  “Me thinks you suck at many things.” I winked.

  “Russians.” His grin was teasing, friendly. “Serg, she’s dying.”

  “Elephant!” I coughed and then raised my hand for a high five.

  Tex met it with a weak slap of his oversized hand. “Hey, if you can’t joke about it…”

  “Don’t.” Sergio’s voice was chilling. “Never joke about death.”

  “Says the man who offered to put me down this morning.” I winked.

  Tex’s nostrils flared. “What? YOU WHAT?”

  “So, back to the wedding…” Ax said in a strategically calm voice. “Andi’s only getting married once. It should be special, so the girls…”

  Tex’s chest was taking in more and more air as he glared at Sergio.

  “Damn, make the sick girl run interference.”

  I set my coffee down and held my hands between the two of them. “Chill, you’re both pretty, now adjust your balls, scratch your ass, and burp so we can get back to dresses and champagne.”

  “You’re not drinking,” Sergio snapped.

  “Who died and made him my dad? Because I refuse to marry my father. It’s just weird.”

  “She can’t drink!” Sergio clearly wasn’t listening to me or anyone else in the room. “She’s sick! It will make it—”

  “What?” I interrupted. “Worse? Trust me. There is no worse where I’m concerned.”

  Ax whistled from the corner. “Off topic.”

  “Ax…” I held up my hands. “..Please, stop interfering. If we’re lucky, they’ll get into a catfight, take off their shirts, and then mud will get involved and rolling around in it and—”

  Tex smirked while Sergio cursed under his breath.

  “Oh, sorry. Did I say that daydream out loud?” I snickered into my coffee. “No, but seriously, do continue talking about my impending death with me standing right here, Sergio. It’s good uplifting pre-wedding talk.”

  “Girl has a point.” Ax nodded in encouragement.

  “Fine.” Sergio slammed his hands against the granite countertop. “Do whatever you want. I just wasn’t aware that the Make-A-Wish Foundation had all but thrown up on our yard this morning.”

  Tex’s jaw actually cracked. I heard it. Like a bolt of thunder dropping into the kitchen and bouncing off the walls. “You’re an ass.”

  “I second,” Ax added.

  All eyes fell to me, all but Sergio’s that was; he was still engaged in his weird love affair with the countertop.

  “Oh, I have to side with my husband.” I shrugged. “It’s Biblical.”

  “Do Russians own Bibles?” Ax asked aloud.

  “Hmm…” I tapped my chin. “I don’t know. Do Sicilians even know how to read?”

  Ax winked then gave me one solitary clap. “Andi one, Axton zero.”

  “Then you marry her!” Sergio yelled, slamming his fist against the granite again. “Why don’t you guys just kill me? Wouldn’t that be easier for everyone?”

  “Ignore him.” I waved my hand in the air. “Last night he offered to kill me too. And look. Still standing. He’s all smoke and mirrors. Just give him a bottle with a nipple full of whiskey and put baby in the corner where he can pout.”

  “Nobody puts baby in a corner.” Ax met my gaze.

  “You… you and I are officially friends.”

  “He doesn’t need any more friends.” Sergio’s face went purple as he clenched his teeth and leaned toward me. “Can we talk? Alone?”

  “Are you armed?” I peered around his body. “Because when I learned about gun safety in school, they specifically warned me not to be alone with criminals.”

  “She got you there.” Tex laughed. “Pull out your badge, Sergio.”

  “Sore subject.” Ax coughed.

  Sergio looked up to the ceiling and groaned. “Andi… now.”

  “Later, boys.” I waved to the guys. “Just let the girls in when they get here. Then we can pop champagne and have a pillow fight. I always wanted
a bachelorette party!”

  Sergio jerked my arm, pulling me outside into the cold winter air. It was late January, not exactly my favorite time of year for Chicago. Then again, Russians apparently have ice in their veins, so whatever.

  “Andi…” Sergio’s eyes were hard and black. “Don’t make me do this.”

  “What? Stand outside in the cold.”

  “Marry you.”

  “It’s not forever, Sergio.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  “I’m sorry, what? You want to be with me forever.”

  “No… I…” He ran his fingers through his wavy dark hair. “Damn it, I just… I want to marry someone once… someone I love. I don’t want to have something arranged. It’s just another thing the mafia has taken away from me. Can’t you see that?”

  “Make me see it,” I said softly. “Make me understand.”

  His eyes were hollow, his gaze distant. “I don’t… I can’t… I just—”

  “GIRLS are here!” I heard a female voice yell. Male voices joined in, and then music started.

  “Later.” Sergio pulled away, his footsteps already drawing back. “We’ll talk later, but we will talk. Before we say vows, we’re talking, Andi.”

  “Where are you going?”

  He shook his head and kept walking. “One minute, Andi. I just need one damn minute to myself. Go inside.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sergio

  IT WAS AN OUT-OF-BODY experience… watching someone talk so callously about her own death and smile at the same time. Every single moment I was with her, I wanted to puke. Not because she wasn’t pretty.

  She was beautiful.

  Gorgeous, actually.

  Which made it so wrong.

  How could someone so full of life be dying? And how could she be so okay with it? The whiskey had worn off, leaving me with too many confusing questions and not enough answers to suffice.

  Laughter bubbled out of the house. I could hear it all the way out in the field, meaning, the girls had really brought champagne and were most likely getting Andi drunk.

  I didn’t want to be an ass.

  Just like I had never planned on being a killer.

  It’s not like I woke up one day and thought, I’m going to work for the FBI and the mafia as a double agent then threaten to kill everyone I love and hold dear, and then, just for kicks I’m going to marry a girl who’s dying… and hell, why not add salt to the wound and drown a litter of kittens?

  “Shit.” I kicked the ground with my boot and wiped my face with my hands.

  I needed to get back to the house.

  I knew there was no way to get out of my predicament. I just wished I wasn’t so stuck — I wished the mafia didn’t control me, I wished my family would actually listen to me, and for the first time since I’d taken that first step into the bureau… I wished for a second chance.

  A do-over.

  I would never have walked in.

  I would never in a million years have thought to double-cross my family in order to save them…

  People would have died.

  But my conscience would have been clear.

  The jaded feeling that choked me every waking hour would be gone, and I’d be free.

  Instead, I was getting married, not to someone I loved, even if I was capable of love, but to a family enemy who probably deserved life more than I did.

  “Hell,” I whispered under my breath and marched back toward the house. As long as I didn’t let her in… I’d be okay. As long as I looked at her like a victim, like one of my victims, she wouldn’t get in.

  The truth terrified me.

  Because the truth was… I liked her enough to mourn her — and when you liked someone enough to mourn, you were in danger of love.

  And I knew if I loved her, if I ever let myself feel; it would destroy me.

  So I grabbed onto every shred of hate and resentment I could find in my body and armored myself with it.

  I would not let her in.

  Ever.

  “Let’s talk wedding night,” Bee, Phoenix’s wife, announced from the bedroom, loud enough for the entire house and possibly the outskirts of Chicago to hear.

  “Wed-ding night, wed-ding night,” the girls chanted in unison while I searched for alcohol like a crazed man.

  “Right here.” Nixon seemed to appear out of nowhere and handed me a stiff glass of vodka.

  “What?” I snorted. “No wine? Are we even Sicilian anymore, or are we letting Russian tradition crap all over the place?”

  “Remember when you used to be the easy one to be around?” Nixon asked, ignoring my outburst. “I do. You used to be all calm, collected, semi-happy. What happened to that person?”

  “Apparently, according to Andi, that is, he died… and now my corpse is staring back at me through the mirror. I imagine I’m going to turn into a zombie any day now.”

  Nixon chuckled; his blue eyes matched mine almost perfectly. We were, after all, cousins, even though it was a distant fourth or fifth down the line. For some reason, we looked more alike than Ax and I did, probably because Ax refused to grow his hair longer than an inch now, and he’d had his nose broken more times than he could remember.

  “She’s dying,” said Nixon, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Why the hell do people keep reminding me of that?” I threw back my entire glass and held it out for more. “Do I have a sign on my face that says stupid?”

  “Don’t leave yourself open to that one, Serg.” Phoenix walked up to us, water bottle in hand. “That’s just begging Tex to take advantage.”

  Phoenix was the newest leader of the Nicolasi family, and it showed in the way he carried himself. Once a rapist and the worst of the worst. You wouldn’t know it if you saw him now. No more dark circles under his eyes, and he was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with a tailored jacket; the guy looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine. His wife probably had more to do with that than he did, but still, it was an improvement from his haunted look of a few weeks ago.

  At least then, my misery had enjoyed company, even if we had barely tolerated one another.

  Chase approached us, his eyebrows raised. “Are we at a wedding or a funeral, Serg?”

  “Both.” I tilted more vodka back while the guys’ expressions froze on their faces.

  Slowly, I turned and cursed under my breath. Andi was standing in the doorway of the living room, her face pale, her smile weak.

  “Hi, guys.” She waved. “I was just wanting to ask Sergio’s opinion on shoes.”

  Chase choked on his drink while I fought to regain my composure. Had she heard? And why the hell did I care if she was upset? That was the plan: upset her, don’t let her in.

  “Wear them.” I shrugged. “Or go barefoot. Why the hell should I care?”

  “Ass,” Phoenix hissed, while Nixon nudged me from behind.

  “So…” Andi poked her feet out from her long white skirt. “…do you like the silver or the tan?”

  I licked my lips and stared at the shoes. Of course I had an opinion. Before my fall into the depths of hell, I’d probably been the most well-dressed of all the guys. I’d always loved clothes — the way they felt, the way they looked, the way they commanded a room.

  “Andi, listen very carefully.” I set my glass down on the table and folded my arms. “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what shoes you wear.”

  I could feel the guys shooting daggers at my back. I ignored it. Maybe they’d lose their tempers and kill me — wouldn’t that be a kindness?

  “Barefoot, it is.” She smiled brightly and started walking out of the room, then quickly turned around and skipped toward me. “Also, if we’re planning a dual funeral and wedding, can you give my eulogy? It’s only fair since you’re going to be my husband and all. I could even write your speech for you. It should include how sexy I was, how much vodka I could drink, and the fact that I had the ability to kick your ass if I so chose.”

  I roll
ed my eyes.

  And then suddenly, I was on my back. With no recollection of how I got there, just a view of the ceiling peering down at me with amusement, and my back feeling like I’d just gotten hit by a two by four.

  “Holy shit.” Chase burst out laughing. “I choose Andi for team captain when we go to war against the Russians.”

  “What…” My lungs seized as I wheezed out a breath. “…was that for?”

  As Andi glanced down at me, her indifference was alarming. “You were being an ass, so I did you a favor by not only handing your ass to you, but making sure you landed on it, just in case there were any questions.” She looked around the room. “This is what happens when I get treated like less than I deserve on my only wedding day… any questions?”

  “Nope.” Nixon chuckled.

  “Hell no…” said Tex and Phoenix in unison.

  “Just one.” Chase’s easy grin had me on edge.

  The guys groaned. “What?”

  He shrugged. “I just want to know how she did that so fast.”

  “If you’re lucky I’ll teach you.” She winked and waltzed back through the door while I stayed on the floor, my pride bruised, my anger boiling.

  The guys slowly, one by one, moved to stand over me. No hands were offered. They simply stared and, by their expressions, wanted me to try to get up just so they could set me back on my ass again.

  Finally, Ax stepped through and offered his hand. When I took it, he released it then kicked me hard in the ribs. “Don’t make me kick your ass too. Go pick out some damn shoes.”

  “She’s going barefoot,” I argued.

  Another foot kicked me in the ribs, not hard, but it was firm enough to cause a sharp pain to throb down my side.

  Nixon grunted. “Go, before I pull my gun.”

  “He’d do it too.” Chase nodded somberly. “We’ve all seen enough gunshot wounds between us to prove it. Don’t make Tex or Phoenix lift their shirts. Just go make it better.”