Elude, Page 3

  With a grunt, I moved first to my knees, and then to my feet, rubbing my back as I slowly made my way down the hall. I knocked twice.

  Trace answered, her glare murderous.

  I sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Is Jackie Chan available?”

  “Depends.” She crossed her arms. “Are you still an ass?”

  I shifted on my feet. “Probably.”

  “At least he’s honest,” Andi called from somewhere in the room.

  “Trace…” My voice cracked. “…just let me through so I can apologize.”

  “Amazing you know that word,” Mo said, immediately joining Trace’s side.

  “Let him through,” Andi called in her sing-song voice. “I want his opinion on the dress.”

  “It’s bad luck,” Mil said from the bed. “But then again, you are marrying Sergio, so…”

  “Hilarious.” I flipped her off and walked farther into the room. It looked like a dress store had puked all over the place. Lace, ribbons, and veils were scattered all over the bed, the floor, and the desk. Makeup was set up on one counter, while the other one was lined with shoes from every single color of the rainbow and then some.

  It was enough to send me into a seizure.

  I turned around, trying to remember why I was in that specific hell in the first place, when Andi came out of the closet and held out her hands. “You like?”

  My mouth dropped open before I could stop it.

  Her dress was all lace. No straps, just lace around her breasts, covering what needed to be covered, leaving little to the imagination and a feast for my eyes. The lace met with heavier silky looking fabric that kissed her hips and then fell in ruffles all the way to her ankles.

  I wasn’t sure how long I stared.

  It was probably an embarrassing five minutes before I was able to actually form words. “It’s… nice…” I coughed into my hand. “…for a dress.”

  “Wow, write me some poetry, why don’t ya?” Andi winked then twirled in front of me.

  I was just about to say something mean when I noticed her steps falter. Her face paled, and she collapsed directly at my feet.

  “Andi!” I grabbed her lightweight body and lifted her into my arms then walked over to the bed and set her down amidst the fluffy dresses. “Andi, can you hear me?”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Oh… sorry.” Her face reddened. “Just a bit dizzy.”

  “Then don’t spin,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “But it’s one of those dresses,” she argued, lifting her arms into the air. “A twirling dress. You have to twirl or you may as well not wear it.”

  “Don’t twirl if you’re going to get dizzy and pass out.”

  “But I must.”

  “One twirl.”

  “Two!” she argued, leaning up on her elbows so that our faces were nearly touching. “Please?”

  We were so close I could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. I tried to ignore the hypnotic pull I felt just by staring and blinked away.

  “Fine.” I licked my lips, my gaze entirely too focused on her mouth, considering I was trying not to stare into her eyes. “Two twirls but go slow, no passing out.”

  “Careful, Sicily, your true colors are showing.” She leaned up and whispered in my ear, “Don’t want people thinking you actually care.”

  “I don’t.” Even I wasn’t convinced with the lack of passion behind my words.

  “Sure.” She nodded and patted my shoulder. “And thanks… I think I’ll pick this dress. Your reaction was perfect.”

  “But I didn’t react.”

  “My point exactly.”

  I kept staring at her, trying to figure her out, while at the same time irritated that she seemed to see right through everything I threw at her. Big brown eyes stared right back at me, knowing me, seeing me.

  I jerked back.

  Having forgotten there were other women in the room, I nearly collided with both Mo and Mil while I made my escape.

  I slammed the door behind me then leaned back against it, my hands clenched into clammy tight fists as I closed my eyes and muttered a curse.

  “Wow, the dress was that nice, huh?” Nixon was leaning against the wall, his eyes missing nothing. Damn him.

  “For a dress,” I said in a weak and completely unconvincing voice.

  Nixon smirked, his silver lip ring caught the light filtering in from the high windows. “You know it doesn’t have to be a punishment.”

  “Ha.” I pushed away from the wall. “But it is. You’re forcing my hand, and why? That’s what I want to know. What makes that girl—” I pointed at the closed door. “—in that room so damn important? Say her father finds her… What then? I protect her with my life.”

  Nixon sighed. “I’m disappointed you would even need to ask that question. A husband always protects his wife, regardless of his feelings. Once you’re married, you’re blood. You share something precious, something eternal. Protect her with your life? Damn right, you better. Because if you don’t, if you hesitate, if you fail us one more time…” His expression didn’t waver. The man wasn’t even flinching as his words dealt physical blows to my body. “…I’ll kill you myself.”

  “So die or marry.” I exhaled and put my hands on my hips, willing my mouth to shut the hell up.

  “You could try to enjoy yourself. She’s beautiful.” Nixon turned on his heel and started walking back down the hall. “Or you could just continue being an asshole and let me shoot you.”

  “Good talk, cousin,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Yeah well,” Nixon called over his shoulder. “You’re lucky I don’t do worse. You deserve worse and you know it.”

  Yeah, I did.

  Guilt gnawed at me from the inside out. I deserved worse than what was getting handed to me. Then again, I couldn’t actually comprehend what was worse than being forced into a marriage with a bloodthirsty Russian only to be told to keep her alive while her equally bloodthirsty father hunts her like a dog, only to have that same Russian die a few months later.

  Death had always surrounded me, always.

  I thought after I confessed my involvement in the FBI to the families they’d at least kill me — silence the whispers and screams of all the people I’d killed — and put me out of my misery.

  Instead, the voices were louder than ever. And I knew it was only a matter of time before it got worse, before all I saw was death, and I would be powerless to stop it.

  That’s the thing about killing, about dying. When you’re the one dealing it, you think less and less about it until it’s as normal as reading the morning paper.

  But when you lose your grasp on it, when for one second, you lose control… it turns into a monster again.

  And chases your every waking nightmare.

  Andi was death — but she was also life, and I didn’t know how to fuse the two. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Andi

  THE DRESS WAS PERFECT. I’d never been one of those girls who got overly emotional about anything. My pet bird died when I was six. Instead of crying, I’d simply made it a gravestone, written a eulogy, then asked my father for a new one.

  He’d said yes. And so the circle of life continued. My adopted father, the one I’d lived with my entire life, made sure to give me everything I could ever hope for, while never lying to me about where I’d come from or why I’d been given to him.

  I was blood money, plain and simple.

  My real father, Petrov, as I so lovingly called him, had given me to the head of the FBI organized crime unit as a bribe when he discovered Smith wasn’t able to have children.

  Smith, overjoyed he wouldn’t have to adopt — considering it was expensive and his salary was crap — had said yes.

  But Petrov had one condition.

  Train me in all ways Russian.

  I’d gone to a Russian boarding school.

  I’d only spoken Russian in the house.

/>   I’d only been allowed to eat Russian food until I threw a knife at the wall on my sixteenth birthday.

  I knew my adopted father loved me as best he could, but the longer I stayed in his home, the more he pushed me away. Probably because he slowly started to realize the danger in keeping me, the danger in knowing that the Russian mob always kept good on their promises, and that my father would one day ask for a favor in return.

  I twirled in front of the mirror, lost in my thoughts.

  Luca Nicolasi — now dead — the old boss of the Nicolasi family, he’d rescued me. Naturally, it happened after I’d been sent to kill him.

  I’d been eighteen.

  He’d laughed in my face, then offered me a different job, one I could really bite into.

  Spy on my fathers. Both of them.

  Get revenge.

  And forget about the fact that I had chronic leukemia.

  ”You… “ Luca pulled the knife from his thigh. “Clearly have a death wish.”

  ”Why be afraid of death when you’re already dying?” I shrugged and pulled out another knife.

  ”Ah…” He held up his hand. “Why indeed?”

  My eyebrows rose. “Why aren’t you trying to attack me?”

  ”Because…” He took a seat at the kitchen table. The house was dark except for the two of us; his men had no idea I’d even infiltrated. Luca tipped back a glass of wine and cleared his throat. “You only come to kill so you may feel.”

  ”Bullshit.” I held up my gun again.

  ”You want to feel alive… because your body is dying… you feel it every day when you wake up and are a little bit weaker, you see it in your father’s eyes, and you know it’s only a matter of time before your use to your real father is lost.”

  He had me there.

  ”Control…” Luca patted the chair next to him. “What you want is more control over how you live, yes?”

  How could he see right through me? My father hadn’t; nobody had. Maybe because I kept walls up so high even I couldn’t see over them.

  ”I can help you.”

  ”I don’t need help.”

  ”You reek of the desire to belong… of the desire to control your own destiny…” He chuckled. “Let me help you, and I’ll make you a promise you can’t turn down.”

  ”Oh yeah?” I snorted. “What’s that?”

  ”I’ll save your life.”

  My heartbeat picked up. “There is no cure for cancer.”

  ”No,” Luca said with sadness in his voice. “But when the time comes, when you need out of the FBI’s grasp, when you want away from your Russian father, I’ll offer protection the only way I know how.”

  I lowered my gun. “How?”

  ”My name.”

  I burst out laughing. “If you think I’m going to marry you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  ”Not me.” He licked his lips. “My son.”

  “Andi!” Trace shouted from the other side of the door. “It’s time to get started! We need you downstairs — oh, and who do you want to walk you down the aisle? Tex is arguing it should be him. Frank says he’s older and wiser. Nixon just punched Chase, and I don’t think—”

  “Coming!” I interrupted and shook my head.

  I took one last look in the mirror and whispered, “Thanks, Luca.” I might not be marrying his son, but I was marrying into the Abandonato crime family. Not even my father could touch me now.

  Because next to the Campisis, I was officially marrying into mafia royalty.

  I just wished Luca would have lived long enough so see it. To walk me down the aisle and pat my hand.

  He’d always told me everything would work out.

  It had.

  It was.

  But I missed him, desperately.

  And I still didn’t know where his son was — or why I was the only one who even knew about his existence.

  ”Take it to your grave,” he’d whispered one night. “If something happens, you take it to your grave.”

  Well, something had happened.

  “Love you, old man,” I said at my reflection in the mirror. “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sergio

  ”A TUX?” I SAID IT LIKE A SWEAR WORD because, well… it was white, and looked like something out of Saturday Night Fever.

  Tex wrapped a muscled arm around me. “It’s what the bride wants.”

  I stepped away from him and examined the giant white piece of ugly. “This? This is what she wants? Are we all wearing costumes?”

  “Just you.” Tex grinned.

  I shot Tex a glare out of the corner of my eyes. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

  “I was going to bring popcorn, but Mo said no.”

  I could have sworn the eyesore of a tux was starting to glow. “Thank God for Mo.”

  “You don’t get to thank God for my wife,” Tex hissed, his eyebrows doing that thing again that made them look like they were going to shoot off his forehead and dive into his reddish brown hair.

  I lifted my hands up in surrender. “Whatever. Are you going to watch me undress, or can I get a bit of privacy?”

  He crossed his arms.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me.” I jerked my shirt off and tossed it at his face. “Do you really think I’m going to blow off the wedding?”

  “Yes,” Tex said in an amused voice. “Because you’re chicken shit. That’s what you do. You bail.”

  “That’s it.” The door to my bedroom opened just as I was contemplating lunging for him and punching him in the jugular.

  “Tex.” Chase wore a perplexed expression as he scratched his head. “A Nicolai Blazi—”

  “—On it.” Tex eyed me one last time. “You bail, I chase, and we both know how much I enjoy hunting.”

  “Oh, go to hell, Tex.” I continued undressing, not caring that the door was wide open, and started the painful process of putting on what looked like cheap polyester and wool.

  It was official. Andi was dying, and she wanted to take me with her, death by sweating. As if I wasn’t already freaking out over saying my vows in less than a few hours.

  I buttoned up the pants, irritated that they fit and that I couldn’t use that as an excuse to throw on something Italian.

  At least we knew how to make clothes.

  “Oooo, sexy,” Andi’s chipper voice said from the doorway just as I was starting to button up the painfully uncomfortable white shirt.

  I glared at her through the mirror. “Your idea, I take it?”

  Her eyebrows crooked as she bit her lip to suppress a grin. “What? You don’t like?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Not a fan of the arts? I mean, come on, the movie’s a classic!”

  I sighed and continued buttoning the shirt. “I get it. This is my punishment for last night.”

  “And what exactly happened last night?” She pulled her hands behind her back and moved farther into the room, her dress swishing with each movement.

  “I threatened to off you…” I smiled into the mirror. “…like a family pet.”

  She clapped. “Bravo, he can be trained.”

  “So… you’re either going to torture me or kick my ass the whole time we’re married? This what I have to look forward to? Horribly made clothing and sneak attacks where I land on my ass?”

  “The attack wasn’t sneak.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re just pissed I got you on your ass.”

  “Was there something you needed?” I jerked at the necktie and nearly hung myself in the process.

  She rolled her eyes “Here let me.”

  “I don’t need your help,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “You almost committed accidental suicide.” She grabbed the tie and pulled my body closer to hers. “The least I could do is assist.”

  “Ha.”

  We were nearly chest-to-chest. I could smell her perfume; it was flowery but not overbearing. If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d be tempted to lean i
n farther, but she was the enemy, she was the reason for everything going so horribly wrong.

  Her soft hands glided against the fabric of the tie; my body jumped in response. I had to tell myself it was only because I hadn’t been with a girl in so long.

  Days had turned into months.

  Months had turned into a damn year.

  It was a hell of a dry spell.

  At first, I’d blamed Mo Abandonato… the girl I’d wanted but lost to Tex… and then I couldn’t use that excuse anymore; it progressed into just not feeling anything for anyone at any time.

  It was like I had lost the ability to care.

  The ability to even lust.

  So the fact that my body responded to her? Just pissed me off all the more.

  I jerked away once she was finished and snorted as I gazed at my ridiculous reflection in the mirror. “How is it fair that you look like a princess and I look like the punchline of a joke?”

  Andi’s smile faltered. She hung her head. “You really think I look like a princess?”

  “Yes,” a foreign-sounding voice said from the door. “I’d say you do.”

  I quickly turned around, ready to defend her, ready to fight because I knew we hadn’t invited anyone outside the family, but Andi was already walking toward him, and then she was running, and then she was in his damn arms.

  “Absolutely stunning.” He kissed her cheek.

  I damn near bit my tongue. “Who the hell are you?”

  The man set Andi down and glared at me. We were matched for strength and height. He was around six foot two and had dark features. His eyes almost looked black, his hair just as dark, but his teeth were so white it was nearly blinding, and he had dimples.

  I officially wanted to end his life.

  And cut the dimples from his cheeks.

  Andi rescued him from certain death when she moved in front of him, still holding his hand. “This is Nicolai Blazik.”

  “Shit.” I rubbed the back of my head. “The Doctor?”

  “The famous doctor,” she said, emphasizing famous a bit too much for my liking.

  The guy was a freaking celebrity. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him, and I was pretty sure that he owned half of the United States, or at least that’s what the rumor was.