Empire (Eagle Elite Book 7) (14 page)

“So you want to look good for the funeral? Cool.” Tex sounded frighteningly excited about being able to end my life. Then again, he’d been waiting for years, ever since I basically made him believe I’d slept with his wife before they were together, but Tex had never been good at forgiving old wounds, no matter how happy he currently was.

“Nobody is killing anybody,” Nixon said in a calm voice. “Look, Sergio, have you thought maybe about… more finesse in this situation?”

“Hah!” Trace burst out laughing. “Oh, sorry, sweetheart, go ahead, talk to Sergio all about finesse, I’m all ears.”

I couldn’t help but grin. Nixon was the last person who should be talking about any sort of romance. The man thought with his gun first. Always first.

“Look, it was a mistake calling you guys. I just…” I didn’t finish what I was going to say; maybe the silence was all it took to get the message across.

Because at the end of the day, they were family.

When Andi died.

The guys had cried with me.

When I needed help with the funeral, they jumped at the chance to make sure I had everything I needed.

And when I didn’t want to get out of bed, it was Phoenix who kicked my ass and told me to go for a run.

Without them, I probably
would
be dead.

Because I already felt halfway dead, and they’d done everything in their power to breathe new life back into me.

“Thanks,” I finally said. “I think I’ll just keep powering through.”

“Maybe.” Nixon sighed. “Try not pulling a gun on a girl who isn’t used to violence.”

“No violence.” Tex cackled. “Does he even understand how to use words?”

“Very funny.” I rolled my eyes. “All right, I’m going to go face the firing squad also known as the Alfero uncles. Wish me luck.”

“Those bastards are big dudes, don’t let the limping fool you,” Tex added.

“Could have used that advice yesterday when I nearly got taken out by all three, thanks for the help!”

“You got in a fight!” Chase whined. “It’s so boring here.”

“Yeah, well…” I glanced back up at the brick building. “At least you aren’t being forced to marry a child.”

“I married Mil, so….” He didn’t finish. I assumed she hit him in the balls.

Laughing with them for first time in a while, I hung up the phone and reached for the screen door, only to have it open before I had a chance.

“You have a horrible habit of eavesdropping.” I slid my phone into my pocket and crossed my arms while Val glared.

“And you have a bad habit of constantly telling others how much you hate me.”

“It’s not hate,” I fired back. “Believe me, I know hate. You have absolutely no idea what that word even means, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t use it as if you did.”

“I hate you,” she said it softly. “I really do.”

“No, you don’t.” I reached for her, but she pulled back. “Your feelings are just hurt, maybe your pride, but you’ll get over it.”

“You’re right.” She shook her head. “You suck with words.”

I smiled. “We get married in less than two days. You have two more days of freedom.”

“And what will I have with you?” Val asked. “A prison sentence?”

“A life with me?” I looked down as the anger resurfaced, because she was right to hate me, even though she had no clue how much a human could hate something — I hated cancer, I could never hate a person, no matter how much I tried, I hated things that destroyed people, not the person itself.

Humanity was too frail.

To hate.

And it bothered me, that she flippantly tossed something around without realizing the power behind its intensity — its truth.

She was young.

Naïve.

But who was I to judge her hatred?

No one.

Just her future husband.

“Two days,” I said it again, maybe for both of us. “And then you’re mine, and this whole hate business? It ends then.”

“Says who?”

I took a threatening step in her direction and reached toward my jacket, I didn’t pull my gun, but the threat was there. “I say.”

Her lower lip trembled.

Shit. Old habits really died hard.

With a cry she shoved past me and ran up the stairs to her bedroom, the door slammed, knocking a picture onto the floor by my feet.

One step forward.

Twenty steps back.

Because of my inability to connect the hurt, the pain, the confusion, the anxiety, I couldn’t link the feelings and make sense of them.

So I defaulted.

To what did.

My numbness.

My anger.

And for the first time that afternoon… I once again felt the sweet comfort of nothing.

Only this time…

I hated it.

Hate.

A strong word.

Too strong for my lips.

And just like that, I thought of Andi and her inability to hate anything, even the ugly.

Because to her, even the ugly was beautiful.

I needed to find beauty in my situation.

Instead, all I saw was the reflection of the ugly, the deep wallowing pit of despair, that nothing in my life, or Val’s, would ever be the same.

Because of choices made long ago.

We were already… dead.

Swirling in a sea of endless hate.

I did hate something more than cancer.

I hated words.

I hated contracts.

I hated the situation.

But most of all, I hated that she would never look at me the way I secretly craved — with the opposite of hate — love.

The more I hate, the more he follows me —A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Valentina

I WOULD NOT
cry.

Not over him.

That was twice.

Twice
in one day that he’d either told me he thought of me as a child or as his sister, and he was telling other people, consciously saying the words out loud over and over again, unaware that each time I was within earshot.

The words stung so badly.

More now, because he’d kissed me.

He’d kissed me.

I’d done nothing, too terrified to move, afraid he’d pull a knife on me, or worse yet, change his mind.

His lips had been so soft, pliant, and if I were being completely honest with myself, wicked, like he knew how to please women. I had been one kiss, one caress away from exploding beneath his touch.

I was
that
easy.

And then, just when he was starting to press his hard body against me, he’d pulled back and muttered something about proving a point.

I was so embarrassed that I wanted to cry.

Rejected again.

I’d rather he hate me than give me little glimpses of the man I thought he could be only for him to hide them away again. I’d rather he leave me the hell alone.

Instead, I felt like a toy.

A toy that was convenient to play with when he was finally in the mood to let down his own walls.

I don’t even know how long I sat in my room.

Wanting to believe that I truly hated him, but knowing it was useless in the end. Knowing that I needed to be the mature one, accept fate, marry the guy, and just move on with my life.

Life. Huh, whatever that meant.

My uncles had given me the next two days off at my request.

They hadn’t asked about the movie.

But they did ask where Sergio was.

Business, always business these days. I’d gone to get him only to hear him laugh about being married to a child.

I looked down at my clothes.

Nothing about what I wore was womanly.

Maybe that was the problem.

I was in jeans and a T-shirt, hardly sexy.

Was that what he wanted?

If only I could see what his wife had looked like, maybe that would help. I made a face. Or maybe it would fill me with such insane jealousy that I’d hide under my bed for the next few hours and slit my wrists.

I bet she was beautiful.

Just like him.

It killed me a bit to know that he was always going to compare me to a woman I would never measure up to.

How was that fair?

A knock sounded on my door.

“Who is it?” If it was Sergio I was going to lose it.

“Dante.”

“Come in. You always do anyway,” I grumbled, wiping at my cheeks and then pinching them to make sure that I didn’t look as horrible as I felt.

Dante walked into the room with a package in his hands. He was frowning, it aged him, and at the same time made me more aware of the weight he’d been carrying all these years.

“What’s that?” I tried to keep my voice chipper; the last thing he needed was to keep holding the weight on his own.

Dante tossed the box in my direction. “No idea, it’s from Neiman Marcus. Been shopping?”

I laughed. “Yeah right, like I could afford Neiman Marcus.”

He didn’t say anything. Which was weird.

“Dante?”

“Hmm?” His head snapped up. Was his jaw swollen. “Are you okay?”

“Yup, just… tired.” He faked a yawn, the little liar, then started slowly backing out of the room. “Oh hey, how was the movie?”

I swallowed the thickness in my throat as the distance grew between me and my twin, but, maybe it had always been there, he’d just hidden it from me out of concern.

He was all I had.

Him and my uncles.

And now it felt like I had nobody.

“Good,” I lied. “It was… awesome.”

I didn’t even remember what movie we went to.

“Good, sis.” He exhaled in relief. “You deserve to be happy.”

“So do you.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” he snapped.

“I didn’t say that.” What was happening to us? To my family. “You’re right, you seem tired, go lie down.”

He mumbled something under his breath and shut the door quietly behind him while I sucked in the last of the tears I had and stared down at the brown box.

Curiosity got the best of me and then, as I opened one part of the box I started to panic. Was there a bomb inside? Holy crap! Boxes always had bombs! With a shriek, I tossed it to the floor and pulled my feet onto the bed, as if somehow
that
was going to keep me from getting killed.

The door flew open as Sergio made a hero-like entrance. With his gun held in the air, he shouted, “What happened? Are you hurt? Is someone in here?”

Suddenly feeling stupid and horribly embarrassed, I tried to think of a lie, but what was I going to say? Sorry, I screamed because I saw a spider? Lame.

“You’re going to think it’s stupid.” Heat danced across my cheeks.

“Try me.” His eyes narrowed as he put the safety back on his gun and tucked it into the waistband in the back of his jeans.

I pointed at the box. “I didn’t order anything from Neiman Marcus, and that box is addressed to me and… I just panicked.”

Sergio slowly made his way over to the box then picked it up. “Can I ask why?”

Yeah, he was going to think I was an idiot. “Well, don’t bombs come in boxes?”

Thankfully, he didn’t burst out laughing; instead, he smiled down at the box in his hands and gave it a hard shake.

“No!” I ran at him, then swatted the box out of his hands. “It could be like, live ammo!”

“Live ammo?” he repeated, his grin widening. “In a box?”

“Yes!” I put my hands on my hips, “You know like live… wires and… such.”

“Wires and such?” His eyebrows knit together. “Is that what makes bombs these days?”

I scratched the back of my head. “Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.” Whatever, I was holding my ground, even if I was wrong; I was going to go down in flames.

“Or…” Sergio knelt down and picked up the box. “It could just be a gift.”

“How do I know the difference?”

He handed me the box. “Live on the wild side, Val.” He stood to his full height. “Besides, do you truly think, after all these years, we’d let a Neiman Marcus box take us out?”

I sighed, and some of my tension eased. “Man’s got a point.”

He chuckled. “Val, just open it. I’ll wait just in case.”

“Promise?” I liked him this way, he made me forget he was a horrible human being, he made me forget the hate… when he smiled.

“Yup.” He held out a knife and pressed it against the tape. “Any last words?”

“Oklahoma.”

Sergio pulled the knife away. “What the hell kind of last word is that?”

“It slipped!” I said defensively, and looked down. “And it was my safe word when I was little… you know, like when you get scared, you’re safe—” I frowned. “Why are you laughing! This is serious!”

“Holy shit. Do you know what it means to have a safe word?”

“Yeah.” I nodded slowly. “Like a word you use when you’re in trouble, why do you keep laughing at me!”

He full on belly laughed.

I felt his laugh everywhere.

And knew it was a life changing moment, hearing Sergio laugh, hearing him really laugh.

Maybe people like him lived their lives in darkness so long that they forget what it meant to lose yourself completely to the insanity or humor of a moment. Maybe in darkness a lot of us were just waiting for something to make us feel — something to make us laugh.

“Okay, what, why is it funny?”

“Never mind.” Sergio seemed to gain control of himself again. “Go ahead, open the box.”