Elect - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 45

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How long? How long had he been planning this, and why the hell were Trace’s parents involved? I wracked my brain but couldn’t come up with any solution other than pure insanity.

I waited another five minutes then left the room and walked down the hall to the elevator.

I was more pissed off than scared; I didn’t really get scared anymore. Impending death never scared me. Hell, it was a reality. But now? Knowing that Trace could lose both me and Nixon? At the same time? All over again? Yeah, that sucked. I refused to leave her. Even if I had to go to hell and back and beg to be brought back to life—I refused to leave her. I couldn’t.

The elevator dinged. I walked out and dialed Tony’s number. “I got the money.”

“You did?” The ass sounded surprised.

“Yeah.”

“Complications?”

“A few minor ones. Nothing to get upset over.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” I snorted. “Now, where am I meeting you?”

“Our house, of course.”

I paused. I thought we were supposed to meet at Nixon’s, which meant he was changing things. Why was he changing things? “Fine. See you in ten.”

I hung up and got into my car. Shit. Things were already going sideways and I had no idea what to expect. Would he put a gun on me when I opened the door? Would he take the money, confess, and then shoot me?

I contemplated all the ways I could die the entire way to the house. The minute I got there, I jumped out of the car and grabbed the briefcase. Birds chirped and the sun was shining, just as if something huge wasn’t going down.

And then I heard a gun click. “We’ve been expecting you.”

I turned around. “Phoenix?”

His smug grin made me want to rip his head from his body.

“Who else were you expecting?”

Phoenix nudged me in the back with his gun. Holy shit. I would kill him. End him. If he as much as sneezed on my back. I walked in front of him and opened the door to the house.

Tony was standing in the living room, smoking his usual cigar and looking out the window.

“Ah, you’ve made it.”

“Nice greeting,” I said dryly. “Can you please call Phoenix off of me before I put a bullet in his head?”

Tony nodded and Phoenix backed off, walking over to Tony and slapping him on the back. “See how easy this was?”

“Easy?” I repeated.

“He needed money.” Tony shrugged. “How would it look if our family simply gave the De Langes ten million dollars? It would look like a handout. Besides, I need Phoenix to be silent, and we’ve come to a sort of agreement. I pay him to keep my secrets and he finishes the business I don’t wish to finish.”

“What business?” Dread pooled in my stomach.

Tony puffed on his cigar. “You and a few others…”

I opened my mouth to speak when all of a sudden I heard a whimper. I walked farther into the living room. My eyes fell on the couch.

Mo, Mil, and Trace were sitting there. Hands tied behind their backs and duct tape over their mouths.

“You sick son of a bitch!”

“Kids!” Tony spat. “You’re all children! Did you think this was a game? Did you think I was working underneath a child for the past four years to simply hand over all the power I’ve had? Do you think I like having to listen to a child order me around as if I was nothing? A child that did not even deserve to be boss in the first place! Blood relation, Chase! You are the blood relation!”

“I know,” I mumbled. “That doesn’t mean you needed to kill Nixon. Your actual son, you dirty bastard.”

“Lucky for me, I did not have to. I simply provided the information to the Nicolosi family. I knew they would not be pleased that their golden family, the chosen Abandonatos, were falling apart at the seams all because they could not let go of the past.”

“Let go of the past?” I stepped closer to the couch. “Calling the kettle a bit black, aren’t you? Considering you killed Trace’s parents in cold blood and set up your own family to take the fall.”

“He deserved death and much worse.” Tony puffed on his cigar again and looked out the window. “He was weak so he beat on his wife. But she loved me. We loved one another; she was going to leave him and he—”

“Killed her,” I finished. “And my mother?”

Tony laughed. “The stupid bitch found out about my affair, went to Nixon’s father and had her own little affair; only she never loved him. When he discovered she was using him, he had the Nicolosi family take care of her for him… didn’t want her blood on his hands. Though he wasn’t opposed to take his own wife’s blood—or even a boy who wasn’t his son. Perhaps that’s why he kept her alive so long? He wanted to watch her suffer, wanted to watch his bastard son suffer while his mother was beaten.”

I stole a glance at Trace. Her nostrils flared. Damn, in the past five minutes she had gone from looking terrified to completely pissed.

“So…” I moved closer, into the room. “Why kill Trace’s parents? They weren’t involved in your little melodrama.”

“Mario, Tracey’s father—he discovered us one evening. Said his loyalty was to the Alfero and Abandonato family. He was going to ruin everything.”

“So you eliminated him, and pointed at the one man everyone would suspect.” I shook my head in disgust. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

Tony threw his cigar into the nearby fireplace and stalked toward me. “I survive! I keep the family together! I may be heartless but at least I know what it costs to keep our blood strong!”

He stopped directly in front of me, his chest heaving.

I shook my head. “You. Are. Nothing.”

His fist flew across my jaw. I knew he was going to hit me, so I let him. The minute I fell to the ground I scooted away from him like I was afraid and dug a knife from my pocket.

“And I’m pathetic,” Tony snorted. “Yet you crawl away from me like a little bitch. At least Nixon died with honor, whereas you—” He reached for his gun. “You’ll die shaming everyone.”

Ignoring him and his raised gun, I slid my knife underneath the first pair of feet I touched and then quickly slipped my hands away.

Things were going to hell fast. What was worse—I’d been given the job of tying up each of the girls. Luckily, I was able to make the knots loose enough so they could at least wriggle free without too much trouble.

Tony was clearly insane. He pointed the gun at Chase while I took another step into the living room.

“Are the theatrics really necessary?” I tried to sound bored as I examined my fingernails.

Trace shouted at me through her covered mouth; by the fiery look in her eyes I could tell she wasn’t exactly singing my praises at the moment.

Tony threw his head back and laughed while I mouthed, Forgive me.

I’d never asked anyone to forgive me before—never had to. My dad had always said our calling was above forgiveness, that we were above reproach because of what we did—who we were.

Tony wiped at his eyes. “How proud, Chase, do you think it makes me to see you… my bastard son, on your knees?”

“Here we go again,” I muttered, trying to distract everyone.

Tony took a swing at Chase, knocking him to the ground again, and that’s when I saw the knife. He was going to get himself killed to save the girls—my sister, Trace, Mo. Acting fast, I rushed in front of them and knelt.

“What the hell are you doing!” Tony spat.

“The knots. They came untied. I’m fixing them, you bastard!” I yelled back then slid the knife slowly up Trace’s leg, knowing it was probably scaring the hell out of her. But instead of flinching, she focused on my eyes the entire time. I imagined that would just make it worse—staring into two soulless holes, but she wasn’t staring at me like I had no soul. Instead, she was staring at me like I was her only hope. My heart pounded a bit harder as I finally got the knife into her hands. I stood up and turned around so that she could undo her ropes without Tony seeing.

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