Elicit (2 page)

I was naked, I wanted him, and he was leaving? “But—”

“Our time will come, Mo.” He winked. “You’re still a freshman this year and Nixon would freaking murder me if he even knew I was in here with you, let alone with you naked and giving me those demanding eyes. Believe me, I’m so aroused I can’t see straight, but right now, you’re under Nixon’s protection. I want you—but only if he doesn’t shoot me before I get to have you.” With another wink he walked out of the room softly shutting the door behind him. And so began the first of many times where Tex chose not to sleep with me. Instead, he seduced me with his words, his looks, his touches—I was damned before I even had a choice.

Tex motioned for the bathroom, the movement jolting me out of the sensual memory. “Can you manage on your own or… ?” He scratched his head and crossed his chest with his arms.

I laughed. “I’m only four weeks, Tex. I think I can walk to the bathroom without face planting.”

“Sure.” His eyes narrowed. “If you’re sure.”

“Tex,” I snapped. “Look, I appreciate the help but just… stop.”
Stop making me feel guilty. Stop looking at me like I’m damaged! Just stop! Look at me like you used to. Like you promised you always would!
I suddenly wanted to shatter every mirror in the room. I was stuck at the lowest of the low, and I couldn’t even tell him the truth.

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he took two large steps towards me. “
No
. I won’t just stop because you say you’re fine. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing okay? I may be an ass but I’m worried about you, so excuse me for asking you every damn second of the day if you can handle things.
I’m
having problems handling things, and it’s not my body going through this, alright? So if I ask you every half second how you’re doing, don’t be a bitch, Mo. Alright? Besides…” He stepped back and exhaled another curse. “Right now I’m your best bet, after all the kid isn’t even mine and I’m taking credit for it.”

Tears stung behind my eyes, and emotion thickened in the back of my throat as I tried to find my voice. “Tex, I’m sorry. I just—”

“Whatever. Yell if you need me. I’ll go start the coffee.” He slammed the door behind him, leaving me in silence.

Maybe that was the reason for my nightmares. In all my life, the Tex I knew would never slam a door in my face. He wouldn’t raise his voice, he would never—and I do mean
never
—approach me with as much as a raised octave to his tone.

But now? It seemed my entire existence infuriated him. He wasn’t the same man I’d known my whole life—which begged the question, was he ever who I thought he was? Or just who I wanted him to be? Who we as a family needed him to be?

War has a way of changing people… but with Tex, the thought lingered,
what if he’s been just waiting to strike?

What if…

We invited the enemy in our very own home.

Only to be infiltrated from the inside out.

Things had been brought to my attention over the last three weeks, disturbing things… if they were true. I chewed my lower lip in deep thought.

“Mo!” Tex yelled from the other side of the door. “Thirty minutes, get moving, you want to look your best.”

I saluted the door with my middle finger and made my way into the bathroom. My reflection killed me. It really did. Because on the outside I looked the same. Dark silky hair that fell to my mid-back, bright blue eyes, a sharp feminine jaw, high cheekbones, and olive skin that I’m pretty sure every girl would kill for—just hopefully not kill me for. Sad, that the thought actually entered my head. Then again I’d had a lot of threats to my life within the past few weeks, just more secrets to hide from everyone.

I lifted my shirt and patted my flat stomach. What would it be like to bring a child into a family of war instead of peace? What child of mine, or even Tex’s for that matter, would have a shot in hell with the information I’d just learned? Was it even fair to bring innocence into our blood-stained hands?

I shook my head and tried to snap out of it. Nixon would be expecting his sister, the typical smart-ass, sarcastic, slightly narcissistic pain in his ass. And right now I was acting like Eeyore. “Snap out of it, Mo.” I took a few soothing breaths and turned on the shower.

Time to put on a show.

Time to fool them all.

Again.

CHAPTER THREE

Blood is always telling. It holds the key to our existence. It holds your life and eventually your death.

Tex

I
GRIPPED THE COFFEE CUP
so hard my hand hurt. The scalding burn of the liquid through the porcelain was the only thing that made me feel better. Great, I was officially turning into a masochist. Hell, maybe I’d always been one. I’d have to be to keep going back to Mo and praying that things would be different.

But every damn time it was the same.

She offered me a piece.

When I wanted it all.

And then she’d gone and cheated, not that I was really able to stand on a soap box about that one, considering I’d cheated first. But still, I had cheated one time to acquire some information, not because I actually enjoyed getting smothered by someone who smelled like cheap perfume and wore red lipstick on the outside of her lips. I shuddered and took another sip of coffee. The second time I’d cheated I’d done it purposely, to piss Mo off. Better than break her heart. At least if she was pissed, she could shoot me and get it over with, but that had been a gargantuan error, you know because I was still freaking obsessed with her and all. Right, good move Tex, just make her hate you enough to go and sleep with some effing bastard stupid enough to get her pregnant. Shit. Had she even checked for STDs? How did I even broach that conversation with her? Shuddering, I took another long sip of coffee. Thankfully, I’d made it strong. Hell, I probably should have added whiskey to it—Nixon would need it.

We would all need it after shit went down.

I checked my phone just as Mo came breezing into the kitchen. That’s what she did. She breezed. She never did something so common as walking. It would be impossible for her. Every movement was fluid, purposeful, graceful. It was distracting as hell when the person you were in love with, moved like some sort of goddess out of a mythological tale.

She was my Aphrodite.

My Athena.

I freaking worshipped that woman.

But our relationship was like the nerd of the class trying to date the popular girl, I think in essence, she felt sorry for me. Then again, I’d never let her know the real me, so maybe it was my fault.

“Tex?” Mo approached, tilting her head to the side. Black hair swirled across her shoulders. “Did you hear what I said?”

Nope, too busy being distracted by those hips. “Sorry I was just thinking about what I was going to say.”

Mo’s eyebrows drew together. “Just stick to the story, right?”

“Right,” I repeated. Damn, she didn’t even realize that with every look she pulled another string, I was like a puppet, and I hated that analogy because I’d felt like a puppet my whole life. “I’ll just say we’re in love.”

Mo nodded slowly, her eyes filling with tears.

“And that I messed up.” My teeth clenched. “That I’m so freaking in love with you I didn’t use a condom? Is that what you want me to say? Help me out because I really don’t think that’s a good plan, Mo. Not if you want me to live in the foreseeable future.”

Mo rolled her eyes, the tears turning into amusement. “Well, maybe don’t use the word condom.”

“Right.” I offered a smile. “How about I tell Nixon that I wanted to beat him at
something
, so I decided to get his twin sister knocked up?”

At that Mo laughed out loud.

“You what?” A voice roared from the door.

I closed my eyes and hung my head as Mo’s face froze into a smile in front of me. Right, in love. Happy about baby. Happy, happy, happy. Shoot me in the mother effing face.

I turned and opened my arms. “Friends! You’re home!”

“What. The. Hell. Did you just say?” Nixon roared, throwing his bag so hard against the countertop it skidded off and collided with one of the chairs nearly sending it through the window. His hands barreled into tight fists as he stomped towards me.

“Friends?” I offered backing up so that Mo was behind me. If Nixon pulled out a gun I’d take the bullet. She knew that, I knew that, Nixon most likely knew that, which probably meant the odds were I was getting shot in a few seconds.

Nixon grabbed me by the shirt and pushed me against the countertop. The hard granite bit into my back making me momentarily wince. He pushed harder; my skin was going to get rubbed raw if he kept doing that. I pushed back a bit to give us some space. We were pretty matched for height and strength. I could have fought back, but I owed him this. He couldn’t beat up the guy who actually did get his sister pregnant so he might as well use me as the punching bag. Ha! Story of my life. The freaking Abandonato punching bag. Fantastic.

“What did you do?” Nixon’s voice damn near shattered the windows as he slammed my body against the counter again. The granite scratched against my back for the third time, the sharp slice of pain in the small of my back telling me the skin had been pierced. Yeah, I was going to start bleeding all over the floor any second.

“Nothing,” Mo answered for me. I peered around Nixon and glared at her. It was my fight not hers, because she’d made it mine, so she needed to stay the hell out of it and let me protect her.

“Wouldn’t really call getting you pregnant nothing, Mo, but to each his own.” The minute my lips formed a smile, I received a bunch in the jaw, then another. My bottom lip was sliced by my own teeth causing the blood to start trailing down my chin.

“Nixon stop!” Mo wailed. “Please!”

The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. With a jerk Nixon released me. I grabbed a nearby towel and wiped my face.

Chase walked into the kitchen, hands raised. “Nixon, calm down.”

Yeah, not something you say to the boss.

Nixon turned his rage-filled eyes on Chase and pulled out his gun. “Stay out of this.”

“Nixon!” Trace pushed Chase out of the way and moved in front of the gun that was aimed for Chase’s heart. Aw, family drama. “Put the gun down! Let them talk.”

“Trace…” Nixon’s jaw flexed, his teeth ground together. “Stay the hell out of it.”

“No.” She crossed her arms. “Not until you put the gun away.” Swear his ice blue eyes turned the exact color of Hell, flashing completely black before he waived the gun around.

“Does no one listen to me anymore?” Nixon looked around the room. “If I want to shoot Chase in the face for defending Tex, I’ll do it. If I want to shoot Tex because he touched my sister, I’ll do it. I’m the boss. Rules don’t apply, and right now I’m jet lagged and a bit pissed off that that jackass—” He pointed the gun at me, just in case there was any confusion as to which jackass he was referring to. “—basically just admitted to getting my sister pregnant.” As if remembering about the fight to begin with, Nixon let out a groan low in his throat and moved towards me again. This time the gun was homed in like a beacon to my head. “Tell me she isn’t pregnant. Tell me you did not just ruin my sister’s life. Tell me, Tex. Tell me.”

I eyed the gun. “Are you really going to kill the father of your soon-to-be niece or nephew?”

Nixon hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say I was going to kill you. I could shoot you, and you’d still be perfectly fine, maybe walk with a limp but then again that would be a reminder not to do stupid shit. Don’t you think, Tex?”

I’d known Nixon my whole life.

He wasn’t bluffing.

I nodded my consent and braced for impact. “Go ahead.”

His teeth clenched as he gripped my shirt with his free hand and pressed the barrel of the gun to my shoulder. “Don’t mind if I do.”

The shot rang out like a bomb going off in the kitchen.

The impact burned like hell. The bullet lodging somewhere between my clavicle and my deltoid.

Everyone started screaming at once.

But I held Nixon’s gaze.

I didn’t blink. I didn’t yell. I made no sound whatsoever. I was a hit man. Hit men didn’t cry. Made men didn’t cry. The only remaining descendent to the
Cappo
? Did not cry.

Liquid started staining my shirt and dripping down my chest onto my stomach as I waited for Nixon to say something—anything. I probably needed to stop the bleeding before I passed out.

“Clean yourself up.” Nixon shoved a towel in my hands. “Meet me in the living room in fifteen.” He slammed the gun on the counter and grabbed Chase by the arm. “Get the bullet out and pull some morphine from the stash, but don’t give him too much. I want him to feel every damn punch.”

As Nixon walked out of the room I did what I’d always done in the family to alleviate tension; I made a joke. “Welcome home Nixon!”

Mo groaned into her hands next to me while Chase gently grabbed my arm and ripped my shirt open so he could look at the wound. “Tex, your humor isn’t helping the situation, not this time.”

“Made Trace laugh.” I pointed with my good arm.

Chase looked behind him and shrugged. “She doesn’t count, she laughs at commercials and butterflies.” He turned back to me and froze.

I smiled as Trace held the gun to his back. “You were saying, Chase?”

“Damn this family’s violent,” Mil said from her corner near the door. “But seriously Trace, put the gun down. I want my husband to live so he can get me knocked up some day.” She winked.

Chase paled.

“Mil,” I babbled, nodding like a bobblehead hit man. “Have I told you how much I love you? Cause I do, I really do.”

Mil rolled her eyes. “You’re getting blood on the hardwood, rock star. Let Chase clean you and drug you. Trace and I will make the popcorn and grab the whiskey.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Lies are almost impossible to repeat backwards because whatever you’re lying about didn’t really take place making it so your brain creates no memory to pull from.