Entice - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 26

The rest of the group looked better off than I felt. Most of them were covered in dust with some scrapes and bruises.

“They’ll evacuate the hotel,” Luca said in a detached voice as people began flooding the stairwell, “I know a place. Grab your things.”

“Where’s the guy from before? William? And the maid?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer to the question.

Luca ignored me.

Which meant one thing. The maid had been caught in the explosion’s line of fire, and they’d left the man they’d tortured earlier behind — to either get implicated or die.

Chase put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “Text directions to everyone, Luca. Make it fast. We need to split up. Now.”

With a swift nod, he pushed past us and walked into the first floor lobby. Police were already everywhere. People were screaming. It was mass chaos, making it easy for us to slip by unnoticed. Chase gripped my hand and jerked me through the crowd. But it wasn’t lost on me, as I looked at the terrified faces, it had been my fault. The death? On my head.

On my family’s head.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Nixon

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked for the millionth time while I drew the bath for Trace.

“Nixon.” Her trembling hands reached out to grab mine. “I’ll be fine. I just need to sit or do something so I don’t completely lose my mind.”

“Here.” I helped her out of her ripped t-shirt and moved my hands to her jeans, pushing them to the floor so she could step out of them.

She was shivering. I pulled her into my arms, not saying anything, just willing the nightmare of our lives to go away. “Hey, it’s going to be fine, Trace…”

“I know.” Her body relaxed against mine. “I just wish this wasn’t normal.”

“It’s not,” I argued. “Nothing about strapping a bomb to a person and taking innocent lives is normal. Trace…” How did I explain that the mafia, while it got a bad rap for a lot of things, they weren’t that stupid? Strapping bombs to people? Blowing up a Vegas hotel? Seriously? That was like waving a red flag in the middle of an FBI board meeting and then announcing to the world that you were a terrorist. “This isn’t us,” I argued. “The mafia? The Sicilians? This isn’t how we handle things… Quiet, we like things quiet.”

“Which means…” she whispered.

“Someone talked.” I slammed the countertop with my hand, pain radiated from my thumb across my palm. “Either that, or whoever’s responsible for what’s going on is trying to silence every last person involved.”

“Mil?” she asked.

“Shit.” I groaned and kissed her head. “I don’t know. I seriously have nothing to go off of. All I know is the minute we put her into power — things have gone to hell.”

“She needs to talk.” Trace pulled away from me. “You need to make her talk.”

“Right.” I snorted, stepping away from her long enough to turn the water off. “And say what exactly? Tell me all your repressed secrets or die?”

“That should work.” Trace crossed her arms. “Or maybe something like, I’ll cut you if you don’t start talking.”

“I’ll cut you?” I repeated, trying as hard as hell not to laugh out loud. “Who says that?”

Trace rolled her eyes. “You know, like in prison! They always say things like, I’ll cut you.”

My eyebrows rose. “Oh? And how do you know that, little miss innocent? Been visiting some of the family in the state pen?”

She stuck out her tongue and smacked me in the chest. “What you say doesn’t matter, Nixon. You just have to get her to say it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“What do you mean?” She put her hair in a ponytail and watched me through the mirror.

“Chase.” I cleared my throat and coughed. “He’ll do it.”

“Get her to talk?” Trace looked doubtful. “Good luck with that. He’s having issues kissing the girl, let alone using his seduction techniques to get her to talk. That would be like asking Nemo to fight Bruce. Chase officially lost all his bad-assness the minute he got married, leaving him the title of clown fish, and Mil—”

“Bruce?” I squinted at her. “Who the hell is Bruce?”

“The shark.” Trace gave me a duh expression. “In Finding Nemo?”

“You’re comparing their marriage to a Disney movie.”

“Whatever.” Trace waved me off and grabbed a towel. “The point is. Your chances of getting her to talk are completely diminished if you rely solely on Chase.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked in a low voice. “For Chase to fail?”

Trace’s hand paused on the fluffy towels. Without turning around, she answered, “I want him to succeed more than anyone, because I know how badly it sucks to lose the one you love, and I don’t mean losing Chase. I mean thinking I’d lost you. Mil has lost everything. Chase deserves to be that constant person in her life. God knows he’s done his time, don’t you think?”

I’d stepped right into that one.

“Trace, I—”

“I’m gonna get in the bath.”

“But—”

“Alone.”

“Trace,” I growled, angry that she was pushing me away. “Let me help you—”

“Out.” She gave me a pitiful smile and ushered me toward the door. “And next time you open your mouth, try not to be such a jackass.”

The door slammed in my face.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chase

Nixon: Get her to talk.

The damn text pissed me off so much I wanted to shoot him in the leg for even thinking about that right now. Mil had just watched her mom die, basically in front of her face, and Nixon wanted me to get her to talk? What was his brilliant plan?

I groaned and threw my phone onto the bed.

Mil had been in the bathroom for the past half-hour. We were all supposed to meet at The Golden Nugget in two hours. Luca had said it was safer to stay in old Vegas anyway, at least safer for our kind. Right. Our kind, like we were some sort of fallen angels or messed-up vampires.

Some honeymoon.

“Mil?” I knocked on the door again.

No answer.

Worried out of my mind, I tried the door. It was unlocked. Steam billowed out as I pushed it open.

“Mil?”

“Here.” Her voice was quiet, worried, so unlike her that my heart clenched in my chest. I pulled back the curtain to the shower. She was huddled in the corner, holding her knees to her chest, fully clothed.

“Mil.” Her name erupted past my lips like an expletive. I was pissed, not at her but at myself. I’d failed to protect someone she loved. I’d failed again. “Come here.” I stepped into the shower fully clothed and sat down next to her, extending my hand palm up.

She gripped it like a lifeline.

We stayed like that for a few minutes before she leaned her head against my shoulder. Hot water ran in streams down my face and arms, soothing my sore body. Even through my jeans and t-shirt, it still felt good.

“Chase…”

“Hmm?” I tapped my free hand against the tile to distract me from actually looking Mil in the face. She was too beautiful, too vulnerable, and I didn’t want to be the jackass who ruined everything.

“What if I don’t want it anymore? What if I want to run away? Run away from everything and abandon my family — does that make me a bad person?”

“No.” I caressed her hand with my thumb. “It makes you human.”

“A weak human.” She laughed bitterly.

“Never weak.” I let go of her hand and reached for her face, unable to keep myself from touching her, from looking into those damning eyes. The same eyes that made me want to say screw the world and just take her as my own. I tilted her chin in my hand as I lifted her face inches away from my mouth. “You are the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

She closed her eyes.

I gripped her chin. “Open your damn eyes.”

She tried to jerk back, so I squeezed harder.