CHAPTER Twenty-seven
“Good God, I forgot how pink this room was.” Nixon chuckled, taking one of the stuffed animals off the bed so he could lie across it.
“I must have really liked pink.” I laughed.
“You hated it.” Nixon put his arms behind his head and sighed. “In fact. I distinctly remember your mom putting you in a pink dress and you taking it off in front of the entire dinner party.”
“Please tell me you weren’t—”
“I was nine!” Nixon laughed. “Trust me, I was horrified. I thought girls had cooties. I closed my eyes and pointed though.”
“Rude. You should have saved me.” I lay down next to him, my breath hitched when I realized what I just said.
“I’m always saving you. Even when you didn’t know I was there, I was saving you.”
“Did you ever visit Wyoming?” I asked in a small voice, scooting closer to his body until my head rested on his chest.
He sighed. “Trace, you’re putting me in a hard spot. I can’t tell you everything, because it will just make you sad. I can’t be completely honest and it kills me. It makes me want to scream, but I have responsibilities — not just to you — to my family, to your grandpa…” He cursed. “Everything is pretty screwed up right now. I didn’t know you were going to find out this way. Believe me, if I did I would have…”
“What?”
He licked his lips. “I would have kissed you harder. I would have fought for you more. I don’t know. I would have stolen you away, taken your virtue, made myself so permanently etched on your person that every time you took a breath it was my scent that was permeating the air.”
Well, what was I supposed to do with that? Rip his shirt off? I’m not gonna lie, that’s exactly what was racing through my mind when he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
“I never visited Wyoming. My father wouldn’t let me and at that time I wasn’t in charge of anything so I couldn’t bully my way into it.”
“When you came to be in charge, you were eighteen?” I asked.
“Yup. Father wasn’t doing well. He wasn’t able to make good decisions. He developed pneumonia and was never the same after that. Always out of breath and what not. So I took over some of the operations and then more and more until I was running everything while he stayed at home and drank whiskey.”
I winced.
“At any rate. That’s done with now.” His hand clenched on my arm and he seemed to realize how tense he was. His fingers relaxed. “I’m sorry, Trace.”
“For what?”
“Not telling you the truth. I knew the day we went shopping, and then when you took out all that money. Damn, I knew for sure then. I had Anthony do a background check on you. Apparently Tracey Rooks doesn’t exist. So I went through all the Tracey’s in our school and there you were, Tracey Alfero, eighteen years old, granddaughter of the second most powerful mafia boss in all of Chicago. The same mafia boss that still blames us for his son’s death.”
“You forget. Technically I have De Lange blood in me too,” I muttered.
“Right. Which means I really should have killed Phoenix.” He scowled and pulled his arm away from me. With a curse he sat on the bed and rubbed his hands over his face. “He can’t ever find out who you are. If he does…Trace, he’s dangerous, seriously. We’ve been keeping tabs on him. He’s lost his freaking mind. He’s next in line after his father dies, and his father’s too much of a coward to tell Phoenix when he’s out of line. I have no doubt that family is into some shady business.”
“Do I want to know what shady business is?”
Nixon took a deep breath. “Probably the sex trade, cocaine, money laundering, typical things you’d see on TV, but definitely not what this family is about that’s for sure.”
I don’t know why I felt so relieved. It’s not as if I could help who I loved, even if he was involved with terrible things. I couldn’t just pull away from family.
“What do you do?”
“A little of this and a little of that.” He smirked. “Nothing too illegal. We aren’t desperate for money unlike some people.”
“I’m sorry.” I huffed, feeling tears start to burn the back of my eyes. “For leaving you. I’m so damn sorry, Nixon. I remember. I saw a picture of us when we were little and… I left you! I promised I would keep you safe and I left you!”
Full on sobs were escaping my throat now as I hunched over and hugged myself.
“Trace, sweetheart.” Nixon lifted me closer to him and pulled me onto his lap. “Those were pretty big promises coming from a six year old. There was no way you could have protected me from him… or Monroe.”
“But I promised—”
“—and I promised I’d find the people who killed your parents. So I guess we both failed, Trace.”
“You’ll find them,” I said through my tears. “You won’t give up?”
“No.” He kissed my cheek and then my lips, gently licking the salt from my bottom lip before pulling back. “I just… Trace, I have to keep order between all the families here. The three families have been just fine for the past ninety years. If something happens… if the balance is thrown off, or God forbid, if any of the originals hear about the happenings with Phoenix…” He trembled against me. “Believe me, you do not want any of the Sicilians traveling to the states.”
“They won’t.” I kissed his mouth. “Phoenix hasn’t done anything yet and when he does… you’ll be there.”
Nixon’s eyes closed briefly. When he opened them they were full of sadness. “Yes, but so will you.”
“By your side,” I confirmed.
Nixon didn’t say anything. His mouth found mine and I fell against the bed as his body hovered over me. His lips saying what his words couldn’t. I wrapped my arms around his neck and coaxed him toward me. With a grunt and then a masculine groan he swept his arms around me and under my shirt.
“Damn.” He growled the minute his hands came into contact with my bra.
“What?” I kissed his neck.
“Your grandpa’s going to shoot me if he finds out I’m doing this right now… I promised…”
He didn’t finish the sentence because my hands had already found his lean muscled stomach. I was drawing circles with my fingers across his hip bones. He closed his eyes. “I need you to remember something, Trace.”
“What?”
He kissed me softly across the lips and stared directly into my eyes. “When I make a promise I keep it. Regardless of whom it hurts, even if it means it hurts me or someone I care about the most. Sometimes… sometimes in life we’re asked to sacrifice something for the greater good.”
“Okay, you’re making me nervous. Can’t we just make out?”
Nixon’s smile was sad. “I love you, Trace. I always have. Just remember that, okay? Hold on to it. No matter what I say or what I do… and trust me, I’ll do some terrible things. Just know. I love you. With every fiber of my being.”
Tears clouded my vision as I nodded and brought him in for another kiss. “I love you too,” I said across his lips.
“I have to go.”
“Don’t!” I didn’t mean to yell.
Laughing, he lay back down on top of me, careful to keep his weight off so I could still breathe. “Trace… your grandfather’s not a patient man. Let’s not give him a heart attack.”
“Seeing us make out would not give him a heart attack,” I argued. “You taking me up on my whole virginity offer? Yeah, that would do it.”
Nixon froze above me. His eyes wild. “Please. Just please don’t ever. Trace, you have to promise — shit, you have to promise that no matter what happens, you wait, okay? You wait until it’s with someone you love.”
My smile widened. Because I knew he was talking about him. After all we’d basically just declared ourselves. I nodded just once and kissed him on the cheek. “I promise.”
His chest rose and fell as if he’d just run a marathon. He nodded once, his eyes welling with tears. Had I said something wrong? I pulled his face to mine and kissed him, this time slowly memorizing the way his lips slid past mine, creating the perfect amount of friction as they teased and taunted. His tongue. Good Lord that tongue could make a girl throw caution to the wind.
Nixon didn’t kiss as if it was something to pass the time. He kissed as if there was nothing in the world he’d rather be doing. He kissed like I was his oxygen, and I knew in that moment there was no way I was ever letting him go for the second time.
A knock sounded on the door. Nixon jerked away from me so fast I thought he was going to fall to the floor.
After a staggering breath, I went to the door and unlocked it.
Grandpa stood, arms crossed and glared at Nixon. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to Nixon. I latched on to his arm as we walked slowly down the stairs to the front door. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Nixon.”
His eyes still looked teary as if he was going to lose it at any minute. Nixon collected his gun, knife, and brass knuckles, and gave me a quick hug. “Remember what I said, Trace. Remember.”
With that he left.