“Nah, I have a better plan.”

“Anger? Castration? Drowning?”

I sat down at the bar and grinned. “How good is Chase in situations when he’s told he can’t do something or he can’t have something?”

“Tortures himself until he—” Tex nodded. A slow smile suddenly appeared across his lips. I knew he’d eventually catch on to the brilliance of my plan. “You mean to dangle the carrot in front of the bunny until it dies from want.”

“And when it gives in…”

Tex smirked. “Rotten bastard. When it gives in, the damn carrot and bunny are so inseparable it would take death for them to part.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Chapter Thirty

Chase

Nixon was damn lucky I’d packed my gun in my suitcase at the last minute, meaning it wasn’t easily accessible while he was harassing me in the street.

My fingers itched to punch something.

I hated that he was right.

Hated that the last thing I was focusing on was the fact that random people were after my wife, someone was stalking us, and Mil’s mom had just been murdered.

But Mil was wearing a V-neck tank top.

I had the attention span of a pubescent sixth grader. Regardless of where my eyes were supposed to be trained, they’d eventually gone right back to her chest and stayed until she caught me. Then I’d jerked my head away — solidifying the whole sixth-grader theory, only to get caught staring again.

“You want me to flash you and get it over with?” Mil asked once we reached our room. Unfortunately, I’d just taken a sip of water. I choked it down and pounded my chest.

“Hey, caveman?” Mil snickered. “You gonna make it?”

“Yeah,” I croaked. “Wrong lube.”

“Lube?”

“Tube!” I shouted. “Shit.”

Mil’s entire face was frozen in a mocking grin, hands on hips, which, of course, drew my eyes to her chest. Again.

“I gotta go meet Nixon.” I forced a smile and walked past her, grabbing the key card from the table on my way.

“Oh, and Chase,” Mil called.

I turned.

She lifted her shirt, revealing a lacey pink bra that I could have sworn spoke to me. It said, “Chase, stay. Chase, make love to me, Chase.”

“Chase,” Mil interrupted. “Have fun at your meeting.”

I must have looked like an idiot. My smile was so huge it actually hurt my face, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t sober up. It was like I was drunk — only a hundred times better. “Thanks.”

I half-walked half-staggered in a lust-filled dream all the way to the elevator.

The euphoric sensation lasted through the entire elevator ride.

And during my walk to the bar, flashes of pink invaded my senses making me drunk with lust.

And again as I took a seat, her face beckoned me, her body screamed. Damn it! I wanted to make her pay, hell I wanted to make us both suffer. The release alone would be my undoing.

“Chase…” Nixon cleared his throat. “You look happy. Hope that smile’s for me and not because of your tardiness.”

“Shit.” Tex winked. “You cheating right in front of me, Nixon?”

“Huh?” That snapped me out of my stupor as I glanced between the two of them.

“Oh right, you weren’t there. Let me catch you up…” Tex leaned in and whispered in Nixon’s ear. “Loverrr…”

“Stop purring in my ear, or I swear I’ll cut your tongue out.”

“Rawr.”

“Tex,” I interrupted. “If you ever — and I do mean ever — touch me the way you just touched Nixon, I will end your life and send your body parts back to Sicily in greeting card form. Capiche?”

Tex merely shrugged and ordered another beer.

“Luca and Frank still here?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Nixon leaned back in his chair. The bar was located right next to the casino, meaning it was noisy as hell, but at least people weren’t paying a lick of attention to us. “They’re here for reinforcements, nothing more. Too many loose ends now.”

I grunted. “Tell me about it.”

We sat in silence.

“Chase.” Nixon leaned forward clasping his hands together. “It’s your call.”

“What is?” Confused, I leaned forward, thinking I hadn’t really heard him correctly.

“What you want to do.” Nixon shrugged.

“I’m sorry. I still don’t know what you mean.”

“We could all go home,” Nixon said in a low voice. “Live our lives, wait for them to come to us. Or we can draw them out.”

My eyebrows pinched together. “How do you figure we draw them out?”

“The wife,” Nixon said offering a casual shrug. “Tanya knows Mil. That was her connection.” He popped his knuckles. “Obviously she knows how to contact her. Maybe the wife has information on what to do. It’s possible we have more than one family after us. The dots need to be connected, and until we have any leads, we’re sitting ducks. It’s the only other way, beside going home and waiting to get shot at, which to be quite honest, might do Tex some good.”

“Heard that,” Tex grumbled.

“You were meant to,” I fired back.

“So.” I swallowed. “Get Mil to give me Tanya’s information?”

“Simple, after all, the last thing the Campisi family wants on their hands is more blood, you know? I imagine they’re hoping we’ll just drop it.” He took a long swig of beer. “Mil’s mom has been estranged from the De Langes for such a long time. They’re probably assuming she doesn’t matter.”

I groaned into my hands, hating every second that ticked by, because it meant I was that much closer to having to talk to Mil about her past — about her mom — things I knew she’d tucked away into her own personal Pandora’s box. Her mom and dad had separated soon after Mil and I’d had our little Vegas romp.

Feeling a headache coming on, I drained the rest of my beer and stood. “I’ll do what I can tonight and text you when I have answers — how long before everyone’s flights leave?”

“Seven p.m. the day after tomorrow.” Nixon rubbed the back of his head. Weariness wore at the edges of his mouth. “Good luck.”

“Right. I think I need prayer more than luck.”

“Well, I’ve got the Rosary memorized.” He smirked as if hiding some private joke. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“Why’d you go and memorize that and make yourself a better Catholic?”

Nixon waved me off. “One of the Seven Deadly Sins got to me.”

“Dude,” Tex piped up laughing — he’d been silently listening the whole time. “One? How about all seven?”

“I’m too tired for this. See you guys later.” I stood and gave half-hugs to both of them then made the trudge back to my room.

I had to keep myself from killing Nixon.

Keep my hands off my wife.

Keep it in my pants.

Discover all her secrets.

Get her to confide in me.

And do it all without looking at her breasts or thinking about sex.

Yeah, Rosary was right.

Chapter Thirty-One

Nixon

I watched her.

Like a damn stalker from Criminal Minds.

She twirled her hair around her fingers and then threw her head back and laughed, exposing that long delicate neck — just one of the things I was obsessed with.

“Trace?” I licked my lips, suddenly nervous as hell to interrupt her girl time. “You ready for bed?”

“I think,” she said, standing and wrapping her arms sloppily around my neck, “the correct answer is are you ready for bed?”

“Don’t you mean question?”

“That’s your answer!” She laughed and sagged against me.

“Shit. Who gave her wine?”

Mo and Mil both pointed at each other. I glared at my sister. She covered her mouth with her hand and hiccupped.

“Damn shame for a Sicilian to get drunk off two glasses of wine,” I muttered.

“Sorry.” Trace nuzzled her face in my neck. “I was just so stressed, and now I’m sleepy.” There went all plans for seduction.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I kissed her forehead. “Why don’t I carry you?”