Elect - Dyken Rachel Van (электронные книги бесплатно .txt) 📗

“Yeah, I’ll drink to that.” She laughed again. For some reason it made me feel better, like if I focused on my past, my future wouldn’t look so bleak. “I hated you for a long time, Chase Winter.”

“Hated, as in past tense?”

“Oops, I slipped. I meant ‘hate.’ ”

“Noted.”

“You seduced me.”

“I was sixteen and it was hardly a seduction, Mil. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Clearly, you didn’t.”

“Very funny.”

She licked her lips. “I don’t regret you, Chase, so stop feeling sorry for yourself. And if you look down that hall one more time I’m going to smack you.”

“I’m that obvious?”

She shook her head. “You’re pathetic. Sure you don’t want me to shoot you and put you out of your misery?”

“Ask me later.” I took another drink of scotch and winced.

“I regret not being there for him,” Mil said in a quiet voice. “I regret that when he needed me most, I didn’t believe him. Not until it was too late.”

“It’s never too late, Mil.” I put my arm around her. “I promise, there’s always a chance.” I had to believe the words I was saying, because if I was wrong then that meant my future was just as bleak as hers. Wow, we really were pathetic.

“You talking about Phoenix?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.

“He’s my stepbrother.” She yawned. “And I think I’m too late. I don’t know if Nixon can fix it.”

“Fix what?” My hair stood on end. What did she know that I didn’t? “Mil?” I shook her a bit. “If Nixon can fix what?”

“Do you think we go to heaven?” She’d changed the subject again. Clearly the drugs really were kicking in.

“Mil?”

“Nixon said yes.” Her eyes fluttered open and then closed. “If he can’t fix it, I hope he does.”

“Does what?” I whispered.

“Go to heaven.” And then she slumped against me.

With a curse, I rose to my feet and picked her up into my arms. I wasn’t sure where Nixon was keeping her, but I knew she’d have one hell of a headache if she slept on the floor like that. So I walked her into the room next to mine and laid her down on the bed.

It really was a shame I was in love with someone else.

Because I needed some female companionship.

Not that Mil would offer.

Shit, how lucky was I? The one girl I loved didn’t even know it and sure as hell didn’t love me back like that, and the only other one I could trust with my secrets and lifestyle wanted to shoot me in the face.

I backed out of the room and walked slowly by Nixon’s.

It was the silence that did it for me.

It killed me inside.

And then I heard Trace laugh.

And I felt like I had been killed all over again. How many times can a guy experience death before he’s ready to allow it to consume him? I went in search of more scotch and promised myself I’d try harder with Trace. I’d make her want me. I’d make her choose me.

In the end, I was better for her. She just didn’t see it because all she could see was Nixon, but if I could change that… If he could just… stay out of the picture like he’d promised. We’d have a chance. In the end, hurting her, in order to gain her? It seemed like it was worth it. I knew being away from Nixon was difficult for her—but I couldn’t give a damn if he stayed away forever. Because he was stealing my reason for living. And when she was gone, I wouldn’t feel so much like living anymore.

Chapter Twenty-eight Nixon

Emiliana’s information felt like it had left a burning gaping hole in the back of my brain.

Not my father, not his son. Not who I thought I was. Talk about a major identity crisis. It didn’t help that Angelo had nothing on Uncle Tony. Nothing sketchy. The man was squeaky clean. He went golfing in the afternoons, drank brandy at night, made sure to check in with his many businesses and went to bed at eleven every damn night.

Something wasn’t adding up and I knew that I couldn’t figure it out on my own. I needed help and a plan, one that would potentially hurt me more than anyone. But it was hopeless. Knowing what I did—my future was hopeless. And if I didn’t do something soon—Trace’s would be, too.

It was harder than I thought it would be. Damn, I wanted to wake up from this nightmare. But no matter how hard I shook my head, how many drinks I had, my reality was the same.

I was going to go for broke.

I had one trick, and one trick only; and after hearing everything Emiliana had to say, I knew—my real father? He’d stop at nothing to gain control of the family, and now it was time to flush him out.

“I need your grandmother’s diary,” I told Trace.

“What?” Trace smiled. “I thought we were going to all read it together.”

“That was before.”

“Before?” Her eyebrows arched in question. “Before what?”

“Before now.” I shrugged. “May I please have it? I promise I’ll return it as soon as I can.”

“Why do you need it?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“How long will you have it?”

“I can’t tell you that, either.”

“Nixon.” She said my name like an expletive. “What the hell is going on?”

Oh nothing… just lots and lots of lying, death, love, tragedy. Forget TV. This was way worse.

“The diary has some information in it, a few missing pieces that I need to put together.”

“So it’s like a puzzle piece.” She chewed her lower lip and walked over to my bed. I caught a whiff of her sweet perfume as she sat on the end and folded her arms across her chest.

“Kind of.” I shrugged.

“Okay.” She didn’t look at me. “You can have the diary—”

“Thank you.” I exhaled in relief.

“But.” She looked up at me. “I want something in return.”

“Didn’t know we were negotiating.” I chuckled. “What do you want?”

“I want you to hold me.”

Stunned, I stared at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

Trace stood and grabbed my hands. “Call it paranoia, but… I feel like something’s wrong. You aren’t acting like your bossy self.”

I looked away but she grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Unable to lie, I nodded my head. “Yeah, Trace. It’s bad.”

“And my grandmother’s journal will help you?”

“It helps my case, yes. I promise I’ll bring it back—and put it where I’ll always be. By your heart.”

She shuddered. “And if it doesn’t help your case? What happens?”

I’d ruin everything if I told her the truth. It had to happen exactly as I’d imagined it in my head, but damn if I didn’t feel the walls closing in as I watched her watch me. I’d always wondered what it would be like, to say good-bye to someone you loved, knowing good and well that you’d never be able to feel the warmth of their skin on yours ever again.

I didn’t want this for us. I still don’t want it for us, but to save her—well, I’d go to the ends of the earth if it meant protecting her—if it meant fighting this battle for her. She could point a gun at my head and I’d still do it. I’d still fight as long as I had energy to do so… After all, if something doesn’t cost you absolutely everything—did you ever truly love it in the first place?

She would cost me everything I had.

And that very fact put a smile on my face. Was she worth it?

I gave her a sad smile. Hell yeah, she would always be worth it.

“Trace.” I cupped her face. “I need you to listen to me.”

“Nixon, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be afraid.” I kissed her forehead. “I need you to trust me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“Nixon I—”

“I’m not finished.” I pressed my finger against her lips. “I would die before I let anything happen to you, but—”

“But?”

I smiled. “But, sometimes in life, things don’t end how we want them to. Sometimes, what we want to happen and what has to happen are two very different things.”

“Nixon.” Her lips pressed against mine, softly, and then more urgently as she grabbed me. “Please don’t leave me, please. I don’t think I can take it if you do. I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave.”