Eyes still trained on the dead bodies in the hall, she handed me the phone from the nearby desk and crossed her arms, huddling into her own body.
I dialed Nixon; he answered on the first ring. “Well, that was fast.”
“Not the time, Nixon,” I said in a low voice. “Look, we’ve got a situation.”
“Alright.” His voice took on a business tone. “How many?”
“Two dead.”
“By you?”
“One by me, the other… self inflicted.”
“Identification?” I could hear the car roaring to life as Nixon yelled orders to men in the background.
“Never seen them before. Let me ask Mil.” I lowered the phone. “Mil.” I didn’t have time to be gentle with her, to coax her out of shock. I needed answers and I needed them fast. “You know them?” I pointed down at the bodies. “I need to know if you can ID them.”
Her eyes watered with tears. She nodded her head and looked away. “My cousins.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Those are my cousins. I saw them a few years ago during Christmas break.”
“Shit,” I mumbled into the phone. Adrenaline was starting to leave my body. Every position I stood in caused a growing ache to radiate down my spine. “Nixon, it was the De Langes.”
“Of course,” he said in clipped tones. “They have such a nasty habit of trying to kill off their own blood — no respect, no—”
“Not the time, Nixon. Just get your ass down here. Now.”
“I’ll call Sergio.” The phone went dead.
We only called in Sergio when things went above our heads. Shit, above our heads? I looked down the hall. Cameras. Not good. Hell yeah, we needed Sergio, because if this security footage got out, we were going to be front-page news, and I’d be spending my honeymoon in prison.
Thankfully we were in one of the penthouse suites. Only four rooms were on our level and none of the doors budged. I kept the door open so I could monitor the hall for any movement, praying the rooms were empty. If they weren’t… there would be more bodies, and they would be innocent.
Chapter Nine
Mil
Yeah, I was fooling nobody. I tried to keep my teeth from chattering, but it was impossible. I’d killed before. I wasn’t a stranger to death, but I’d never witnessed someone killing himself. It was… it was desperate, horror-inspiring. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, on Chase, on the floor. It was such a violent act. My brain couldn’t wrap around or fathom why the same cousin who’d teased me about my crush on Justin Timberlake when I was sixteen would not only turn his gun on me, but on himself.
As a family, we’d never been close. We were the De Langes for crying out loud; we ate nails for breakfast and sold out to the highest bidder in order to keep the family in power and make money.
We were the ugly of the mafia, the desperate joke — never did it occur to me that my own family would be out for blood. That the very people I’d sworn to protect — had ordered a hit on me.
“Mil, sit down before I lose my damn mind.” I felt Chase’s body wrap around mine. I took the comfort like a homeless person takes shelter in a storm. I shuddered as he pulled me against his chest. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve had better nights.”
Chase’s body shook with laughter. “Right, I mean, I knew our wedding night would be epic, but mainly because I figured the minute I got naked you’d pull a gun on me or something.”
I smiled against his torn and bloody shirt. Pieces of muscled skin were visible through the holes; heat invaded my palms when I placed them on his chest and pulled back to look at him. “Thank you.”
“Wow, you haven’t shot me yet, and you’ve said thank you? Where’s my wife and what have you done with her?”
My grin grew so wide I almost forgot how scared I was. “Yeah well, don’t get used to it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered, his eyes trained on my mouth.
I leaned in first.
He met me halfway.
Our lips were an inch apart, and then a knock sounded on the door. Chase motioned for me to be quiet and went to look through the peephole. With a muttered curse, he opened the door. “Sergio, worst timing ever.”
“Says the guy with two dead bodies outside his door.” A deep male voice said. A hint of an accent was audible, but hardly. Soon, the owner of the voice stepped into the room and held out his hand. “Sergio. And you must be the bride? Or the assassin?”
“Assassin.” I pointed at Chase. “Bride.” I pointed at myself.
“Pity.” Sergio winked, his dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, pieces of it grazed his chin. He looked like he belonged in a medieval novel.
“Pardon?”
He shrugged. “I was hoping you were the assassin. It would make it so much easier on my conscience to steal you that way. But being already married…” He shook his head. “Really complicates things in my book.”
“Why? Because you’re such a rule follower?” I asked sarcastically.
“Damn you, Abandonato men.” Sergio looked back at Chase. “Always stealing the women before I even get a chance to get in the fight.”
“I’ll make it easy on you,” I said. “You would have lost. It’s probably better for your ego that you weren’t even in the ring.”
“Ouch.” Sergio laughed. “Lucky bastard.” He pulled out his cell phone and pulled up a picture on his screen. “Is this the way the hall looked when you arrived?”