“Go to hell!” Chase shouted. “Leave her alone, Nixon! Damn it.” He fought against Tex, finally freeing himself and then pulled the gun from Tex’s pants, all before Tex knew what the hell was going on. Within seconds, I was staring down the barrel of a gun, Chase’s finger tense on the trigger, his face filled with rage. “It’s been a long night. I suggest you leave.”
“Or what?” I leveled him with a menacing glare, baring my teeth. “You going to shoot me? Threaten me? Kill everyone in this damn room, because I hurt her feelings?” I pointed at Mil and laughed.
Chase’s eyes narrowed. Shit, he was catching on.
I ignored the gun pointed at my face and turned toward Mil. “They will break you. They will find you. And when they do, they’ll pull every last finger from your hand. They’ll waterlog you until you beg for death, and when you finally see the light of heaven calling you home, they’ll damn your soul to hell before you can seek forgiveness.” I paused. “Maybe those are the things you should be thinking about. Forget pretty dresses. Forget the happily ever after—”
“I will shoot you,” Chase said in a cold voice. “If you ever speak to her like that again, I won’t just put one bullet through your head, friend. I’ll put two, just to make sure you’re dead.”
“Not such a good shot anymore, eh, Chase?” I teased then motioned for Tex to follow me out the door. “Seems like you both have a lot to think about. You know, they say the first year of marriage is the hardest.” With that, Tex and I walked out of their room, the door clicking shut behind us. I snapped my fingers; the men already had the mess cleaned up and bodies removed.
Once we were in the elevator, Tex muttered, “Mind telling me what that was all about?”
I waited for the elevator to stop and for our two men to walk out into the lobby before turning and answering. “She needs a family. Someone to trust. It can’t be you, and it sure as hell can’t be me.”
Tex’s eyes widened an inch. “You’re breaking her on purpose.”
“Of course,” I said smoothly as we made our way through the lobby, classical music played in the background. “And we’ll stand by and watch as Chase puts Humpty Dumpty back together again, hopefully saving everyone’s lives in the process.”
The doors opened; the crisp night air was a welcome change from the emotionally-charged hotel room.
“How do you figure?” Tex asked.
“Because in the end, every girl wants a hero, and I just made Chase hers.”
****
For the last few weeks, ever since I’d miraculously come back from the dead — Trace stayed up until I got home. I’d told her I wouldn’t leave her again, but it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t put it past her to sew a damn tracking device in every piece of clothing I owned.
It was close to eleven by the time we got back to my house. The lights were on in the kitchen. I walked in and found Trace drinking wine and playing cards with Mo.
“Who’s dead?” Mo asked without looking up from her card game. “Rummy!”
“Shoot!” Trace took another swig of wine.
They seemed normal, we seemed normal, but we weren’t. Who asked that?
I walked over to Trace and kissed the top of her head. “Nobody important.”
“Says the guy who’s aged ten years in the past two hours,” Mo muttered.
Trace looked up, her eyes squinting as she gazed at my face. “What really happened?”
“Death.” I shrugged and took a seat next to her. “Lots and lots of death. Hey, you going to finish that?” I stole her wine and drank the rest of it.
“I’m heading to bed.” Tex took off his jacket and stared awkwardly at Mo.
“Okay,” Trace answered her eyes darting between Tex and Mo. The silence was deafening.
“Like right now.” Tex was still staring at Mo, while she studied her cards as if they held the cure for cancer. “As in, I’m going to bed, to sleep, by myself.”
I groaned.
Could they not bring their drama into the house?
“Sleep tight,” Mo said through clenched teeth, slapping her cards hard against the table. “Oh, and be sure to lock your doors. Wouldn’t want any more skanks accidently falling into your bed like last time.”
“Mo—”
“Goodnight, Tex,” I interrupted him and shook my head once. He threw his hands up in the air and stomped off down the hall.
“Well, that wasn’t awkward,” Trace sang.
“Sorry.” Mo slumped in her seat and leaned back, crossing her arms. “I swear I don’t mean to be dramatic, but if that man looks at me one more time, I’m pulling a knife on him.”
“Him or his parts?” I inquired, raising an eyebrow. “We both know you’re a fan of torture… wonder what you’d go with.”
Mo seemed to think about that. “Both. Definitely both.”
“Damn. Mind filling me in?” I reached for the wine bottle and poured another glass. It wasn’t as if I was going to go to sleep any time soon, not after all that adrenaline pumping through my system.
Trace leaned against me while Mo started talking.
“As you know, we broke up.”
I nodded.
“And then got back together again.”
“Wait, did he know you were back together?” I asked.
Mo rolled her eyes. “Yes, you ass. Do you want to hear the story or not?”