“Too late for that,” I murmured.
Trace’s face fell. She stepped around the door and pulled me into a hug. “What’s going on?”
I answered her question with a question. “What’s the worst possible thing that could happen to us?”
“Other than death?” Her arms tightened round my neck.
“Yeah.”
“Going to prison? Being ratted out—”
I licked my lips.
“But we’ve done nothing wrong. Our dealings are legal, damn it!” Trace stomped her cute little foot and pulled away. “No way can anyone pin anything illegal on us.”
Silence was probably my best bet, considering I couldn’t lie to her face.
“Nixon.” Her voice had a pleading edge. “Tell me your family doesn’t do anything illegal.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “Our family doesn’t do anything illegal.” It was different when she was asking me to lie, right?
“Jackass.”
I grinned at that and smacked her backside. “Just get ready and don’t worry about things that you can’t fix… oh and don’t look too slutty. Your grandpa’s coming.”
She laughed and threw another shirt at my face. “Grandpa, huh? Three mafia bosses in one plane? Better hope it doesn’t go down.”
“We’d just parachute out or have Tex fly it,” I teased.
“Stop being so calm about everything.”
“My job,” I said seriously. “Now hurry up.”
Trace’s nostril flared.
“Hurry up, please.”
She blew me a kiss and walked back into her closet. I was still smiling when I walked into Tex’s room — that is, until I saw a chick there, with him in bed, sprawled across him with lipstick smeared across her cheeks. Classy.
I grabbed her by the hair and jerked her away from Tex. “Out.”
“Hey!” The girl tried to lunge for me. Oh, hell no. That wouldn’t end well for her.
“Just leave,” Tex said in a muffled voice. “I’ll call you.”
With a huff, the girl grabbed her things and stomped off down the hall.
“I swear I won’t hesitate to put a bullet to your head if you keep bringing skanks into my house.” I kicked Tex’s bed. He turned over and glared; two hickeys mocked me from his neck.
I really had no other choice — I punched him in the jaw. He cut loose with a string of curses and almost fell off the other side of the bed.
“Pack your shit. We’re going to Vegas.”
“Really?” He perked up.
“Tex…” I warned.
He scowled, his reddish brown hair fell across his face. He pushed it out of the way and turned. Damn it to hell.
“And cover that shit up.” I pointed at the two hickeys glaring from his neck.
“Like Mo cares,” he grumbled.
“I care. Me. Your boss. Your best friend.” I walked over to the bed and slapped his cheek twice in jest. “Now stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself and get your shit together or I will send you to Sicily.”
“You’d ship me to my enemies?” Tex had the audacity to look offended.
“To keep myself from shooting you? Or worse, from Mo poisoning your Captain Crunch? Yeah, I would. Now don’t make me tell you twice. Better yet, don’t make me any more pissed than I already am. My shit’s about to blow if you keep this up.”
“Fine, fine.” He rubbed his jaw and crawled out of bed. I slammed the door behind me and went on to the next room. Why have kids when I already had Tex?
“Mo.” I knocked softly on her door then opened it.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I muttered. She was sleeping with noise-canceling headphones on. Her makeup was streaked black down her face.
“Mo.” I said it louder, this time sitting on her bed and giving her shake. Her eyes snapped open, and then a gun was pointed in my face. I pushed it away and swore. “What the hell is it with you women?”
“Sorry.” She pulled off her headphones. “Thought you were Tex.”
“Glad you took the time to make sure before you shot.”
She grinned, though her eyes looked swollen from crying.
“Mo… you want me to talk to him? Order a hit? Force him to spend some time with the Alferos? Just tell me how I can make it better.”
“You can’t.” She shrugged. “I’ll be fine. Let me handle it in my own way.”
“Right.” I pointed at the gun. “Your way involves way more blood than mine.”
“Hmph. That’s a first,” she said sourly.
Ignoring her, I walked over to the closet and pulled out her favorite Louis Vuitton travel bag. “Pack up. We’re going to Vegas.”
“No way!” Mo pushed away from the bed and threw her arms around me. “You’re going to marry Trace! Finally. Oh no! Does she even have a dress?” She squealed and clapped her hands. “And she has to bring her grandma’s shoes, and, oh no, does Frank know? You know how he hates surprises and—” Her face fell as she focused on my lack of smile. “You’re not getting married?”
“Are you sure you and Trace weren’t separated at birth?”
“I find it uncomfortable that you’d say that about the girl you’re in love with.” She crossed her arms. “Why Vegas?”
“That isn’t information you need to know.” I flashed a grin. “Now pack up. And for the love of God, leave your gun at home.”