The room started going black. I tried to remain calm. What exactly was he saying?
“But—” Nixon paced in front of me, his fingers tapping against his thighs as he walked back and forth across the dark wood floor. “—it’s probably in your best interest to be tied to us. Ten million,” he said with a smirk. “Tell me you didn’t laugh when you heard it.”
“My ass off.” I gave him the answer he wanted, when really I’d been more hurt than anything. “Not that it matters, they won’t get me. Nobody can touch me.”
“Just because you’re a Campisi doesn’t mean nobody can touch you. Which is why I want you guys to pretend to be married… as far as everyone knows, it’s real. The documents will be filed, protecting both of you, but in the end, it gives Mo an out once all this dies down.”
“An out?” I repeated.
Nixon pinched the bridge of his nose and licked his lips staring at the door. “Love. At least give her a chance to find someone to love… someone who won’t rip her heart out, stomp on it, then try to put it back together again. She deserves that.”
“And I can’t give her that?”
Nixon studied me. “I don’t know, can you?”
Nightmares flooded my vision… blood, death, death, and more death. And then there was Mo, the only perfect thing in my life. The only constant.
I studied Nixon right back.
He was nervous.
Upset.
Fidgety.
He never fidgeted.
And he always made eye contact, but he kept blinking and looking at the floor, then back at the door, then back at the floor. Finally, he leaned back and touched his face again.
He was freaking crumbling right in front of me.
“You’re stuck,” I said softly. “Protect me or protect Mo.”
“Right.” Nixon shuddered. “Unite you guys and…”
“You can say it.” My heart dropped to my stomach. “It’s not like I don’t know what you’re thinking right now.”
“And what’s that?” Nixon’s jaw cracked.
“You can’t trust me,” I whispered. “Not anymore that is. Regardless of Mo being pregnant… you can’t trust me because I’m a Campisi, and eventually it will be time to take my place… in Hell.” My hands started to shake. “And damn if you don’t want me to take Mo along for the ride. Hell, I don’t want to take her along for the ride, but I would, because I’m a selfish bastard.”
“She’s innocent.” Nixon shook his head. “Can you honestly say that you can love her? Protect her from that existence? From that bloodline? In the end, would you choose The Family over her?”
We both knew the answer.
Because as much as we loved our women.
We always chose what was best for the family. It’s what a boss did.
It’s what the Cappo did.
If it was my men stuck in a warehouse full of enemies or Mo at home with a gun to her head.
I’d sacrifice her to save them.
Because a family is only as strong as the boss—and if the boss is weak, the family crumbles.
“I see,” I finally managed to say. My voice was low, hoarse from the emotion I was trying to hold inside, or maybe it was just the anger coursing through my body making me want to punch something—that something being Nixon. “Anything else, boss?”
“Stay alive.” Nixon’s eyebrows shot up as he gave me a stiff nod “And maybe… things will turn out, you never know.”
“Right.” I ground my teeth together. “And maybe one day butterflies will take over the world and replace guns.”
As I tried to walk by Nixon, he gripped my arm and said in a low voice, “Never lose hope that things will one day be different.”
I snorted and jerked my arm out of his grip. “The difference between me and you… I lost hope the day I was born. I don’t believe in hope. Life and death.”
“And love?” Nixon angled his head, his eyes digging as if trying to look into my soul.
“It’s a once in a life time thing. You get one chance, and if you screw it up, rarely does the boat come back around again.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nobody ever said protecting others at your own expense was easy.
Mo
“WELL, THAT WAS FUN.” Chase elbowed me and offered a sympathetic smile. If the guy was trying to keep me from sobbing in my bowl of Cheerios, he was doing a really crappy job. “Smile, Mo.”
I offered a creepy tooth-filled smile.
Chase winced. “Maybe next time, huh sexy?”
I rolled my eyes and placed my elbows on the table. Chase was either the worst brother in the world or the best. Ever since we’d found out how messed up our blood lines really were, meaning our family tree freaking pretzled together, I’d thought of him as more of a brother than a cousin.
“Things will get better.” He sighed, patting my head.
“Just…” I waved him off. “No more talking.”
“Talking helps… it’s like free therapy.” He stole a bite of my Cheerios. I stared him down.
He took another bite.
“Chase!” I snapped irritated. “Get your own damn Cheerios!”
He took another huge bite; milk ran down his chin. “See, made you react. You can thank me later.”
“For putting me in a pissy mood?” I argued.