She was my Aphrodite.
My Athena.
I freaking worshipped that woman.
But our relationship was like the nerd of the class trying to date the popular girl, I think in essence, she felt sorry for me. Then again, I’d never let her know the real me, so maybe it was my fault.
“Tex?” Mo approached, tilting her head to the side. Black hair swirled across her shoulders. “Did you hear what I said?”
Nope, too busy being distracted by those hips. “Sorry I was just thinking about what I was going to say.”
Mo’s eyebrows drew together. “Just stick to the story, right?”
“Right,” I repeated. Damn, she didn’t even realize that with every look she pulled another string, I was like a puppet, and I hated that analogy because I’d felt like a puppet my whole life. “I’ll just say we’re in love.”
Mo nodded slowly, her eyes filling with tears.
“And that I messed up.” My teeth clenched. “That I’m so freaking in love with you I didn’t use a condom? Is that what you want me to say? Help me out because I really don’t think that’s a good plan, Mo. Not if you want me to live in the foreseeable future.”
Mo rolled her eyes, the tears turning into amusement. “Well, maybe don’t use the word condom.”
“Right.” I offered a smile. “How about I tell Nixon that I wanted to beat him at something, so I decided to get his twin sister knocked up?”
At that Mo laughed out loud.
“You what?” A voice roared from the door.
I closed my eyes and hung my head as Mo’s face froze into a smile in front of me. Right, in love. Happy about baby. Happy, happy, happy. Shoot me in the mother effing face.
I turned and opened my arms. “Friends! You’re home!”
“What. The. Hell. Did you just say?” Nixon roared, throwing his bag so hard against the countertop it skidded off and collided with one of the chairs nearly sending it through the window. His hands barreled into tight fists as he stomped towards me.
“Friends?” I offered backing up so that Mo was behind me. If Nixon pulled out a gun I’d take the bullet. She knew that, I knew that, Nixon most likely knew that, which probably meant the odds were I was getting shot in a few seconds.
Nixon grabbed me by the shirt and pushed me against the countertop. The hard granite bit into my back making me momentarily wince. He pushed harder; my skin was going to get rubbed raw if he kept doing that. I pushed back a bit to give us some space. We were pretty matched for height and strength. I could have fought back, but I owed him this. He couldn’t beat up the guy who actually did get his sister pregnant so he might as well use me as the punching bag. Ha! Story of my life. The freaking Abandonato punching bag. Fantastic.
“What did you do?” Nixon’s voice damn near shattered the windows as he slammed my body against the counter again. The granite scratched against my back for the third time, the sharp slice of pain in the small of my back telling me the skin had been pierced. Yeah, I was going to start bleeding all over the floor any second.
“Nothing,” Mo answered for me. I peered around Nixon and glared at her. It was my fight not hers, because she’d made it mine, so she needed to stay the hell out of it and let me protect her.
“Wouldn’t really call getting you pregnant nothing, Mo, but to each his own.” The minute my lips formed a smile, I received a bunch in the jaw, then another. My bottom lip was sliced by my own teeth causing the blood to start trailing down my chin.
“Nixon stop!” Mo wailed. “Please!”
The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. With a jerk Nixon released me. I grabbed a nearby towel and wiped my face.
Chase walked into the kitchen, hands raised. “Nixon, calm down.”
Yeah, not something you say to the boss.
Nixon turned his rage-filled eyes on Chase and pulled out his gun. “Stay out of this.”
“Nixon!” Trace pushed Chase out of the way and moved in front of the gun that was aimed for Chase’s heart. Aw, family drama. “Put the gun down! Let them talk.”
“Trace…” Nixon’s jaw flexed, his teeth ground together. “Stay the hell out of it.”
“No.” She crossed her arms. “Not until you put the gun away.” Swear his ice blue eyes turned the exact color of Hell, flashing completely black before he waived the gun around.
“Does no one listen to me anymore?” Nixon looked around the room. “If I want to shoot Chase in the face for defending Tex, I’ll do it. If I want to shoot Tex because he touched my sister, I’ll do it. I’m the boss. Rules don’t apply, and right now I’m jet lagged and a bit pissed off that that jackass—” He pointed the gun at me, just in case there was any confusion as to which jackass he was referring to. “—basically just admitted to getting my sister pregnant.” As if remembering about the fight to begin with, Nixon let out a groan low in his throat and moved towards me again. This time the gun was homed in like a beacon to my head. “Tell me she isn’t pregnant. Tell me you did not just ruin my sister’s life. Tell me, Tex. Tell me.”
I eyed the gun. “Are you really going to kill the father of your soon-to-be niece or nephew?”
Nixon hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say I was going to kill you. I could shoot you, and you’d still be perfectly fine, maybe walk with a limp but then again that would be a reminder not to do stupid shit. Don’t you think, Tex?”