“Yes, sir.”
He removed his boot. I expected a kick to the side. What I got? An outstretched hand. Confused, I took it as he pulled me to my feet.
With a grimace, Nixon pulled me into his arms and hugged me so tight I almost stopped breathing. “Another thing,” he said gruffly. “I’m so damn happy to see you.”
I collapsed against him, embarrassed that I didn’t even have anger as a shield anymore, but defeat, so much damn defeat and regret that I stank of it. I wanted to sob, I wanted to wrap my arms around my ex-best friend and apologize until my voice was hoarse, but the thing about messing up like I did? Leading the life I did? Words mean absolutely nothing. It was like throwing feathers into the wind and hoping they’d make it to China.
Words hold no value when you’ve used them your whole life to hurt people rather than heal them.
So I had action.
And they were about to see a lot of it.
Nixon released me and pointed to the leather seat across from him.
I sat and leaned forward, suddenly uncomfortable with the tense silence and vulnerable exchange.
“You look like hell.” Nixon grinned and leaned back in his chair, his lip ring catching some of the light from the otherwise dark study.
I smirked. “Yeah well, I’ve been to Hell, seems they don’t treat guys like me well down there, so I came back with a few… bumps.”
“Your hair’s brown, your nose looks like it’s been broken four times since I’ve seen you and you have circles under your eyes bigger than Tex’s mouth. What the hell have you been doing?”
I licked my lips. “Oh you know a little of this a little of that.” With a shrug I relaxed a bit in my seat. “I’ve been working for Campisi, couldn’t look like a De Lange so let my hair grow all natural and got in a few skirmishes trying to prove my worthiness.”
“And Tex’s sister?”
I froze.
“Phoenix?”
Swallowing, I licked my lips nervously. “Sorry, yeah, she’s… safe.”
Just thinking about her made me a nervous wreck. I had her to thank for the broken nose and dark circles. Woman never slept and tried to kill me the first night I watched over her.
“Name?”
“Bianka.” Shit, saying her name made my entire body tight. “But I just call her Bee.” She hated that nickname, and what do ya know? That’s where broken nose number two came from. I’d learned long ago never to fight a woman, never to make them feel small. So even though it hurt like hell to get the crap beat out of me, I let her hit me, I didn’t fight back. Ever. Fighting back brought too many memories… memories that made me feel like the devil himself. So I allowed my nose to break knowing it would hurt a lot less than the sickness in my soul.
Nixon scratched the back of his head. “Well damn, we’ll need to meet her.”
“Not now,” I said quickly. “Not with The Commission coming up, we’ll have to keep her in hiding until Alfonso’s out of the picture.”
“Any idea where he is?”
“No,” I said honestly. “But I can find out, I still know some of his men and money makes them talk… a lot. Well money and whiskey which thankfully Luca has in spades, so I usually do pretty well.”
“Fine.” Nixon’s eyes narrowed. “And… with everything else, Mil and Chase and… all of us, I mean, are you handling things alright? Do you need…” He lifted his hands into the air, and looked away. “Do you need to talk to someone?”
I smiled, Nixon was all hard–ass, but it was funny how Trace had helped him in ways he probably didn’t even realize. She hadn’t made him soft, just… sensitive to things that he normally wouldn’t give a shit about. “Nah man, I’m actually good. Luca’s been helpful.”
“Never thought I’d utter those words until this last year.” Nixon swore. “But I get it.” He stood. “Alright, get some sleep.”
I stood and started making my way to the door then paused and turned. “Nixon?”
“Yeah?”
“Is she happy?”
“Who?”
“Mil.”
Nixon slapped me on the back. “So happy I wear ear plugs at night when we stay next door to them at the hotel.”
“Too many details,” I grumbled.
Laughing, Nixon shrugged. “Hey, you asked.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too.” His face darkened. “Because if Chase didn’t latch on to someone or something soon I was going to shoot him in the face and bury his body in the lake.”
“You’re joking right?”
Nixon gave me a slight push out the door. “I never threaten someone unless I mean to carry it out. Goodnight, Phoenix.”
The door shut in my face.
I stared at the wood, taking time for his veiled threat to sink in. He’d kill me if I did as much as stare at Trace wrong and the sad part was, I would want him to.
“So, how’d that go?” Chase said from the kitchen holding open a bag of Cheetos and devouring them like he’d been on a cleanse for the past two months.
“Awesome.”
“I hate the office.” Chase shuddered. “Swear he has bodies buried under his chair, one time I asked and he laughed, didn’t deny it, that should tell us something right there.”
“You talk more than I remember.” I eyed the Cheetos and nearly gagged. I hated anything messy. Maybe that was what happens when you die and come back to life, you have these weird quirks you never had before. I used to love junk food, now? I was more of a kale and spinach type of guy and despised anything that was made and not grown. Yeah, I’d gone bat shit crazy. I even hated cake.