“Try harder.” Chase said strolling into the room. “Or at least put eyeliner on.”
“Right, that’ll make associates quake in their boots. Long hair and eyeliner.” I rolled my eyes. “Why hadn’t I thought of that?”
“I got the brains in the family.” Chase grinned. “Simple.” He angled his head. “Mind telling me why you look like shit?”
I groaned into my hands.
“Great minds.” Nixon elbowed Chase.
“No sleep?” I offered. “It takes a toll.”
“So does sex, but I look awesome.” Chase popped his knuckles. “What do you know, man? It’s better to tell us.”
“Can’t,” I snapped. “Just be prepared for Tex to be different when he gets back, that’s… that’s all.”
“Where is he?” Nixon pushed away from the table and looked around. “Shouldn’t everyone be sleeping anyway?”
“Out,” I seethed. “Drinking and whoring? How am I supposed to know?”
Nixon’s eyes narrowed in on me. “Frank and Luca?”
“Sleeping.” I shrugged. “They’re old.”
“I’m old.” Chase groaned. “My knees cracked today… it was sad.”
“Vitamins.” I snapped my fingers. “Like Centrum Silver?”
“I said they cracked not that they needed replacements, you ass.” Chase got up from his chair. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Other than surviving?” I grinned.
Nixon stared hard at me, making my comfort level basically dissipate into thin air. “People start arriving tomorrow, we’ll make them as comfortable as possible… actually.” He grinned. “I think a good old fashioned family dinner is in order.”
“Please tell me you’re drunk.” I rubbed my face with my hands.
“I’ll cook.” Chase rubbed his hands together. “Besides it’s only a few of Luca’s men and The Alferos that will be here that early.”
“Fantastic. What? Do we pat them down at the door?”
“What’s a family dinner without a little gunfire?” Nixon slapped my back and stood. “You worry too much.”
No sooner did the words leave his mouth then Tex barreled through the door looking a hell of a lot worse for the wear and ready to shoot anyone in the face who as much as breathed in his direction.
“Rough night?” Chase piped up.
Tex’s eyes narrowed in on Chase, without saying a word he stomped towards him, punched him in the face and then spat on him as Chase tumbled to the floor. To be fair, it was a total sucker punch, unlike Tex.
“What the hell?” Chase roared from the ground.
“You dare talk to me like that?” Tex sneered. “I have more blood in my pinky finger—more freaking royalty then you do in your entire body. Next time you address me as Sir or I shoot you. Understood?”
Chase’s face twisted in rage, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he clenched his fist at his side. Any minute the guy was going to launch himself at Tex and try to break his jaw in half.
Nixon reached for his gun, but I grabbed his hand and shook my head.
The girls came charging into the room. Mil went immediately to Chase’s side, calming him down, which was a necessity since a pissed Chase was a violent Chase. “Are you okay?”
“Peachy.” Chase growled.
Trace looked between us and Tex. An expression of worry crossed her features as she saw Nixon’s hand on the gun and my hand on his.
And lastly there was Mo.
Shit, this wasn’t going to begin or end well. I fought the urge to groan as I watched her face twist with concern.
“Tex?” Her voice was soft, dripping with sensitivity that Tex didn’t deserve nor want. “What are you—”
“Stop talking.” His teeth clenched so tight the muscles to his jaw strained with the need to release. “Now.”
Mo crossed her arms. “This is my house and—”
“It’s Nixon’s house.” Tex shrugged, though it did nothing to relax his shoulders; hell they were up by his ears he was wound so tight. “Now get out of my way before I physically remove you.”
“You wouldn’t—”
Without a word he picked her up off the floor and set her roughly against Nixon before stomping off to his room.
“And so it begins.” I whispered under my breath.
Tears filled Mo’s eyes as she ran towards her room and slammed the door.
“Someone mind telling me what the hell that was?” Chase rose from the floor and touched his swollen cheek.
“That—” I lifted my glass into the air. “—was Vito Campisi Jr. I suggest you sleep with a gun under your pillow.” I was sure going to.
Standing, I slowly made my way down the hall and knocked lightly on Mo’s room. Without waiting for her to answer, I let myself in, closed the door and sighed.
“He didn’t mean it, he didn’t—” She fell into a fit of sobs against the bed.
My heart strained and twisted with rage.
“He’s just not himself and—”
“He’s exactly,” I said softly, “ “himself, and that’s been the problem all along. When you finally accept who you are—the old you is gone only to be replaced with the one true thing in life.”