My teeth clenched together as I looked away. “No. Now stop. I’m not taking you home yet, not when Tex still wants to talk with you.”
“You’re a bastard,” She hissed.
“Thank you.” I stepped back.
With balled fists she let out a low growl and stomped on my foot with her giant-ass heel then marched past me.
Instant agony radiated up the top of my foot to my ankle. I forced a smile through the throbbing torture. My toe was probably broken; somehow Bee had managed to wedge her stiletto on top of my big toe rather than between my toes. Great. Just add a limp to the rest of the drama going on in my life.
“You okay?” Trace came up beside me and put her hand on my arm.
I tensed, hyperaware of every single finger that was pressed into my skin. Everything about her reminded me of what I was, what I’d done. Bile rose in my throat as I let out a small groan of irritation at my own weakness. I couldn’t control my mind as images of her broken body flashed through my head. I was worse than the devil—I was the devil.
She dropped her hand and looked down. “That looks painful.”
“That’s not pain,” I whispered looking down the hall were Bee had disappeared. “Real pain isn’t getting shot, or stepped on, or kicked, or punched. Real pain isn’t something tangible, you can’t see it, can only feel it as it wraps it’s hands around your neck and slowly chokes you to death, it follows you everywhere tortures you with every waking moment, giving you no peace. Pain is allowing yourself to feel guilt, shame, sadness, and even love. Trace, that’s what hurts a person. My foot? That’s nothing compared to hearing girls screams every night I go to bed.” I looked into her eyes. “Or seeing your face every damn day. That’s real pain.”
Trace’s brown eyes welled with tears, long lashes blinked trying to hold the water in as her gaze stayed focused on mine.
She couldn’t fix it—I didn’t want her to, but at least she knew I was sorry, more sorry than I’d ever be, so sorry that to stand by her was the worst pain of all because it was a constant reminder of the sickness that had stained my soul and taken control of my actions.
“I’m sorry.” I shoved my hands awkwardly in my pockets. “That was uncalled for.”
“No.” She shook her head slowly. “I think it was the right thing to say.”
I licked my lips and nodded, feeling my cheeks stain with embarrassment at what I’d just shared.
“Hey.” Chase appeared and slapped me on the shoulder. “Either of you two seen Tex? Some of the guys are leaving and wanted to say goodbye.”
Trace angled her head. “Last I saw he was pushing Sergio down the hallway.”
“Oh good.” Chase nodded. “Another body I’ll get to bury.”
Trace winced.
“He’s kidding.” I rolled my eyes. “Just saw Sergio, he looks like shit, I haven’t seen Tex though.”
“Maybe he’s in his room…” Chase looked behind him.
“Or Mo’s.” I grit my teeth at the possibility. He’d better not be anywhere near her, unless he was making her believe he was a disinterested bastard with a heart of stone.
Chase grinned. “Horny little bastard. Alright, I’ll go check.”
He ran off leaving me alone with Trace again.
“Wine?” She held out her hand.
I wanted to take it; instead I stared at it for what it was, a peace offering, one I didn’t deserve.
“It’s just a hand Phoenix.”
“No.” I grasped her fingers. “We both know it’s really not.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
You may as well have killed me.
Mo
MY HANDS TIGHTENED into tiny fists. Without warning him, I sent off a right hook, slamming Tex in the cheek. His body moved to the side, barely. Blinking a few times he looked down and sighed. “I deserved that.”
“You deserve a swift kick to the nuts.”
“For having sex with you?”
“For leaving afterwards.”
“Mo, I never promised—”
Another punch, my knuckles started to bleed as I wailed on him a third time. Finally he gripped my wrists above my head.
“Stop!” he growled.
I bucked against him, wrapping my arms around his waist. With a moan he lowered his head to mine. “Do that again and you’re just going to get more pissed with my next actions.”
“Go,” I whispered hoarsely, injecting all the venom of my hatred for what he’d become into the one word. “Before I pull out my gun and give you a better reason.”
Swallowing, Tex nodded and kissed me softly on the forehead. I nearly burst into tears, probably would have, if the door hadn’t been flung open.
“Son of a bitch!” Chase yelled, slamming the door behind him and charging towards Tex.
Tex stumbled away from me as I pulled the bed blankets up to cover my nakedness.
“You’re lucky I’m not Nixon,” Chase seethed pushing against Tex’s muscled chest. “He’d put a bullet in your head.”
“And what are you going to do?” Tex took a step towards him. “I’m the freaking godfather, killing me is like writing your own death sentence.”
I gasped at the truth of his words. What type of monster was Tex turning into? To say that to his best friend? To challenge him in such a way?
Chase chuckled. “Who the hell said anything about killing?” He moved so fast my eyes almost didn’t track him. Tex was on his back in seconds. Chase hovering over him, delivering blow after blow to Tex’s face. When Tex raised his arm to ward off the blows, Chase went in on Tex’s ribs, right left, right left.