Home > Ember (Eagle Elite #5)(5)

Ember (Eagle Elite #5)(5)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Stepping back, she rubbed her arms, and nodded. “Sorry.”

“Go to your room.”

Her head snapped up. “Seriously? Go to my room? You aren’t my father, and you sure as hell aren’t my brother.”

“Thank God for that.”

“I hate you!”

“Not near as much as I hate myself.” I smiled mockingly. “Your hate does nothing to me, just like your care does nothing. Now, go to your room before I toss you over my shoulder and put you there myself.”

She stumbled back, her hip colliding with the breakfast bar, before she whirled and ran out of the room. Her stomps were so loud I almost winced. The sound of a door slamming finally had me relaxing. I was able to breathe, able to exist without her scent.

Pushing her away was for the best.

Because the only other option was holding her close.

And nobody wanted the monster to get the girl — that wasn’t how stories were told, that was not how happy endings were found. I deserved my darkness, and only a truly selfish individual would be all right with tugging the innocent into hell with them.

She was heaven.

She was light.

And damn if I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to keep it that way.

“Whoa,” Sergio said, walking into the room. “Barstools and table piss you off?”

“Something like that.”

“Maybe you should enroll in anger management.”

“Maybe you should mind your own damn business.” I shoved past him and made my way to the workout room. I had some anger I needed to deal with.

CHAPTER FOUR

It all comes out in the end. Every time.

Sergio

THE WOOD HAD SPLINTERED and broken, spreading itself all over the floor like a tangled mess. I could just have one of the staff members clean it up. One text and they’d be in the kitchen.

Instead, I sat on the floor amidst the broken wood and sighed. I closed my eyes and waited for my blood to stop boiling; I waited for my heart to start beating. I could always count on my heart. Hearing it reassured me I still had one. Ridiculous, but there it was. I needed to feel the blood pump. Sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night and felt my pulse so I knew I was alive and not living my own personal hell.

I’d come out of hiding weeks ago, and I was already regretting it.

No longer a ghost. Now I had to work for the family out in the open. It was weird. Being surrounded by family, I’d never felt so alone in my entire existence.

My cell went off, the ringtone telling me exactly who it was. I wondered, in that moment, if the deal I’d made was worth it. Because in the end, I knew it was my own death I was staring down.

“Yeah?” I answered.

“Well, well, well… someone’s been busy.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “You need something, or are you just calling me to remind me who has my balls in a vise lest I make a false move and piss someone off?”

He chuckled. “Let’s leave your balls out of this.”

The line went silent and then crackled… Yeah, talk about a wiretap. Thanks, bastards.

“I heard a rumor.”

“You been gossiping about me?”

“Pretty sure we typically have better things to do, but is it true? Has a new boss been named?”

“New boss?” I played dumb. “You know I’m nothing to the family. They don’t tell me shit.” Lies, all lies, but if he knew how deep I was back into the family — it would be a death sentence.

“The Nicolasi family.”

Sighing heavily, I licked my lips and glanced at the door. “I don’t see how that’s anything you need to know.”

“We need to know if they decide to stay and set up house, don’t you think?”

“Trust me to do my job and don’t forget to do yours. Remember who you report to. Remember who I report to. And don’t forget… you may have my balls in a vise, but the five families hold the gun pressed against your temple.”

I hung up the phone and threw it across the room. It shattered into pieces on contact with the floor.

I was in some seriously deep shit.

And I had no one to blame but myself.

CHAPTER FIVE

Friendship is the antidote to the mafia’s poison.

Bee

PHOENIX WORKED OUT FOR four hours. Not that I was stalking him or anything… I just… sometimes watched. Watched and wondered what made him so angry, so upset that he needed to take it out on a punching bag while sweat poured down his body.

He’d been shirtless. His muscles so tight, so lean, that I kind of wanted to bake him a cookie or at least make pasta for dinner. Thinking it was a good idea to fatten him up, I went into the kitchen, though I had little to no experience cooking, and grabbed a recipe book.

How hard could making dinner be?

Yeah, a bit hard for a novice like me. I finally decided on lasagna, and when that didn’t work on account of I didn’t know what the heck I was doing and how to layer anything — I went and got an actual frozen lasagna and put it in the oven then cleaned up my mess.

Pretty sure every Sicilian within the country was rolling their eyes at me and groaning. What Sicilian girl didn’t know how to cook for her family?

Well, that was easy. One who didn’t have a family. One who didn’t know her own mother. One who wouldn’t even know how to shop for the stupid ingredients for lasagna because she never been allowed outside — not even to play. One who couldn’t even boil water because she’d never been allowed in the kitchen, or out of her room unless it had been to prance around for her father’s pleasure.

   
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