Chapter Twenty

Nixon


“Damn,” I muttered under my breath. Even I wasn’t insane enough to publicly humiliate Luca like that. The girl either had a death wish or balls of steel.

“Nixon.” Trace gripped my hand as the plane started its taxi.

“Hmm?” I kept my eyes trained in Luca. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, looking cool as a cucumber. What was his play? His reason for helping us when all signs pointed to him going back to Sicily and letting me handle what he kept referring to as the situation.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course,” I said gruffly, my eyes darting between Frank and Luca until I got dizzy from blinking so damn much.

“Leave it,” Trace grabbed my chin and forced me to look away so my gaze fell onto her perfect face, “and kiss me.”

“Trace, you know I love you, but I can’t just ignore the fact that—”

Her mouth crushed mine. Hands reached to my seatbelt, unbuckling it as she tugged me to my feet.

“Uh, Trace?” People weren’t necessarily staring, but it was totally possible I’d just moaned out loud — maybe said a few choice words as I’d tasted the mint on her tongue.

Like an idiot, I followed her down the first-class cabin to the bathroom. When I looked back, Tex was giving me a giant thumbs up. He seemed to be the only one really paying attention. And then Frank’s head snapped up. No chance in hell I’d make a play for his granddaughter right in front of him.

I smiled confidently just as Trace pulled me around the corner, away from the bathroom, and to the little kitchenette where the flight attendants were getting things ready.

“Five minutes,” Trace said in a low voice to the guy making coffee.

He shook his head. “I don’t make the rules. The airline does. You kids need to return to your seats.”

Did I seriously resemble a child? I was twenty-two — almost twenty-three. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something that would get us all kicked off the flight.

“It’s the baby…” Trace sniffled. “It’s yours!”

“What!” I roared, grabbing her arms.

“Never mind, take your time.” The guy gave a low whistle and pulled the curtain so we had privacy.

My hands shook as I gripped her arms.

“Gotcha.” She winked.

“Not laughing.”

“Who said I wanted you to laugh?” Trace gave me a coy smile and snaked her arms around my neck. “I kinda had my heart set on a few moans, some biting—”

My mouth, colliding with hers, stopped whatever else she was going to say. How long had it been since we’d made out? Kissed? Last night I’d gone to bed only to find Trace already sleeping. With a moan, I threw my head back and lifted her legs around my waist.

“I need you.”

“I need you too.” Her lips moved to my neck, driving me crazy with her little nips as her teeth tugged my skin, only to be replaced by her tongue as it swirled around afterward.

The plane could be crashing, and I’d still stay exactly where I was.

“This is your captain speaking. We’ll be pushing off in about two minutes. Flight attendants, please ready the cabin.”

“Shit,” I mumbled, dropping Trace to her feet.

“Tell me the truth.” Trace’s piercing eyes held my gaze.

“Which truth? That I love you? That I’d die for you? That if you cut me open with a knife and told me to bleed out, I’d do it in a heartbeat?”

She blushed and looked away. “No, not that, though it’s nice to hear I can stab you and you’d just stand there — remind me next time you piss me off.”

“I’ll remind you tonight,” I teased, hoping it was enough to change the subject.

Trace grabbed my hand and squeezed. “About this trip to Vegas. About what’s going on with Mil. Are we in danger again?”

Hesitantly, I stroked her lower lip with my thumb. “Sweetheart, it’s always going to be dangerous. Getting eggs from the market? Dangerous. Going down the street? Dangerous. Life is dangerous, but just because we do what we do doesn’t mean we’re to live our lives in constant fear that something’s going to happen. So when you start to feel that way, like your heart’s going to explode from the intensity of the situation — use that adrenaline, channel it toward adventure. Life’s too short — and ours? Even shorter.”

A few seconds went by as I watched the information soak into Trace’s consciousness. Her eyebrows drew together, and then she gave me one solid nod. “An adventure you say?”

“Yeah.” I kissed her hand. “It’s exciting.”

“Killing equals excitement?” she squeaked.

“Absolutely not,” I said quickly. “Killing’s the shitty part — but family? Family is life. It’s mine and it’s yours. Those people sitting in that cabin, they rely on me for everything, and I wouldn’t give that up for the world — not even for you.”

“Whoa.” Trace stepped back. “So if I asked you to abandon this life, your entire family, and become a ghost, what would you say?”

My heart thundered against my chest as the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I must have bit my tongue in shock. Honesty. Damn, I hated that part of my personality. “I wouldn’t say anything, Trace. I’d let you go. I’d take care of you from afar, but we’d part ways. I’d grow up to be a really crabby and bitter old mafia boss — so basically I’d turn into Luca… and I’d dream about you every night. I’d want you every day. But I’d stay. Our love is strong. But family? What’s been bred into me? It will always win, regardless of my feelings for you.”

The curtain pulled back. “What are you doing back here?” The female flight attendant looked anything but pleased. With her tight bun and stern smile, she could almost pass for my Aunt B before she went on a killing spree.

“Talking,” Trace choked out.

“Well, you can talk in your seats. Out.” She shooed us out of the little alcove.

I grabbed Trace’s hand on the way to our seats, but she jerked it away. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was pissed, or if it was because we’d walked right by her grandfather.

His eyes narrowed as we took our seats, and then they moved to Trace and squinted into pinpoints. I followed his gaze and cursed.

A few tears slid down her perfect cheek.

I stole a glance at Frank. Yeah, pissed. He was definitely pissed; his expression reminded me of the time he’d shot at my feet and had threatened my life.

Shrugging in his direction, I reached for Trace’s hand again, this time not allowing her to jerk it free, and whispered in her ear. “I love you. Never doubt my love, sweetheart.” Her hand relaxed. “Oh, and if you ever pull away from me again, there will be consequences.”

At that her head snapped up, her eyes saturated with hostility.

Unable to help it, I smirked.

Which earned me a middle finger from her free hand as well as a really uncomfortable situation where I suddenly felt so turned on I wanted to throw her against the floor.

Her nostrils flared, and then she looked down. At my lap.

When she met my gaze again, I winked.

“Are you seriously that turned on by violence, you sick bastard?”

Damn, she wasn’t helping; I could feel my body respond with excitement. Shit, I’d take down the whole plane with me — cheerfully.

“Nope,” I whispered, my tongue licking the outside of her ear as I spoke. “I just love pissing you off — seems my entire body responds to your anger in an unusual way — I’m not complaining, and you weren’t either a few nights ago.”

“I complained,” she snapped.

“Because I made you go to sleep. It was four a.m., Trace, people have to sleep.”

Her eyes narrowed as she jerked her head away from mine and crossed her arms, but I didn’t miss the ghost of a smile on her lips as she pretended to still be pissed.

“Slap me later?” I teased.

“Ass.” She breathed, her chest heaving slightly.

“Gotcha.” I pressed my palm flat against her chest and laughed as I leaned over and kissed her on the neck again. “Admit it. You love fighting with me almost as much as you love what comes after.”

“And what comes after?” her voice begged.

“Punishment?”

“Or rewards?” She grinned.

“Either way,” I admitted.

“Flight attendants, please take your seats for takeoff.”

“Well,” I made sure my seatbelt was buckled, “this is going to be the most painfully long plane ride of my life.”

Trace giggled. “I’m guessing it’s going to be the same for him too.”

I looked back where Luca was sitting, and Mo and Tex were fighting on either side of him.

“Now that’s punishment,” I agreed.

“So is this.” Trace moved her hand underneath my shirt and began slowly caressing my back, then my stomach, then moved lower to my jeans. My hips jerked involuntarily.

“Not funny.”

“Am I laughing?”

“Damn, I wish you were.”

“Nixon…” her hand teased right above the line of my jeans, “…threaten me again, and I’m going to move this little conversation to Sunday Mass.”

“You wouldn’t!” My head fell back against the seat as my body screamed with pent-up frustration.

“I would.”

“Damn you.”

“Nixon!” Trace removed her hand. “I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.”

“Rules? What?” I looked around. “What rules?” Damn the woman had me so wound up I was ready to freaking take her right there and risk getting arrested.

“No PDA. Have a nice flight!” She pulled the magazine from the seatback pocket in front of her and started reading.

While I recited the Rosary.

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