He wasn't bluffing.

I nodded my consent and braced for impact. "Go ahead."

His teeth clenched as he gripped my shirt with his free hand and pressed the barrel of the gun to my shoulder.

"Don't mind if I do."

The shot rang out like a bomb going off in the kitchen.

The impact burned like h.e.l.l. The bullet lodging somewhere between my clavicle and my deltoid.

Everyone started screaming at once.

But I held Nixon's gaze.

I didn't blink. I didn't yell. I made no sound whatsoever. I was a hit man.

Hit men didn't cry. Made men didn't cry.

The only remaining descendent to the Cappo? Did not cry.

Liquid started staining my shirt and dripping down my chest onto my stomach as I waited for Nixon to say something-anything. I probably needed to stop the bleeding before I pa.s.sed out.

"Clean yourself up." Nixon shoved a towel in my hands. "Meet me in the living room in fifteen." He slammed the gun on the counter and grabbed Chase by the arm. "Get the bullet out and pull some morphine from the stash, but don't give him too much. I want him to feel every d.a.m.n punch."

As Nixon walked out of the room I did what I'd always done in the family to alleviate tension; I made a joke.

"Welcome home Nixon!"

Mo groaned into her hands next to me while Chase gently grabbed my arm and ripped my shirt open so he could look at the wound. "Tex, your humor isn't helping the situation, not this time."

"Made Trace laugh." I pointed with my good arm.

Chase looked behind him and shrugged. "She doesn't count, she laughs at commercials and b.u.t.terflies." He turned back to me and froze.

I smiled as Trace held the gun to his back. "You were saying, Chase?"

"d.a.m.n this family's violent," Mil said from her corner near the door. "But seriously Trace, put the gun down. I want my husband to live so he can get me knocked up some day." She winked.

Chase paled.

"Mil," I babbled, nodding like a bobblehead hit man. "Have I told you how much I love you? Cause I do, I really do."

Mil rolled her eyes. "You're getting blood on the hardwood, rock star. Let Chase clean you and drug you. Trace and I will make the popcorn and grab the whiskey."

CHAPTER FOUR.

Lies are almost impossible to repeat backwards because whatever you're lying about didn't really take place making it so your brain creates no memory to pull from.

Mo CHASE TOOK TEX out of the room, most likely to shield us from the cursing that would take place once he pulled the bullet out of Tex's shoulder. I shuddered.

My fault. Everything was my fault.

One stupid choice.

One moment of weakness.

"What's wrong dolce ragazza?"

He took my hand in his and kissed my open palm. "Your face isn't normally so sad."

I shrugged. "Oh you know, the life of a Mafia princess, lots of drama and broken crowns."

His face fell, I'd always thought of him as some tragic hero. The way his features were framed made him look like a soldier or hero from King Arthur's Court or something. He always acted that way too. Like he was a hero.

Too bad I knew all his secrets. I looked up into his eyes again. Definitely too bad, because he was gorgeous.

"Sit," he ordered. "Drink."

"Drinking won't help," I said dryly. "Believe me."

"Wine." He scooted the bottle closer. "It always helps, no?"

"Yes."

"No?" He teased and winked.

"Seriously Monroe, you need to take better care of yourself."

"Right, I'll just schedule that pedicure when I get home. Happy?" I pushed a wine gla.s.s towards him.

Everyone else was in bed, but I was awake. Awake, and oh so blatantly aware that Tex had brought home another girl.

I heard her moans.

I heard her screams.

And then they turned into mine when I finally couldn't take it anymore and got the h.e.l.l out of the house.

The only place I knew I could go that was actually safe belonged to my family. It was one of our many investments. A fancy bar and grill a few miles away from the house in one of the nicer subdivisions. I knew some of our men would be there blowing off steam.

They'd recognize me, and if anyone tried anything, they would shoot them first and ask questions later.

I hadn't expected him to be there, however. He rarely went out in public.

And that was when it hit me.

"Nixon sent you, didn't he?" I licked my lips and stared at the red liquid as he filled my gla.s.s.

He didn't answer right away, instead his strong hand reached for the stem of the gla.s.s, his fingers wrapping around it, caressing the smooth surface for a minute. "And if he did?"

I shrugged.

He leaned closer until I could smell the warm swirling scent of honey and whiskey on his breath. "And if he didn't?"

"Then..." My voice shook. "That means you've been following me? Like a stalker?"

"Stalker." He laughed and leaned back. "I like the sound of that. Stalker of the Abandonato family gem."

I rolled my eyes.

"What?" he whispered, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Don't tell me...

you think I'm full of s.h.i.t." His lips grazed the same ear. "When really, I've been watching you your whole life.

Always close. Always ready to attack.

Always ready, ready for the time..."

"The time?" I sucked in a breath.

"For what time?"

He pulled back, his eyes snapping to my mouth. "For the time when you finally say my name-when you finally need me."

"And that time is now?"

"That time was six months ago."

His voice dropped lower. "But I'm a patient man."

And that was it. He released his hold on me, his sensual gaze took in the people around us, and then he pointed to my gla.s.s. "Drink, Monroe. We have much to discuss."

"Mo? Everyone's in the living room waiting. I figured..." Trace's voice trailed off. "Well, I figured you'd want to make sure Nixon doesn't kill him."

"Right." I nodded. "Be right there."

With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and sent one simple text.

Me: It's done.

He replied back immediately.

G: Good. I knew I could count on you do get the job done. You're an Abandonato after all. For what it's worth... thank you.

Me: Don't mention it.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Getting shot hurts. The end.

Tex I LICKED MY LIPS, and winced as I tried to stand to my full height. This was going to hurt. That much was true. Just shooting me wasn't going to appease Nixon. Had the positions been switched-I would have done the same, possibly worse, because I was a possessive son of a b.i.t.c.h, and I loved Mo with my whole heart. Well, at least the heart that wasn't in h.e.l.l for all the crimes I'd committed.

"The truth." Nixon paced in front of me. "All of it, I need to hear it."

Mo swayed into the room, her face pale. I offered a wink of encouragement.

I had this, I had her. I wouldn't let her down.

"I love her." I nodded. "I made a mistake. Mistakes happen. Condoms don't protect one hundred percent and -"

"Please-" Nixon lifted his hand in the air "-spare me a s.e.x-ed lesson.

Pretty sure you're the last person who should be giving advice on safe s.e.x."

The room fell into a tense silence.

My voice cracked.

"Well, that's basically everything. Don't tell me you weren't aware of our... extracurricular activities."

Nixon's eyebrows shot up, swear they almost went through his forehead.

"That's what you think I'm upset about?"

Next to me, Chase groaned and took a step out of the line of fire.

Nixon let out a laugh that was anything but amused. "You son of a b.i.t.c.h. I should just end your life right now. Tell me not to do it, Chase."

Chase didn't say anything. b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

I glared to my right. Chase kept his face impa.s.sive. Great. I officially had no fans. Even Mil and Trace were silent.