Entice - Dyken Rachel Van (библиотека книг бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

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.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chase

“Nixon looks pissed,” I said to no one in particular, halfway into the flight.

“Why are his eyes closed?” Mil asked. “And his lips still moving?”

“Hmm.” I shrugged. “Not sure, but Trace seems to be pretty amused with herself.”

Mil fell silent.

Probably not the time to have that conversation. Then again, Frank was sleeping, Luca had ear plugs in, and Tex and Mo were pouting. Leaving Trace with her magazine across the aisle and Nixon doing something that looked a lot like praying.

“You can still love her, you know,” Mil said in a low voice, her eyes darting between me and Trace. “I don’t expect you to get over it that fast, I mean you were in rough shape that night.”

“Hilarious.” I groaned into my hands and leaned back in my seat. I’d been drunk out of my mind. “I’m not sure I ever fully thanked you for all that.”

Mil’s blue gaze met mine. My heartbeat sped up a bit, like I’d just taken a hit of something and was feeling the effects of it spread through my bloodstream. “Are you thanking me for slapping you out of your drunken stupor or keeping you from drowning in the shower?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” I said dryly.

“You’re welcome.” Her smile made me dizzy. It spread wide, showing me her gleaming teeth and pretty dimples. Shit. It was like a light that had finally turned on in that damn airplane. I stared — like an absolute dumbass.