Elite (Eagle Elite #1)(59)

Nixon didn’t kiss as if it was something to pass the time. He kissed as if there was nothing in the world he’d rather be doing. He kissed like I was his oxygen, and I knew in that moment there was no way I was ever letting him go for the second time.

A knock sounded on the door. Nixon jerked away from me so fast I thought he was going to fall to the floor.

After a staggering breath, I went to the door and unlocked it.

Grandpa stood, arms crossed and glared at Nixon. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to Nixon. I latched on to his arm as we walked slowly down the stairs to the front door. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Nixon.”

His eyes still looked teary as if he was going to lose it at any minute. Nixon collected his gun, knife, and brass knuckles, and gave me a quick hug. “Remember what I said, Trace. Remember.”

With that he left.





Chapter Twenty-eight


I slept like crap. Visions of a scary-looking Phoenix chasing after me made it so that I literally got two hours of sleep and that was on the optimistic side.

When Grandpa dropped me off at the dorm that night, Monroe was crying on her bed. I hoped to God it had nothing to do with me. I wasn’t sure I could handle any more drama.

“What’s wrong?” I asked rubbing her back.

“My father died.”

Yeah. Not the time to tell her I already knew. “I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be.” She snorted. “I’m not crying because he died. I’m crying because the last thing the bastard said to me was that he wished I would have been born a boy.”

“So he was a jerk.” I reacted without thinking about how that may or may not sound.

She stopped crying, and then the tears turned into laughter. “What would I do without you, Trace?”

Wow, loaded question that one. I shrugged. I knew that Nixon hadn’t told her who I was yet. I wasn’t sure she would remember me anyways. I didn’t remember her at all, but Grandpa had let it slip that the minute she turned six she was sent off to a boarding school, making it so I’d only seen her at Christmas once or twice before I was taken away.

I sighed heavily and looked to my right. Mo was still sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, I tried to get ready as fast as I could.

“Ugh, what time is it?” Monroe asked sleepily.

“Time for class in about an hour,” I announced throwing a pillow at her.

She looked back at me through swollen eyes. “I’m going to need a tub of cover up.”

“Or kick ass sunglasses?” I threw her a pair of aviators.

“I shall rock the hung-over look.” Monroe punched her fist into the air and staggered out of bed. “So how did yesterday go?”

“Good.” I cleared my throat and pretended to still be straightening my hair, even though it was already as straight as can be.

“That’s it. Good? Where’d you guys eat?”

“Um…” I didn’t want to lie but I had no choice. “Grandpa’s kind of going to stay longer than we thought, so we ate at the place he’s renting while he’s in town.”

“Hmm, isn’t that kind of weird?” Monroe brushed her teeth at the sink and then smacked on some lip gloss. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m glad he’s here. I know how much you missed him. But he has a ranch, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Grandpa’s always wanted to hang out in the city. And one of the ranch hands needed the money, so I think it’s a win-win.”

Monroe nodded and threw on a baseball cap. Impossible. She had tattered jeans, a rock-n-roll sweatshirt on, aviators, and a baseball cap and she still looked better than me. “No uniform?” I lifted my eyebrows.

“Crap. There went my idea to look cool.” Monroe kept a loose shirt on, threw a cardigan over it and pulled on her skirt and knee high boots. “This, my friend, is as good as it’s going to get.”

“Hey, still looks good to me.”

We ate some breakfast and walked to our first class. She waved while she ran off to the science section of the building. I walked slowly to my politics class and was somewhat stunned to see an actual teacher sitting in the desk. Where was Nixon? Didn’t he have a few more days left to teach?

I sent him a quick text. WHERE ARE YOU?

And sat down.

An hour went by and still no text from Nixon. I kept the phone in my hand just in case it vibrated. I didn’t want my only form of communication getting stripped from me, and for some reason it made me feel safe. The mafia was only one phone call away, literally. So if Phoenix decided to mess with me, I could run and call for one of the other families to smack him upside the head.

Oddly enough it didn’t make me feel any better about the whole gangster thing. I mean, the mafia is the mafia. And I wasn’t one of those ignorant girls who hadn’t seen her fair share of mafia movies. Not that it was realistic, but still.

After a few more minutes of torture, class ended. I made my way down the hall to the next class. This was always the part I hated because kids were standing around talking to one another, texting, and pointing. I still couldn’t figure out why the school gave us ten minutes between classes. It seemed extreme to say the least. You could get in a lot of trouble in seven minutes.