Rachel Dyken: Elect

“Rumors.” Trace pulled back her hand and rubbed it.

“Of your beauty…” Sergio stepped closer to her and sighed. “Too bad I did not discover you first.”

“Yeah, that lament is already taken by another cousin.” I slapped him on the back. “Don’t make me threaten you, too.”

Trace rolled her eyes and fell into step beside us.

“Sergio.” My cousin cleared his throat. “My name is Sergio.”

Trace examined his face. “Of course it is.”

“Pardon?” He stopped walking.

She looked between us and shrugged. “The way I see it, every Sicilian name either sounds like something out of a mafia movie or a—”

“A…?” we said in unison.

“Never mind. So, nice house.” Trace tried to change the subject.

“Oh no, sweetheart.” I tugged her arm and made her stop. “Let’s have it. Or what?”

“Promise not to shoot me?” she whined.

“He’s threatened to do that before?” Sergio yelled.

“No.” I rolled my eyes. “She’s being dramatic.”

Trace turned back toward Sergio. “I’m a girl.”

“I noticed.” His eyes darkened as he licked his lips and looked about one minute away from devouring her where she stood.

“Trace…” I nudged. “What do Sicilian names sound like?”

“I need to learn when to stop talking.” She put her hands over her face. “A porn star name. Okay?”

Sergio and I burst out laughing. Damn, I loved that girl. The tips of her ears burned bright red as she covered her face in her hands.

“You know,” Sergio said in a serious voice, “not to brag but you aren’t too far off with your assumptions I—”

“No.” I shook my head. “You’re not going to finish that sentence. You. I will shoot.”

Sergio chuckled and held up his hands. “So, everything has been set up. Just be sure not to kill any cows.”

“Cows?” Trace’s head jolted up. “Where?”

“In fields.” Sergio cleared his throat. “Where they live.” He looked at me and shook his head. “Where did you say she was from again?”

I opened my mouth to answer but Trace was running toward the field to the cows.

“She likes cows.”

“I see.” Sergio chuckled as we both watched Trace run up to the fence and stand on it.

“How are things?” I asked. “Any more news?”

“They want to meet.” Sergio stuffed his hands in his pockets. “That is all I’ve heard. It’s your call, Nixon. If you want to meet with them, test out your peacekeeping abilities, I won’t keep you from it.”

“But?” I crossed my arms and continued to watch Trace laugh like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“But.” Sergio cleared his throat. “I don’t see this ending well. For any of us. You must be prepared to go into hiding. You must be prepared for the worst.”

I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “I’m not afraid to die.”

“I know.” Sergio patted my back. “Your problem stems from the very fact that you’ve finally found someone to live for. It is not our death that we fear, but leaving those behind that we love.”

“You sure you don’t want to be the peacekeeper, oh spouter of wisdom?” I joked.

“No.” Sergio kicked the grass at his feet and pulled a gun from the back of his jeans. “I’m here to counsel you in secret. I like my life. Being a made man? Jumping back into the limelight with you and Chase? No. I’m of more use doing what I do.”

“A ghost.”

“A damn good one.” Sergio thumped my back with his hand. “Here, let her use this pistol. It was my mom’s.”

I took the gun from his hands. It was sleeker and smaller than mine; it would be a perfect weapon for Trace to learn on. “Thanks for this.”

“I do what I can. Now, try to stay alive.” His blue t-shirt fanned in the wind as he stuffed his arms into his jeans pockets and walked off.

“Nixon!” Trace yelled from the fence. “Come on!”

I walked over to her and sighed. The cows weren’t used to people. Meaning she was most likely scaring the shit out of them.

“Nice.” I pointed to the brown creatures and lifted her off the fence, “Now, we only have an hour or so, then we have to head back into town. Let’s make good use of it, shall we?”

“I suck at this,” Trace said for the tenth time. “I don’t understand how you can shoot something without falling down.”

I braced her body against mine and wrapped my arms around her in order to help her position the gun. “That’s why it takes practice.”

“Why does it look so easy on TV?”

“Because it’s TV,” I whispered in her ear. “Now, focus on the target. Remember pistols always have a slight kick. Do you want the earplugs?”

“No.” She breathed. “Because then I can’t hear you and for some reason having you behind me, helping me, it’s easier to concentrate.”

Funny. I was just thinking the exact opposite. It was damned difficult to concentrate on breathing, let alone shooting an actual target with her body squirming in front of mine.

“Remember,” I whispered. “You want to relax but also take a stance that allows you to breathe and take the hit.”

“Hit?” Her voice dripped with dread.

“From the kick, not a bullet. I wouldn’t let you get shot.”

She straightened her shoulders and pulled the trigger, hitting a good foot away from the actual target.

“Not too bad,” I lied.

Trace handed me the gun. “I can’t be awful at this, not when we’re still in danger.”

“Hey.” I took the gun and placed it on the wood stump next to us. “You’re not terrible and it’s not like you’re supposed to know how to do this well. You’re just a little rusty and used to shooting rifles on a farm. Not a smaller gun that doesn’t have great aim.”

“I know.” She looked back toward the mansion. “I take it Sergio isn’t going to join us at all?”

I cringed, thinking it best to keep most of the truth from her. The more she knew, the more in danger she would be. “He doesn’t like to involve himself in the business.”

Trace grabbed my hand and pulled me down to sit on the wooden table with all the ammo. “I don’t understand. Why help you, then?”

“Sergio’s what I like to call a ghost. He doesn’t exist. He likes it that way. After his father was put in prison, well, it was easy for him to get out. The feds were sniffing around too much and the family basically let him go off on his own. Of course, he’s still watched, but he’s basically free to live his life as he sees fit. He helps me when he can; he’s brilliant when it comes to computer hacking and research.”

Trace squinted. She had that look on her face, the one that meant she was thinking really hard about something. “So if Sergio decided he wanted to just up and marry some normal girl and live a normal life out with the cows… he could?” Her eyes looked hopeful. Damn, but I hated being the one snuffing out that hope.

“In theory,” I answered slowly. “But Trace, you’re never really free from this. You’re always going to be watching your back. You’ll always carry a gun with you just in case, and you’ll still never trust the other families or sometimes, even your own.”

She exhaled. “Sounds kind of awful.”

I cupped her chin with my hand. “It used to be. But now”—I kissed her softly across the lips—“not so much.”

“Are you afraid?” Her eyelashes fanned across her high cheekbones.

“I’ve known fear twice in my life. Once when I was little and watched my mother get beat and then suffered at my own father’s hands. And now…”

“Now?” she prompted.

“With you. Every damn second fear threatens to overtake my sense of peace. Because, in the end, I can’t control anyone’s decisions but my own.”