Identity

by Brandy Slaven

  Then there’s a knife at my throat, and none of it matters. They always say your life flashes before your eyes in the moment death greets you, but mine doesn’t. Only the last picture we all took together does, the one that still hangs on my wall. Everyone is smiling while we enjoy the simple things and each other. Maybe whoever finds it will know that it’s okay to be happy. No matter the hand they’re dealt, the cards don’t always have to be played the same way. We, the children of a mafia leader and drug kingpin, learned to love through the hate and depravity.

  A drop of blood runs down my throat where the knife starts to dig in. Barbanio sounds like he’s taken a couple steps back as he starts to speak, but his first word gets cut off by a loud boom at the front door. It feels like it literally rocks the foundation under our feet.

  Then come the shouts. One voice on top of the other makes it impossible to understand what any of them are saying. The one thing I do know is that when I open my eyes, it’s to find Alek charging straight for the man at my back. I can finally breathe when the knife disappears as they collide with a thud, and my fear for Alek’s life is overshadowed by the intense pain radiating from my abdomen.

  Men in black are pouring into the room, manhandling and cuffing the Barbanios. One of them stops in front of me, crouching down, and I get a good look at the SWAT vest across his chest. He’s barking out orders to someone on the other side of a walkie talkie, and then Anderson is there.

  Someone cuts the binds holding my hands together, and my body slumps over to him of its own accord.

  I touch his face as his mouth moves, “Don’t worry, baby. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

  He looks over toward a figure in the archway of the door as he yells, “What took you so fucking long? We need an ambulance.”

  “Don’t worry, sir,” an older guy says, squatting down next to us. “I’m a first responder. Let me get a look at her.”

  Anderson lays me on the floor, and I see Aric, Alejandro, and Alek over his shoulder. As the responder lifts the bottom of the shirt I’m wearing, Anderson rips his off in a waterfall of buttons to lay over my lower half. Keeping my hand on his face, I trace the fine lines of the hair that runs up into the sideburns. The feel of it beneath my fingertips keep me grounded instead of floating off like I want to do. Somewhere deep down, I know that’s a bad idea.

  It still doesn’t stop me from closing my eyes against the pain of the man poking and prodding my wounds. I must lose consciousness after all, because when I open my eyes again, I’m on a stretcher, being carried out of the house.

  Anderson has a tight grip on my hand, so I squeeze it back with a grunted whisper, “Atlas?”

  Somehow, he hears me over the madness and replies, “He’ll be fine, baby. We’re all going to the hospital.”

  “Only those two,” I hear a voice bark.

  Anderson doesn’t miss a step as he retorts, “I’m going with her.”

  “Mr. Trenton,” the voice insists, “don’t make me put cuffs on you. I really don’t want to do that. She’ll be fine, but I need you and the others here for a little longer. When we’re done, I’ll take you to the hospital myself.”

  Reluctantly, Anderson leans down to press a kiss to my forehead mid stride as he promises to see me soon. I want to scream and beg him not to go and to please stay with me, but I can’t seem to find the energy to do so. It’s taking all I have just to keep my eyes open.

  With Anderson’s beautiful face no longer available to look at, I’m forced to stare at the walls and ceiling of the house. This fucked up house full of lies and secrets, whose walls would tell the tale of dirty businesses and murder. But hopefully it’d also tell one of love. Trenton died protecting me. It doesn’t make all of his poor choices okay, but I think I can finally forgive the man I once called Father.

  That’s my last thought as I’m jostled into the back of an ambulance. When the doors shut and I’m truly alone, except for the paramedic, I let my eyes drift closed again with a spark of hope that we’re all going to make it through this after all.

  My board is a solid piece of equipment beneath me that seems to have a life of its own, choosing when to catch the right wave. I can feel the excitement of us both running like an electric current through my bones as I paddle out past the breaks.

  The blonde hair of the man on the board beside me flashes in the sun and makes me smile. Since moving here, his hair has this sun-kissed look about it that drives me wild.

  Finding the right spot, we both stop and come to a sitting position on top of our boards. The bottom strands of my no longer white hair tickle my cheeks.

  “When I’m older and telling the grandchildren stories of us in our younger days, I’ll tell them of this spot right here. It’s my favorite place in the world to be. Nothing else exists in our little ocean haven. Maybe I’ll even have them believing we’re all mermaids by the end of it,” Atlas teases.

  My eyes glance over to the scar that almost took him away from me forever, and I shudder. Our brush with death that day has made all of us more grateful for this second chance we were given. Through the time we spent in the hospital, Anderson finally broke the truth to me, which came as no surprise. He’d made a deal with the detective that had been working to get Trenton locked up over the past decade. The Barbanios weren’t the only ones listening in on those bugs around the house. When he confessed to the murder, it was all they needed to lock him away for good. They took all of them that were there that day and put us under witness protection until their trials were set. More than a couple, including Barbanio himself, are looking at the death penalty. That day can’t come soon enough for me. I’ll be glad when we don’t have to look over our shoulders anymore.

  Atlas’s hand slips up my naked thigh. “You okay, Suzie Q?”

  I don’t want to dampen his spirits, so I don’t mention where my thoughts have landed. Instead, I reply, “Of course, though, we need to make a correction to your story. The six of you can be sexy mermen, but I want to be a sea witch goddess.”

  “You can be anything you want, pretty woman,” he placates. “You can have that sexy goddess body up top and tentacles like Kraken below.”

  I laugh, bringing a smile to his lips.

  “Then how would all the fun happen?” I ask, reaching over to tease his cock through his shorts.

  He groans softly. “I think we better get back. The guys are going to kick my ass for keeping you to myself for so long.”

  Half-truths, but I don’t call him out on it. I want him just as bad as he wants me right now.

  “Race ya,” I blurt, laying flat to paddle back and catch the wave.

  By the time he’s coming up out of the water, I’ve already got my board propped against the rail on the front of the house.

  “What took you so long, old man?” I jest.

  He rests his board beside mine before marching over to pick me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and close the distance between our lips as he mumbles, “Cheater.”

  We’re caught between kisses and chuckles as he walks us into the house.

  “Oh, come on now,” Aric whines from somewhere near the kitchen. “We had a deal. No sex before cake.”

  Atlas chuckles, and I kiss him again just because I can.

  Dropping my legs to the floor, I grudgingly step away, only to be caught in another’s arms.

  “Happy birthday, Sukie baby,” Abraham drawls in my ear.

  I throw my arms around his shoulders and rise up on my toes to kiss the scar that runs down the side of his face as I whisper my thanks. Being the gorgeous man he is, I thought Abraham would take issue when the doctors told him no amount of money could correct the marring. He surprised us all by saying he didn’t want it fixed. It is a reminder to him that he still had me and his brothers, and kiss it every chance I get.

  He leads us over to where a huge dark purple cake sits on the kitchen island. The candles are being lit by Alek on one side and Anderson on the other. I shoot them both a grateful smil
e and kiss Aric then Alejandro’s cheeks as I walk by.

  They break out into a loud ‘Happy Birthday’.

  After they’re done, I pause for a second to stare at the fire atop the candles.

  Abraham tucks me close under his arm. “Make a wish. What do you want most in the world?”

  What more could I ask for? We’re all alive and together. That’s good enough for me. Sucking in a deep breath, I blow out the candles.

  They start reaching for plates and the cake server, but I take a step back. Abraham notices because it removes his arm from my shoulders, but I take another step before it gets the other’s attention.

  “I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure I’m the birthday girl here,” I announce.

  Grabbing the bottom hem of my surf shirt, I yank it off my body and drop it with a splat in the middle of the floor. My thumbs are hooked through the sides on my bottoms when I add, “And I don’t remember setting that rule about cake before sex.”

  The bottoms follow with another wet smack before I take off at a sprint down the hall towards my room. Their thundering footsteps on the hardwood behind me speak a thousand words. They’d follow me to the depths of the sea or ends of the earth and I for them. There will be forks in the road and bad decisions, but those tough choices are what makes life.

  Do you guys read these things? I hope so. Especially for those of you curious about where Orsam and Ransam got off to. After they made up with Su, they ran off back to the West Coast. Each one was last saw with a girl on their arms, strolling down the beach. They still keep in touch with Su and the Trenton men.

  This book was written for all the villains who deserve to have their happily ever after just as much as the princes and princesses.

  I want to say a huge thanks to my Weird Sister for being my motivator every single day.

  Another big thank you to the hubs for dealing with me while getting this thing done.

  And for Michelle Ann at Inked Imagination. You are an effing Rockstar! Thank you!

  Last but no least, XOXO to all of you readers who took the time to read Arsuilla’s story. I hope you loved her and the Trenton men as much as I did writing them.

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  A PEEK AT TOXICITY: A VILLAINOUSLY ROMANTIC RETELLING

  ONE

  Fucking slow ass walkers.

  I maneuver the slick walkways, the wind whipping my dark curls around my face. Brushing them away irritatedly, I peer around the bodies in front of me towards the main academic building.

  I would be inside the school by now if the couple in front of me would pick up the damn pace. Honestly, slow walkers are worse than bugs. And I hate bugs. Seriously. If you walk slow, you deserve to be plowed down. By a semi truck. Or by me. Either one will suffice.

  Same rule applies to all bugs. Those creepy crawlies can slither back to hell where they belong.

  Snow pelts my face, and my scarf and jacket ensemble does little to stop the frigid cold. They’re pretty - stylish - but not practical.

  Not like the one in my sketchbook.

  Finally, finally, I step inside the modest brick building of the community college, ivy snaking down its sides and turrets erected at the top. I flash the couple from hell a glare, which they either don’t see or ignore, before hurrying to my class.

  And of course I’m late.

  For fuck’s sake.

  Slow walking, bitch ass-

  “You’re late,” Professor Stone says as soon as I enter.

  I wince, squeezing my eyes shut. After a moment, I open up one eyelid and peek at the small class. It’s by far my smallest class size with only about twenty students.

  Business Law.

  Oh joy.

  At least Professor Stone is nice to look at.

  Speaking of…

  “Sorry,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “This couple in front of me was too busy playing kissy face to actually walk. Seriously. It was like going twenty in a fifty-five mile zone.”

  Stone’s lips twitch before he smooths his face once more. The man has perfected an impassive front. Impressive, I’ll admit, especially coming from someone who wears a mask daily and hides her pain behind snark.

  “Have a seat.” He nods towards my usual table in the back of the room. Professor Stone - or Roman Stone - is a sexy as sin man. Despite teaching an entry level course at the college, he’s dressed in a form-fitting gray suit with darker silver cufflinks. The gray offsets his tanned skin and onyx black hair that’s a few shades darker than even mine.

  There’s something incredibly sexy about a man in a suit. And when that man pushes up his sleeves, revealing muscular forearms? Swoon.

  It’s not even just his ethereal good looks that has me panting like a bitch in heat. It’s his character too. His fucking brain. The man’s smart - a genius, actually. He graduated law school when he was only twenty years old and worked as a defense attorney at the local law firm specializing in criminal law. Why he’s teaching a college level course now remains a mystery.

  Not that I’m complaining.

  As Stone begins his lecture, even his whiskey-soaked voice can’t hold my attention. Instead, I grab my notebook out of my backpack and turn to the page I was last on.

  An intricately colored dress and dark jacket takes up the white page. The neckline dips low into a v, and the skirt cascades around the model’s body. The jacket itself is similar to the one I’m wearing, but fake fur adorns the interior, an idea I got from Cruel Clothing. Much more suitable for the harsh weather than the garbage bag I’m currently wearing.

  I am just shading in the jacket when a honey-toned hand drops down on the desk. I jump, heart racing, and stare into the arresting blue gaze of Roman Freaking Stone. Sorry, Professor Stone.

  “Am I boring you, Mrs. FaCent?” he asks in that orgasm-inducing voice of his. Honestly, I didn’t believe a voice even could be sexy. Until I heard his. It caresses my skin and heats my core.

  Did I imagine it, or did his voice waver on the Mrs.?

  “Mallie works,” I say, flashing him a shit-eating grin.

  We have had this conversation hundreds of times before.

  “Mrs. FaCent,” he repeats darkly. “Am. I. Boring. You?”

  The class begins to snicker, and I catch Ashley Last-Name-I-Don’t-Know smiling at me smugly. The pretty bitch has had her eye on our professor since the semester began, and for some reason, she sees me as competition.

  Ridiculous, seeing as how I’m married.

  Rather unhappily, but married all the same.

  I meet Stone’s gaze and brace myself on my forearms, leaning towards him. His eyes darken almost imperceptibly.

  “Roman Stone,” I say sweetly. “Is that what you ask all the ladies?”

  The class erupts into laughter, but Stone continues to stare at me. Caress me. Undress me. The heat emanating from his eyes is almost palpable.

  I believe I’m the only person in the class who can get away with talking to him like that. Hell, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one in the fucking world. And…

  And I’m pretty sure he likes it.

  His gaze lowers towards my still open notebook, and something akin to self-consciousness pierces me. The cocky girl from before dissipates as quickly as she came. Before he can comment, I slam the book closed.

  “Won’t happen again,” I say stiffly, and his eyes bounce back up, surprised.

  “Please make sure.” With a decisive head bob, he moves back to the front of the room. It takes considerable effort, but I focus on Stone pacing the front of the room as he discusses copyright cases. What asshole would steal an artist’s hard-earned money by placing their work on illegal websites? Wait. A lot.

  Fucking a
ssholes.

  After a moment, he jumps onto his desk, swinging his legs as he perches on the edge. I’m actually slightly disappointed. Whenever he turned towards the chalkboard - no lie, a chalkboard - I got a delectable view of his plump ass. An ass I very much wanted to squeeze and smack in no particular order.

  I’m not the only person upset. All of the girls, and even a few of the guys, pout. Ashley looks as if she’s about to cry, that damn hussy.

  Not that I blame her.

  My vagina is weeping tears too, thank you very much.

  “Don’t forget that for your final paper, you must watch three hours of a court proceeding and write a reflection on it,” Stone says, and the class immediately groans. I actually prefer this over a research paper. I had one last term for my criminal law class, and let’s just say...well...if anyone was to look at my search history, they would think I’m a serial killer.

  “On the bright side, I have nothing else for today, so class is dismissed early.” That announcement brings about the usual smiles and whoops as everyone filters out of the classroom. I pack up my bag as well and sling it over my shoulder. Just as I reach the door, there’s a warm touch on my arm, and I stop, glancing over my shoulder to see Stone. “Mallie, if I could have a minute?”

  Ashley, who was slowly putting her belongings into her bag in the hopes of Stone noticing her, glares at me. With a dramatic hair toss I only thought existed in movies, she strides out of the door.

  “You wanted to see me, Professor?” I ask coyly, leaning against the table in front of him. The movement raises the hem of my skirt, revealing a swath of milky-white thighs. His eyes latch on that glimpse of skin as his tongue wets his lower lip. Clearing his throat, he pulls my latest exam out of his briefcase. It combined both terminology and critical thinking, giving me a metaphorical case I had to solve if I was both the defendant and prosecutor.