Brando

by Marita A. Hansen

  “I’m bored, let’s go,” Ivy said, needing to get away from Brando before she lost her cool.

  “No way,” D said. “Vincenzo’s just getting started. And we have a job to do.”

  Ivy’s attention moved to the surging crowd, who were trying to get as close as possible to the Santini twins. Vinnie started playing a rift on his guitar, his deft fingers flying across the strings. Dominic’s voice came over the microphone a few seconds later. It was rich with a raspy edge to it, the man sounding sexy as hell. With him and his brother’s good looks and talent, it made her wonder why they were playing in a nightclub when they were capable of commanding a much larger crowd. Her mind went to their mother, the barracuda probably the reason. The woman was a control freak, who was constantly keeping tabs on her children. It had been her who’d paid D and Ivy to watch the twins and Brando, making sure they were safe.

  The fans started screaming, acting like the brothers were tattooed rock gods, which was why they weren’t her taste. She hated tattoos after having to look at the Black Russian’s face for so long. Her previous employer was covered from head to toe in black tattoos, his visage terrifying. And he was as deadly as he looked, which was another reason why she had to protect the Santini brothers. She needed them to help her destroy the Black Russian, the man having murdered her mother and oldest sister, along with a number of Vipers.

  A woman reached over the stage, trying to touch Vinnie’s foot, the guy oblivious to what she was doing. He was concentrating on his guitar, lost in the music, looking like it was giving him a high. The hard rock strains were filling the nightclub, pumping loud through the sound system.

  Ivy’s eyes roamed the crowd again, not liking the frenzy the twins were whipping up. The women all looked like they wanted to take a piece of Vinnie and Dominic home with them: an arm, a leg ... a cock ... fuck, the bitches would probably shred the brothers just to get one taste.

  “I don’t like this,” Ivy said. “They’re working those women up too much.”

  “That’s because they’re hot as hell,” D replied.

  “Which is precisely why they should have a barrier.”

  “The stage is high enough, and shut up, I’m listening; they’re really good.”

  “You’re not here to listen, you’re here to protect them, so do your bloody job or next time I’ll bring Cyn with me.”

  D’s eyes snapped to her. “Don’t you dare! Vincenzo’s mine, and if Cyn touches him, I’ll rip her uterus out through her mouth.”

  Ivy laughed. “Cyn’s not interested in Vinnie, that evil bitch wants to taint Father Silvio. I saw her following the poor man around. So, do your job, or she’ll be coming tomorrow night.”

  “Stop getting on my case,” D snapped. “Brando and the soldiers are also here to guard them.”

  “Brando’s more interested in fucking than doing his job, so quit arguing with me. The twins need to be protected. We can’t have any of the Santini hurt; we need every one of them to take down the Black Russian.”

  D exhaled loudly, muttering, “Okay.” Her gaze moved to the crowd. “Can’t see anything; other than a sea of heads.”

  “I think it’s stupid they’re playing when the war is still going.”

  “They obviously think there’s minimal risk, plus it’s their club. They wouldn’t let any Donatelli in.”

  “They could still slip in.”

  “Which is why they bring so many guards,” D pointed to the corners of the stage, where large men in suits were standing, watching over the crowd, protecting the twins, “so stop worrying.”

  “I still don’t like it. This is an unnecessary risk.”

  D pointed at Vinnie. “Look at his face, he looks truly happy. That is why they’re here. Those two need music to breathe. They’re stifled back at the compound. I haven’t seen either of them looking this happy since we met them. Everyone needs passion in their lives. Music is theirs.”

  Ivy grunted, knowing D was right. The twins looked like they were in seventh heaven, the two obviously needing to perform.

  A couple of women started talking next to Ivy, their comments catching her attention: “Lucky puttana, I’d love a piece of that honey. He’s mouthwatering.”

  “I heard he’s a hitman,” the second one said.

  “He can hit my pussy with his cock all he wants.”

  The women laughed.

  Ivy’s eyes followed their line of gaze, scowling at what she saw. Brando had turned the female he was fucking around. The bitch had her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck, kissing those cruel lips of his, his cock still imbedded in her.

  Jealousy flared again.

  Red

  Hot

  Volatile

  And itching to kill.

  She dug her nails into her palms to stop herself from reacting. She didn’t understand why she wanted the bastard so much. She should like nice men, the kind who gave her gifts of flowers and chocolates, unlike Brando, who would grab his crotch and say he had a present for her. Who spoke to women like that?

  Assholes.

  That was who, and she needed to ignore him.

  She forced herself to look at the twins again. Up on stage, Dominic had stopped singing and was asking the crowd whether they were having a good time.

  “No,” Ivy muttered.

  D elbowed her. “Sssh.”

  Dominic continued talking, asking whether everyone wanted to hear Vinnie sing. The Barbies packed in like sardines started screaming, “Sì!”

  He placed a hand over his heart. “Oh, you wound me. I guess I should leave, since none of you want me here.”

  The women started screaming for him, making him grin wide, the man obviously lapping up the attention, unlike his twin, who didn’t appear to care for it. Ivy’s gaze shifted to Vinnie, who was staring across at ... D.

  Dominic thrust the microphone in front of his twin, snapping Vinnie out of the stare. Shifting his guitar to his back, Vinnie took the microphone and yelled into it: “How’re ya doing?” The crowd screamed in response, surging forward even more.

  Vinnie’s eyes moved back to D, a smile lighting up his face. “I would like to dedicate the next song to someone who helped save my famiglia almost two months ago. Grazie, D, you’re a sweetheart.”

  “The ungrateful bastard,” Ivy muttered. “I saved his fucking family, not you, you barely did shit. He should give me the credit.” She looked at D, whose mouth was hanging open. “Close your mouth before Brando sticks his cock in it.”

  D shut her mouth, her gaze not moving from Vinnie. He started singing, the song a love ballad, which pulled Ivy’s attention back to the man, his voice impressing her. It was similar to his brother’s, just not as gravelly, his notes purer. It was probably because Vinnie didn’t smoke like his brother, who seemed to have a cigarette surgically attached to his lips.

  “Oh, God,” D moaned. “I want him so fucking bad.”

  “Then do him, because it looks like he wants a piece of you now.”

  D glanced at her. “Do you think so?”

  “He just dedicated the song to you, didn’t he?”

  “But, it doesn’t make sense; he’s ignored me for so long.”

  “Men don’t make sense, so go jump on his bandwagon and take a ride.” Ivy tensed as Brando walked past her, running his hand over her breasts. He kept on walking, disappearing into the crowd before Ivy could react.

  D’s eyes moved to her in shock. “He just groped you. Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

  “Yeah, leave. Get a lift home with Vinnie, I’ve had enough. No amount of money is worth this shit.” She took off, needing to get out of the club before she hit Brando—the man driving her insane.

  6

  Irene Landi wondered how she could get her hands on Brando—so she could kill the murdering bastardo. She clenched her hands to stop from shaking, all her anger and anguish building up, making her want to scream across the club at him. She was standing on the mez
zanine floor, looking down over the crowd. She hadn’t expected to see him. She’d only come to listen to the twins’ music. Her eyes moved to Vinnie. She didn’t blame him for what his brother had done.

  She could never blame him.

  Unlike Brando, Vinnie had a lovely heart. How could he not with the way he sung, the way he looked, the way he smiled... She remembered the first time his beautiful smile had been directed at her. She’d been in front of the stage when he’d looked down at her, the expression lighting up his whole face.

  Vinnie’s voice petered out, her man finishing his song. He had dedicated it to someone called D, which she prayed wasn’t a lover—because she wanted to be his lover. She hadn’t approached him before tonight, knowing she wasn’t attractive enough ... until now. She’d had a nose job and had made her cheekbones more prominent, the swelling finally having gone. She’d also plumped up her lips and changed her eye color with permanent green contact lenses. An interviewer for the local newspaper had asked Vinnie what his ideal woman would look like. He’d said she would have curly black hair, green eyes, and a smile that would dazzle him. She ran a hand over her hair, the hairdresser having done a perfect job.

  Dominic took the microphone off Vinnie. “If my bro gets to dedicate a song, I will too.” He pointed to someone in the crowd. “I dedicate the next song Stone Cold Bitch to my evil brother Brando.”

  The crowd started laughing. Irene’s gaze moved back to Brando, who flicked a finger at Dominic. He’d finished fucking not long ago, leaving the poor woman dazed and confused. He was a user, someone who took whatever he wanted, then walked away, not caring what devastation he left behind.

  And she hated him.

  Absolutely despised him.

  She watched him as he headed to the stage, pushing people out of his way without caring how rough he was being. He stopped by the side of the stage and removed a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up as he watched his brothers play their music, not caring that the club was smoke free.

  She’d imagined so many different ways of killing him: shooting him in the head or blowing him up with a car bomb, or the best—having him tied up so she could torture him. She would cut his face up, making him look as ugly as his soul, then she would slice his throat open, sending him back to his creator—the Devil himself.

  Dominic finished his song, going really high at the end, the man a brilliant singer. She just preferred Vinnie’s voice. Vinnie started singing again, pulling her attention back to the stage. His voice was beyond perfect, going between a sexy gruff rumble to pure notes so chilling it left goosebumps across her flesh.

  Wanting to get closer to him, she headed down the staircase, being extra careful not to fall over on her six-inch heels. She was also wearing a tight green dress, hoping it would attract Vinnie’s attention.

  She nudged past women, getting complaints as she drew closer to the stage, but she didn’t care, her eyes fixed firmly on her prize. Vinnie’s gaze moved to her as she stopped in front of the stage, making her catch her breath. He smiled at her, holding her gaze for a moment, then looked back down at his guitar, playing it as Dominic took over the singing.

  A few minutes later, he looked back up. This time his eyes didn’t go to her. Instead, they went to the crowd, moving through it as if he was searching for someone. His head stopped moving, settling on the side of the stage, in the direction of Brando. Irene arched her neck, trying to see what he was looking at. A dark woman was standing next to Brando, the female’s gaze glued to Vinnie. Frowning, Irene returned her attention to Vinnie, who was openly staring at the woman as he played his guitar, making Irene think it was a lover of his.

  The song came to an end. After the last strum of his guitar, Vinnie waved at the crowd, then headed across the stage to Brando and the woman. He said something, then took hold of the woman’s hand, pulling her towards a side door.

  Irene’s heart fell.

  “What’s your name, gorgeous?” someone said above her.

  She turned towards the voice, surprised to see Dominic staring down at her. He looked so much like Vinnie, making her heart skip a beat. It was almost as though Vinnie was talking to her through him.

  He smiled. “Not going to tell me your name?”

  “I ...” She cleared her throat, almost letting it slip. “Rena,” she said, using a variation of her name. She didn’t want him to know who she was, the Santini and her family enemies. But then again, she looked nothing like what she used to, so he probably wouldn’t even realize she was a Landi.

  “Such a pretty name for a pretty lady.” He glanced down at the women jostling to get his attention, then back at her. “Would you like to come backstage with me?”

  She nodded, wondering whether he could take her to Vinnie. He held out his hand. She grabbed it, practically getting dragged up onto the stage. He swung her around, bringing her face to face with him. Not literally, because he was six-foot-three, something she knew because Vinnie was the same height. And again, he looked just like Vinnie, just scruffier and with piercings. Still, his face was the same. Those soft blue eyes, the fine cut of his nose, the friendly smile he was giving her. It was uncanny. For a second, she allowed herself to believe he was Vinnie.

  “You have stunning eyes,” he said. “I like green.”

  “Grazie.”

  He jerked his head to the side. “Let’s go before those women climb onto the stage.”

  Placing a hand on her back, he directed her through the stage door. She stopped in the passageway at the sight of Vinnie dragging the dark woman into a room.

  “He’s finally doing it...” Dominic said, sounding surprised, “...and about time too.” He turned back to Irene. “You mind sharing a room with my brother and his chick?”

  Irene felt her stomach roll, his words horrifying her. She couldn’t watch Vinnie with someone else, it would kill her—or the other woman, because she was sure she’d attack her. She shook her head, feeling tears starting to well up.

  Dominic pushed her against the wall. “No worries, we can fuck out here.” He pressed his body up against hers, his lips going to her neck.

  She went still, stunned by what he was doing. His hands wandered down her body, his fingers slipping under her dress, running between her ass cheeks. Snapping out of it, she shoved him away. Vinnie’s twin took a step back, his expression surprised. He went to say something, but she cut him off, realizing she could still use him to get to Vinnie.

  “Not here,” she said, glancing around. “Someone could see us.”

  A smile swept away his surprised look. “You sure you don’t want to share a room with Vinnie? We do that a lot.”

  “No, I ca-can’t do that.”

  Dominic frowned, looking like he was thinking, then that cheeky smile of his resurfaced. “Then come back to my place.” He pushed her against the wall, his hands going all over her again.

  “Dominic,” she gasped. “Stop that.”

  “I’m just checking that you’re clean. No one can come to my house without a check.” He grabbed her breasts, his big grin suggesting he was doing more than checking. “So, what do ya say? Want to come home with me? I’ll cook you breakfast.”

  She remained quiet, trying to assess what to do. If she said yes, she could get to see where Vinnie slept ... however, she’d have to have sex with Dominic. But was that so bad? He looked just like Vinnie, only scruffier.

  Except he wasn’t Vinnie, which meant it would be cheating. But Vinnie was probably fucking that woman right now, and if she could get into their home, maybe she could also get into his bed, and convince him he didn’t need anyone else. Smiling at the thought, she nodded, making Dominic’s face light up. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the exit. She ran through it, knowing she was one step closer to her goal.

  Vincenzo.

  7

  D’s heart stilled as Vinnie closed the door, not believing this was happening. Other than the smiles he gave her, he rarely talked to her. She’d tried to strike
up conversations with him before, but he always excused himself. She had no idea why he was acting differently, but whatever the reason, she welcomed it!

  He pulled her over to the bed. Without a word, he took hold of her face and kissed her lips, paralyzing her, because this was surreal. As she’d said, he rarely talked to her and avoided her most of the time, and now he was kissing her passionately, as though they were long lost lovers.

  He lowered her to the bed, not taking his lips off hers. She’d dreamt of this happening, of him taking her in so many ways. She’d also daydreamed of him sneaking into her room at night, or pushing her up against a wall, while people walked past on the other side, unaware as he ravaged her. But for it to actually happen ... again, this couldn’t be real. People didn’t just have sex after a few words. They talked, dated, kissed ... not went straight to sex after saying, ‘Come with me.’

  She jerked her head to the side, breaking the kiss. “What are you doing?”

  He pulled back a little, confusion clouding his blue eyes. “I thought you wanted me.”

  I do, more than you can know, but, “I didn’t expect this.”

  He smiled that charming smile of his, making her gaze move to his lips. For a second, she wondered why she was complaining, and why those lips weren’t on hers, then she shook it out of her head.

  “What’s happening, Vincenzo?” she asked, willing herself to think rationally. She was a rational person, not someone who allowed things like this to happen—no matter how much she wanted it ... oh God, she wanted it ... but it didn’t make sense. “You ignored me for ages, now you’re jumping me,” she said, willing herself to stick to her guns, because no matter how great it felt, she knew something wasn’t right. “Why?”

  He ran a hand over her left breast, giving her a grin as though that was an adequate reply.

  She pushed up, making him move back. “Answer me. What’s this about and why did you dedicate that song to me?”