Brando

by Marita A. Hansen

  “But, how come no one knew about the relationship?”

  “I told you why it was kept a secret: Farah didn’t want the Black Russian to know she was gay, but she didn’t hide it from me or Menna. I just thought Cyn was bi, since she was always leering at Sasha. I told Farah this, but she was too head over heels in love with Cyn to listen. Because of it, she told Cyn about her plot to kill the Black Russian, and in turn Cyn passed the information onto him, which resulted in the battle. That’s why your love died that day, not because of Farah, but because of Cyn’s betrayal.

  Kennedy breathed out, forcing herself to stay calm, although everything in her body was screaming for her to confront Cyn. She wanted to verify what Ivy had said, and if it was true—Cyn was dead.

  Ivy placed a hand on Kennedy’s arm. “I know what you’re thinking: you want to confirm what I said with Cyn, and when you do, you’ll kill her. But you can’t, because it’ll be giving her what she wants. I think she confessed so I’d lose my head and kill her, but I didn’t, because I know life to her is a worse punishment than death.”

  “Why did you tell me, then? Because you damn well know I’ll still kill her regardless.”

  “Because I was sick of you blaming my sister for everything, plus we both lost someone we loved and cherished dearly because of Cyn. And even though I don’t think you should kill her, that’s not my decision to make, because I know if someone hurt Brando, I would kill them no matter what. So, I’m going to leave it up to you.” Ivy turned and headed back to the couch, sitting down next to Brando.

  Kennedy’s gaze moved to the doorway that led to the cells. She kicked into gear, crossing the lounge and foyer quick. She descended the basement staircase, stopping in front of Cyn’s cell. A swarthy-looking guard, who was sitting next to it, rose to his feet. He was wearing black dress-pants and a white button-down shirt, his holster over it containing a gun.

  Kennedy held out her hand. “Give me your gun.”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m ordering you to give me your fucking gun!”

  “I don’t take orders from Vipers.”

  She stepped in close to him, getting her face right up to his. “And I don’t take no for an answer, so give me the gun before I crush your fucking balls.”

  He glared at her. “Move away—” He yelled out as Kennedy placed his gun to his head, her hand so fast he hadn’t noticed she’d grabbed it. Her pick-pocketing skills had been acquired out of desperation, her mother preferring to buy drugs than feeding her. A lot of people didn’t realize she was only nineteen, her harsh life making her look older.

  “Now, if you want to live, you will open that cell for me, buddy.”

  “If you kill me, the Santini will kill you.”

  “No, they will kill you for losing your gun, numb-nuts,” she moved the gun to his crotch, “or do you want to be no nuts?”

  Grimacing, he removed a key from his chain and turned to unlock the door. He opened it and moved aside for her to enter. With the gun raised, she stepped inside the room, ready to confront Cyn. She stopped in her tracks, the person sitting on the bed next to Cyn taking her by surprise.

  Brando’s youngest sister looked up at her, Bella’s lovely blue eyes going to Kennedy. Her long brown hair was tied back into a ponytail and her face makeup free. Though, Bella didn’t need makeup, the woman beyond beautiful, everything about her making Kennedy ache.

  “No Vipers are permitted in here,” Bella said, “except for Ivy.”

  Kennedy lowered the gun, for the first time not wanting to see her crush. “This is no place for you, Bella,” she said, her eyes going to Cyn. The blue-haired Viper was curled up on the bed, rocking back and forth. “So, leave.”

  Bella placed a hand on Cyn’s hip. “I’m not leaving until I know you won’t kill Cyn.” Her eyes moved to Kennedy’s gun. “Which is obviously why you’re here.”

  “I’m here for the truth.” Her gaze moved back to Cyn. “Is everything that Ivy told me about you betraying Farah true?”

  Cyn stopped rocking and looked directly at her. “Yes, so kill me.”

  “No!” Bella shot up, blocking Cyn.

  Kennedy clenched the gun. “Why are you defending a murderer?! She’s responsible for many people’s deaths, my partner among them.”

  “I heard Ivy’s ex killed your lover.”

  “You’ve been talking about me?”

  “To a point, so why blame Cyn?”

  “What she did led to my partner’s death.”

  “What she did was one domino in a ripple effect.”

  Kennedy scowled. “If you’re talking about destiny, Cassidy wasn’t meant to die, she was meant to be with me!”

  “No, I’m talking about life. Every decision we make leads to another, and another, and another, like what happened to me and the love of my life. If I didn’t talk my sister-in-law into going to the nightclub five years ago, she wouldn’t have gotten into the car with me and my drunk brother. And Silvio wouldn’t have driven through a red light and the truck wouldn’t have hit Paola’s side. And she wouldn’t have died in my arms, on top of my crushed legs.”

  Kennedy stared at her, too dumbstruck to speak, chills now running up her arms. She hadn’t realized Bella was gay, but it wasn’t just that, it was the pain she saw on the woman’s face, the devastation of losing someone cherished.

  Bella continued, “In Cyn’s case, if she hadn’t attacked the Russian government for what they did to her homeland, she wouldn’t have met the Black Russian, and he wouldn’t have forced her to spy for him, using the lives of her family as a means to blackmail her into doing what he wanted.”

  “If she’d let Farah kill him instead of telling the bastard about the plot, she would have her family back and my woman wouldn’t be dead.”

  “No. If she had allowed Farah to kill the Black Russian, her family would’ve died, along with all of the Black Russian’s prisoners. If he dies, his guards are under order to kill everyone in the Black Palace’s cells.”

  Kennedy stared at Bella, taken aback by her words.

  “So leave, Kennedy.”

  Kennedy looked at Cyn, who was still curled up, then back at Bella. “On one condition.”

  “What?”

  “You stop pretending you’re straight.”

  “Is that all it takes for you to walk away, me admitting to my bigoted mother that I prefer women?”

  “No, your speech about why Cyn did it, but I still want you to stop pretending. You shouldn’t hide the real you, it’ll eat you up inside.”

  “I don’t need to worry about that anymore.” She extended her hand and opened it partially, letting a rosary drop down, dangling from her fingers. “God has other plans for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Footsteps approached her from behind. Kennedy spun around, seeing the priest enter the cell.

  “She’s joining the church,” Silvio said.

  “I thought all of you guys were already Catholic.”

  “No, you misunderstand,” Bella said.

  Kennedy turned back to her. “What do you mean?”

  Bella smiled, her brilliant blue eyes lighting up. “I’m going to become a nun.”

  38

  Ivy walked out of the bathroom and held the pregnancy test up for Brando to see. “Kennedy was right; you put a bun in my oven, you bastard.”

  “I didn’t do any cooking?” he said, too busy texting to pay her attention. He was sitting on their bed in boxers, his hair and bare chest still damp from having showered. They’d decided to have an early night after Ivy had almost thrown up her dinner.

  “A bun in the oven is slang for being pregnant.”

  His head shot up. “What?”

  “I’m pregnant with your spawn.”

  One second he was on the bed, the next he was picking her up in a giant hug. Ivy cried out, hitting him to put her down. She didn’t know whether she was happy or upset about the pregnancy, but she did know she was happy with Bran
do.

  “We definitely have to get married now,” he said, placing her on her feet. “And soon.”

  “Hey! We don’t have to do any such thing.”

  “Oh, it’s a definite now. My boy won’t grow up to be a bastardo like me.”

  “It could be a girl.”

  “With all the testosterone in you, it’ll be a boy.”

  “I’m not a man!” She threw the pregnancy test at him.

  Laughing, he ducked. “I know, I know, I love your tits and pussy!”

  She scowled at him. “I’m still not marrying you. I hardly know you.”

  “Of course you know me; we’ve been together for almost three months now.”

  “It’s only been about five weeks and before that I hated your guts.”

  He ran his hand over his bare stomach. “No, you loved it from the start.” He lowered his hand to his cock. “My cazzo too.”

  She scowled at him.

  He pointed to the bed. “And since you sleep in my bed now, we might as well make it official.”

  “You chain me there half the time.”

  He smiled. “You love it.”

  She poked her tongue out at him.

  “Don’t do that, that’s an invitation to stick my cazzo in your mouth.”

  “Everything I do is an invitation for that.”

  “That’s because you’re incredibly sexy.” He cupped her face. “Marry me.”

  “I’m not the marrying kind.”

  “You will be.” He touched her stomach. “Plus, this little one deserves two parents. So, again, marry me.”

  “If we get married, I’ll kill you.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because you drive me insane, you’re so rude.”

  He grinned. “You love me being rude.” He grabbed her breast. “By the way, pregnant women get huge tits.”

  She smacked his hand away. “And filled with milk.”

  “Not for a long time.” He grabbed her breast again. “Before that, I get big tits to slather with chocolate.” He licked his upper lip. “Milk chocolate.”

  She laughed. “I do like you a lot, Mr. Santini.”

  “No, you love me, soon to be Mrs. D’Angelo.”

  “Are you changing your last name?”

  “I’m considering it. So, will you marry me?”

  “Get down on your knees and do it right.”

  He lowered himself to the floor and took her right hand in his. “Will you marry me, Ivy?”

  “No.”

  He shot to his feet. “Hey! I did it right.”

  “But you’re all wrong for me.”

  “Bullshit, you know we’re a perfect match. We’re both—”

  “Don’t you dare insult me!”

  “Lovely.” He smiled. “And even lovelier in bed.” He grabbed her, lifting her off her feet. He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently, then proceeded to strip her of her nightie. Once finished, he removed his boxers, staring down at her with a wicked grin.

  “You can’t be serious,” Ivy said, pushing up onto her elbows. “I’ve got a sore stomach, plus I’m pregnant. And how did it go from me turning your proposal down to having sex within seconds?”

  “I want to test the equipment to see if it works for my baby.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He pursed his lips. “Tit sucking time!” He launched himself onto the bed, bouncing next to her.

  She laughed as he grabbed her breast. He bent his head and latched onto it, pulling at the nipple.

  She placed a hand on the back of his head, knowing without a doubt she’d fallen for him. “Yes,” she said.

  He detached his mouth from her breast. “Yes, what?”

  She smiled. “I will marry you.”

  39

  The phone rang on the bedside cabinet. Jagger put his book down and picked it up, saying “Pronto?” into it.

  A voice came over the line. “Long time no talk, Jagger.”

  Jagger stiffened, recognizing the Black Russian’s voice. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Too busy to ring me back when you said you would?”

  “There’s been a lot of things happening, I lost track of time.”

  “I’ve been very patient with you, Jagger. I’ve even given you an extension.”

  “Brando and I were sick,” he said, partially lying, only Brando having been unwell. “Camila told you that.”

  “Are you and Brando better now?”

  “I am, it was only the flu, but something else is wrong with Brando. He’s been getting head pains and hallucinations. He has to go see a neurosurgeon to check if he can get the bullet removed from his head.”

  “He has a what in his head?”

  “A bullet.”

  “Who hurt him? I’ll kill them for him.”

  “He did it himself.”

  The Black Russian went quiet.

  “Are you still there?” Jagger asked.

  “Da, your answer surprised me. Why would Brando do such a thing?”

  “The Padre abused him, too.”

  “Well, my sister’s making that bastard’s life a living hell, so take comfort in the fact he’s receiving karma at its most exquisite. And if Brando can’t come, that’s fine, as long as I see you.”

  “This trip was planned by Brando, not me. I only offered to come since he was going, so give him some time to get better, then we can arrange another time to visit.”

  “And the next time I call, you’ll make another excuse. I’m starting to think you don’t like me, Jagger.”

  “Of course I like you, you’re my friend,” Jagger lied, hating the bastard.

  “Then why is it so hard to visit me?”

  “I need time to arrange—”

  “You don’t need to arrange anything. I’ll send my jet for you.”

  “Camila hasn’t been well of late either; I wish to look after her.”

  “She’ll be worse off if you don’t visit me.”

  “Are you threatening her?!”

  “I most certainly am.”

  “You promised not to hurt her if I slept with you that time.”

  “You didn’t just sleep with me; you signed your soul over to me. So, what will it be: a dead lover or visiting me?”

  “I’ll visit.”

  “Good, because if you don’t, I won’t just kill your woman, I’ll kill your whole family for daring to side with the Vipers. I heard all about their plan to attack my palace.”

  “It was called off. Ricardo has no interest in helping the Vipers anymore. The Santini are your friends, they don’t wish you any ill.”

  “Good, and you will be their ambassador. So, tomorrow you’ll meet my plane—”

  “Tomorrow’s too soon.”

  “The next day, then.”

  “But—”

  “No more excuses, it’s happening.”

  “I’m not making excuses. I will visit you, but on one condition: I don’t wish to engage in any orgies.”

  “No problem, I only involved the women to make you feel more comfortable. I’m more than happy for it to just be you and me.”

  “No, I don’t want any sex. I will not cheat on my woman again.”

  “You didn’t cheat on her the first time. Cheating involves choice, which you weren’t given, plus what you did with me and my whores was to save her life. She should be grateful.”

  Jagger grimaced. He hadn’t told Camila what he’d done in exchange for their freedom after the Black Russian had captured them back in March.

  The Black Russian continued, “If she finds it an issue, tell her you’re leaving for a few days to do a job.”

  “It’s not a job, and stop treating me like a whore!”

  “You’re not a whore, you’re my lover.”

  “No, I’m not! I don’t even like men that way. Why do you people think you can keep using me?”

  “I’m not a person, I’m the fucking Devil himself, so do as you’r
e told if you don’t want your family to see Hell, because believe me, I will send them there.”

  Voices came from the passageway, sounding like Camila was talking to Dominic. Jagger pushed off the bed and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. “What do I have to do?”

  “Be at the airstrip in two days from now. There will be a plane waiting for you at four in the afternoon.”

  “If Brando can come, is he still invited?” Jagger asked, wanting his brother to kill the freak.

  “Of course, if he’s fine by then and can make it, I’d love to see him. But, warn him, it’ll be for a week.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can. You know I can keep you locked away in my home permanently, using you purely for my pleasure. But I’m being considerate, allowing you to have some freedom, which is more than most get who sign the contract.”

  “I had no choice signing that; you threatened my loved ones’ lives.”

  “Nonetheless, you must pay.”

  “Okay, a week,” Jagger said, hoping Brando killed the man quick, “but you must have those drugs.”

  “So you can see your woman instead of me? I should take that as an insult.”

  “You know I don’t like men sexually. How many times do I have to say it before you stop taking it as an insult?”

  “You’re speaking rudely to me, Jagger, it’s lucky I’m taken by you or I’d punish you for your loose tongue. And I will provide women to make things easier on you.”

  A shout came from his room, Camila calling out to him.

  “I have to go,” Jagger whispered into the phone.

  “I look forward to fucking you again.” The Black Russian hung up.

  Jagger clicked the phone off and opened the bathroom door, seeing Camila looking at him with a frown.

  “Are you all right, baby?” she asked.

  Forcing himself to smile, he held up the phone. “Yeah, just taking care of business.”

  “What business?”

  “Famiglia stuff. Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing important.” His eyes moved to Dominic, who was standing in the doorway. “What’s up?”

  Camila looked over her shoulder at Dominic. “Your brother would like you to sing with him tonight.”

  “What about Vinnie?”

  Dominic’s face turned sad. “At the moment he’s passed out drunk in the band room. And even if he wakes up, I don’t want him on stage.”