The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 2

by Bethany-Kris

  He took the chance, while the two girls hugged and whispered between one another, to scan the crowd now getting up from the dance floor to look for his friends. He didn’t see his twin right away, but he knew Bene was close.

  Just that feeling.

  It always told the truth, even when his gaze didn’t.

  Tommaso took over Beni’s vision, coming his way with a knot in his brow, and a scowl affixed to his face. “Cops have been called.”

  “Shit.”

  To say the least ...

  “Cory and Joe are making calls,” his friend added.

  Of course.

  “Bene?” he asked about his twin.

  “Just headed outside. We’re all going to meet on the sidewalk as the cops and shit start showing up. It’ll be easier to handle them, if we’re in a group together. Less chances of them splitting us up when we’re showing a united front.”

  “Right, right,” he agreed.

  Tommaso made good points. They always had to consider the official side of shit whenever something bad went down. The less time they spent with cops, the better.

  “You good?” Tommaso asked.

  Beni nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  August, though ...

  He turned to face Camilla and August who were no longer hugging. Instead, Camilla was looking over August’s scrapes, her lips puckering in her displeasure.

  “You should get them checked out,” the shorter girl said.

  August’s flushed, her cheeks tinting red. It was one of the first things he noticed about her—how she blushed. No, that was a lie. The first thing he noticed about her as she stood across the room from him was the way she stared, and how, despite probably already being nearly six-feet without heels, she still wore a pair that made her legs look shapely in her skinny jeans.

  He loved a woman with confidence enough not to care that she was already tall—nah, she had to put heels on to stand taller. And he wanted that kind of woman to be at his side. She had kept staring, though.

  So curious, and unashamed.

  Beautiful, and sexy.

  The second thing he noticed was that jacket.

  Frankie Zombie.

  He’d recognize that piece of art anywhere—even from twenty feet away, in the darkness of a club. And the fact that it was draped over the art that was that woman ... yeah, shit, it only made it better. His hands had itched to be closer, to touch her all the way across the room. And when he cocked a brow at her, wondering if she might invite him over?

  Her cheeks pinked.

  And she answered perfectly.

  So, he supposed the blush was the third thing he noticed all in the span of seconds while they stared at one another, but none of it stood out more than the other to Beni. That woman, with an outfit that screamed edgy and sex, her curves calling for him, and confidence wafting from her had been more than enough to make him approach her.

  And then this happened.

  Fuck.

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital just for a couple of scrapes,” August muttered. “Stop it, Cam.”

  “She’s right,” Beni said, inserting himself into the girls’ conversation whether they wanted him there or not. She was going to get her hands checked out because only then would he be satisfied that he hadn’t truly done any lasting damage when he took her to the floor. Damn, he hadn’t really thought about it; just did it because it was his first instinct to protect her. “You should get them cleaned up, and looked at just in case.”

  “I’m fine,” August told him.

  He lifted one shoulder. “It would make me feel better to be sure.”

  August sighed.

  Cam shot Beni a smile over her shoulder. “See, even he thinks so.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Cautious,” he returned.

  August gave him a look.

  He returned it.

  “Hear that?”

  Beni turned at Tommaso’s question, listening over the sounds of crying people, and feet crunching against glass. The familiar wailing had him sighing.

  “Cops are almost here.”

  “We need to head outside,” Tom told the rest of their small group still inside the club. “Stay together, didn’t see anything, don’t know anything, and didn’t hear anything. Got it?”

  Nods answered him back.

  Beni and Tommaso followed behind the women in silence as they headed out of the club. Outside, he found the Rossi brothers, still snapping shit into their phones, and his twin. Bene leaned against the brick wall of the club, next to a busted window. One of several, it seemed. Apparently, that must have been the main attack for the drive-by. The front windows of the club.

  Bene barely even glanced in Beni’s direction when he approached.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Bene grunted under his breath, more interested in glaring down the block.

  “You all right?”

  His twin hitched a shoulder.

  That was it.

  Beni might have been annoyed on another night, but today had been bad enough between the two of them. He’d made sure his twin knew he wasn’t very fucking happy to find out Bene was leaving through their uncle, and not him.

  Bene, on the other hand, said nothing.

  And now?

  Now, he looked pissed.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Beni asked him as the wailing sirens came closer.

  Bene glanced his way, but still, said nothing.

  “Well? Are you going to speak, or keep looking at me like you’re stupid?”

  “I guess I must be something, huh?”

  What?

  His twin pushed off the wall, passed him by, their shoulders slamming together in his haste, as Bene muttered under his breath, “Whatever, man.”

  What was going on?

  Beni didn’t have time to figure it out. Flashing lights colored the streets.

  Ah.

  The cops had arrived.

  • • •

  The murmurs of men in the hospital waiting room lowered to nothing at all when the Outfit boss stepped into the space, his right and left hand men flanking him on either side. It was rare, that outside of a private family dinner, one would get the chance to see the three highest men in the Chicago mob in a room together.

  And yet, there they were.

  Theo DeLuca stood on Tommas’s right. Damian Rossi, the father to Joe and Cory Rossi who owned the shot-up club, stood on the man’s left. Despite it being close to twelve at night, all three looked as though they were ready for a full day of business in their three-piece suits.

  Beni cleared his throat to gain Tommaso’s attention, and nodded toward the man’s father—their boss—when Tom looked his way. Tommaso whistled low, gaining the attention of the others who hadn’t noticed the shift in atmosphere.

  Part of his mind was still on August, and the fact a few doors down, a nurse was currently cleaning and bandaging her hands. The other part was on this mess here, and what they would need to do about it. He would see August shortly, he was sure.

  For now, he had to handle this.

  Tommaso waved a hand, bringing in his cousins, Cory and Joe, before the four of them headed for the three men waiting at the other side of the room. That was the thing about the boss, and his men. They didn’t go to anyone. Not even if those men were their sons—they had to go to the boss.

  Respect, and all.

  “What happened?” Tommas asked his son.

  Tommaso hitched a shoulder. “The gang shot up the front of the club while we were inside. The Easties.”

  “How do you know it was the east side gang?”

  Theo DeLuca asked the question that time.

  Damian stayed quiet—then again, Beni barely ever remembered the man saying much whenever he was in his presence. It could be disconcerting, but Joe and Cory always said that was just their dad, unless, of course, he was in a family situation. Then, Damian was far more likely to open up, and seemed l
ess like a block of ice.

  Beni didn’t know if that was true.

  “Because,” Tommaso continued, “word has already made the rounds.”

  “And,” Cory added to Tom’s left, “someone outside reported to the cops that when the windows in the car rolled down before the shooting started, they saw some tattoos.”

  Damian grunted under his breath, cold eyes turning to his youngest son when he asked, “Gang tattoos?”

  “They described them accurately, so yeah.”

  “I told you a club on the east end was not a good idea, Joe.”

  Joe’s jaw tightened at his father’s comment. “Listen, we put word out on the street that we were going to be around tonight. It’s been only the east side crew that’s had a problem with the gang. They’ve never struck out against anyone outside of the crew. We didn’t have reason to believe tonight would be the night they—”

  “You put word out that Outfit people were going to be at the club?” Beni asked.

  All eyes turned on him.

  He might have cared that he spoke out of turn on another night, but not this one.

  “It was a precaution,” Tommaso said.

  Beni nodded. “And actually, all you did was invite trouble.”

  “Beni—”

  “Nah, Tom, that’s what you did. You basically put us on a silver platter, and went, here you go, fuckers, take what you want.”

  Tommaso turned his entire body to angle it in Beni’s direction as though the two of them were going to go head to head in two-point-three seconds if one of them moved. He was willing to accept the challenge from his cousin, though, considering the mood he was currently feeling.

  “You think that’s what we did?” Tommaso asked.

  “Unintentionally, maybe. Who the fuck puts word out on the streets that Outfit people are going to be at a club, anyway?”

  “We do,” Joe snapped, “because it’s always worked in the past. We control this city, not the other way around. And we intend to keep it that way, so yeah, when we fucking speak, people tend to listen.”

  Beni scoffed hard. “Except the Easties have been getting more and more violent toward a specific Outfit crew, and here we are, in their territory. Like feeding chickens to wolves.”

  “Hey, hey,” Theo murmured, stepping forward just enough to move in between the men. “That’s quite enough of that—made men don’t do this, but certainly not in public. Back up, and take a breath.”

  Tommaso arched a brow at his cousin over Theo’s shoulder. A silent question of well?

  Beni still wasn’t made. He appreciated they treated him like he was, however. Swallowing back the pride thickening his throat, he muttered, “Apologies, Tom.”

  “And?” Joe snapped.

  “Jury’s still out for you.”

  “Fucking—”

  “Quite enough of that,” the boss said firmly.

  All eyes swung back to him.

  Tommas sighed, eyeing Beni. “And where is your brother? Because when your father called, I only had news to give him on you. He was not pleased.”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Beni shrugged. “He fucked off somewhere. Probably to a hotel for the night. He’s in a mood.”

  “He isn’t the only one, no?”

  Yeah, well ...

  It was only the presence of Camilla behind the boss and his men that stopped Beni from replying to his uncle. She gave him a nod, and waved her hand.

  “Excuse me,” he said to the group.

  They didn’t question it, simply stepped aside to let him go. Their conversation about the shooting, and what the plan was from there on out continued behind him, but he was more interested in what Camilla had to tell him.

  “She’s all done, asked if you were still around,” Cam said.

  Beni smirked. “Of course, I am.”

  “Mmhmm.” Her sly grin said she knew exactly what was going on between Beni and August. Or rather, what he was hoping to continue once he got that beautiful woman out of this hospital, as long as she was still feeling up to it. “I will be calling her in the morning, Beni.”

  “Good.”

  “Just to check in.”

  “I bet she needs someone to watch her back.”

  “Not really—she’d feed your balls to snakes, if she thought you deserved it. She doesn’t need my help to take care of herself.”

  Damn.

  “Just know,” Cam continued, “that if, I call tomorrow morning and she doesn’t pick up my call, or she does and she’s ... in any way unhappy, I will use your blood to paint my husband’s office that red color he asked for. We clear?”

  Beni chuckled, and then cleared his throat when Camilla’s severe gaze met his. These women—clearly best friends in every sense of the word—were not meant to be messed with. Certainly not separately, and definitely not when together. “Yeah, Cam, crystal clear.”

  “Good. Third room on the left.”

  Cam left him to head back toward the waiting room where her husband was standing with the rest of the gathered men. It took Beni no time at all to find the triage room the nurse had used to clean and bandage August.

  Sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, August dug through her small purse in search of something. Although, the second he knocked on the door with two knuckles, she forgot all about her search, and looked up to see him with a wide smile.

  “Hey,” she said.

  Beni stuffed his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the doorjamb. “Hey, yourself. How’re those hands of yours, huh?”

  She flipped her palms up, showcasing cleaned scrapes, and despite what he thought ... no bandages. It really wasn’t that bad.

  “Maybe I overreacted in having you come in,” he said.

  “Maybe?”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  August’s smile softened. “Yeah, I guess. So, hey ...”

  “Hmm?”

  Her cheeks flushed again.

  Beni grinned.

  He knew what was coming.

  Better for this woman to just ask for it. Or demand it, whatever.

  He was up for both.

  “Is your place still up for—”

  “Absolutely,” he said, “as long as you’re up to it, August.”

  She peeked up again through those dark, thick lashes of hers. At some point, she must have removed the band from her braids keeping them back in a pony, because now they hung loosely down her back, nearly reaching the bed.

  She really was something else.

  So fucking beautiful.

  “Well, I am free to go anytime,” she said.

  Beni laughed. “Don’t need to tell me twice, baby.”

  • • •

  Beni barely remembered entering his apartment. He couldn’t even recall how he managed to get August down the hall to his bedroom without hitting a wall, or shit, falling. He was too focused on her, how she kissed him, and the way she sounded when he bit that racing pulse point on her throat.

  Her lily and sugar scent felt like a perfect mix of her—sensuality, and sweetness. A dichotomy, if there ever was one, but damn him, if it didn’t fit her amazingly. He took the chance to admire the soft lines of her delicate shoulders, and the peek of her collarbones under the silk cami when she pulled the leather jacket down her arms, and tossed it to the chair in the corner across from his bed.

  She needed to be appreciated.

  Admired.

  Even when dressed.

  Because look at her.

  God, look at her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Beni tipped his head to the side, taking in the slope of the anticipation he could see in her inviting smile. “Memorizing you.”

  “Why?”

  “Beautiful things deserve admiration, that’s all.”

  “Is it?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is that all?”

  Beni lifted one shoulder. “No, I also like to take
my time. Learn, if you will. All the things that’ll make you crazy, get you screaming. So, one thing at a time, August.”

  “One thing at a time,” she echoed.

  He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, letting his hands slide up her arms while he tasted the spot beneath her ear with his kiss.

  “Because that’s how I’m going to fuck you, August,” he murmured in her ear, “so damn soft at first, letting you get a taste of me, feeling how I can fill you and stretch you out, and how good it’s going to be. Then it’s going to come a little faster, so I can get your thighs shaking around me, and that pretty skin of yours heated when I touch it. And so you’re ready to beg for it then, see, so it’s going to feel amazing when I fuck you harder to make you come just for me.”

  His dark laughter spilled against her cheek before his teeth were grazing her jawline. “Because that’s what really gets me off—watching you get off.”

  “God, yes. Do exactly that, please.”

  Beni’s chuckles burst along the seam of her lips before he kissed her, his fingers cupping her cheeks as he pulled her down to his king-size bed. They were all legs and arms, then, tangled together as his hands rushed under her shirt to explore with his palms, and she grinded herself against the erection beneath his slacks.

  All her sweet little sounds fell into his mouth. She was already so fucking responsive like this, before he’d even stripped her of her clothes, and that made his fucking mouth water. She was delicious, this woman ... from the taste of her mouth, to that salt on her skin, and as he moved lower, he swore sinful became something he could taste.

  And August knew what she wanted, head tipping up so her gaze could meet his as he hooked his hands into the front of her jeans. “Are you going to eat me, too?”

  “Fucking, yeah.”

  Her dark eyes flashed. “Don’t forget to give me a taste, too.”

  Goddamn.

  Some-fucking-how, his dick became harder just like that. Painfully so, really. He loved a woman that could give as good as she got in bed—there was nothing like finding a partner in sex that could match your energy.

  That shit was gold.

  And he found it.

  In her.

  Beni yanked the button on her pants apart, uncaring how roughly he pulled apart the zipper, before tugging the item down her thighs. He found nude cotton trimmed with lace detail covering the apex of her thighs. The fabric soft under his fingertips as he ran the digits along her hip bones. Her hot little gasp filled his ears when he bunched his fingers in the material to get a handful, ready to pull them down, too.