The Rossi Brothers

by J. L. Beck

  “Are you going to fucking live or do I need to tell my guys to dig a grave outback?” I consider the fact that maybe scaring her more is not such a good idea…but hell, that’s what I do best. Scare people…and kill them. You get one or the other.

  “I want to go home, but most of all, I want to know what happened to my brother.”

  I think those are the most words she’s said to me all day. Maybe that fall rattled some courage loose inside her head, but I can’t have her going around asking questions.

  “You will listen to me, Kiera, or you will die. This world isn’t the same as yours. You’re walking into a fucking nightmare. One wrong move will get you killed. Do you understand me?”

  Tears roll down her creamy white cheeks. First one…then two…and for some reason, they gut me.

  They rip me apart from the inside out.

  “Tell me what happened to him?”

  “First rule, don’t ask questions. That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about. Questions like that will get you killed. Keep your mouth shut and do what I say, otherwise I’ll find another job for your lips, and you don’t really look like the sucking cock type.”

  Three knocks sound against the door, and I know who it is. When I see Hero enter the room, I sigh.

  “Change your mind about the girl I offered?”

  “No, I came to ask you for a ride home,” he announces, clearly drunk off his ass from the way he falls into the chair at the front of my desk. I consider what he told me earlier, about Elyse, and how he loved her. The thought seems foreign to me.

  Love doesn’t exist in my world. It can’t. It’s a weakness that cannot be afforded. Because when you love someone, they become your Achilles heel. And your enemies...they’ll use them against you any day.

  “You think going home to your girl like this is a good idea?”

  “No, but any other idea is shit too. Doesn’t matter when I go home, my ass is still going to be chewed.” I almost laugh. Trouble in paradise already.

  “How about you crash at my place tonight? I’ve got something at home that will calm you down a bit without making you puke your guts out in the morning.” I’ve been looking forward to smoking some weed all day, and Hero looks like he might need some as bad as I do.

  “Sure, let’s go then. I don’t know how much longer my legs will work.” They better work until he makes it to my couch ‘cause I’m not going to carry his ass.

  “Let’s go, Kiera. Grab your shit, you’re coming with me.”

  She hesitates for a moment, weighing her options. Her eyes flicker to the door like she’s going to make another run for it. Instead, she grabs her backpack and gets up, her legs still unsteady. She better not faint again. Although, if she did, I would carry her.

  I walk out the door ahead, both of them following me like lost sheep.

  “How drunk am I?” Hero asks as we get in my car.

  I wish he would shut up enjoy the damn ride.

  “Pretty fucking drunk,” I grit through my teeth. Looking into the rearview mirror, I see Kiera sitting in the back. She looks as if I’m driving her to her execution. What the fuck am I going to do with this girl at my house?

  “Okay, good. Because I could’ve sworn there was a chick in the backseat of your car.”

  I almost smile at Hero’s comment. Almost.

  “Go to the guest room and lock the door behind you,” I order Kiera, pointing her in the right direction. She scurries away, disappearing into the hallway like she can’t get away fast enough.

  Hero follows me into the living room and throws himself down onto the leather couch. I reach into a secret compartment in the end table and pull out a small metal case. Flipping it open, I take out one of the pre-rolled joints and put it between my lips.

  Sitting next to Hero, I pull out a lighter from my other pocket and light the end of the joint. I suck in the sweet, calming smoke, filling my lungs as full as I can, just to puff it right back out. It takes about three drags before my body and mind relax, and I hand the joint over to Hero.

  “So, you really are in love with that girl.” I can’t believe I’m even asking this question. Must be the weed. I hope Hero is fucked up enough to forget we ever had this touchy-feely conversation.

  “So fucking much it hurts. I keep fucking up, but I can’t help it. She pushes all my buttons, good and bad. It’s driving me insane.”

  I nod at his explanation. I know all about someone pushing my buttons. She’s sitting in the bedroom down the hall.

  Halfway through the joint, Hero passes out, and I have to finish this bad boy myself. Oh well…

  As soon as I reach a nice buzz and stop thinking about everything that annoyed me today, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

  Of course, I start to chill out and everything goes to shit.

  “What?” I answer without checking the screen.

  Toni’s voice comes through the line. “Hey, boss, sorry for calling so late, but I figured you might want to know about this right away.” I have a feeling I most definitely do not want to hear anything he is about to tell me.

  When I don’t say anything, he continues. “The cleanup crew got back to me. They found some stuff on scene. It looks like Leo was working for Xander before they offered him. The way they killed him definitely proves it was his crew.”

  Fuck my life.

  “Also, there was a note on the fridge. I’m sending you a picture of it now.”

  “Okay. I’ll deal with this in the morning.” I hang up the phone and look at the screen, waiting for the picture to come through. A few seconds later, it does. The words We’ll be back for you are written in familiar handwriting on a sticky note. Suddenly, everything has taken a horrible turn.

  Out of all the people in the world, did it have to be my stupid ass brother who was after Keira? Now, I do feel bad for her.

  I lean forward and hold my head in my hands. Hero’s soft snores fill my ears. If my brother gets his hands on her…I don't even want to think about it.

  He’d break her. Destroy her. She might be scared of me, but she's never met Xander, and he's way fucking worse.

  I’ve always hated Xander, even when we were kids. Probably because our father made us hate each other. I might be a dick, but Xander puts me to shame one-hundred percent. He's a psychopath without a caring bone in his body. Remembering my childhood and my crazy ass brother is not what I need to be doing right now. I can deal with all this shit tomorrow.

  Pushing up from the couch, I walk over to the liquor cabinet and rummage through it. Vodka or Whiskey? I contemplate the choice like it's the only thing I should be concerned with right now.

  My fingers wrap around the neck of the whiskey bottle, then I twist the cap off and pour myself a full glass. I can’t even swirl the amber liquid around like I usually do because I’ve filled the fucking thing right to the rim.

  Bringing the glass to my nose, I inhale. Smoke and wood fill my nostrils, along with an undertone of vanilla. I bring the glass to my lips and down half of it in one swallow, enjoying how it coats my throat with flames of fire, then settles deep into my stomach, warming my body all over.

  I top off the crystal cup and take another large gulp, then another. Wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand, I wonder what kind of shit Leo was doing for my brother. My thoughts once again turn to Keira.

  She is probably wondering why her brother would send her to an asshole like me. What she doesn't know is I’m way less of an asshole than the fucker who’s after her. And her brother—well, he was right to send her my way simply because I’m the only one who can protect her from my brother.

  I down the rest of the alcohol and make my way to my bedroom. The hallway is completely dark except a faint light escaping from beneath the guest bedroom door. I almost walk past it, but some invisible force makes me stop.

  My mind starts to wander…

  What’s she doing right now? Is she sleeping? Is she naked? My cock hardens inside my pants. I lick my l
ips, thinking of all the different things I want to do to her.

  Uh…fuck yes. She is probably naked in the bed.

  Maybe I can sneak in and take a peek.

  I know what I’m doing is wrong. I know it, but I don’t give a fuck. I never said I was a gentleman...or a good man, for that matter.

  It isn’t until the doorknob turns in my hand and the door opens that I remember I told her to lock it.

  I clench my jaw in anger.

  Does this girl listen to a word I say?

  I push the door open all the way and find her sitting on the bed, fully dressed.

  Bummer.

  I avert my eyes, refusing to look at her. She’s beautiful, too beautiful, and I don’t want to see her terrified gaze.

  “You know, for someone who acts so fucking scared all the time, you really should improve your listening skills. You might make it out of this situation alive if you listen to me.”

  I walk up to the bed, and she scoots back to sit at the headboard, her legs drawn up to her chest making her appear even smaller than she is. The only thing she’s taken off so far are her shoes. And like the sick bastard I am, I wonder what I’d have to do to make her lose some of her clothes. My dick grows harder thinking about the creamy bare skin hiding under all that fabric. I’d bet money she is soft all over…really fucking soft.

  “You’re going to do something for me, and you’re going to do it because I told you.”

  Her eyes flash with fear. “And what is that?”

  “Suck my cock.”

  Hugging her legs tighter, she whispers, “No.”

  I take a surprised step back. “No? You think I’m going to let you stay here…at my house…keep you protected…for free? It don’t work that way, baby.”

  “I-I can leave.” Her voice is soft and fragile—like everything else about her. I want to grab her by the shoulders, shake her, and yell. I want to tell her to swallow her fears and stop being so fucking weak.

  “No, you can’t, and you won’t. The person who is after you, he’s a real fucking prick. If he gets his hands on you, he is not going to be as nice as I have been.” I keep my voice even and continue. “He is going to shove his dick down your throat and choke you with it before he beats the ever-loving fuck out of you. He won’t offer you a place to live, or protection, and he definitely won’t let you say no to him—not that it would matter if you said no. A hole is a hole.”

  I pause briefly, gauging Kiera’s heart-shaped face. She looks worried, her tiny little body trembling against the headboard, leaving me with the visual of a million and one other ways I could make her tremble.

  “So, if you want my protection, if you want me to shield you from him, you’re going to get your sweet little ass over here and suck me off. After that, you’re going to be a good little girl and listen to me, because I am so very fucking close to losing my patience with you.”

  I say the words, but I’m not sure I mean them. I can’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. I can scare her. I can trick her, but there is no way in hell I’m taking something from Keira she doesn’t want to offer.

  5

  Keira

  Damon is stands in front of the bed, swaying on his feet. He unbuckles his pants, and all I can think of is the woman's words from earlier today. “Damon won’t force you into something you don’t want.”

  Either she has no idea who she is working for, or I haven't made myself clear. Gathering up every ounce of courage I can, I lift my chin and repeat the word a little firmer this time. “No.”

  Damon’s eyes darken, going real wide, and from the way he is looking at me, I know he wants to say something. There’s a response on the tip of his tongue, and I’m not sure I want to know what it is. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything, and lets his hands fall to his sides.

  “Suit yourself,” he slurs before turning on his heels, storming out the room full of fury. He slams the door shut so hard, the lampshade on the bedside table shakes.

  I listen to his footsteps as they disappear down the hall, then the sound of yet another door slamming somewhere off in the distance vibrates through me.

  When he’s completely out of ear shot, I let go of the pain and sadness. Every tear I held back today comes out all at once. Crying my eyes out, I curl up into the fetal position on the bed.

  Sob after sob rattles my body, my chest heaving with unsteady breaths. My head starts to throb. It hurts so much, I feel as if I might puke. I remain this way for a long time, my heart shattering over and over again. I cry for the loss of my brother and the life I’ll never have.

  After what seems like forever, I finally cry myself into a restless sleep, hoping to escape this day, and that maybe when I wake up, this will all have been nothing more than a nightmare.

  My eyes fly open, and I gasp for air, desperately trying to fill my lungs. My heart beats so fast, it’s about to come out of my chest. I wipe the sweat off my forehead, trying to calm myself, forcing the images of masked men killing my brother and me out of my head. I scurry across the unfamiliar mattress. It takes me a minute to get my bearings, but eventually, I rest at the edge, my head in my hands.

  I am no stranger to night terrors, but this was so real, so intense. I can’t go on much longer like this. This can’t become my life. Being scared every second of the day, only to close my eyes at night and deal with my nightmares when I should be able to escape this world at least for a short time. I can’t live like this.

  Damon might not force himself on me, but he also won’t protect me unless I give him what he wants.

  I swing my legs off the bed and creep out into the hallway. It’s dark, dark as midnight. My hands feel along the wall until I find a light switch. My eyes squeeze shut from the brightness that fills the space. My gaze swings up and down the hall. There are four doors, two to the right and two to the left, and out of all of them, there’s only one that’s closed.

  I feel anxious even walking across the hall toward it. It must be Damon’s, though I suppose it could be that other man’s?

  Holding my breath, I twist the knob, opening the door as quietly as I can. I sneak into the room with treacherous tears upon my cheeks. Crying is a weakness to Damon, I know this, but I can't stop the emotional roller coaster I'm on. I sniffle into my arm and wipe away the tears. Then I glance up and take in every single inch of Damon Rossi.

  He’s breathtakingly beautiful—in a dark and tormented way. His nearly black hair is disheveled. His body is relaxed—and damn does he have a body. It looks like it's been chiseled from stone—each muscle and crevice drawing me in. His eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.

  As I tiptoe toward his bed, I consider turning around and running back the way I came. The fear of what may happen to me without his protection keeps me rooted. I have to talk to him…and try to reason with him. It's the only way I'm going to make it out of this alive. I exhale, letting all the anxiousness out. My eyes drift over Damon's sleeping body one last time, but once I reach his face, I realize he isn't sleeping anymore.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” His voice is gruff, and full of sleep.

  “I’ll do whatever you want.” My voice comes out cracked and raw sounding. “I’ll give you a blowjob or whatever you want, but I want something in return. I want you to promise you’ll protect me.”

  Damon's eyes bore into mine. They’re darker than normal in the dim lighting. I shiver—out of fear or cold, I don't know.

  Time stands still between us. Damon doesn't say anything right away. He only looks at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m really standing at his bedside or not.

  I chew on my bottom lip. I’m not really sure what to do now. Is he waiting for me to make the first move?

  My nerves are on edge. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m just over eighteen, and my brother made sure no one ever had a chance to date or kiss me. I’m trying to recall images from a porn I once watched out of curiosity.

>   I climb onto the bed, grabbing the top of the black comforter. I start pulling the heavy blanket off him, but he snatches my wrist.

  “No...no blowjob. I don’t want to force you to do something.”

  For a moment, I panic. No? Does that mean he’s retracted his offer? Is he not going to protect me anymore? If he doesn't want this, then what does he want? I’m seconds away from begging him for his help, from offering him anything I can think of.

  Even my virginity… The very last thing I own.

  He doesn’t give me a chance to plead or beg for his protection. Instead, he does something that seems very unlike the Damon I’ve come to know. Releasing my wrists from his steel-grip, he pulls me on top of him. I can feel his hot breath against my lips, and I wonder if he’s going to kiss me.

  And then he does.

  His full lips sear mine.

  I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Fear trickles up my spine.

  I’m kissing Damon. I’m kissing him. Or maybe he’s kissing me.

  I go stiff against him. My first thought is to push him away, but then I feel his soft, warm lips deepen against mine. He’s a good kisser and my body starts to become affected by that kiss, burning me up from the inside out.

  An emotion so deep, something I’ve never experienced before, throbs to the surface, spiraling out of control inside me. My body softens into his hold while my lips mold to his. My lips were made to kiss his. He tastes like bourbon, and there's a faint smokiness clinging to his skin. It’s an exotic combination, but I don’t mind. All those things heighten our kiss. My fingers splayed across his bare, chiseled chest, as if holding onto him could stop my body from melting into a pile of mush.

  I feel him pull away slowly, his lips feather light against mine until he's completely gone. And like a flower misses the sun's warmth at night, I miss Damon's lips against mine. His warmth seeps into me, showing me a side of him I’d been certain didn't exist. My brown eyes bleed into his sleepy, coffee-colored ones. His gaze never wavers from mine, and I watch as something swims in his eyes—an unreadable emotion. Deep down, I know I’ll be okay. I don't know how I know this or why, but I can feel it in Demon's gaze—like a protective blanket coating my body.