Identity

by Brandy Slaven

  We’re all sweaty, sticky, smelling like the pool, and definitely in need of a shower, but I’m not going anywhere until Atlas has gotten his, too.

  Abraham drops to the right on Alek’s bed, and I bring myself upright to grab a discarded shirt on the footboard. I hand it to Alek to clean off his chest. Once he’s clean, he reaches between my legs to do the same for me before letting it drop to the floor. He claims the other side of the bed, leaving me enough space between them. I’ll get there, but first…

  Dropping to my back at the foot of the bed, I prop up on one elbow and beckon to Atlas with a finger. There’s no hesitation. He ditches his clothes so that by the time he’s crawling on top of me, we’re skin to skin.

  Both of us are adrenaline junkies, so to know we’re being watched by not just one person, but two, I know he feels the same heart pounding excitement racing through my veins. No stranger to Atlas and his eccentricities, I know I’ll have to take the reins. When he’s close enough, I lock my lips over his, and we open at the same time to give each other access.

  I’m still riding the high from my other orgasm, and he’s already hard as a rock from the voyeurism. It’s nothing to take him in my hand and guide him between my lower lips where we both want him to be. When he comes up on his knees, I throw a leg over his opposite shoulder. Staying on my elbow, it turns my body to the side slightly, giving the other two a perfect view of where Atlas is inside of me.

  Abraham grabs a cigar off his side table where he must’ve put it when he first came in. It’s probably what took him so long getting here. He had to stop by his room for it first. One of my many turn ons is watching that man smoke a damn cigar. How he makes it so sexy, I’ll never know. The brand he buys, too, doesn’t have an overwhelming smoky scent. It’s probably the only reason he’s getting away with smoking it here in Alek’s room.

  Atlas stills as he watches my eyes on Abraham as he lights it. Slowly pulling out, he slams back in hard enough to jostle the other two on the bed. My groan fills the room with another strike of Abraham’s matches. The scent surrounds the four of us as Atlas takes control of our pleasure. He’s slow and easy then changes it up to hard and fast. Alek and Abraham may be there in front of me, but they might as well not be since Atlas is making damn certain he’s got my full attention.

  It’s the sound that vibrates his chest and the feel of his cock jerking inside of me that triggers my own release. I try to grab any part of him within reach and settle for the hand still grasping my thigh. As our bodies begin to relax, Atlas drops my leg and brings his body down on top of mine to claim my lips. I run my fingers through his soft blond hair. I love the way it feels and can’t believe how much I’ve missed it.

  The hemp necklace around his neck drags across my skin as he moves from my lips down to my neck and back up again. It hits me with a strange sense of déjà vu.

  “I had a dream like this,” I tell him softly.

  “Yeah?” he asks. “Is it better in real life?”

  “Absolutely,” I reply instantly.

  “What about us?” Abraham asks with an exhale of smoke. “Were we there?”

  Making mine and Atlas’s bodies brush in glorious ways, I laugh before answering, “You each had your own dreams. We were never together like this.”

  Alek speaks up, “Any regrets now?”

  My smirk should say a thousand words and be enough of an answer, but I tell him anyway, “Not a chance. There are still more positions we can try.”

  I wake up in what could be hours or maybe even days later. I can’t be sure because I’m profoundly exhausted. The four of us spent hours loving each other in more ways than one before I finally called it quits and fell asleep between Alek and Abraham. I wasn’t sure if Atlas would stay or not, but he had talked about leaving after saying he had to take care of some stuff before he went to bed.

  It’s still dark outside the window, so I’m guessing it’s only been an hour or two since I fell asleep. My tired brain wonders for half a second what woke me, but the thought doesn’t stick around long enough for me to really grasp it.

  Just as I get ready to shut my eyes, a shadow moves at the foot of the bed. Jerking upright, I see two other figures move. It could just be the others, but the chill that racks my body says otherwise. Risking looking like a fool if I’m wrong, I let out a scream loud enough to wake Alek and Abraham on either side of me, who both jump into action with a bolt off the bed.

  I don’t get to see anything as something clamps down on my ankle and jerks me to the bottom of the bed. Another scream rips from my throat and kick out with my other foot. It connects with what feels like an arm, and its owner curses, confirming whoever’s in here isn’t supposed to be. Kicking out again, I get him in the chest hard enough that his grip on me slips, and I’m able to crawl back up towards the top of the bed.

  I’m not even halfway there before hands lock around both ankles this time and jerk so hard that I tumble straight to the floor. My head bounces once as the breath gets knocked from my lungs. Dull thuds and scuffles fill the room, letting me know the guys are fighting back.

  As soon as I can take a breath without wheezing, I flip over to my back and kick out again, aiming for the balls this time. It feels like it gets the thigh instead. Nevertheless, it earns me a grunt of pain. Hoping I have enough time to make it to the door and call for help, I jump to my feet. My mad dash is cut supremely short when a fist wraps in as much of my hair as it possibly can, and I'm jerked backwards into a body.

  “All of this work for a little thing like you,” a voice snarls in my ear. His accent is slight, but it’s present enough to have me quivering in my proverbial boots. I’d know an Italian accent anywhere.

  I’m ready to fight tooth and nail and do whatever it takes to get us out of here. Then someone flips on the switch by the door, flooding the room with light. Both Alek and Abraham are bloody faced and kneeling on the floor. The latter seems to barely be able to keep himself upright while the other refuses to break eye contact with me. The apology there about does me in.

  “Come on,” Alek’s guy grumbles while jerking him to his feet.

  “Holy moly, let them put on some clothes first,” Abraham’s guy barks before glancing over to me and adding, “You can keep her like that, but I don’t want to see this dude’s dick swinging as we go down the stairs. I doubt the boss will appreciate it either.”

  Alek’s guy slaps him in the back of the head. “You heard what he said. Get some clothes on, sister fucker.”

  The mouthy one who wouldn’t stand a chance in a real fight with Alek stands over six-foot-tall and looks like a dumb mafia lackey version of Shrek. One eye is already discolored and soon to be swollen. Standing guard over Abraham is a man with broad shoulders, a bald head, and harsh eyes. Recognition freezes the blood in my body. He’s not only the Barbanio’s right hand man, but he’s their main hitman.

  We are so fucked.

  The meathead behind me grabs a shirt off the floor before he ushers me out into the hallway. I’d much rather stay in that room to make sure they aren’t going to do anything to Alek and Abraham, but I’m not given much of a choice. Meathead’s grip is so tight on my upper arm it feels like he’s cutting off the circulation down to my fingers. He uses it to force me down the stairs in front of him.

  “I was going to give you this shirt, but we’ll just see what the boss thinks of how we found you,” he says.

  Clenching my teeth, I do my best to ignore him. Not only could he shove me down the stairs where we stand and claim it was an accident, but it’ll do nothing except spur him on if he sees he’s getting to me. At my silence, his grip tightens painfully, and he hurries us the rest of the way down. Moving us toward the living room, I’ve barely stepped over the threshold before meathead lets go, shoving me the rest of the way into the room.

  All eyes turn to us, and I try my best to cover myself with my hands.

  Alejandro, tied and gagged beside Anderson in two of the dining room chairs, f
ights the bindings at the sight of my nakedness, but it only gets him as far as what appears to be another punch to the face. At least they’re both still alive. Atlas is facedown on the rug, bleeding from a hole in his back. My heart starts the slow process of shattering into a thousand pieces when I notice his shallow breathing. Aric is propped on the couch, a massive, disgusting head wound visible, but he’s conscious and still alive, so there’s that.

  “Man, this family is some sick fucks,” Meathead tells the one asshole I’d not piss on if he were on fire.

  Barbanio’s son, Little Tony, shakes his head as my captor continues, “Found her in bed with two of her brothers.”

  Little Tony corrects him, “They aren’t her real brothers, dipshit. They’re all adopted.”

  “Don’t matter, boss,” he argues. “Still counts as brother and sister in my book. There’s a special place in hell for this little filly once we get through with her.”

  “Whatever, Andrea. Just let her put on that shirt and tie her to the other chair,” Little Tony demands.

  I snatch it away from him as he hands it out and walk myself to the chair. If he never touches me again with those sweat coated meaty hands, it’ll still be too soon. Plopping my ass down in the chair, I try to ignore the way Alek’s scent wafts up from the shirt. We’re all going to die soon. There’s no doubt in my mind about that, but I refuse to let them break me before we do.

  No emotions cross my face as Meathead, also known as Andrea, apparently, grabs a piece of rope and ties my hands behind my back. He doesn’t leave himself enough to do my feet, but it’s not like it matters. I won’t be walking out. Even if they did let me go, I wouldn’t leave. They’ve got my family.

  Meathead may not be able to tie my legs, but that doesn’t stop him from crouching down in front of me and harshly whispering, “Maybe after the boss is done with you, I’ll get a little piece for myself.”

  “I thought I was sick and headed to hell,” I taunt him, unable to help myself. “Which is it? Am I too disgusting and sinful to deserve heaven, or am I worthy of a man like you between my legs?”

  I lean as close to his face as my restraints allow, but I don’t keep my voice down. “Or are you just as sick and twisted as I am and need someone like me to help you get your rocks off?”

  A snarl covers his face right before he jerks upright. Quick as a snake, he backhands me right across the cheek. The strength behind it is enough to make the chair rock back on its hind legs, but the pain doesn’t come for another couple seconds. When it does, however, I can only imagine it feels like being hit in the face with a brick.

  There’s a commotion to my right, and I hear a thud of something hitting the floor. Glancing over, I find Anderson on his side with Meathead now standing over him.

  “Want to have a go, little Trenton? I can see the fury in your eyes for slapping your sister. You fucking her too, then?” he shouts before rearing back and gut kicking Anderson.

  “Andrea, you better rein that crazy shit in before the boss gets here,” Little Tony warns him.

  Meathead shrugs with his reply. “No worries, cuz. Boss man hates this filth as much as I do. He won’t mind me roughing them up a bit. I won’t be doing any killing. Saving that for him.”

  Little Tony snaps his fingers like someone would at a dog, and Meathead responds to it the same way. He tilts Anderson’s chair back upright and doesn’t hit him again, though he does ball his fist like he wants to.

  Doing a once over of Anderson’s body, checking to make sure he’s okay, I notice he and Alejandro are both in their nicer clothes with some of the buttons undone. It’s almost like they were caught in that moment at the end of a business meeting where everything is relaxed. Aric, on the other hand, looks like he was getting dressed for bed when they caught him.

  When my eyes flick down to Atlas, I have to stop the tears that want to come out. His blue jeans and t-shirt give nothing away as to where he was or what he was doing. I hate seeing the shallowness to his breathing. If he doesn’t get help soon, he’s going to die right there in the middle of Trenton’s expensive Persian rug. The same one we were threatened with our lives to not spill anything on.

  Racket from the doorway pulls all of our attention there. The two lackeys from upstairs waltz in like they own the place, towing Alek and Abraham with them. Abraham falls to his knees as soon as they stop walking like it was all he could do to make it down here. There’s a huge gash across his face, and his arm hangs at an awkward angle at the shoulder.

  Alek, on the other hand, has to be forced to kneel. Shrek drops him with a swift kick to the back of his knees. If looks could kill, that man would be burning alive right now.

  The atmosphere is tense now that we’re all here together, expectant even. It’s obvious the man I thought was in charge, Little Tony, isn’t. Which leaves me to wonder who took over after I murdered his father. This whole thing is more than business. It’s personal. Otherwise, they’d have just murdered us in our beds while we slept.

  It only takes about ten minutes to get the answers to all questions. The front door squeaks on its hinges easily heard in the quiet of the room we’re in. Two more Barbanio lackies file in just before I hear a voice that haunts every nightmare I’ve had for years and almost makes me piss myself.

  Meathead grabs another chair and places it facing me. Then, in strolls the man responsible for all the hurt put on us tonight. The same one I thought I’d rid the world of years ago. His face is so wrinkled he could compete for oldest man alive and win. It’s as though the skin just refuses to cling to his bones anymore and gave up in its fight against gravity.

  He takes the empty seat and rests his hands on top of his cane that I’m all too familiar with. It was used many times to beat the fear and insubordination out of me that night. His suit is pristine with the jacket thrown across his shoulders, and I’d bet by the time he leaves here, it’ll look exactly the same. Never one to get his own hands dirty and all that jazz.

  “Why, I must say, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, Arsuilla,” he says. His voice is grittier than I remember. The ear to ear scar beneath his chin may have something to do with that.

  He must see my eyes move down to it because he adds, “Yes. Quite the impressive scar to add to my collection, hmm? I knew you’d be surprised. It’s why I kept your betrayal a secret for so long, you see. Couldn’t have the family thinking a mere girl had almost outwitted and assassinated me. Made it all the better when I heard the surprise from your brothers when you finally told them, too.”

  Shit. It was him listening all along.

  A sly smile takes over his face. “I thought I had you out there in California. We’d managed to track you down after looking for so long. Trenton led me on a wild goose chase up near the Canadian border. Seems like good ole Daddy had one last trick up his sleeve to protect his little princess. Before you die, you should know, he gave his life to buy you more time. His sacrifice is the only reason you’re still alive today. No one disrespects a Barbanio and lives.”

  I know it’s a long shot, but I have to try. “Trenton is alive. If you kill us, you’ll pay for this.”

  His laugh has more gravel to it than when he replies, “I assure you, girl. Your father is good and dead. I personally saw to that. Just as I’m going to see to you and your brothers. Considering you tried to kill me, you should clearly understand why I’m visiting you. On the contrary, your brothers caught wind of me finding you and whisked you away right out from under my nose. No one disrespects a Barbanio.”

  “Uncle, we found her in bed with those two,” Meathead tells him, pointing to Alek and Abraham.

  Shock and disgust are evident on the man’s face before it drops into a fury that’s quickly masked behind stone as he says, “I told you I could make you family. Join our two house under one union. Give you the world. Guess my offer just wasn’t the right kind of family.”

  “This kingdom,” he adds, waving a hand around to encompass the lavish room, “Trenton bu
ilt it on top of the backs of more dead bodies than you could ever imagine. He made sure to leave his children underwater. With his death, you’re all swimming in the wrong current. Unfortunately for you, I’m the shark that’s here to pick off the remains of his shipwreck.”

  His lip pulls up with a snarl. “In the next life, make sure you dig the knife deeper and confirm that I’m dead before you leave.”

  He snaps his fingers, and the guy standing over Abraham moves to stand at Barbanio’s side. No orders are spoken, but they don’t have to be. As soon as Barbanio’s spine straightens and his hands slip back over the top of his cane, the man strikes.

  A knife comes out of nowhere and glints in the light before he sinks it into my stomach. I know it’s coming and try my best to keep my composure, but the serrated edge of the blade rips skin when he pulls it back out, and I lose the fight and scream.

  Through the pain, I see the guys being forcefully restrained.

  My best friends. My most loyal protectors. My lovers.

  I hope we all find each other in the next life, and I pray their deaths are as short and painless as possible. When the knife sinks in again, those tears finally break loose and roll down my face. Alek is calling my name as Aric begs for mercy. Alejandro and Anderson plead as well but can’t be understood behind their gags.

  Knowing the end is coming soon, I can’t be angry. I got to be here with them one last time. If any of them make it out alive, maybe they’ll forgive me one day.

  Closing my eyes, I let my chin drop to my chest. I refuse to give the monsters around me any kind of last-minute respect. Fingers clench the hair at the top of my head before jerking it backward.

  “Open your eyes,” Barbanio demands.

  “Do not disrespect me!” he yells.

  The spittle from his lips hits me seconds before the cane. With my eyes still clenched shut, I can’t see how hard he swings it, but I know it’s hard enough to break the bones in my face. Luckily, his lap dog still has ahold of my hair and takes the brunt of the blow with a grunt. It still hurts almost as bad as the stab wounds do, and I can now feel my blood soaking into Alek’s shirt as it starts its descent down my legs.