16. Brander
16
brANDER
The windowless space and red interior lighting rings alarm bells as soon as we step inside Ursula and Hook . We’ve been here before. It was the day after we met Alice, when we came here for girls and alcohol. For temporary distraction to divert our minds from the girl who stopped all of our worlds from spinning.
Trust her to go and do it again.
Seven women twirl around poles center stage in minimal clothing. Other podiums dot around the VIP area. These girls are even more beautiful, bodies twirling around the poles even more gracefully, in even tinier costumes that expose everything but their breasts and the in-between of their legs.
My heart stops when I see her.
“Alice.”
Our heads all whip over in unison.
I feel the other two hearts pause also.
Oh my god.
“Fuck.”
My blood thickens. Rushes to my head and confusingly, my dick.
She prances around on a podium in purple lingerie. Two tiny bows decorate the tops of each stocking, but that’s not where my eyes focus. Thin bits of material strap around her swollen breasts, barely keeping them in place. I hold my breath. One wrong move could knock the material out of place. Expose her to the whole world. The thin bits of material form an X, the middle of the letter concealing nipples that the hypnotized men in the booth below look desperate to see.
She lifts herself up onto the pole and spreads her legs. Purple lace covers her pussy, but barely. The G-string is tiny. Her ass is practically on show. Long locks of blonde hair cascade around her, and her breasts knock together every time she moves. This wins her more attention, and it’s from men seated in other booths. They have their own girls, but Alice is the woman they set their eyes on.
My legs carry me forward.
Next thing I know, I’m clawing my nails into the back of some guy’s balding scalp and breaking his nose. I feel the bone crack under my fist.
“Fucking hell, man,” goes one of his buddies, shooting up to punch me to the ground.
He fails.
After looking me up and down, the other two return their eyes to Alice.
She’s no longer on the podium.
Instead, she stands across from me as Lifesaver tugs me away from the scene, waiting for an explanation I don’t have.
“Sick fucks,” I mutter under my breath, closing my fist tighter around the iron rod before it meets another man’s nose. Diving in to cause chaos probably wasn’t one of my wisest decisions, considering I just murdered a bunch of Russians a couple blocks away, but do these bastards really think they can stare at my girl and get away with it?
“Jesus Christ, Brander.” Lifesaver pushes me out the main doors, and I find myself outside on the main street, tourists in tuxedos and short skirts maneuvering around me.
“There’s better ways to save her than?—”
“Did you see the way they were fucking staring at her?”
“I know,” Match says. “But now you’ve got baldie onto us.”
Security appears from behind the double doors.
He’s definitely in the right job. Giants weigh less than this guy.
“Did you gentlemen even pay for entry?”
“No, sir.” Lifesaver straightens his back, stepping into his nice-guy act.
I don’t think it’s gonna work.
The double doors burst open again.
Alice materializes, an arm strapped across her breasts to hold them in place.
Even Godzilla can’t resist a look at them.
“Sorry, Pedro,” she says, breath catching up with her.
She knows his fucking name?
“These guys are with me.”
Pedro furls his brow. “All three of them?”
“Yeah?”
He’s too confused to even stare at her breasts now. “Why?”
“Um…” Alice searches the sky for an answer. “They’re my agents, you see.” She flashes a convincing smile that slightly untenses baldie’s jaw. “And they can get quite overprotective.”
“You should probably find yourself some new agents, then.”
“I know.” Alice side-glances us with a be quiet glare. “I’m working on it.”
Pedro’s eyes scroll up and down her body. My eyes were too focused on her basically naked body to not see it before—all the dollar bills stashed in her G-string. The wind loosens one from the strap, and it flies into the air.
Baldie catches it, hands it back to her, and then turns to us. “I suggest you get yourselves out of here now, and don’t come back.” His eyes lower to the iron rod in my hand, the end still faintly glowing red. “You can hand me that too before someone else gets hurt.”
Is he fucking serious?
“Sorry. Can’t,” I say.
“Excuse me?”
“Why should I listen to you now? We’re outside the premises.”
“Yeah,” baldie says. “The premises I chased you out of. As security, my interests lie in public safety, so if you’re not gonna hand over that thing, you can take it up with the cops.”
Panic surfaces on Lifesaver’s face. He’s the one most in the shitter if the cops find out what we’ve done, after all.
“I don’t think carrying an iron rod is?—”
“Here.” Alice slaps—is that three hundred dollars ?—in Pedro’s palm. She reshuffles her G-string and squints her eyes up at him. “Now, are we done?”
“Go on. Get out of here.”
Alice swings her arm around Match.
Pain explodes in his face.
“Oh my god.” Concern stretches across her face as we make a dash for it. She unlinks his arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Hope so.”
“How the hell did you guys find me, anyway?”
Lifesaver and I shoot one another a look. Killing Russians and guilting the leftover into telling us Alice’s location isn’t exactly the most romantic gesture.
But it’s sure more romantic than the news Lifey received earlier. That her father went to the Bratva and got her mom killed.
I couldn’t forgive that.
Nobody could forgive that.
Although I suppose his fuckup makes what we’ve done to his daughter less wrong, because as luck would have it, Peter Perfect isn’t so perfect anymore.
Car horns beep as we run down the street, Alice hidden between us. Anger resurfaces again. Makes me wanna throw myself into their windshields so I can wrap my hands around the drivers’ filthy necks and throttle them. Next comes a wolf whistle. I snap my head around and see four men hanging out of a Porsche gawping at her ass.
Lifesaver tugs my jacket before I even have chance to dive in and strangle number two of the night.
“They’re disrespecting our girl and driving off unscathed. Bastards shouldn’t get away with shit like this. If this happened out on the street when I was eighteen, hell would have gained another devil by now, and the place would be painted red.”
“The place already is ,” hisses Lifesaver. “Look.” He steers me away from the line of people. “As satisfying as it is to draw blood from a person’s body, we’re already in enough shit as it is with baldie threatening to call the cops. We’re easy to identify. People tend to accessorize their outfits with bags, not iron rods. One thing leads to another, and then they’re at Rocking Rubies bringing all three of us in for questioning.”
He has a good point.
If we’re sentenced to life behind bars, who will protect Alice?
Peter will try, I’m sure, but he’ll be a pile of rubble on the floor if the Bratva come and kidnap Alice again.
The blaring horns continuing, I discard my jacket and wrap it around Alice’s chest. Lifesaver does the same, tying his around her waist.
“What’s that smell?” she asks, hopping onto the back of my bike.
Rotting human blood.
“It smells like three-week-old unrefrigerated fish.”
“Come on, darling,” I say, urging her to swing the other leg around. “Time is precious.”
“Where were you guys before the strip club? Working a shift in the salmon factory?”
Where the fuck is Vegas sourcing salmon from?
“No, sweetheart,” Lifesaver says. “Don’t be silly.”
“Then what?”
I rev the engine and we all take a right at the intersection.
“Guys?”
“Just leave it, princess. The important thing is that we’re all back together.”
She stops talking after that, and it’s probably because she’s figured us out. Silence stretches between us. Wind whistles and the bike engine growls, rising in pitch as I shift up a gear. We speed through the city, keeping right until a left turn out of the city directs us into the desert.
I always crave the open road after a kill.
Correction: kills.
We exit Interstate 15 and turn straight onto a single-lane road that continues for miles in front of us. A crescent moon shines faintly in the sky, and stars are peppered above us, glittering brightly. Wind builds as we pick up more speed, and the two Venom Vultures jackets tied around Alice’s body flap in the wind. Rotting human blood isn’t a pleasant smell, but like anything in life, the more times you do something, the easier it gets.
She might hate us.
But some of those bastards needed scolding.
Russian syndicate members think they own the world.
Because a lot of the time they do , in fact, own it.
I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Heard it with my own ears. Innocents of the world approach them because they believe it’s their only way to advance in the world. Sheltered parents coddle their kids right from kindergarten age. “Believe in yourself, son. You can do anything if you put your mind to it.” It’s bullshit. A waste of breath. You can’t always put your mind to it. Some people just aren’t good enough. You work overtime, twenty-four seven, and achieve nothing.
Cal was a guy I shared my sleeping bag with on the street for two weeks. He was trying to get into Harvard Law, had been for five years, but each application came back denied. He believed he was perfectly capable because his cuckoo parents reassured him with the classic “ Keep trying, you’ll get there one day” bullshit. He believed he deserved a place. Believed there was a seat in the lecture theater with his name on it. He was waiting for his movie moment, so each year when that didn’t occur, when more capable students sat in the seats instead of him, he turned to the Bratva. He was an only child, and his parents apparently were avid believers in the phrase “Work hard and your dreams will come true,” so it’s no shock that the guy developed a god complex and thought he was entitled.
The Russians said they could get him into Harvard Law, and they did. I’m not sure how many thousands were handed over—Cal, I don’t think, was sure either—but it was enough to land him homeless because he couldn’t keep up with the debt.
So yes, the Bratva do rule the world, and they do deserve slashing with a hot iron rod for existing, because it’s always the innocents that land themselves in the biggest piles of shit for being gullible and entitled.
Peter is from Summerlin, a sheltered corner of the world where residents scream if they receive so much as a paper cut. It’s not a shocker that he turned to the Bratva to achieve his dream of being mayor.
Much like Cal, he probably saw himself worthy. And even though the guy lost his wife, he should be lucky a roof still exists over his head.
That his daughter is still alive.
And that he has us to take care of her.
I just hope Alice can understand our actions, because chances are, she’ll stop listening after hearing the word “murder,” before we can even get to the “greater good” part.
Peace eases the tension in my shoulders when I catch a glimpse of my house up ahead. Three sets of Harley-Davidson headlights illuminate the orange brick exterior.
I cut off the engine, and Alice hops down. She unties the jackets from around her. Hands them back to me.
Then she screams.
I jump out of my skin. My soul leaves my fucking body.
“What’s wrong?”
Lifesaver and Match rush over.
“Blood,” she says.
There’s a smearing of it across her thigh.
“Oh my god.” She gasps, shaking hands closing over her mouth as she backtracks away from us.
“Alice.” I extend my hand to hook her back in, but she shakes her head. “Darling. Let’s go inside, and we’ll explain.”
“Who did you kill?”
“Alice,” Lifesaver presses. “You can trust us.”
“Did you kill someone?”
We can’t lie to the girl. We respect her too much.
“Brander?” Her eyes land on mine. Even in the dark, her emerald irises glisten.
“We did, and we didn’t have much choice, darling. They took you from us. We were terrified. It was the only way.”
“ Killing isn’t the only way.”
Wait until she hears what Daddy dearest has to say.
“We couldn’t risk it, sweetness,” Match says. “We had no idea where you were, and your father was terrified. We’re outlaws. You know that taking people’s lives is something we have to do from time to time, for the greater?—”
“I was safe.”
“With all due respect,” Lifesaver says, “you were swinging around a pole one strap away from being naked. That sound safe to you?”
Her eyes shoot to the ground. “They didn’t hurt me.” Her voice is tiny.
“No,” I say. “But they were fucking selling you.”
“It wasn’t all bad.” Her eyes return to mine, glistening even more. “At least I got to keep the cash.” She collects it in her hands and fans it out like a deck of cards under Lifey’s nose. “Does the club president pay you this much?”
Silence.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” she continues, “for saving your asses. Did you know Pedro used to work as a cop, once upon a time?”
Fucking Pedro. He’s been the topic of conversation too much tonight.
I relax my shoulders and hazard a step closer to her.
No backtracking. That’s a good start.
“Listen, darling. We’re all married to you now. As your husbands, it’s our duty to save you. If that involves blood, casualties, death , then so be it. Your safety is our number one priority.”
She turns to Match and her eyes soften. “What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does .”
“Lifesaver will take care of it inside,” Match says. “Come. You should shower the events of today off you, and try to get some sleep.”
“Yes,” I add. “And we also need to speak to you about something.”
Lifey’s eyes cut straight through the darkness to me. Not now , I’m sure he’s thinking.
But if not now, then when?
“What about?”
“Just…let’s go inside.”
Panic strikes her face. “Is my father okay?”
“He’s fine, sweetheart.” Lifesaver snakes a hand around her lower back. “C’mon.”
I step up to the porch, insert the key into the lock and crack open the door.
The thought of shattering the woman’s perfect illusion of Peter raises my temperature more than the summer sun, but a dose of reality is what Alice needs, not more coddling and lies.