Erik: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Syndicate Book 3)

by Raven Scott

  It was the damn nightmares that got me. They started a few weeks ago and got steadily worse and more frequent.

  “Well, I’ll be your friend, Natasha.” Cracking open an eye, I pursed my lips thinly when Illya held out a hand, and the makings of a grin crested her cheeks. Reaching out slowly, I took her fingers in mine, and her soft palm sent tingles and goosebumps up my arm. “I hope you like going really fast.”

  3

  Natasha

  Gripping the handle above my window, I laughed a little hysterically as Illya sped down plowed, dry, completely empty streets. The tires squealed when she barely slowed to take a turn, but she didn’t lose control of the car. Pop music blasted from the speakers, and I swayed and wiggled to the beat as it poured out of the open windows.

  She drove so fast that my nightmares were left far behind, and I sat up a little as I rolled my shoulders to the music. Puffing out my lips, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face even then, and I arched against the heated seat.

  “ ♪It ain’t about the money, money, money.♪” Raising my arm as I sang along, I swerved my head, and Illya giggled as a gust of wind blasted me in the face. The frigid breeze dried the sweat on my skin, and the heat against my back clashed as it struggled to encompass me entirely. If this car was a convertible, I’d be in Heaven, but I knew that was asking too much.

  Honestly, it was shocking Illya was allowed to drive at all. She was a maniac behind the wheel, and I really, truly understood why Theo didn’t let her drive his car.

  But Theo and Carlyle weren’t here, so . . .

  Adrenaline surged through me, and I curled my toes in my boots as Illya reached to turn down the music. The huge sign for CVS came up on us almost before I noticed it, and she burned out into the parking lot. Cackling under the screeching protect of the tires, I jostled around to the sway of the vehicle, and she came to an abrupt stop to double park between two spaces.

  “That was awesome. You’re a really good driver.” Rolling up the windows, Illya blushed at my breathless praise, and I tapped the dash as tingles numbed my fingers. “I’ll go for a drive with you any day, Illya.”

  “See, just because I like going fast doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing, okay. Tell that to Theo.” She paused to climb out of the car, and I followed suit to hop from foot to foot just to release some energy. Who knew going zero to fifty-five in a fraction of a second would feel so liberating? “I used to drag race when I was a teenager. Did you know that, Natasha? We’d go out to this mudflat and race trucks. It was so much fun.”

  “That sounds like fun.” Walking into the store, the shift from cold air to warm prickled up my spine, and everything just . . . stopped. Pausing mid-step, I stared down at the overused carpet through blown pupils, and blood drummed loudly in my ears. My chest tightened to squeeze my heart, and a ringing sounded beyond its furious beating.

  Fishing out the few crumpled bills in my pocket, I straightened and ironed them between my palms, and Valerie wandered off toward the refrigerated section without me. She was talking on and on about school, but, like, we were in the same class, so I knew all this already? Carefully counting the small bills, I ground my teeth as dread gnawed at my gut.

  “I’m gonna have to go back.” We weren’t going to make it to the first of the next month. Glancing up at Valerie’s back, my jaw ached from how hard I clenched my teeth. Our birthday was on the first, and God only knew Mom wasn’t going to remember or do anything.

  Birthdays were expensive, though. I didn’t have twenty dollars to spare, unless . . .

  “—asha . . . ” Blinking hard, I sucked in a sharp breath and hissed an exhale, and I clenched my hands into tight fists by my sides. Illya’s concerned, cautious eyes locked on mine, but all of her was a blur, and I frowned under furrowed brows. She had green hair right now— I hadn’t even noticed that until now— and I could feel her staring at me. “Natasha? Are you okay?”

  “I forgot my wallet. I’m gonna have to go back.”

  “Hey, hey, hey . . . ” Was it something I said? Illya grabbed my hand, stuttering quickly, and I tensed as her wary expression came into focus. “I’m paying, remember?”

  “Where’d you get money? Who gave it to you?” I watched myself grab Illya’s cheeks, and she went wide-eyed as her brows wiggled in uncertainty. “I told you not to take money from them. Why can’t you just listen for once? I told you never ever. They’re not nice guys. No one is nice for no reason.”

  “Natasha, it’s me, Illya.” When I blinked, she was right in front of me, and I released her face to frown ugly when she rubbed my arms. “It’s okay. Let’s go somewhere else.”

  “We’re already here.” Anxiety gnawed at my gut, but Illya didn’t ask me any questions even though I could see them play behind her eyes. Ducking my head, I side-stepped around her and walked down the makeup aisle just because it was close. This can’t be happening again.

  This was a pretty large CVS, and I walked around searching for the NyQuil, ZzzQuil, or Extra Strength Tylenol Nighttime Relief, or even a huge bottle of melatonin. Everything moved around me, and I reached to scratch my scalp when all I wanted to do was just bang my head on a really hard surface. My hands shook, my eyes achy and teary, and I wheezed rasping breaths as my boots scraped against the carpet.

  “I’m just having a bad night. It’ll be okay.” But, even to me, my own voice sounded so unconvincing that it roiled my stomach, and I sat on the floor before my knees gave out on me. Burying my hands in my matted, sweat-hardened hair, I struggled to breathe as I rocked back and forth, squeezing my eyes shut in a futile attempt to concentrate. “I’m fine. I’m okay. It’ll be fine.”

  Life was a huge shit pile where the occasional flower somehow sprouted, but even then, it eventually died from all the toxic waste around it. When things seemed to be going so well, something had to go wrong— that was the law of the universe.

  “I just have to keep going.” My voice shook with uncertainty, and I shuttered my lids tighter until blacker than black spots assaulted their backs. Just keep trudging on. Just deal with it and move on.

  “Excuse me, miss?” Glancing up from under damp lashes, I tensed as a cop in full winter gear crouched next to me. “Everything alright?”

  His deep voice wrapped around me like a snake ready to strangle its prey, and my throat tightened with dread. My mouth dried, and my tongue stuck to the roof even as I struggled a shallow breath in preparation.

  “I’m not on any drugs or drunk or anything. I’m just having a really bad night.” Sharp, light brown eyes captured mine, and I didn’t look away before he nodded cautiously. For a second, I almost thought he’d take my word on it and leave me alone, but he sat down to cross his legs instead. “What? I . . . I just need a second, and then I’ll buy something and leave.”

  “You’re sitting on a dirty floor in almost no clothes. It’s fourteen degrees outside. Do you have somewhere to go?” Wow! That question hit me square in the face, and the blood drained from my cheeks as my mind got stuck on it. Did I have a place to go? I mean, I didn’t have my own apartment anymore. I was essentially having a really extravagant couch surfing bout, and I was living off my sister’s rich-ass boyfriend.

  This was worse than living in Dallas in some ways.

  “I’m not homeless in the literal sense, I guess.” Mumbling against my knees, I tore my eyes off his to glance at his name tag poking out of his collar. “I have somewhere to go, Officer Peterson. I just don’t want to be there right now.”

  “Why not?” Wasn’t that the question of the damn day . . . or night . . . whatever. The specifics didn’t matter. Scrunching up my nose, I shook my head dumbly, and he leaned back a little before taking off his hat. He had no hair at all, and I noticed his nice, trimmed goatee had some greys as well before he spoke up again. “My name’s Erik. What’s yours?”

  “Natasha.” Reaching to rub my eyes with my fists, I heaved a massive sigh as Erik nodded with a hum of acknowledgment. “I guess the
night guy called about my episode by the door. I thought I was over all that. I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

  “I was already here. You don’t think we’d respond to a call this fast so far from downtown.” Chuffing a humorless, quiet laugh at that, I shook my head, and he glanced down either end of the aisle. “Between you and me, the graveyard workers don’t care as long as you’re not doing anything illegal to them. So, if you’re not drunk or on drugs, and you’re just having a really bad night, and you’re not doing anything illegal, Natasha.”

  “You should be a detective.” My lip quirked up, and I rubbed my cheeks with my palms before I saw Illya hanging around the end cap. “I should go apologize.”

  Twisting to catch sight of her, Erik stood up and held out his gloved hand, and I let him help me up. Even that bad joke made me feel a little better, and I rolled my jaw as he unzipped and shook off his jacket to place it gingerly on my shoulders.

  “Have a safe night.” Erik had another jacket underneath the thick, rain-proof, insulated coat, and I rolled my lips between my teeth as he turned and strolled off. The thick muscles roping his back played when he adjusted his gloves up his wrists, and Illya scurried over to me to shoot me a wild look. Holding the jacket closed to keep the warmth in, I didn’t know what to say, or if there was even anything to say. I just need to go to sleep. That’s what I need to do. Then, this rollercoaster of a night will be over.

  4

  Erik

  “I’m still not sure this was a good idea, Remmy.” Sitting in the passenger seat, I watched Natasha and her friend peel out of the parking lot, but Remmy didn’t try to go after them. Gut rot ate away at me, and I couldn’t get her troubled expression out of my head or keep it from flashing behind my eyes when I blinked. Whatever fucked up shit was going on, I was positive just from our short talk that it had nothing at all to do with Carlyle Santino or the Syndicate.

  “It’ll be fine. She’s the sister of the girl he’s dating, and they’re twins. There’s no way they don’t talk.” Okay, revise that last statement. I’m completely convinced this is a horrible idea. We weren’t going to have any information on either girl any time soon, so a few photographs were all we had to base our assumptions on. Fiddling with his receiver, Remmy frowned out of the corner of my eye. “He’s the biggest, baddest criminal on the planet, Erik. Do you know what it would mean for us if we helped bring him down?”

  “He’s supposedly the biggest, baddest criminal, Remmy. We have nothing on him at all except vague, circumstantial coincidence.” The receiver gave a faint click, and Remmy finally tore his eyes off the device to frown at me.

  “Which is why we put a bug in your jacket- to get proof.” Sourness coated my tongue, and Remmy’s frown deepened under furrowed brows when it spread across my expression. “You and I both know that bomb and Carlyle dating the sister isn’t a coincidence, Erik. We got assigned to this, so there’s no need to worry about it.”

  Before I could answer, the receiver started to crackle, and I twisted in my seat to listen rather than hear Remmy try to justify what I’d just done.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier, Illya.” The low, genuinely apologizing voice sounded so sad, and I pursed my lips thinly as recent memories flashed in my mind’s eye. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No. That’s kinda the great thing about it. I can’t really feel pain anywhere else anymore. Do you want to talk about it?” Natasha didn’t reply, and I sat back to rub my face in exasperation. This was wrong. This was not okay. This wasn’t what I became a cop to do . . . spy on a girl that was clearly going through some shit. Inhaling deeply, I held my breath for a long second before blustering a sigh and shaking my head hard.

  “If he finds that bug, she’s going to get killed, twin sister or not.” Remmy ignored my grumble, rubbing his bald head absently, and my lip curled in a faint snarl. “Rem—”

  “I don’t blame you, Natasha. That kind of thing, you can’t control it. Especially with everything that happened with your mom . . . you’re not a robot. You can’t just forget it even though that person is dead.”

  “No offense, Illya, but I really, really don’t wanna talk about my mom. It’s not about her, anyway. It’s about Valerie. It’s always been about Valerie.” The receiver recorded up to ten hours before deleting itself and recording another ten. Every conversation was saved in a file by an auto-write program. There was literally nothing else to do but listen. Technically speaking, we didn’t even have to do that because someone could just read what had been backed up, and everything was time-stamped.

  Man, technology was amazing even if the people using it weren’t.

  “I’m off shift, Remmy, and I’m ready to go the Hell home and try not to feel like shit about this. I came out here because you got the call they were moving, but it’s my one day off tomorrow. I need to catch up on my sleep.” I had a feeling Remmy was going to spiral out of control with this case, and I glanced over at him warily. He was on the verge of retirement and had never done anything incredible. Despite being a detective himself, he watched too many damn cop shows, and he passed me the receiver to turn the car on.

  “Let’s go inside. I used to come here on Saturday nights right before going home. Man, it’s been months.” Propping my elbow on the window to hold my cheek on my fist, I glanced out into the darkness and tried to stop my stomach roiling. “That cop was nice. I think it got colder.”

  “He had biceps bigger than my head.” A smattering of laughter filled the car, and I tensed as realization slammed into me— I was going to have to listen to them talk about me. “At least you feel a bit better, right? Sometimes, all it takes is a little spark of kindness. Strangers are good for that when you feel like everyone else is pushing you away.”

  “Yeah. I do feel better. This is a real nice jacket. Do you think he’ll get in trouble for giving it to me?” Tapping my temple absently, I viciously beat down the warmth in my chest at the appreciation that glowed in Natasha’s tone. Knowing it’d been a sham threatened to make me sick, and Remmy’s shitty driving didn’t help. He took a turn toward the suburbs, skirting the direct route through the city center, and I clenched my jaw loosely. “So, what do you think is gonna happen in Dallas? You saw it all on the news, right?”

  “Who gives a shit about Dallas? It’s one less gang and a bad one at that. In San Diego, there were plenty of wannabes. I just wonder why the other gangs tolerated them for so long. I mean, it’s not like Baron Ninety-Nine is, like, the Sinaloa Cartel or anything.” My brows furrowed in concentration, and I made a mental note to check more deeply into the situation. Of course, Dallas wasn’t the only city under siege right now, and the killings there were regular and not seeming to slow down any time soon.

  “I guess we got lucky.” A distinct lilt in Natasha’s voice scraped my eardrums, and my eyelids fluttered closed as I focused on breathing. “Valerie never knew. She still doesn’t know. I know it doesn’t make a difference— it’ll only make her feel bad. That’s why I think it’s getting worse, Illya— because she’s not around as much.”

  “Are you gonna tell her? Like that bomb was addressed to her because they didn’t want you anymore, she doesn’t know that?” Natasha must’ve simply shaken her head by the rustling through the receiver, and a heavy sigh flooded the car. “You protect her too much and ignore yourself. What happens when the lies start to catch up to you, huh?”

  “They’re talking about some pretty heavy shit.” Rolling my eyes at Remmy’s observation, I tightened my grip on the small, square box and cracked my lids open. Glancing over, the lights on the dash illuminated his stress wrinkles and predominantly grey hair, and he casually turned onto my street to slow to a crawl. “I wonder what it’s about.”

  “Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound like it has anything to do with Carlyle or the Syndicate. There’s no guarantee these girls even know who he is. There’s no guarantee that anything we know about him is even factual.” The dude was fucking loaded to Hell and bac
k, and there was no way any single person was squeaky clean. Just because the girlfriend got a bomb delivered to her apartment didn’t mean it had anything to do with Carlyle. Sure, she was more accessible, but they’d only been dating a few weeks when that happened.

  Then again, he was really quick to get everyone wrapped up and gone, and by the time we went back, the whole apartment had been cleaned out. There wasn’t even blast residue— it’d all been cleaned or taken away. The floors and walls had been redone. The manager of the place was paid off.

  But being obscenely wealthy didn’t mean any of that meant he was trying to hide something.

  Even if Carlyle was hiding something, that didn’t mean it was illegal, either. We were legitimately grasping at straws on a few coincidences.

  “You’ve never been on a date, right? You should ask that guy out if you see him again. No one is safer than a cop, Natasha.” The hairs on my arms and face stood up at the sudden interruption to my thoughts, and Remmy barked out a laugh. Smacking the wheel with the butt of his palm, he came to a smooth stop on the curb in front of my house.

  “No one is more dangerous, either, Illya.”

  “You take that and let me know what freaky shit they talk about you, Erik.” Scowling darkly, I almost left the two-inch by two-inch contraption in the car, but there was a lot that text couldn’t convey. Popping open the door, I stepped out, and Remmy didn’t wait for me to get on the sidewalk before peeling off into the night. Watching his headlights dim before disappearing, I rubbed my jaw and neck furiously and inhaled a frigid breath.

  “Well, even if you don’t, you have his coat now. And it’s a really, really nice coat.”

  “Jesus Christ.” I didn’t become a cop to do this, and I glanced down at the object in my hand with disgust. “I’m gonna fucking quit by the time we even have a faint chance of finding out what’s going on inside the Syndicate.”