For Luca (Chicago Syndicate Book 2)

by Naomi, Soraya

  “Who the fuck are you?!”

  “Are we still on that?” I insult as we round each other.

  I’m buying time because I’m hoping Adriano spotted us stepping into this hallway. Unexpectedly, Ashton swings at me, and I move away too slowly, so he slams me onto the ground, knocking the breath out of me. I grab his wrist to keep him from slicing the knife into the artery in my neck as he uses his overpowering strength to press the tip into my skin.

  “Luca!” Adriano’s voice rings through the corridor as his steps become louder.

  Ashton jumps up and runs into the opposite direction. Craning my neck, I see him turn the corner, and I lunge up just as Adriano finds me.

  “Where did he go?” Adriano asks.

  I point behind me, and he’s about to chase after him when another voice surprises us, and Santino rounds the corner and steps in front of us with an impassive look on his face.

  “Fat Sal would like to talk to you two.” Irritated, Santino glances at the Asian woman huddled in the corner and gestures for us to follow.

  We follow him back to where we came from and are escorted to Sal’s office one floor up. I grimace as I check the cut on my left upper arm. Thankfully, it’s not deep, and it’s not bleeding too badly. I tear off the torn bandage from my knuckles, and that’s not really bleeding either.

  I hurriedly instruct Adriano before we enter Sal’s office. “FYI, Ashton is a fighter here. You talk.”

  This will throw Fat Sal off even more as to what our rank is in the Syndicate. Last time, I did all the talking. In the Syndicate, usually the highest ranking member takes the lead in every conversation. It’s a clear sign of power and hierarchy; most men thrive on it and want as many others as possible to know how powerful they are. We, the Chicago Syndicate, don’t give a shit about any of that. And at the moment, all I care about is getting us out of here alive because I’m not sure Sal will be as lenient as last time.

  Sal twirls his phone in his hand and leans back in his leather chair, glaring at us. “Sit.” As soon as we do, Santino shuts the door and he continues, “You fucking use my own weapons in my club!”

  He looks at me, but Adriano starts to talk. “Sal, do you know why we came here looking for him?”

  Shocked, Sal’s attention moves to Adriano.

  Mission accomplished; he’s thrown off.

  His eyes turn to slits. “Enlighten me, please.”

  Adriano answers, “Ashton Banks, your fighter, captured Luca several days ago because he’s been misinformed about his brother’s death.”

  “His brother?”

  “Alex Gentry; they’re stepbrothers but apparently they were close because Ashton is looking for vengeance everywhere – in all the wrong places.”

  Sal lets the phone drop on the desk and scratches his thick finger behind his ear. “How did you know he’s one of my fighters?”

  “I didn’t, not until tonight. The first time you showed us the fight club, we spotted Ashton with a silver cross pendant. That pendant was hanging off his neck when he waterboarded Luca.”

  I inwardly smile, proud of how in tune Adriano and I always are because he provides the same answers I would.

  “Hmmm, that’s quite coincidental,” Sal remarks.

  “Our thoughts exactly. Look, we’re not looking for trouble, but we needed to find him fast because he’s a threat, and now we’ve lost him again.”

  Sal’s quiet for a long time before he speaks. “I actually like you. You two got balls. Nobody ever comes in here asking questions, let alone has the audacity to start a brawl in my fight club. I can read between the lines, and let me tell you first that it was coincidental that you saw him that time. I wanted to show you around, but something came up – that’s why I had to come back to my office. And I’m sure you two can understand that if Chicago Syndicate members visit us, we’re kind of on edge. I know your reputation.” He locks eyes with both of us. “Alex Gentry was Ashton’s lover. I didn’t know he was his brother, stepbrother, whatever.”

  Well, that makes a lot more sense as to why Ashton’s so hell bent on revenge.

  His eyes shift to his phone when an alert beeps. “Ashton already exited the club. That’s strange. All the guards were specifically ordered to look out for him.”

  I clench my fist. “Fuck!”

  In a confused tone, Adriano says, “But he isn’t gay. I saw him with a woman in the fight club.”

  “No, he’s bisexual, and he and Alex had specific tastes. They were both sadists. I’m not sure exactly what his ‘relationship’ with Alex was, but I do know they fucked a lot – with each other and everybody else here.”

  I bring my palms together, linking my fingers, and take the lead in the conversation from Adriano. “We need to find him. He’s also a liability to you now because he’ll realize that you let us go,” I presumptuously state.

  “Ah, he was a losing fighter anyway. And I’m pretty pleased with how your hacker handled deleting any trace of Camilla Guilermo’s connection to my establishment.”

  Adriano flinches with the mention of Camilla’s name.

  Sal’s obviously fishing to see if he can contact my hacker when he has issues within his organization. “Fine, you call one of us”—I point my thumb to Adriano and then to myself—“when you need Henry, and we’ll make sure our resources are available.”

  The corner of Sal’s lips tilts up. “I like the way you work: swift and to the point. Deal.”

  Oh no, I also want something from you, Fat Sal.

  “But,” I add. “I need to find Ashton. Soon. You are my best chance of capturing him quickly.”

  “Done.”

  “Have all your men looking for him.”

  “Done,” he confirms.

  “Okay, I need to leave now because, as you can see, that asshole cut me.” I rise and Santino opens the door for us. “Keep in touch, Sal.” I end the conversation on a light note.

  Adriano and I race out of there to his beamer outside.

  Once I’m inside the vehicle, I lift my shirt and softly press my fingers into my side. “Shit, this is going to hurt tomorrow.”

  Adriano grabs my arm suddenly, and I look up to see him staring, so I follow his gaze to the front entrance of the club where James is walking out.

  “Isn’t that James?” he asks unbelievingly.

  “What the fuck? Yes!”

  And our heads snap to each other and then back to James who’s moving to his car across the street.

  “What’s he doing here?” He rests his head back on the seat.

  “No idea. This is peculiar. We were reprimanded for coming here, but he goes in there alone?” What is James up to? “Let’s not confront him yet. Let’s wait and see if he mentions his visit himself, okay?” I instruct him.

  Adriano nods and pushes the key into the ignition. “You should text Doc to meet us at your penthouse for your injuries.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Fallon

  Wade stays with me the entire week after that horrific night at the police station and handles the endless questions from my parents, Teagan, and Jason. They don’t understand where my good friend, Richard Wade, suddenly came from since they never heard of him, but I couldn’t care less about that.

  After that week, he practically drags me out of bed and we watch Charmed together as he tries to lift my spirits. I don’t know what I would’ve done without Wade because I’ve come to rely heavily on him, and he even convinces me to talk to a therapist to help me cope.

  We discuss whether or not I should press charges and discard that idea quickly because in a precinct as corrupt as this one, it would only make me a bigger target. And Wade’s positive that Ashton is still a danger to me.

  During this time, I go through a myriad of emotions. Fear makes me change my locks. For a while, there’s self-blame when I go over that night in my head repeatedly and wonder how I could’ve prevented it. Then more isolation and anger follow. Anger at everyone: the perpetrator, law enforcement, soc
iety. And through all of that, I still miss Luca every day. Nothing lessens my love for him. I long to be held by the man I fell in love with at the beginning of this year, and I call him so many times to apologize but chicken out every single time and press ‘end’ before it connects.

  By Friday, a week after my attack, I’m home alone because Wade has a life too. And although he doesn’t mention it to me, I’m sure he has issues at work. I’m crying uncontrollably while watching Phoebe and her sisters vanquish Cole when the loud ring of the buzzer jars me off the couch. Wade isn’t supposed to stop by until tonight, and we agreed that in order to reduce my nervousness, he would always call me before showing up. Staring at the buzzer, I shiver when it rings again and cautiously push the button but don’t speak.

  “Fallon?” a female voice asks. “Fallon, it’s Camilla. Open up, please.”

  Unlocking my door, I race downstairs to make sure that she’s alone, and we both smile sadly when we spot one another. It’s been almost five months since we met, and the last time we saw each other was that night we tried to escape the Syndicate’s headquarters. Her auburn bob has grown out, and she looks tired but still beautiful.

  As soon as I open the front entrance, she jumps into my arms. “How are you?”

  “How did you find me?” I return her genuine embrace, and we break to give each other a once-over.

  She frowns at my disheveled state. My eyes are red and swollen from crying, not only from the show I was watching, but from random times throughout the day when memories plague me.

  “It wasn’t easy,” she replies as we head up to my apartment.

  “Sit.” I motion to the sofa and slide onto the coffee table opposite her. “I’ve thought about you often, and I didn’t have a clue how I could find you.”

  Camilla twists her hands together in unease. “They’re looking for me.”

  “Syndicate?” I counter with a gasp.

  “Yes, and I don’t know why.”

  “What happened with Adriano after you two left Luca’s room that night?” Luca never divulged anything about Camilla. “It’s surreal to have you here in my apartment.” I feel connected to this woman because she’s the only person who knows what I went through in that house, except for Luca.

  “Are you still with Luca?”

  I shake my head and get up to get some tea. “No. You want some tea?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She follows me into the kitchen and relays her story while I switch on the electric kettle and grab mugs and Lady Grey tea.

  “Adriano was furious that night, and I don’t think he really knew what to do because he was pacing and ranting, but he did stay with me. The next day, he dropped me off at my house and told me to disappear. I didn’t know if it was a threat or a warning, so I did as he advised and got the hell out of Chicago. My neighbor, who’s my friend, contacted me a week later and told me that an Italian man – Adriano – came looking for me, and he was fuming that no one could give him information. I disconnected my phone, and I have some important contacts in Chicago who are helping me stay under the radar.”

  “Where did you stay?”

  “Iowa.”

  I dip my chin in question. “How did you end up there?” Taking the steaming mugs, I lead us back to the couch and sit down Indian style.

  Camilla takes the mug and warms her hands. “A friend of mine has a secluded place there, and she said I could use it.”

  “Why did you come back to The Loop?”

  “Because about three months ago, I discovered that James Calderone has been searching for me.”

  My eyes enlarge in shock. “Oh crap.”

  “Yes, the Capo crimine, also known as the Godfather, is looking for me. I’m scared shitless, and I don’t know what he wants from me. I’m sick of hiding, so my friend found you for me. I was wondering if you also disappeared, and then I was told you’re continuing on with your life as always. I thought they were looking for me because of what we did at the house.”

  I snort because my life has changed just as much as hers. “Uhm…I’m not continuing on with my life as before. You have no idea what happened.”

  “So tell me,” she urges in a soft voice.

  I bite my lip and release a deep breath. “Where do I start? Luca brought me home a day after we tried to escape, and I ended it with him immediately because I was so confused and angry and scared also. Then my boss died, and I was framed for his death.” I still can’t believe what’s happened to my life. “Well, not exactly framed, but I was linked to the case.”

  She’s about to take a sip of her tea but places the mug on the table and stares at me in amazement.

  “Yeah, my life has changed completely too, Camilla. Our affiliation with these guys is dangerous, yet we are still drawn to them. The detective on my boss’ case has been helping me, and Luca also helped me when I was attacked by a cop who wanted to frame me last week – it’s all Syndicate related. Long story short, I did see Luca a couple of times, but our encounters never ended well. There’s too much animosity between us. Before last week, I hadn’t talked to him for almost two months. I was even arrested last week, but the entire precinct is corrupt, and thankfully, the one good guy has come to my aid.” I can’t talk about the rape to her yet; those wounds are still too fresh.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  A disturbing thought crosses my mind. “Shit, Camilla, Luca has been having me trailed for a long time. I don’t know if I’m still being watched. If I am, they’ll know you’re back in The Loop.”

  “Fuck!” She jumps up. “I need to leave then.”

  “How do we contact each other? I still want to finish our talk.”

  She gives me her phone from her purse. “Put your number in, I’ll call you.”

  While entering my contact information, I state, “Call me the first chance you get. Maybe Wade – he’s my friend – can help you, okay? No, wait! Don’t call me because I’m sure my phone records are being checked too. The Syndicate is everywhere and extremely powerful; I realize that now.” I clutch her phone while wondering how we can contact one another. “Okay, meet me in Lake Forest next week at my parents’ house.” I type in my parents’ address. “What day can you be there?”

  “Uhm… Tuesday,” she retorts with fearful eyes, and we wrap our arms around each other tightly.

  “Okay, Tuesday at noon,” I confirm before she runs out.

  I can’t believe how both our lives have been turned upside down.

  ***

  On Monday, Wade drops me off at the office of a therapist that’s situated in an upscale, old brownstone building on the east end of town. I climb the stairs to the second floor, and she welcomes me as I push open the glass doors to enter the deserted waiting room.

  She stands in the doorway of her office and motions for me to enter. “Miss Michaels, I’m Sylvia Lenter. You’re right on time,” she greets with a strong handshake and a friendly smile.

  And the first thing I notice is how her hairstyle is the same perfect pixie cut, styled sleek and soft, as my mother’s. Her office is impressive with high ceilings and a huge window overlooking the busy street, decorated in aged wood with a soft beige seating area set up as a living room.

  “Please sit.” She gestures to the sofa and the recliner, giving me a choice. “Anything to drink, Miss Michaels?”

  “Yes, a tea.” I choose the beige recliner because the upholstery looks much softer. “And please, call me Fallon.”

  Her lips curl up as she pours hot water into an elegantly tiny teacup and slides onto her chair opposite me with her notepad and pen in hand. “Let’s get to know each other.”

  After relaying my life story in ten minutes, she picks up the hint that I want to talk about the abuse when I reach that point quickly. I avoid mentioning the Syndicate and leave out those six days I was held at their headquarters.

  “Let’s discuss why you’re here.”

  “I want to feel normal again.”

  “In wha
t way do you feel abnormal?”

  “I’m afraid and on edge all the time. I tend be a loner. Without my friends pushing me to stop closing myself off, I would sit at home alone all day long.”

  “Those are all normal human reactions, Fallon. There’s nothing not normal about any of the things you just mentioned. Have you told your family and friends what you’ve been through?”

  “No. Only one friend knows.”

  She scribbles something down. “Why?”

  “I’m afraid of their reaction.”

  “Stop worrying about what others will think, about what your family will think. Don’t concern yourself with their thoughts and reactions but with your own healing process. That’s what we’re going to focus on in these sessions. I want you to know that you are not to blame at all, do you understand that?”

  I nod slowly. “I do. But it does cross my mind how I could’ve prevented it.”

  “Again, a normal reaction that will fade with time. Are you apprehensive to have sex?”

  I shrug while gazing at a children’s boutique across the street. “I don’t think so, but I haven’t been in a situation where I’ve had the opportunity to have sex after…it. I do have a….uhm…this need to feel that I’m still desirable.”

  “That’s not uncommon. It affects everyone in a different way. There’s no right or wrong here. Remember that.”

  “What bothers me most is that sense of dirtiness, of filthiness that I can’t shed.”

  Her tender eyes hold mine sympathetically. “You’re not dirty and deep down you realize that.”

  The tears that have been pooling flow over, and she hands me the softest tissues that smell like flowers, allowing me time to let it out. Sniffing and wiping my nose, I meet her eyes to convey that I’m ready to continue.

  “Can you explain in what way you feel dirty?”

  “Dirty might not be the right word… No, it is. The violation of my body makes me feel dirty.”