For Logan (Chicago Syndicate Book 5)

by Soraya Naomi

  He inspects me for a moment, and as usual, I don’t falter under his scrutiny. Then he leans a tad closer, his breath fanning my cheek. I swallow, his nearness making me warm, and his lips curve up, whether in annoyance or amusement, I don’t dare to guess.

  “No. Goodnight, Rosa.”

  He keeps on calling me Rosa, challenging me, so I reply in kind as I step out of the vehicle, “Goodnight, Logan.”

  “Wade,” he corrects.

  “Goodnight, Logan,” I repeat and close the door, hearing him curse, which makes me feel victorious, but I’m not even sure why.

  It seems like we’ve started to play a game.

  CHAPTER 2

  Logan

  “Fuck!” I run a hand through my hair as I drive away, watching Rosa in my rearview mirror.

  Oftentimes, her bluntness aggravates me. No woman has ever managed to corner me and trick me into banter the way she does. Ordinarily, I’m the one who dominates a conversation and can fluently steer it into the direction I prefer, but Rosa blindsided me when she called me Logan. It’s been a long time since anyone, except my grandmother, used that name. I haven’t been Logan since I learned the hard way that life isn’t fair and only answered Rosa’s questions to make them go away. I don’t actually hate double names. Hearing the name Olivia-Jen just reminds me too much of my deceased sister, Jenny.

  My phone beeps with an incoming message, and I fish it out of my dress shirt pocket.

  Adriano: Do you have smartphones that I can control via another phone?

  I grin, knowing that I have what he wants. Heading toward a nondescript residential tower in the Loop, I park in the garage and walk to the entrance where I place my finger on the screen above the door handle to be scanned.

  It unlocks with a click and the automated voice states, “Welcome, Agent Wade.”

  I push through the door, toward the elevator, and travel up to the top floor where it opens into CIA headquarters’ technology room. Two rows of computers are lined up parallel to each other in the center of the room, encrypting data twenty-four seven. And two walls are shelved with guns, ammunition, cellphones, tablets, earpieces, and tons of gadgets, such as implantable tracking devices.

  I grab five smartphones that are equipped with Zeus software, which is not available to the public. Then I program the security settings, easily overwriting the original factory settings. On this type of mobile, data can be blocked by another untraceable account. If you want to control someone’s life without leaving an electronic trail, these phones are a perfect first step.

  As a CIA agent in charge of acquiring and distributing technological gadgets, I have unlimited access to all these devices, which has come in handy with my original mission, infiltrating the Syndicate to find out how they set up their international drug trades and sell the drugs throughout Illinois without getting caught. This group is huge with hundreds of soldiers who execute the day-to-day work of selling the actual drugs, collecting the money, and importing the purest heroin and cocaine from South America into Chicago, Illinois.

  I started to investigate and gain access to the Syndicate via the underboss’s wife, Fallon, but when they found out the type of equipment I could provide them with, I was in.

  Over the last few months, I’ve established a prosperous affiliation with the Syndicate, but I also recognized the opportunities they provided and, therefore, without the CIA’s knowledge, I defected from the CIA to become one of the Syndicate’s associates. As an associate, I make more money – money I need to take care of Nana. I know that, ultimately, the rich survive, not the noble. This life has only given me death, poverty, and loneliness, and I’ve seen so fucking much inequality that I don’t believe in justice and the agency anymore.

  But an associate isn’t an official member. Until I’m a formal member of the Syndicate and on their regular payroll, I don’t need Rosalia Calderone interfering with my carefully scheduled plans – she’s the first one to find out my real name.

  What will she do with that info?

  ***

  It’s not long before I see the girl who can’t seem to quit talking again. The next night, I’m wandering around a decked out Club 7, the most successful dance club in the Chicago Loop. It’s owned by the Syndicate’s boss, Adriano Montesi, and has an elitist underground sex club. The club is also used as a front for laundering their drug money.

  The large space with a fourteen-foot-high ceiling and a balconied second floor has been transformed into a haunted mansion for Halloween, decorated with cobwebs, pumpkins, fake blood, and rubber body parts. I cross the center of the black and white tiled dance floor, where the DJ is playing on a raised podium, as the bass pulses against my eardrums. Searching for Adriano to deliver his new phones, I scan the black staircase that leads to the second floor where his office is located, grinning at the women I catch eyeing my gladiator attire.

  When I turn my focus back to the first floor, I notice a tall woman standing with her back to me at the glass bar spanning the right wall. My eyes leisurely travel up her body, black jeans show off incredible shapely legs and accentuate a round ass I want to sink my teeth into, and she’s one of the few women who’s not wearing ridiculous high heels. Then I see long dark hair—fuck! It’s Rosa. She’s transformed into a vampire, but I recognize her movements, amazing myself with that observation. Her waist is cinched into a red lace corset, and she’s tossing back a drink. Damn if she isn’t the sexiest vampire in here.

  Before I know it, I’m drawn to her, crossing the dance floor through the fog of artificial smoke. Rosa turns around and spots me, and I laugh silently when her smile fades. Her stare lingers at my exposed torso and chest, so I rest my palm on the silver handle of the sword that’s hanging on my belt and flex my pecs. Her gaze shoots up to mine, and I smirk, lifting my brow knowingly.

  She glares at me, but I’m distracted by a slim brunette dressed in a skimpy nurse costume who gawks at my warrior attire and addresses me before I reach the bar, “Hey, Wade.”

  I know you?

  “Hey, baby,” I comment, glancing over her shoulder at Rosa, who’s evaluating me in a most disconcerting manner – as if she sees right through me.

  Her delicious red lips curve up at a slow pace. Fuck, last night, she figured out that I call them baby simply because I don’t bother to remember names.

  The woman keeps on rambling. Nonetheless, my attention is fixated on Rosa. She’s being offered a drink by Batman. Relieved that she’s too distracted to interfere, I listen to the nurse. Although I can’t help but notice how Rosa’s companion is already buying her a second shot and seems to be concentrating on her cleavage constantly.

  I’m not pretending to be any better, but I don’t need an intoxicated woman in my bed. Once we’ve fucked, I want them to leave. Period. No cuddling, no talking, just hard fucking. I’ve loved twice and lost love twice. After Jenny died when she was only sixteen, I tried to find some peace by joining the military; but all the injustice I’ve witnessed has shown me how fucking much love hurts.

  While Rosa’s observing me again, she smiles naughtily as the guy whispers something into her ear. She’s flirtatious, enchanting to observe.

  Batman tugs her with him, and as she passes us, she says to the nurse, “Ask him to tell you your name, baby.”

  “What?” the nurse says, puzzled.

  I sigh, aiming a scowl at Rosa.

  “Do you even remember me? What’s my name?” the nurse inquires.

  I’m absorbed in payback. When Rosa keeps walking, I curl my fingers around her biceps, forcing her to stop, and give Batman a warning look to back away. He receives the message and takes off.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I drawl to Rosa, bringing my face close to hers, making her as uncomfortable with this situation as I am.

  You started this, now I’m finishing it.

  I watch as her delicate throat moves slightly when she swallows – the only indication she’s having second thoughts about taunting me.

 
; Before I get a chance to dig myself out of this awkward position, the nurse with no name pouts and shoves us apart.

  “Hey, we were talking!” she snarls, crowding Rosa.

  She stands her ground and seems to be entertained by this girl’s tantrum. I, on the other hand, am not. There’s nothing that makes me run away from a woman faster than the usage of we. Besides, she should be mad at me, not Rosa. When she gets too close to Rosa, I calmly push the nurse and shift between them.

  “Don’t shout at Rosa. You’re causing a scene and making a fool of yourself. We are done. Now leave us alone,” I warn her in a low voice.

  Offended, she complies.

  Rosa is grinning at me, but I’m not pleased with her either. Nevertheless, she doesn’t cower under my glare and remarks wryly, “She seems like fun.”

  “He seems to only see your breasts,” I counter and nod in Batman’s direction. “Next time, maybe he can look into your eyes once instead of at your cleavage. You deserve better than that.”

  She’s taken aback by my comment for a second but then smiles wider. “Well, they were a bit on display.” Glancing down, she touches her luscious breasts to right them in her corset in an unintentionally sexy move.

  My cock twitches under my gladiator clothes. Women who don’t know that they’re sexy are the sexiest of all – and very rare. For the first time, I check out Rosa, not just seeing Cam’s sister, but a woman with an hourglass figure, curvaceous in all the right places to tempt a man, the smoothest olive skin, and a dimple in her left cheek – one that’s entirely too alluring. I also wonder how it would feel to thread my fingers through her black hair that flows down her lower back in silky waves. When her gaze moves up, her cat-tipped caramel eyes that are a sudden temptation stare questioningly back at me. Promptly looking away, I push the physical response aside.

  But she’s caught me. “Did you get a good look too?”

  And there’s the sharp retort I’ve come to expect from her. “Then don’t”—I wave my hand toward her generous bosom—“fondle yourself in front of me.” I’m still a typical, red-blooded guy.

  “I didn’t fondle myself. I was just adjusting—” She abruptly stops and purses her lips. “Never mind, let’s not discuss my breasts.” She makes a half-circle, perusing the crowd and attempting to locate a familiar face, eager to get away.

  Somehow it pleases me to have her flustered. I lean my elbow on the bar counter so that I’m close beside her and say, “I think it’s a great topic. Yours are very—”

  Her head whips to me so fast that her hair cascades over one shoulder. “Don’t even finish that.”

  Before I can continue to rile her, we’re interrupted by the boss, Adriano, and his underboss, Luca, approaching us. Rosa inches to the side, creating some distance between us.

  Luca’s green eyes inspect me suspiciously; I’m not one of his favorite people. My first contact with the Syndicate was through Luca’s wife, Fallon, who’s my friend. He wasn’t pleased when I informed them that I’m a CIA agent, although I’ve been truthful so far since I’m not initiated into this mafia yet and I need Luca to trust me.

  “What were you talking about?” Luca asks after witnessing Rosa’s edgy demeanor contrasted with my casual stance.

  “I’m glad you asked,” I answer much too eagerly, earning a scowl from Rosa.

  “Nothing,” she assures them and tries to move away.

  I hook my thumb into the back waistband of her jeans, ceasing her movement, and she clenches her jaw, careful to not look sideways at me so the two men don’t catch that I have her trapped. By chance, they’re called away before questioning our odd behavior.

  I tug her back a little and whisper against her cheek, “I won’t forget how you just ruined my game with the nurse.”

  She turns her head and bites back a laugh. “Ruined what game? You were just misleading her, trying to avoid saying her name.”

  “So you were paying attention to me?” I point out.

  Her face falls. “Do you actually believe the shit that comes out of your mouth?”

  “I do. More importantly, other women do, so stop challenging me. I won’t always play nice, Countess Dracula.” I skim my thumb up her spine, making her shiver.

  “If this is nice, then I don’t even want to know what not nice is to you.” She jerks forward, obviously upset that I made her tremble with a simple touch.

  Then don’t play games, girl.

  “And by the way, not once have you addressed me by my given name,” she scolds, causing me to grin.

  “But as you requested, I also don’t call you baby. You can’t have it all, Dracula.”

  She throws me a bland stare as another woman passes me and holds my gaze.

  “Don’t tell me that she’s another one of yours?” Rosa grumbles.

  “My what?” I play ignorant and beam at the other woman.

  “You have the attention span of a child,” Rosa continues.

  With that, my eyes cut to her.

  “I’m honestly starting to wonder how many women here you’ve slept with.” She waves her hands around dramatically.

  I snort. Slept with? None. I do not sleep with them. Yet her disgusted expression bothers me somewhat.

  “You should try monogamy once in a while,” she rebukes me, actually rebukes me.

  It has nothing to do with monogamy and everything to do with evading personal attachments. And simply because I enjoy teasing her, I lie, “I don’t believe in monogamy.”

  “What?” A deep crease forms on her forehead. “That’s sad. You share your body with just anyone and don’t ever feel anything special?”

  “Oh, it’s special.” I let the innuendo linger.

  “What is? Spilling your seed?” she throws back.

  “God, you’re so direct,” I tell her and stand up straight, astonished again at this woman’s unpredictable conduct.

  She presses her shoulder against mine and tilts her head to the side and up to mutter, “Why? Are you uncomfortable when I talk about your seed? You were very willing to talk about my breasts. Maybe now I’d like to discuss your cock.”

  “Jesus, fuck.” I rub a hand down my face. We are not having this discussion.

  How did we end up talking about my cock?

  Just like that, the tables have turned and she glances cynically at my groin. “Maybe that arrogance comes from overcompensating?”

  Christ, this woman’s found an unholy delight in tormenting me. Though her adorable tone is too attractive.

  Why the hell have I been standing here talking to Rosa for fifteen minutes?

  “That’s my cue to leave,” I comment with a grin.

  “Bye, Logan,” she whispers, reminding me of the reason why I came to talk to her in the first place.

  Well played, Rosa Calderone. I guess there’s more to Rosa and her recklessness than I initially thought.

  But now, I need some relief from dealing with her. When the party’s in full swing, I note suspiciously few guards on the balconied second floor, and then I see a man who isn’t a Syndicate guard holding a gun, scrutinizing the crowd below. This man is a Ukrainian mafia member; I know his face from when I had to rescue Rosa from the Ukrainian sex club several months ago. Ukrainians on Italian territory can’t mean good news, and since I’m one of the men who’s working on this club’s new security system, I realize this could pose a problem for me.

  Without delay, I rally up three main guards and everything moves in fast forward from then on. I discover a breach on the second floor, in Adriano’s office. He and Luca have had a confrontation with some Ukrainians, but the enemy is being overpowered without a problem. While the guards are capturing all the Ukrainians inside the club and managing to avoid disrupting the party, I’m in Adriano’s office with Luca, Fallon, James, Cam, and more soldiers.

  Adriano settles a hard-edged glare he’s honed to perfection on us. “This is our first major party, and we get breached. This is unacceptable! Looks like I have to beef up
the security detail, yet again. I thought I had a faultless system. I did pay a fortune for it, Wade.”

  “You do have the best system. That wasn’t at fault here,” I defend resolutely.

  Luca calmly leans back against Adriano’s desk, stashing his gun in the back of his pants as Adriano starts to issue orders to those who are Syndicate members, but I stand back since I’m not one.

  Club 7’s sex club is more successful than the Ukrainian sex club, and I believe the Ukrainians are trying to eliminate their competition. Yet this mission makes no sense since they came in and were overpowered so easily. The question is, what was their goal?

  My phone chimes in with the confirmation message that the entire club is contained.

  As I’m about to inform everyone, Luca’s apparently wondering the same thing as I am since he says, “Why would they go on this suicide mission? We’re missing something vital.”

  Cam asks, “Where are Rosalia and the guard that was downstairs with us?”

  “Rosalia?” James questions. “Isn’t she already gone?”

  “No,” Cam replies.

  James calls his daughter. “No answer.” And Alessa next. “Is Rosalia with you?” He shakes his head.

  I’m on alert instantly for some reason.

  “Check the camera feeds to see if she’s anywhere in the building,” Adriano advises James, who goes into the security room.

  After several minutes, James comes storming back into the office and snarls, “Rosalia’s missing.”

  “Something else is at play here,” I conclude, looking at Adriano and Luca who nod in agreement.

  It looks like the war between these two organizations is about to erupt. If that’s the case, then I can be of help as an agent who can provide an arsenal of gadgets and weapons.

  This is my chance to make myself indispensable to the Syndicate.

  CHAPTER 3

  Rosalia

  I wake up with a jolt, shivering from the cold that crawls over my bare shoulders since I’m still in my corset. My arms and feet are tied to the wooden chair I’m sitting in, and my head feels heavy as I open my eyes.