THEO: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Scott, Raven

  “Congratulations, Theo, you get what you wanted. You’re gonna drive me home. I hope you’re happy.” I couldn’t ride my bike like this, and, for the first time, I snarled at him with all the venom I’d been holding in. The shadows on his face darkened, and I pointed at my bike chained to the railing stiffly. “Put my bike in your car while I go get my stuff.”

  Turning on my heel, I wobbled a little as my inertia swiveled my brain, but I somehow managed to stay on my feet. The door swung open, and I shivered in relief because I probably couldn’t open it out by myself. Slipping past two, totally sloshed dudes, I shook my head viciously on my way to Roge’s office.

  11

  Theo

  I fucked up. I realized that. I accepted that responsibility. I should’ve heeded the signs and not touched the strippers. I probably should’ve just not gone to the club in the first place.

  “I’m— ”

  “Don’t. Don’t say a fucking word.” Out of the corner of my eye, Illya’s hand flexed against the center console, and I clenched my jaw hard. I didn’t think I’d grabbed her that hard. Maybe I just touched a bad spot? Blowing out a haggard breath, she held herself up off the seat, on her arms, and guilt clawed at my throat. “Just drive.”

  Illya was drenched in sweat that seeped through her leotard and shimmered on her face with each passing street lamp. The tables had turned, and I imagined that this ugly feeling in my chest was a more intense version of what she’d felt when my hand decided to try to twist off my wrist. Frowning as I gripped the wheel tightly with my good hand, I curled my right in my lap, and the silence rang shrilly in the confines of my car.

  “I can’t believe you. Why can’t you just leave me alone already? You got Sylvie.” She grumbled more to herself than me, but Illya’s complaining was overly loud in such a quiet space. A scowl fixed on my face at the mention of that bitch. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since we picked her up, but she was already going fucking crazy. “And you called me a pain.”

  “Do you want me to take you to the hospital or something?” I didn’t know what else to offer, or what to say, and Illya shook her head viciously as she sucked in a shallow breath. “I already said I wanted to make sure you got home safe, but you weren’t there, so I came here.”

  “I was an hour late, and now I had to leave early because of you, Theo.” She spat the reply like a viper, and I ground my teeth as irritation swept through me. “I don’t have the— the luxury of missing all those tips. You’re not doing me a favor.”

  “Then why are you making me drive you home if you don’t want me around?” I drove under fifteen miles per hour, barely walking pace, and she shot me the nastiest glare. Scowling darkly, my eyelid twitched in agitation, and I glanced in the rearview mirror at her bike in my back seat. “You have your bike.”

  “I can’t fucking ride it right now.” She hissed when she twisted her head too far, and guilt started to leak into my lungs. “You need to leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with Sylvie or Mateo or anything about that. I don’t care. I don’t want updates. I want to move on with my shitty life without worrying about being dragged into this shit again.”

  “Illya.” Her arms shook from her effort, and I propped the wheel with my knee to rub my face in frustration. “Mateo doesn’t know you’re Sylvie's roommate. I didn’t tell him.”

  My grumble earned me surprised silence, and I ran my fingers through my hair absently as my mind whirred furiously. How the fuck was I supposed to make this better? I was doing all I could to keep Illya out of Mateo’s sights, and it wasn’t all that difficult because he only cared about his baby, but . . .

  “Why didn’t you?” Licking my teeth as I gripped the wheel again, I slowly eased into a wide turn, and Illya’s question bounced around in my skull. Why hadn’t I? After all, I would’ve made my work easier if I’d told Mateo what I knew. Glancing at her, with her pained, pale features and the muscles straining in her neck and shoulders, I pursed my lips thinly.

  “If I told him, he’d probably nab you and hold you hostage with Sylvie. I don’t want that. Mateo’s my boss, but I wouldn’t spend time with him if he didn’t pay me a huge chunk of change.” She winced at my confession, and I reached with my mangled hand to cover her palm on the center console. Her fingers were ice cold and trembling, and I rubbed the top of her hand with my thumb. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Illya.”

  “I bet you didn’t, but it still happened.” Graveness dragged down the corners of my mouth, and she sniffed hard from the passenger seat. “Listen, okay, I really, really don’t need this right now, okay? I’m dealing with my own shit, and I’m not particularly keen on looking over my shoulder forever, so just . . . just ignore me, and I’m going to forget this ever fucking happened.”

  For what was probably a good reason, I just kept my mouth shut. I had a feeling Illya didn’t care what I said at this moment. She just wanted to get home and not be in such horrible pain. I understood that, at least. Not to mention that I kept fucking up every time I saw her, and our past encounters weren’t exactly in my favor right now.

  Illya was beautiful with her long face and slender form and nice, tight ass and her perky tits, but the more I learned about her, however begrudging, the stronger she seemed, too. She was the girl that beat the odds, and I thought that was sexier than her body. Casting her a sidelong look, I scanned her haggard face and the thick bead of sweat trickling down her jawline.

  “Do you want to stop and— ”

  “No, damnit! I want to go home!” Screeching at me, Illya slammed her fist into the dashboard, and her palm slipped out from under mine. Sitting in the seat fully, tears rolled down her cheeks in frustration and pain, and I trained my gaze on the road. “Take me home! Take me home now!”

  My face heated as she cried quietly in the passenger seat, and my knee bounced wildly from the tension gorging my muscles. I couldn’t get a read on her. Was she headstrong or a little weak-minded? Would she stab me in a fight or run away? An ugly, black blotch spread across my chest as her sniffles echoed against the windows, and I flexed my fingers against the wheel.

  The minutes ticked by into arduous infinity before I pulled up in front of her disgusting apartment building, but Illya didn’t get out of the car. She looked kind of green when I turned on the overhead light like she was in so much pain she was going to throw up. Her face was ghostly pale, her glazed eyes unfocused under heavy lids, and I waited . . . and waited . . . and waited.

  Leaving my car running, I climbed out of the driver’s side and pulled open the back door. Hoisting Illya’s bike out of my car, I left the busted lock and chain on the seat before heading for the building. My chest tightened with regret. I should’ve left her alone like she wanted.

  What was I even doing? The thought had no answer I carried her bike up the stairs to her apartment door. I couldn’t remember the last woman I’d been with. It must’ve been when I was in Italy, and that was over ten years ago. With my deployments and my hand and all my drama, I’d just . . . no one wants to deal with a disabled veteran.

  Illya was the first person in a long, long time that hadn’t stared at my hand like it belonged in a grotesque museum. Maybe that was why I was so fixated on her.

  Propping her bike against her door, I took the stairs again, and Illya was struggling to get out of the passenger seat. My heart jumped into my throat at the tortured shadows playing on her face, and I fast-walked to pick her up. Her gasp sucked the heat from my neck and face, but some of the tension in her eased as I hooked my arm under her knees.

  “Don’t scare me like that. What if you fell?” My growl didn’t provoke a response, and I scanned Illya before realization slammed into my gut. “Where’s your stupid fanny pack thing?”

  “Huh?” She slurred heavily, and a single glance at Illya’s face told me she was on the verge of passing out. Her head flopped back only to jerk up with a pained gasp breaching her lips, and she tensed in my arms. Kicking the door shut, I ignored my own q
uestion for now as I carried her into the building and up the stairs. For once, I was glad my fingers got shredded and not my leg.

  I wasn’t a dumbass. Every single important thing Illya owned could fit into that stupid fanny pack, which probably included her keys. Reaching the top of the stairs, I strode down the hallway toward her door, and I paused in front of it as my mind whirled. The first time I’d been here, I’d picked the locks, but I didn’t exactly have that option.

  “Fuck it.” Tightening my grip on Illya’s firm body, I grabbed the knob with my bad hand and shoved my shoulder into the door. Jerking the knob to jar the door up, a grunt escaped me as the door gave way with a sharp splinter from the frame. “Fuck.”

  Nothing had changed about Illya’s apartment since I’d last been here except for the fact that one of the cots was folded up on the floor. Somehow, she was still away, and I sat her down on the open cot before she lifted her hand up to push my face weakly.

  “Go away. I ne-never want to see . . . see you again.” Her slow sputtering stung, but she laid down very carefully to turn away from me. Tears and sweat soaked her hair, and streams of green dripped down her neck and stained her shirt. Standing up straight, I clenched and released my good hand by my side as I debated what to do.

  Not that any of my attempts to not fuck up have succeeded. Rubbing the back of my head and neck, I inhaled a deep, calming breath and took a step back. Gazing at her as she writhed on her cot, her neck craned hard, eyes squeezed in pain, I covered my mouth to hide my scowl. She’s got every right not to want to see me again.

  “Damn.”

  12

  Illya

  My eyelids popped open, and the fine hairs on my face bristled with the sensation of being watched. Grogginess slowed my mind, and I flung my arm over my eyes to block out the weak sunlight that streamed through where the curtains didn’t cover. Lead enveloped my muscles, and my lungs struggled to fill as I took a deep breath.

  “I told you to go away, Theo.” I was so damn tired of this guy, and I tossed my head to the side to frown. Theo sat on the other cot, shoulders hunched, like a tiger ready to pounce, and he matched my expression with furrowed brows. “Why won’t you just go away? I had to leave work because you hurt me, and you did that creepy thing when you washed my hands after we found Sylvie. Are you just not making the connection? I want you to leave me alone.”

  “We found your friend in a heroin den, and I could tell how skeeved out you were.” His gruff reply sent a spasm of irritation through my cheek, and I braced my hands on the metal support bars of the cot to gingerly sit up. Sucking in a sharp breath when my bandages rubbed my skin raw, I glanced down to find myself stilly fully clothed. Surprise bubbled up in my chest, and I pursed my lips thinly as my gaze flickered to Theo. “I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

  Scowling darkly, I opened my mouth to tell Theo to fuck off, but my words dried at the sharp glare he shot me. Clamping my mouth shut to grind my teeth, my stomach grumbled with need, and I exhaled slowly before forcing myself to nod a jerk of my chin. He stood up, and on my cot, it almost looked like his head would bash into the ceiling, he was so tall and broad.

  “Let’s go.” Throwing my legs over the side of the cot, I winced as I stood up myself, the tender skin on my chest pulling taut. Holding up my hand to stop Theo, I struggled not to run my fingers through my hair.

  “Hold on. I have to wash my hair. I’m not supposed to have the dye in for more than six hours. What time is it?” Curiosity mingled with annoyance and impatience on Theo’s face as he pulled a brand-spankin’-new phone out of his jean pocket.

  “Nine-twenty-two in the morning.” My eyes widened, and an almost amused smirk played on his hard, jagged features. “Not used to being up so early?”

  “Um . . . no.” I tore my eyes off him to grab my blanket in an attempt to fold it, but the whole top half of the cot was covered in green dye. Blinking hard, I scrunched up my face at the fact that I’d have to spend money unnecessarily. “Damn.”

  Of course, I could just wash it all and deal with the stains, but going to a laundromat was probably more expensive than getting a new blanket and pillowcase. Keen eyes followed me as I shuffled toward the corner designated as the kitchen, and I pressed my palms down on my hips to arch a little. My back popped, and a gust of a sigh escaped me before I grabbed the bathroom door handle.

  Pausing to look over my shoulder, I frowned as Theo stared at my ass with an appreciative glint in his eye.

  “Don’t try to come in the shower with me or anything creepy like that.” His narrowed gaze snapped to my face at my demand, and I hid my surprise when he only nodded silently. “Seriously.”

  “I won’t creep on you in the shower, Illya. I know I’m not making the best case for myself, here, but I wouldn’t do that . . . unless you asked me to.” Arching a brow quizzically, my frown deepened, and Theo scanned me from top to bottom above thinned lips. “I’m not a creep. I think we got off on the wrong foot here.”

  “Right.” Pushing the door open with that skeptic reply, I shut myself in the bathroom to lean against the barrier and heave a massive sigh. “What the fuck?”

  Jerking the shower curtain closed, I turned on the knob to just above lukewarm and gingerly peeled off my shirt. A fury of emotions bombarded my chest and squeezed my heart, and I scowled at the edge of the shower, rising up off the old, cracked tiles.

  If Theo wasn’t a creep, why the shit did he stick around in my apartment and watch me sleep for twelve hours? What the Hell did he consider that kind of thing if not straight-up weird? And, now, he basically strong-armed me into going to breakfast for . . . for what? To show me he wasn’t a creep? That he could do normal things that weren’t glaring and scowling and occasionally doing a shitty parking job?

  “Ow.” Torn from my thoughts when I climbed out of my jeans to unsnap my leotard, I held my breath as I rolled the fabric up my chest. “Ow-w-w shit.”

  My bandages stuck to my skin, and I pulled my bodysuit over my head to tug the taped end free. Blowing out a hot breath, my hands shook as I carefully unwrapped my torso, and I winced as swear acted like a glue against my scar.

  Could such extensive burns even be called a single scar, or was it like a conglomerate of scars?

  “Oh, my God.” Covering my mouth with my free hand, clamminess tingled against my lips, and I choked on a gasp. It seemed like forever before I’d unraveled myself, and I rolled up the bandage to toss it into the trash by the toilet. My bathroom was so small that one ninety-degree turn and I was in front of the sink, and the other way, the toilet. I didn’t have to take a single step except to get into the shower, and goosebumps blanketed my body.

  I just had to wash my hair. Such a concept was simple, but putting it into practice was much harder. My chest tightened and spasmed from the streams of cold water, not frigid but not warm, either, and I turned my back to the showerhead. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took stabilizing, forceful breaths as my heart rate jacked up, and I straightened my curled spine as I slowly but surely got used to the pain.

  “Shit.” Green ran in rivers down my body, and I grabbed my shampoo to help wash all the color out. My hands still shook, but I didn’t pay it any mind as I let the pounding on my scalp massage my haggard brain.

  I need to take my contacts out. My face was so caked in shit that I hadn’t even remembered my contacts until that moment, and I scrunched up my nose in irritation. I had developed something of a routine, and that’d been shattered to pieces by Theo. Kneading my scalp and running my fingers through my hair, I tensed and eased as raising my arms pulled the tissue on my chest.

  Theo might’ve only had two fingers and a thumb on the one hand, but I wondered if even he could handle seeing me naked. Shit, I didn’t even want to see me naked most of the time. Rinsing my hair, I cracked open my eyes to glance behind me, and a relieved sigh escaped me at the clear water dripping from my hair. The long strands were black from being so soaked, and I grabbed my face wash to stare do
wn my front.

  “What guy thinks this is attractive?” My palm hovered over my chest, and I cupped my breast, or what little of it I still had. A dense lump formed in my throat and my grip on my wash bottle tightened as disgust battered the backs of my eyes. I’d never— not ever— had sex without my shirt on and the guy absolutely fucking trashed, just blind drunk. As messed up as that policy was, I didn’t really have a choice.

  One time, when I was still pretending to the world that I wasn’t homeless and dirty, I’d taken off my shirt with my first serious boyfriend. He was faceless now, but the image of him projectile vomiting at the sight of me— that was a memory I’d never be able to scrub from my mind.

  And Theo would be no different, I knew.

  “Maybe I should do that, so he’ll finally leave me alone.” The hot pink flesh, swirling with tints of normal, pale coloring and purplish blotches in some places, twitched noticeably as my breath flowed down it. An absolutely enormous, sickly green-yellow bruise smeared across my side where Theo had grabbed me, and I dragged my fingers down it. Only the crescent indents of his fingernails really stung, and my lips thinned as I shook my head viciously.

  That wouldn’t work— Theo would just try harder. He’d see me as a broken thing that he could try to fix. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea considering my patchwork, duct tape job is failing so miserably.

  13

  Illya

  “So . . . ” Breaking the silence only when we’d turned off my block, Theo gripped the wheel with his good hand and held up his right with a sidelong glance. “I was in Afghanistan about three years ago when my convoy was attacked.”

  He hesitated, his jaw ticking noticeably as he flexed his fingers, and my eyes widened in horror. My heart nearly stopped beating at that short but powerful confession, and I covered my mouth to hide my gasp even though it echoed in the car. Theo chuffed lightly, his lips twisting in a rueful smirk, and he reached over the center console to set his mangled hand on my knee.