THEO: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Scott, Raven

  “Technically, my ring finger got shot off at the first knuckle, but a bullet went through the tire I was behind, and the rubber exploded and sliced them both clean off. I got med-evac’d to the States, and they decided that since I wasn’t useful anymore that they should discharge me. When I got out of the hospital, after agreeing to go to PT that I never went to.” Theo cast me an almost fond smile— the softest, gentlest smile yet— and my heart throbbed painfully as his fingers flexed against my jeans. “They gave me a bunch of money and forgot about me. My family acted like nothing was wrong, which was inarguably worse than being shoved out of the Marines before I was even conscious.”

  I opened my mouth only for nothing to come out, not even air, and Theo cleared his throat roughly.

  “I was four months into being a civvi when I was invited to my sister’s house. To be honest, I wanted to go, which was my first mistake. It was a family thing. She was having a gender reveal thing. Anyway, I’m there, and I don’t drink so I’m stone-cold sober when she comes up to me and asks me to do something that required both my hands.” A gasp of foreboding wrenched from my throat, and Theo grunted in acknowledgment as his expression darkened. “I obviously can’t do shit with this hand, so I told her so. She said to my face, in front of fifty-odd family members and kids, that my fingers getting blown off shouldn’t affect what I’m capable of doing, and that I should try harder.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yeah. I basically told her if that’s what she thought, I’d happily cut off her fucking fingers and see how much she likes it. My sister wasn’t too excited about that. That was the point when I decided . . . fuck it. I’m the oldest of six, and I’m being treated like that after being a Marine for eleven years? It was a huge thing. She started freaking the fuck out, and I put her hand on the table and pulled out my knife. I’m not gonna lie— I probably could’ve handled it better. The police got called. I got put in jail, and she pressed charges. At court, the old-as-dirt judge was a Vietnam vet and sided with me, but I got a protection order slapped on me. Honestly, it was a blessing in disguise. I always felt like they were my family, so they’d stick by me if I just stuck it out and eventually, I’d get somewhere.” Theo’s voice grew darker and deeper as his tangent bounced off the dashboard, and I tensed when his fingers squeezed my knee weakly. He didn’t even seem to notice, and my mind frantically tried to keep up with his story as his car eased to a stop at a sign. “I shacked up with Mateo because I went to Mexico intending to disappear and be a hermit. He needed a bodyguard, and I needed money and something to do. He pays really well.”

  “You know he’s not Mexican, right?” Blurting out the only thing I could think of, I gulped down the dense lump in my throat as Theo cast me a quizzical glance. For the moment, I ignored everything he’d just told me. It was too much to process right now, and maybe he knew that. Maybe he just wanted to tell someone, and that unfortunate someone was me. “Uh-uh, he’s not Mexican. His accent sucks, and I’d bet money he learned Spanish in a classroom in a fancy boarding school or something.”

  “How can you tell?” Oh, shit. Blinking hard at the question, dread gnawed at my gut, and a twitch pulled up the corner of my mouth grimly.

  “I lived in Mexico when I was younger. My parents were there for work for a few years, and I’m pretty good with languages. Mateo isn’t a native Spanish speaker, even as a household language. If I had to guess, I’d say he got lucky with the looks.” Theo’s brows rose at my analysis, and I rolled my lips between my teeth as I recalled the one and only time I’d met Mateo. “I pretend to have a Spanish accent at work because it gets me more money, especially on Wednesday and Thursday nights.”

  The car rolled through the four-way as I spoke, and Theo grunted lowly as he turned his attention to the road. My heart ached for him, and I tentatively covered his right hand with mine. I knew exactly what that was like, for everyone around me to act like what happened to me hadn’t changed me. The only difference was that I was twelve when my traumatic event happened.

  “When did you enlist?” Launching my probe into the immense quiet, I grazed my fingertips along the smooth scar tissue where Theo’s fingers should’ve been. They must’ve taken out the knuckles and done some grafting, and he swung into a turn before inhaling in preparation. It feels like my skin.

  “When I was seventeen, I graduated from high school and went to the recruitment office the next day. My family wasn’t very well off, and the military would pay for my college. I wanted to be an engineer, but I ended up going into the Marines instead as an infantryman. I found out I was really, really good at it. I was going to be a career man until my hand got fucked up.”

  “I never considered the military to get out of my situation.” My mouth dried at my own admission. I sure as shit would’ve done the exact same thing if I could’ve. I knew I wouldn’t pass the physical, though, so there was no point in trying. “I’m doing pretty okay now, though. I mean, compared to the past, at least.”

  “You were homeless.” His wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway, and Theo’s hand twitched against my leg. “That must’ve sucked, but at least the weather wasn’t too bad, right? No snow or anything.”

  “Um . . . no snow, yeah.” Furrowing my brows over thinned lips, I turned my gaze out the window as the grungy apartment blocks gave way to small businesses and slightly cleaner streets. Theo had told me a lot about himself in the short time we’d been driving, but I couldn’t help the reluctant pull at the base of my throat. More often than not, things went sour fast and intensely, and him confessing all this awful shit to me didn’t change what I thought.

  The notion that Theo was trying to make it up to me wasn’t something I could turn down, though. He was creepy, sure, but not straight-up pervert-sexual-offender creepy. He was just a lonely guy that thought something was a good idea when it really wasn’t. I’m going to Hell for making excuses for his behavior. That’s a red flag. He’s just a bundle of red flags.

  “That was one thing that sucked. I was deployed in the Philippines for four months during the monsoon season. There was mud literally up to my elbows sometimes.” Theo turned onto a stretch of road by the train station, and a sign climbed high above the single-story plaza emblazoned with a waffle and a name. Licking my lips heavily, my stomach grumbled eagerly, and I almost forgot what he said as soon as he said it. “I’d rather go back to Afghanistan than go to the Philippines in monsoon season.”

  The conversation fizzled out as we came closer and closer to our destination, and Theo reluctantly pulled his hand out from under mine. Pulling into the parking lot, he prowled for a spot, but I could see even in my skewed peripheral that parking made him nervous. Keeping my eyes firmly on the window, I picked at my fingers and tried not to tense when the first available spot required some K-style maneuvering.

  14

  Theo

  Leaning back in the booth of a fairly nice breakfast place, I propped my head in my arm and watched Illya scan the menu. She seemed thinner than before her shower, but that could just be her tank top. An apology clung to the backs of my teeth, but I had a little bit of an issue getting it farther. Her fanny pack hugged the edge of the table, she’d washed her face free of green and dried tears and sweat, and my eyelid twitched before I lowered my arm to clear my throat.

  “Just so you know, I didn’t sit around your apartment all night. I’m not that dense.” Pretty, light green eyes, real eyes, met mine over the rim of her menu, and Illya arched a thin brow quizzically. “You said your parents lived in Mexico, right? What’d they do?”

  “Uh . . . my mom worked for the U.S. government, and my dad was a stay-at-home father.” Reluctance seeped into her tone as curiosity sparked in my chest, and I reached to rub my wrist under the table. I’d tried not to fuck up my parking job, but I didn’t want to find a spot farther away. And they say chivalry is dead. “I lived in Mexico for about two years, and I learned the language really fast. We came back to the States when I was eleven.” />
  “Did it suck moving around like that?” Her thick, pink lips thinned, eyes diverting to the menu, and my own narrowed on her as I propped my elbow on the table to hold my chin. “Did your parents drag you around a lot?”

  “Yeah, but at least they were alive.” Aw, fuck. The bland reply tightened my chest as Illya clearly shut down the topic, and I clenched my jaw hard. Long, nimble fingers raked through her hair to pull it over her shoulder, and my gaze followed the movement. Despite all the dye, Illya had beautiful, bouncy curls that I just wanted to wrap my fist in, and I tapped my cheek absently.

  “Were you an only child?” Shrewd eyes flashed hazel when she shot me a glare from over her menu, and I struggled not to frown. “I just wanna know.”

  My stubble bristled when Illya closed her menu with a soft flop and set it on the table. Slumping into the seat, she gazed at me with frustration changing the color of her eyes, and I scratched my cheek as prickles shot up my arm. Clear as day, she was debating whether or not to chew me out about asking questions, but I wanted to fucking know. That’s not a crime. Inhaling through parted lips, she exhaled through her nose before sitting up and clasping her hands on the table to cast me a stern look.

  “I wasn’t, but I am now. Can we not talk about this? Actually, let’s not talk about anything at all, okay? I really, really, really— and I cannot stress this enough, Theo— don’t wanna talk about myself.” Gesturing between us, Illya frowned deeply in displeasure, and apprehension gripped my heart in a vice. “I came out to breakfast with you because you wouldn’t let me not. You know where I live. You know where I work. You obviously don’t give a fuck about hurting me because you’re using your guilt as an excuse to do the exact opposite of what I want, which you clearly don’t care about, either. I’m gonna eat, but that doesn’t mean that whatever you want to happen is gonna happen.”

  The thick muscles in my back tensed and released sharply as anger struck my chest like lightning, but I forced myself to take a huge breath and hold it. Craning my neck, I rolled my shoulders in a semi-successful attempt to shirk off the sting of Illya’s calm declaration. Her half-hooded eyes glimmered with weariness like she expected me to jump across the table to strangle her or something.

  She held my gaze firmly, and I exhaled slowly before even thinking of trying to open my mouth.

  “You’re not gonna give up, are you?” Truth be told, I thought that if I was just persistent enough, Illya would cave. Obviously, I was wrong, and she shook her head quietly across the table as I rubbed my cheek and neck with my good hand. “At the club, I didn’t get the impression that you were so strong-minded.”

  “Because it’s my job to listen to drunk guys complain about their wives and sit on their lap, not give my opinion.” I only grunted at that, and Illya’s frown darkened under furrowing brows as I sat back to keep my knee from banging against the table. “I’ve told you half a dozen times, Theo, I’m dealing with my own shit. I don’t need anything more piled on.”

  I opened my mouth, but my words never rolled off my tongue when my phone began to trill shrilly. The only numbers I had in the new device were Mateo’s and my favorite pizza place, and I scowled as I fished it from my pocket. A childish disappointment hit me when I saw it was my boss. There was always the hope that, somehow, I’d won free pizza for life. Inhaling a steadying breath, I swiped the Accept button and slumped deeper into the booth.

  “What?” Mateo had been insufferable since nabbing Sylvie, and she still hadn’t come down from that high we’d found her in. He strapped her to a bed and left her with a doctor to throw a fit about her that lasted all night, and I was honestly on the verge of shooting her myself. “I’m busy, Mateo. Make it quick.”

  “Find me Sylvie’s roommate and bring her here— now.” His snarl into the phone rang in my ear, but Mateo didn’t intimidate me. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up at his demand, and I sat up stiffly as the line crackled ominously. “I need to ask her some questions.”

  “The fuck do you want her roommate for? Sylvie’s so fucking high she hasn’t even started withdrawal yet. I know you want to cling to the hope that things will be fine, Mateo, but they won’t be. I fucking guarantee you.” Frustration of my own sharpened my tone, but Mateo’s frosty silence didn’t deter me. My gaze flickered to Illya, and worry bled into her eyes as I covered my mouth to hide my sneer. “I’m not doing that. You don’t honestly think the drug use is inconsequential and you’ll get lucky? Bullshit. Accept the fact that you knocked up a drug addict and shoot her already.”

  “Do it, Theo, or I’ll shoot you.” Snorting roughly, I ignored the questioning glance Illya sent me as pure, undiluted amusement bubbled up in my chest. I couldn’t help myself as I chuckled darkly, and Mateo’s threat breezed through my mind with all the force of a bug being blown against a window.

  “You can try that shit with your little cronies, Mateo, but you don’t scare me. You’re an immature little shit— doing what you’re doing just proves that.” Mateo was a spoiled brat, finding himself in a position of power because his brother was the head of the whole thing. It was really a shame because I’d met his brother— Carlyle was the guy to be afraid of. A threat from him would make me run for the hills and not look back. “If you ever threaten me again, Mateo, I’ll break your fucking neck.”

  I hung up, consequences be damned, because, frankly, Mateo was starting to get on my nerves. Sliding my phone toward the wall, by the syrup and salt and pepper shakers, I crossed my legs under the table to lean back with a heavy sigh. Illya was quiet, her face pensive across the vast expanse between us, and I waited for her to say something. The longer the silence stretched, the more troubled her expression became, and I couldn’t imagine what she must’ve been feeling.

  “Is Sylvie really pregnant, and that’s why she went back to heroin? She never . . . ” She trailed off a little heartbrokenly, and betrayal reddened her cheeks as her eyes narrowed on the pointed, laminated corner of her menu. “I guess we weren’t as close as I thought.”

  “Mateo seems to think he’ll have a little, happy family and the kid won’t come out fucked up somehow. Honestly, I’ve got half a mind to call his big brother and snitch, but I’m sure Carlyle already knows about the situation. If it were me, well, I wouldn’t be so fucking stupid to not use a condom in the first place, honestly. I can’t imagine this wasn’t part of some plot, either, but you know Sylvie better than I do.” Having a baby born addicted to drugs was just plain cruel, and Illya picked up her menu to hide behind it. My mind whirred with options over how to proceed because there was no fucking way I’d just bring Illya to Mateo. Really, it had more to do with all the suffering Illya went through about Sylvie. Why’d that bitch deserve to wring out any more that her friend might not have? “I’m not bringing you there. Mateo can figure this out on his own. He wanted to launch headfirst into this shit pool, so he can deal with being up to his neck in it.”

  “To be honest, this is exactly something Sylvie would’ve done before she got clean. She must’ve been using longer than I realized.” Her grumble from around the menu sent a twitch of sympathy through my cheek, and she sunk into her side of the booth. “Ugh.”

  “You had nothing to do with that, Illya.” What a stupid ass thing to say. Lowering her menu, Illya shot me a small, grimy smile, and I grabbed my own menu for the first time since sitting down.

  “Maybe not, but here I am . . . having something to do with it. Somehow, I always get dragged into shit.” My lip twitched in a slight snarl, but I had nothing to say to that because Illya was right. At least, thus far, she tried so hard to stay out of the drama, but it sucked her in any way.

  15

  Illya

  “We’re going the wrong way.” Theo cast me a dismissive sidelong glance, and I frowned deeply as apprehension bubbled up in my chest like hot tar. “You’re not really taking me to Mateo, are you?”

  “Of course not. This has nothing to do with Mateo and his stupid, childish tantrum.” Gru
mbling harshly, Theo pulled to a stop at a light behind two other cars, and he tore his eyes from the road to meet mine. “You were right, Illya. You try really hard to stay out of it. I was wrong.”

  My brows rose high in surprise, and a bark of incredulous laughter burst from my throat devoid of humor. Theo’s lips thinned, his jaw ticking, and I could’ve sworn on my life that I saw his ears tinge pink at the lobes before he turned to glare at the wheel. The echo of my shocked noise bounced off the windows to ripple across my face, and I reached to put my hand on his broad, muscular shoulder. He tensed as his heat-blasted away my discomfort from his declaration, and he caught my gaze behind guarded lenses.

  “I appreciate that, Theo.” These tiny, tiny— almost unnoticeably tiny— moments were becoming more frequent, and I couldn’t help but smile when Theo jerked his head in a stiff nod. “So, where are we going?”

  “You’ll see when we get there. It’s a bit of a ride, so get comfortable.” He grabbed my hand and held palm to his chest, and the clumpy scar tissue rose the hairs on my arm. “I bet you would’ve done well in the military. I knew guys that didn’t have balls as big as yours.”

  The awkward compliment sent fire to engulf my face, and my smile widened as Theo rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. His palm was hard, and I didn’t pull back even as he propped his knee under the wheel to flick on his blinker as we neared a highway on-ramp. A warm fuzziness wrapped around my heart, and I huffed hot air as it was replaced with a strange happiness.

  I got the sense that Theo didn’t compliment someone just because. He honestly wasn’t that bad when he didn’t overthink things, but I was sure that’s why he brought me out in the first place. If it works, it works.