The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  “I said apologize, you fucking bitch!” Roaring in her face got her out of her own head, and Isobel shakily whispered an apology before I released her jaw with a jerk. Putting my gun away, I wiped my hand on my pants with disgust curling my lip. “Now, if you want to make a deal, we can make a deal. What you get depends on what you give.”

  “I want to leave here unharmed.” Pausing, as if she expected me to deny her, Isobel frowned with uncertainty wrinkling her slender brows. Waiting a few seconds, I hoisted myself onto the metal table up against the wall, but she didn’t say anything else.

  “Fine. What dumbass plan have you been cooking up in that empty head of yours, and who’s your even more dumbass accomplices?” I swung my legs a little just to relieve some tension and watched Isobel expectantly. Did she really think I was going to let her just waltz out the gates and trudge back home? She certainly seemed to believe that if her sturdy expression was anything to go by. The longer the silence stretched, the more sure of her decision she seemed.

  It was almost funny how stupid she was. After all, you never specified where or when ‘here’ was . . . and you’re not leaving this room. That was one of the first lessons my father taught me— if I was ever held hostage, assume they’re going to kill me and keep my mouth shut. Talking would just delay the inevitable.

  “Wren’s not missing, he’s dead.” My brows twitched in surprise, and I jutted my chin out as Isobel hung her head. “I had him assassinated after he took that deal to trade his enterprise for horses. He ruined our plan.”

  “That is really vague and unhelpful. What plan?” Frowning darkly at this surprising but boring twist, I cocked my head as I contemplated this turn of events. Wren sold his State-side girls for horses. It wasn’t a stupid deal to take on his part. My issue with it was him being fucked over by that desert snake so completely. It’s true he wasn’t totally useless, as he still had the rest of the damn world, but . . . him being dead presented problems for me.

  “We were gonna get someone under your skin— or one of your brothers— and blackmail you.” Trailing off, Isobel’s lips thinned, and I frowned under tightly knit brows as my mind chugged along like the Little Engine That Could. “Anyway, after Wren fucked it all up, I suggested to my dad to marry you, and my brother pushed it because he wanted to get me out of the way. When you said ‘no,’ I had to contact that bitch in Nevada, but she refused to even hear me out. I searched for a while, and I got word that some no-name from Dallas had access to some girls. By the time I went out there, they were gone, but I got assurances that they could be found.”

  Dallas. Hiding how troubled that place was starting to make me, I inhaled deeply as Isobel paused. Her nasal voice rang in my ears, and I leaned back on my arms to drum my fingertips on the metal.

  “Let me guess . . . it was a debtor or a debtor’s family member.” Turning back to Isobel, I frowned deeply as she nodded dumbly, and I slid off the table with a grunt. “Cool. Thanks for the chat.”

  “Wait! Damnit, Carlyle!” Pausing at her frantic shriek, I almost winced as it bounced off the concrete walls, and she jerked her arms tied to the back of the chair. “You said you’d let me go!”

  “You didn’t exactly give me anything to warrant your life, now did you?” Isobel started to pant, struggled to adjust the chair even as I turned my back on her, and I lifted my hand in a dismissive wave. “Let me know when you’ve got something important to say- if ever. I’m sure someone at some point will come down and give you some water.”

  “Carlyle! Carlyle, wait! Please!” Even from outside the room, with the door shut, I could faintly hear Isobel screaming bloody fucking murder, and I ran my hands up my face with a groan.

  “Valerie . . . Valerie . . . Valerie. What the fuck is your mother up to down there?” Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket, I dialed Esmarissa’s personal number, and she answered within the first ring. “Whatever you’re doing on Wednesday, cancel it. I’m coming to you.”

  “I’m going to my boyfriend’s ex-brother-in-law’s wedding.” The bland response rolled my eyes, and I started down the hallway towards the elevator as a sigh floated through the speaker. “How’s next week? Tuesday?”

  “Fine. Congratulations to your brother-in-law.” Hanging up, I tapped Vanessa’s speed dial, and her chipper voice gyrated harshly against my brain. “Send a wedding gift to Dean Warrhal. Something practical, like gift cards.”

  “Do you want that bundled with a baby gift? Their second child is due in three months.” Grumbling an affirmative, I wondered how the fuck Vanessa stayed on top of every single person’s life that I’ve ever worked with. Women with an internet connection and a lot of time were terrifying. After all, she was a secretary that had no secretarial work— she was like the head maid of secretaries, doing nothing but gossiping while her assistant did all the work. Speaking of maids . . .

  20

  Valerie

  Peeling open the envelope, I leaned back in my chair to sigh heavily, and Natasha twisted from her position by the stove to cast me a curious glance.

  “There’s never any good mail, like, hey, you won the lottery, and here’s a check for eight million dollars.” She snorted at my complaining, and I tossed the credit card offer on the table to flop my head over the back of the dining chair. “It’s so much more boring without a job.”

  “Why don’t you call Carlyle? Oh, wait . . . you’re too lazy to go get a new phone.” Frowning at the ceiling, I didn’t deem that jab with an answer, and my sister turned back to the stovetop out of the corner of my eye. “I don’t get why you haven’t, Val. You need a phone. It’s a simple fact of life.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m going to do it tomorrow. More importantly, when’s the fried chicken g—” The trill of the doorbell cut me off, and I stood up as Natasha cast me a curious look. Shrugging on my way to the door, I cracked open the door, and surprise sucked the air from my lungs. I was convinced Carlyle was the devil, coming to me whenever his name was mentioned aloud, and he smiled tenderly.

  “Are you going to open the door?” His deep baritone wrapped around me to send a delicious shiver down my back, and I rolled my lip between my teeth.

  “What’ll I get?” He leaned with his arm above his head, his eyes dancing with amusement, and I held my breath in anticipation.

  “My amazing company.” Smirking at me when I scoffed lightly, Carlyle held a plain, brown box in his hand just high enough to catch the bottom of my field of vision. “Also, I brought you this since Theo ate yours.”

  “Oh. You brought me a grilled cheese sandwich? That’s my kind of gift. Come on in.” Closing the door to unlock the chain hook, I downright grinned when Carlyle’s chuckle squeezed through the frame, and he held out the box with affection tilting his mouth. “Even though it’s pre-made, it’s the thought that counts.”

  “What did you think I’d do, put it in a sandwich-sized box, then put that box in another box, and so on? This isn’t the Looney Toons.” My fingers itched as they wrapped around the gift, and the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up when Carlyle leaned to kiss my cheek. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” I couldn’t resist taking his tie and wrapping it around my finger, and I turned around to tug him over the threshold. I mean, how was I supposed to not flirt with him when he was so, so, sexy? Biting back a groan when he grabbed my ass cheeks without the slightest hesitation, I glanced over my shoulder to find his bodyguard not standing there, scowling. “Where is Theo, anyway?”

  “He has the day off. Last I heard, he and his girlfriend were arguing about showering together.” Arching a brow at that, I turned away when Carlyle’s cheek twitched in discomfort. “It’s a huge point of contention for . . . reasons.”

  “Okay.” There wasn’t anything I could do but accept that, and Carlyle and I emerged in the kitchen just as Natasha was pulling the fried chicken out of the deep fryer. “Did you want to stay for dinner?”

  “I would love to, thank you.” Warmth suffused m
y chest, and I popped open the fridge to put the box on the middle shelf. “It’s a little too late for lunch but too early for dinner. How are you two enjoying your overly abundant leisure time?”

  “What do you mean ‘too early’? It’s four-thirty.” I slid back into my chair to continue picking through the mail, and Carlyle sat next to me to lean back and prop his arm behind his head. Casting him a curious look, I ripped open the side of another envelope, and he scanned me through narrowed eyes.

  “Well, since you’re not going to answer me . . . ” Thwacking him with my envelope right in his stupid, cocky smirk, I couldn’t help but grin, and his gaze flickered to Natasha and lost that spark of appraisal. “What about you, Natasha? How’s your little vacation?”

  “Uh . . . it’s fine. I’m making good progress on the program. Here’s a question, Carlyle—” Turning to us, my sister scrunched up her nose, and the crackling of oil filled the second of silence that blossomed. “Have you ever said ‘gonna’ or ‘gotta’ or, like, what’s with the vocal propriety?”

  “Vocal propriety?” Amusement thickened his tone, and my cheeks flamed in secondhand embarrassment as I shot my sister a glare. Who the Hell asks a question like that, anyway! “You know, I don’t think I ever have, no. My father always told me growing up that how I talk reflected who I was.”

  “Anyway!” Cutting Natasha off, I set down my mail to turn to Carlyle, and he huffed a small laugh as I held my cheek on my fist on the table. “What’s up with you? I’m going to get my new phone tomorrow, so I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve bugged my apartment or something.”

  “I’m going on a trip all next week, actually. I’m leaving on Sunday. To be honest, I really am not looking forward to it.” Caution shadowed his eyes, and my brows drew together as they flickered between my sister and I. “I’m going to Nevada. Since you’re both indisposed at the moment, I was wondering if you’d like to come with me? Tuesday, I have a business meeting in Reno, but I’ll be spending the rest of the week in Las Vegas.”

  Was he nervous about inviting me? My lips thinned at the thought, and Carlyle’s gaze narrowed into fine points on me. Goosebumps blanketed my arms and the exposed part of my chest, and excitement at going on Vegas bubbled up in my gut. I could feel my sister staring at me, waiting for me to say something— well, more like glaring, silently urging me to accept.

  “As long as we don’t get plastered and wake up married, I’d more than love to go.” Nodding firmly, my face heated at the small, pleased, triumphant smile Carlyle offered me, and I smiled back. “I’m not really a gambler, though.”

  “There’s many, many other things to do aside from gambling.” The sensual thread in his tone slithered around my abdomen, and my cheeks threatened to melt off from the fire creeping up my neck. God, he was so damn hot, and rich, and . . . what would be so wrong waking up married to him, anyway? “As long as you two enjoy getting a little gritty, I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

  “Gritty like how? Because, okay, I won’t get sloshed, but I’ll definitely be tipsy the entire time. Just enough to have fun.” Natasha was facing the deep fryer again, tossing the question over her shoulder as she took the chicken legs out in all their golden-brown goodness. Or, I hoped she’d done them right, but I couldn’t look when Carlyle caught my gaze as he leaned on his forearms on the table. He didn’t even acknowledge that my sister said anything, and I held my breath when he licked his lips in preparation.

  “What do you feel about . . . cage fighting?” My eyebrows nearly flew off my face at that, and Carlyle very clearly chose his next words extremely carefully. “Specifically, two men beating the crap out of each other for entertainment?”

  “Do you find that entertaining?” I honestly wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond, and Carlyle leaned back to rub his jaw and neck before nodding curtly. Blinking hard, I cocked my head as I thought about it, and the tension in the air steadily rose between us. “Um . . . I don’t know. I’ve never watched two dudes beat each other up for fun. Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”

  “Often enough. I don’t make specific trips to Vegas just for this, but I’m not much of a gambler, either.” His own confession seemed to make him feel a little more assured, and I pursed my lips thinly as my brows drew together thoughtfully. “I brought it up because I wondered. I hadn’t made plans yet because I wasn’t sure if you would want to go.”

  “You make plans for this kind of thing?” This conversation just got weirder and more outlandish every time Carlyle opened his mouth, and he nodded firmly. “Uh . . . okay . . . I mean, I don’t . . . like I said, I’ve never watched anything like that, so I can’t knock it ‘til I try it, right?”

  “What are you saying, you never watched something like that, Valerie? You watched those cheerleaders beat the shit out of the dude who gave them Chlamydia and totally enjoyed it.” Laughing at the memory, my sister plopped the colander of fried chicken on the table, but Carlyle didn’t seem impressed by that.

  “Well, yeah, I enjoyed it because I turned down the opportunity to sleep with him. And besides, he got what he deserved.” My reply was exactly what he expected, judging by the relaxing of his face, and I started gathering up my mail as Natasha went back to the stovetop for the sides. “I’ve never been in a situation like that, so who knows? Even if I don’t enjoy it, it’ll still be an experience, and we’ll still be in Vegas. There’s plenty of other things to do.”

  To be honest, I couldn’t even picture what that might be like, and Carlyle reached to squeeze my knee under the table. Was he one of those rich people who liked doing awful things just because he knew he could get away with it?

  I’m gonna ask him about it. If nothing else, I’m confident he wouldn’t lie.

  21

  Valerie

  A phone chimed that wasn’t mine— because I didn’t have one— and Carlyle groped blindly on the nightstand with his free hand. Cuddling against his side, I gnawed on my lower lip and twirled his chest hairs around my finger, my eyes glued to my laptop screen. His warm, rough skin against my cheek felt so nice, and I inhaled a deep, leisurely breath thickened with his smell and held it.

  “Are you going to ask me, or did you just want me to tell you, Valerie?” Setting his phone down, Carlyle mumbled against my crown, and his fingers buried deep under my loose bun to knead my scalp. “I know you have questions.”

  “What’re they like?” As much as I’d pre-prepared my question, Carlyle had prepared his answers, and I tore my eyes off the movie to glance up at him under my lashes. His jaw ticked against my forehead, and I turned back to my laptop just as an explosion, well, exploded.

  “It depends on which one you go to. Normally, they’re in seedy abandoned buildings, and no one knows where or when until about an hour before. Alternatively, you can rent them as long as you have your own space. If it’s private property, and everyone’s consenting adults, the cops can’t do anything about it if they show up. To be honest, I’ve never done either. I attend a charity event twice a year that uses these setups. Coincidentally, I donate quite a lot because I feel it’s a good, proper cause. The guy who runs it is very . . . well, he’s a character, for sure.”

  “Why’d you bring it up if you’ve never been to one?”

  “Because I wanted to gauge your reaction.” Answering quickly, Carlyle twisted to face me fully, and my brows furrowed in confusion. “I wouldn’t make you endure something if you don’t like, but I also don’t know anything you like to do, Valerie, except draw, of course, but I definitely got the short stick in that department. I figured that I’d ask because it’s pretty extreme, and we can always backtrack.”

  “Oh, kinda like having too much as opposed to too little.” Grappling my ass to squeeze us together, Carlyle nodded again, a seriousness draping his sharp features. My mind churned, trying to burp up an idea, any idea, and I licked my lips heavily. “I think I would much rather get locked in a hotel room with you rather than anything else . . . unless there was,
like, a drunk drawing thing or something.”

  “If your sister wasn’t here at that moment, I wouldn’t have invited her. It’s impolite to just ignore her when she’s standing right there.” That brutally honest response drew a little giggle from me, and it ended in a gasp when Carlyle slipped his hand under my shorts and panties. “What do you like to do that’s not sex or drawing?”

  “That’s pretty much my entire personality.” He cracked a smirk, and I giggle as I shook my head. “No . . . um . . . I guess my favorite thing to do that’s not sex and drawing is probably . . . hanging out with my sister? I mean, we’ve always worked, and I don’t even remember most of college. Whenever I had free time, I’d always do stuff with her. I guess it’s kinda not the answer you were looking for, but my life is kinda boring.”

  “Trust me, I understand that. I have to actively find things to do, but most of the time, it doesn’t seem worth it. I have two younger brothers, but we’re not that close. We only get together because our dad’s a sadistic sociopath and loves watching us squirm.” A little laugh escaped me, and Carlyle’s smile strained a little, creating crow wrinkles around his eyes. “I know it’s only Wednesday, but every day is Saturday when you’re between jobs. Theo being off, I was hoping to catch you alone. I even let my driver off for the night.”

  “We’re alone now. What did you wanna do?” I expected some sexy comeback, but Carlyle sat up and took his hand out of my pants. Rolling onto my back, I paused the movie to watch him stand, and he gestured me up as he stood.

  “It’s scandalous, I know, but I thought I would drive myself somewhere for once.” Smiling broadly, I threw my legs over the side of my bed, and Carlyle waited patiently as I stuffed my legs into a pair of sweatpants. “You said you were getting your phone tomorrow. Why don’t we go tonight? We can go to Buffalo.”