The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  “Valerie!” My throat closed, and Theo dumped my sister and I on the trunk of a car before Carlyle entered my field of vision. Warm, dry hands cupped my face, and my being glued to Natasha didn’t stop him from caressing my cheeks with his thumbs.

  “She’s in shock. They’ll be fine. How the Hell did they go from one phone call to a fucking package bomb, Carlyle?” My eyes widened, flying to Natasha, and I pulled back as much as my weak muscles allowed.

  “You! You lied about not getting any calls or anything! Why . . . why would you lie about that, Nat!” Blown pupils met mine, and Natasha frowned and licked her lips at my shrill, unstable accusations.

  “I didn’t lie. I didn’t get a single call or message or anything since you broke your phone. Wasn’t the package addressed to you, Val?” Was it? I couldn’t remember right now, my brain too frazzled and in disarray. Turning to Carlyle just as a fire truck screeched to a stop behind him, I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. He smiled tightly, but his eyes blazed with fury, and my lids shuttered as I rested my cheek over Natasha’s heart.

  30

  Valerie

  “Here.” Carlyle’s secretary smiled warmly as she handed me a glass of tea, not a mug, and the heat suffused my palms almost instantly. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you.” He’d stuck us in what could’ve been a board meeting room, and I took a sip of my tea and set it down before I dropped it. For the moment, my sister, coworkers, and I were alone, and my brain puttered along sluggishly. The memory of the name on the package meant it was addressed to me, but . . .

  Natasha hadn’t heard anything at all from Mom or the guy that I’d talked to that once? How did things escalate to the point of being blown up?

  The doors swung open, and I glanced over to find Carlyle and who I assumed was his brother because they looked a little the same, but for glasses and build. He barely glanced at me, and I inhaled a shuddering breath as he slapped a sheath of papers on the table.

  “You really haven’t gotten any calls from this guy? Which means they’re specifically targeting Valerie. Why? You’re her sister— you know her best.” Natasha was in far better shape than I was, and she flopped back in her seat to sigh frustratedly.

  “She’s younger than me, and I guess that means she’s a spineless bitch? I don’t fucking know why. How’d you get my phone records?” Carlyle ignored the last question completely to sit down at the head of the table, and I felt safer having him two chairs away. “Mom must guess she’d be easier.”

  “Do you have any idea at all who your mother’s debt is to?”

  “Not specifically, but some dude was following me at one point. I’d recognize him— he had face tattoos.” Surprise burst from my lips in a squawk, and Natasha’s gaze flickered to me to glisten in regret. “I never told you because I knew you’d freak out.”

  “Face tattoos are used a lot in gangs and cartels, so being in Dallas, it wouldn’t be a small list. Do you know anything to narrow it down?”

  “Carlyle, the major gangs in Dallas wouldn’t send someone high enough ranking as to have a face tattoo after them. It has to be a small fry trying to act big.” Speaking up from just behind his brother, Oran— that was his name, right— cleared his throat roughly. “My contact told me they’ve had an upset the past year and a half or so, someone gobbling up territory. Somehow, they haven’t gotten under the major players’ skin yet to be dealt with.”

  “Call Pedro Gonzalez and tell him to get his ass here.” Carlyle’s eyelid twitched in agitation, his already deep voice a growl, and I felt myself getting sucked out of my body. Who was he? How could he be so levelheaded? How’d he get Natasha’s phone records?

  How’d he suspect it was a bomb?

  “Pedro Gonzalez? The guy who executed half a town on the border?” Speaking up cautiously, Fred sat up in his chair, and Carlyle nodded unabashed. “What the fuck is going on here? Who are you? How’d you get us off the street without the police getting too involved?”

  Carlyle leveled a stare, and I gnawed on my inner cheek as the tensions rose. Inhaling deeply, he stood up only to sit on the table, and unease ate away at my gut.

  “Do you really want the answers to those questions? The simple one is I am rich. I can buy anything— the police included. I can buy the best hacker in the world, and I can get rid of anyone, anywhere, anytime, and no one will ask questions.” The badly disguised threat shut Fred up, and Carlyle scoffed lightly before turning back to my sister. “Do you have any way to narrow down the list, Natasha?”

  “U-um . . . I mean, I can describe him pretty well. He was following me for weeks.” Carlyle nodded, gesturing to his brother without looking at him, and Oran left the room for some reason I couldn’t quite put together yet. “I tried really hard to stay out of my mom’s bullshit, so I wouldn’t even know a general location.”

  “The description will be good enough. When I find your mother, I’ll hold onto her until you decide what you want to do. Until then, I’ll show you to your apartment.” Standing up, Carlyle glanced between the two men thoughtfully before cocking his head. “Would you prefer to commute to work or take a temporary stay? Neither of you has kids, and your wife is divorcing you, so it’s up to you.”

  “You know my wife i—” Marshal cut himself off, and I glanced over dazedly as he shook his head. Everything moved around me, like a glass wall erected between me and everyone else. “I’ll take the stay— it’s better than crashing on your couch, Fred.”

  “I guess I will, too, then.” Staring at the edge of the long table, I wrapped my arms around myself as the air moved along my cold skin. Blood drummed in my ears, and my heartbeat throbbed through my whole body with each slow, weak pump.

  “Llane will show you across the bridge. Just follow her.” When Fred and Marshal had shuffled out, Carlyle closed the door behind them, and he wandered over to drop into the chair next to mine. “Are you alright, Valerie?”

  The world moved in slow motion as I tilted my head, and Carlyle managed a grim, ugly smile as he rubbed his palms together. Everything was in a wide shot, and I simply nodded dumbly when his question finally processed.

  “We need to talk when you’re feeling up to it. Someone is thoroughly going through your apartment right now, and I’m going to find out who made that bomb.” My throat tightened at that four-letter word, and Carlyle leaned his forearms on his knees to sigh. “Pedro will move mountains not to get on my bad side, so he’ll cooperate. Until we sort this mess out, you’re both going to stay here. If you need anything, no request is too outlandish.”

  “I . . . I need a shower.” Nodding curtly, Carlyle held out his hand, and I took it without thinking. His skin was hot, hot enough to melt off his bones, hot enough to bubble, but not hot enough to burn me. Standing up on wobbly legs, I sniffed hard as I leaned into his chest, and he cupped my head and hooked an arm around my back.

  “Follow me, please.” Those strong arms didn’t waver as they led me around the chairs and out of the room, and I exhaled a shuddering breath. “Would you like anything particular, Natasha?”

  “Some really good booze and a lot of ice cream, yeah. Please.” His heartbeat against my chin was sure and strong as he nodded again, and I glanced up at Carlyle through glazed eyes. “I take it we’re not going to Vegas.”

  “Unfortunately not, no.” I wasn’t sure which direction we went, but he eventually swiped a card and opened the door to usher me inside. “I’ll have your things delivered here when they arrive. For now, just relax. You’ll be fine here. I’ll let Cindy know you won’t be meeting together until next week.”

  “Carlyle . . . ” My own whisper sounded alien, and he hummed softly in acknowledgment. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Right this way.” Leading me past the kitchen, he popped open a door directly to the right at the lip of the hallway. “Let me know if you need anything, Valerie. You, too, Natasha. As I said, no request is too much.”

  Leaning on the do
or frame, I blew out a hot breath as Carlyle retreated, and I closed my eyes while my sister slumped opposite me. My mind puttered along a little faster now that we were alone, and she stared holes into my face before I managed enough strength to open my mouth.

  “It’s happening all over again.” My bare whisper earned me a sad twitch. I felt it flutter along my cheek, and Natasha took my hands to drag me into the bathroom. She flicked the lights and turned the shower on, and I cracked open my eyes just enough to see where I was going.

  Knowing the water was cold as it drenched my hair and clothes didn’t make it feel any less hot, and I sat down against the tiled wall to pull my knees to my chest.

  31

  Carlyle

  Glaring at my computer screen, I tapped my temple as I examined the photographs that’d been taken of Valerie’s apartment. The damage wasn’t bad enough to suggest instant death, but she would’ve been seriously injured, maimed even, if she was near that box when it went off. Her sofa was blasted backward— the wall had a huge dent, and the coffee table was sticking out of the drywall. If she’d been holding that box, she probably would’ve died, but she didn’t.

  But she could’ve.

  “Fuck.” My lip curled as I sat back in my chair, and I tore my eyes off the monitor to level with Oran. “What did Jerry find out with that sealed record?”

  “Natasha and Valerie were ‘kidnapped’ by Baron Ninety-Nine when they were thirteen and held for six days. They’re a small-time gang that has been escalating over the past seven years or so. The estimated numbers are just under two thousand, but they’re not reliable. According to the extensive evaluations in the report, both were sexually abused, but Valerie took it much harder. There were suggestions that their mother was paying off a debt, but they couldn’t get anything more substantial. When she went to jail the first time, Valerie and Natasha were sixteen. Valerie’s grades improved incredibly after they were emancipated, and she and Natasha both received full rides to college from a survivor group based in Dallas.” Oran spoke with no emotion even as mine threatened to spiral out of control, and he paused for a fraction of a second to breathe. “In jail, their mother was pimped out by female members of Baron Ninety-Nine.”

  “What else?” I could fucking smell it— he was waiting to dump the real bad news on me, and my brother rubbed his jaw harshly.

  “Their father’s not dead. He’s in witness protection and opted to leave his family behind. We haven’t found him yet, but Greg’s working on it. He faked his death after witnessing a murder by Baron Ninety-Nine back in two thousand three. The trial never went anywhere. According to what Greg could find, the mother’s involvement with them is coincidental. Valerie and Natasha’s father is reported to have died in a horrible car wreck with nothing to recover.”

  “Shit.” This was inarguably much, much worse than the whole Italian ordeal, and I raked my hand through my hair as my mind whirred furiously. “Contact the Network. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars for every Baron Ninety-Nine member confirmed dead. Also, did you get anywhere on the sketch?”

  “Not yet. Pedro hasn’t called back yet, either.” Reluctance soured my tongue, and my lip curled in a snarl as I drummed my fingers on the desk. “I have someone going to find the mother.”

  “They better be good.” Pushing myself up, I stalked past Oran and clenched my hands into tight, white-knuckle fists. Theo was waiting outside the door, and I licked my teeth as fire engulfed my heart. “Is Illya back?”

  “She’s in there now.” I knew he was pissed about her foot, but if Theo so much as looked at me wrong, I’d fucking shoot him in the head. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Team up and go to Dallas. Jerry will give you your targets by the time you land. Find them, but don’t kill them. Do it before five p.m. tomorrow, and every trigger hungry cunt in the country will be descending on Texas. As long as you do it fast, I don’t care who you bring.” Talking and walking at the same time was so exhausting, and I scanned Theo sidelong when I stopped to punch the elevator button with my thumb. “Also, make a bomb and blow up one of Pedro’s warehouses. I’m sure that’ll be an incentive to call me back. Do that first thing.”

  “Carlyle, it’s only been two hours si—” Whipping around, I backhanded Oran across the face, and he dropped like a bag of bricks as his glasses flew off his face.

  “I didn’t fucking ask you how long it’s been!” He kept his head down, wiping blood from his nose, and my snarl echoed down the hallway. My knuckles didn’t throb, and I tugged my jacket and sucked in a sharp breath before the elevator doors opened. Glaring at Oran for a hot moment, I turned on my heel and entered the elevator. Theo cleared his throat roughly to get my attention.

  “What about the snake?”

  “She’s on her way. I don’t care if she gets dragged, kicking and screaming. Carl hasn’t failed me yet.” That kid was good at being bad, I’ll give him that, and I frowned as my brother stood up before the doors slid shut completely. Leaning back on the wall, I rubbed my face with both my hands and inhaled a huge, calming breath. “Make sure whoever you bring to Texas knows that if any of those assholes end up dead, I’ll kill you and your whole team.”

  “Good thing I’m going by myself.” Arching a brow, I shot Theo a quizzical look, but he just shrugged, stuffing his fists in his jeans. “I don’t have anyone to call, anyway.”

  “Can you handle it all yourself? Take Llane— she’ll be your assistant.” He didn’t argue with me, and I tilted my head back as the elevator vertigo tried to drag me down. “How do I deal with Valerie?”

  “If there’s one thing I learned, it’s not to stick your nose where she doesn’t want it. She’ll come to you when she wants. Don’t go to her. Illya’s in there right now. She’ll let you know.” Nodding, my heart twisted at how absurd this whole thing was, and Theo blustered a sigh and rolled his shoulders. “Where’s your father? I thought he’d be in the middle of this relishing the chaos.”

  “It’s not chaotic. Not his brand, anyway.” The doors opened, and I stepped out as Theo reached to push the ground-floor button. “The plane’s ready for you. Take whatever you think is necessary.”

  “Yeah.” And he was gone behind a wall of thin steel. Theo would get the job done. He hated shit like this, an innocent woman being terrorized for the fault of others.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Valerie’s father wasn’t dead. She’d been kidnapped and assaulted, but I hadn’t gotten the faintest inkling of any of that trauma. Her mother . . . I was going to enjoy killing her.

  I needed more information, though. Hopefully, that desert snake would be forthcoming, or I’d have to get creative.

  My phone trilled insistently, and I pulled the device from my pocket on my way across the bridge.

  “What?” Oran panted slightly on the line, and I shoved my way through the door in an effort to relieve some of the tension in my body.

  “The snake just arrived. She’s not happy, and she brought her massive ass dog.” My eyelid twitched in agitation before I whipped around on my heel and headed back the way I came. I took the stairs this time, because I sure as fuck wasn’t waiting for that metal box, and I hung up on Oran as my brain threatened to melt as it whirred too fast. Opening a side door opposite the one I usually used, I took a massive breath of the fresh, crisp air, and it only fueled the raging emotions in me.

  Esmarissa looked as . . . unique . . . as usual when she stepped out of the car, and Oran really wasn’t lying about that dog. He was big for a pit bull, and I strode over to his master as she ran her fingers through her long, electric blue locks.

  “At what fucking point does ‘you work for me’ insinuate that you can hide dealings from me?” She opened her mouth, her disgusting tongue ring glistening under the floodlights illuminating the lot, and my eyes narrowed into fine points. “Think about your answer. I’m not in the most forgiving mood.”

  If there was one— one— fucking thing this snake knew, it was how to navigate a man
that could easily fly off the handle. She crossed an arm under her bust, rocking back on her heels, and her dog trotted over to me to sniff my shoes. He came up to my thigh at the shoulder— truly, an exception to the rule— and I patted his head to feel his prickly, short fur.

  “She called me, yeah, but I hung up on her as soon as she introduced herself. I have enough on my plate— I don’t want to deal with someone who won’t be a repeat customer or conflict with my current ones.” Scanning her long face, I clenched and released my jaw, but there wasn’t a hint of a lie in her tone. “Besides, there’s no fucking way I’d ever consider what she apparently wanted, anyway. I run a talent agency, first and foremost, and those girls are off-limits. From what I’ve heard, Diamon wanted my best actresses for his little scheme. He’ll just have to outwit you the old-fashioned way, Carlyle.”

  “Is your brother still breeding these monsters?” Briefly changing topic, I hummed when Esmarissa nodded, and I made a mental note to contact the guy. “What do you know about Baron Ninety-Nine?”

  “Those are the guys we got our drugs from back in the day. Smalltime idiots—they’re basically a subdivision of Sinaloa . . . or they were until they fucked up somehow, I assume?” Nodding, I knelt down to look the dog in the face, and he fucking smiled that pit bull smile at me. “I can ask Sammy, but it’s been years. He’s got a lot of blows to the head.”

  “You’re staying here tonight. I wan—” The sudden bang of metal on brick echoed through the quad, and my head snapped up at the sound. Valerie sauntered out of the apartment complex, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in her hand, and Natasha and Illya came rushing— well, hobbling— after trying to get her back inside. Her watery, brown eyes met mine, and I held my breath as she made her way over to sidle up under my arm.

  She was ice cold, and the freezer burn of her body ate through my jacket and shirt to sting my side.