The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  Punching his chest, my little tirade came to an abrupt end when my knuckles hit a metal plate, and my breath hitched as the recoil knocked the air from my lungs. Blinking hard, I rubbed the spot over Erik’s t-shirt as he stared blankly up at me, and cold gripped my spine in a vice.

  “You’re here for you and me, both of us. Even that’s more the truth than anything. The real bad guys are the ones we imagine into reality, and the worst of the worst is the bad guy that can’t face the truth.” My voice was quiet now, and I sniffled hard as my elbows wobbled, threatening to give way. Erik was warm and hard, like iron, underneath me, and I shook my head before managing wheezing an inhale.

  “I’m here to help you get better because that’ll make me feel better. I can’t stand the guilt, and the only way to release it is to turn this nightmare into something else.” His deep voice reverberated up my thighs and arms, and I sunk down under the weight of his truth. Erik didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, and I closed my eyes to take a staggering breath.

  “Do you know how to cook?”

  11

  Natasha

  “Are you feeling better, Nat?” Glancing up from my laptop as Valerie sauntered into the conference room, a sketch pad under her arm and worry furrowing her brows, I frowned slightly. “Illya said you were sick. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m here, aren’t I? I didn’t want to ruin your trip. How’d that go, anyway?” My sister dropped into the chair next to mine, plopping her pad on the table with a fwop, and curiosity rose my brows higher. “Not very inspirational?”

  “Not much, no. You’d think going to an underground city made almost entirely of human bones would get things going, but . . . I don’t know. It just didn’t. I mean, it was really cool, but . . . ” Trailing off in dissatisfaction, Valerie huffed and pouted, and I giggled lightly as she swiveled around in the chair. “Anyway, there’s a lot of creepy stuff on the internet, so that’ll have to do. What about you? What’d you do while we were gone? Fred said you finished the infrastructure.”

  Licking my lips heavily as I nodded, I turned my laptop to Valerie, and she pretended to know what she was looking at. Smiling slightly, I ignored the memories that bombarded me of the night before to focus on the job. Now that Valerie was back, it seemed more bearable, and she arched a brow quizzically at me as I leaned back in my chair.

  “I did. I mostly worked. Illya and I hung out a little. I did some cooking. It was really nice . . . but, to be honest, she’s a horrible assistant. I didn’t think she was serious when she said she never cooked anything at all before.” Scrunching up my face as Valerie laughed heartily, I straightened to gesture to her sketch pad. “What you got for me? I’m going to have to integrate it into the website and stuff, so it better be good.”

  “It’s really not bad, but it’s not great either. I’m not happy with it at all.” Of course, anything Valerie drew was a masterpiece, even if she hated it. Popping open the pad, she flipped a few pages of doodles and folded them back to reveal a surprisingly scary setting. The graveyard was even creepier in black and white, and there was our main character sneaking around in full color. “It’s not done yet, but . . . I’m thinking of taking out a few things. It seems really busy.”

  “Have you shown Marshal, yet? Did he fill you in on the meeting with the guy?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I sent him a picture of it for the meeting.” Waving off my concern, my sister nodded with a little huff of displeasure. “They said it was awesome, but I think they were just fluffing my feathers.”

  “It really is good, Val, but I think you’re right. It does seem a bit busy.” I agreed with her just so she’d feel better about the scene, and Valerie smiled brightly as I pointed at a seemingly aimless flock of crows in a tree. “If it doesn’t add anything, don’t put it in. I think you should focus on the girl. It’ll make it more . . . concise.”

  Not that I really know what the Hell I’m talking about. The thought came and went, but it wasn’t uncommon. Valerie was the one with the talent, and I just happened to be a little above average at most things. She turned the page to another scene, a crypt, and I held up the pad to gaze under furrowed brows. Nothing about this scene was unique— it was just a crypt with a bunch of caskets and a creepy statue, totally normal. Truth be told, it didn’t have the same punch as the opening scene, and I frowned under tightly knit brows.

  “Fred’s supposed to give me a final of the storyboard on Monday, but this is what I’m gonna base the rest off of. It’s not really in-your-face-freaky, but it’s gonna get worse and worse as the game progresses, so I didn’t want to go too far. At least, that’s the advice he gave me.” A soft ‘ah’ of understanding passed my lips, and Valerie twirled around in her chair absently. “To be honest, this isn’t nearly as fun as I thought. I know I vouched for this, but I think it was really just for a reason to validate quitting at the website place.”

  “Yeah. To be honest, I’ve been considering dropping out, but, like, I can’t because I’m too good a person.” Doing this was a desperate measure, but now we were all committed, and things were actually going pretty smoothly. The work just sucked, and I wasn’t sure I’d want to do this again, even if it is easier the second time around. “I hired someone to manage those properties, right, so I don’t even need to do this for money anymore. That was the whole thing— we needed jobs. And also, Carlyle has already invested money and people on this, so . . . ”

  “He invested two people on this, and honestly not that much money or expectations. I think he might’ve realized when we pitched this idea that it wasn’t exactly gonna work out.” It’s so much easier to hide my shit when Valerie’s right next to me. I lied to her so much that I wasn’t even sure what the truth was anymore. When she was here, I felt normal. I felt more than just okay— I felt a little good, to be frank. But when she was gone, I crashed so hard, and everything seemed to be swallowed up by blackness that I couldn’t get through.

  I knew that I only had two options at this point. I had to fight to get to a place where I could be somewhat alright without my sister, or I was gonna walk in front of a truck. There was no in-between.

  “So, I heard the maids talking about how you got a visit last night from some guy.” The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up at Valerie’s cautious tone, and I glanced over at her through narrowed pupils. “Are you really okay, Nat? You never had a guy over before.”

  “Yeah, I’m really okay.” Now that you’re back. “We just had dinner. I made bacon-wrapped sirloin, and we talked. Nothing happened.” That was the truth, at least, and Valerie shot me a wild look before I rolled my eyes with a small frown. “What? I’m capable of having friends.”

  “I just didn’t think you were capable of having guy friends.” Blinking at that, I flopped my head back to heave a massive, groaning sigh, and Valerie swiveled around fast, tucking her feet. “Fred’s gay, and Marshal was married— that’s why you didn’t mind them. I just worry about you because it’s really not something you do, even platonically.”

  “Valerie, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m good. You’re good. We’re good. Besides, they’re all dead and keeping on being afraid of them only makes them live on. It’s about time for me to take a leap.” My tone lowered, and Valerie frowned deeply as her cheeks paled a few shades. Ducking her head, she nodded reluctantly, and I reached to rub her shoulder as warmth suffused my chest. “I know it sucks, but just because we’re growing doesn’t mean we’re separating. We just need to figure out what we’re gonna do now that we have other people that want our attention.”

  “You’re always doing that, Natasha. How can you be so rational?”

  “What? Someone has to be. You live in la-la land, taking impromptu trips to Paris and fucking a super-rich dude any time you want.” Poking her in the forehead, I smiled when she blushed furiously, and a laugh clogged my throat. “You’re an idiot.”

  “You’re an idiot!” I snorted a giggle at the high-pitched whine, and Valerie scooted
her chair away from me with an indignant huff. “I have better things to do than be insulted, damnit.”

  “Do you, though?” Amusement infected my tone, and my sister nodded viciously as I propped my forearms on the table to cradle my cheek. “I don’t have anything better to do, that’s for sure.”

  Our banter ended when Fred and Marshal came sauntering into the conference room, and I lifted my head at their stern expressions. I could feel a chill in the air at the determination in their faces, and I scrunched up my nose.

  “Let’s get this going. We’re gonna be productive today, whether you like it or not.” Marshal sat down as Fred made his announcement, and I groaned in foreboding. Valerie and I didn’t need to do this, but Fred didn’t have a friggen job, and Marshal was still waiting on his money to start rolling in. “Don’t even try to argue with me— we are working today, Natasha. No procrastinating.”

  “Yeah, okay . . . ” My dreary agreement earned me a giggle from Valerie, and she waddled her chair back to my side to rub my back comfortingly. “I guess if I really have to.”

  “You better— you set us really far behind with the whole not showing up shit yesterday. If you have a tough time, you did it to yourself.” Fred was on a damn mission today, and I shot Marshal a curious look, but he only shrugged. Scowling lightly, I sat up and took a deep, stabilizing breath before grabbing my laptop.

  At least being forced to work this cyber sweatshop meant I didn’t have to think about Erik or last night. Even now, the calm, comforting atmosphere in the kitchen after my little explosion permeated my skin all the way down to my bones. I wasn’t going to tell him how much I enjoyed cooking with him, and he wasn’t that bad.

  Starting over wasn’t such a bad idea.

  12

  Erik

  “No, Dad. I quit. I’m not gonna let myself be subjected to that shit. The dude’s a fucking nut case, and I got unlucky having him as my first partner. I became a cop because it seemed reasonable at the time, but . . . ” My dad snorted over the phone knowingly, and I frowned deeply as I shoveled a piece of bacon into my mouth. “What . . . what? Are you gonna tell me ‘I told you so’? Because I really don’t want to hear it right now.”

  “I did tell you so, Erik. So, do you have another job lined up, or are you just going to sit around on your pension and disability?” I scowled fully at that. It sounded so derogatory when he put it like that. Sure, I was receiving aid for my injury, but I fucking earned it— I got shot right in the ass, for fuck’s sake! “Well, if you’re not doing anything, you should come down to South Carolina and visit us some time.”

  “Why? So you can tell me I’m a pussy for accepting medical discharge?” My dad was such a hard-ass, and I didn’t let him confirm my suspicions as I leaned back in my chair and swallowed roughly. “You know, I realize that I’m the first in our whole family to accept it, but I’d rather be alive, thanks very much. I have a bullet half an inch from my spine, and I want to keep it there.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just busting your balls, Erik.” Grunting as I wiped my mouth with a napkin, I shook my head, and my dad sighed contentedly. “I’ve got to go, but you should really call your mother. I need you to confirm that I told you to come see us.”

  “Yeah, I will. I’ll talk to you later, Dad.” We hung up, and I licked my teeth as I recounted the conversation silently. In my family, too much of an opinion was a bad thing, and my fingers drummed on the table absently. Questions were bad— do what I was told, or get railed at about following orders. “No wonder I’m such a useless adult.”

  “Your dad sounds nice.” Twisting to find Natasha standing over me, a coffee in one hand and a croissant in the other, I grunted to hide my surprise. “Mind if I sit?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, and I took my fork to stab a piece of egg as discomfort tightened my shoulders. Eyeing Natasha in the silence, I propped my elbow on the small, circular table to hold my cheek. Her eyes weren’t puffy anymore, and she didn’t look so gaunt. After last night, I wondered what would happen when she had time to think about the implications of ‘starting over’.

  “Did you sleep last night?” Posing my question, I took a bite off my loaded fork, and Natasha shook her head. Her long, brown hair fell in slight curls over her shoulders, framing her face perfectly, and I swallowed my mouthful before speaking up. “When was the last time you slept?”

  “A long time. A couple months, maybe. Before Christmas, I think.” My brows furrowed above my frown at her casual reply, and she set down her coffee to lean on her forearms on the table. “How about you, Erik? I had a nice time last night.”

  “Would you like to do it again?” The question slipped out of my mouth, and I pursed my lips tightly as Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise. Shit . . . shit . . . “You’re a great cook.”

  The silence stretched beyond discomfort and into straight awkwardness, and I berated myself above the blood drumming in my ears. Natasha stared and stared, and anxiety curdled my gut the longer it went on. Why the fuck did I have to say something so damn stupid?

  Tensing when Natasha suddenly stood up and walked away, I scowled at the place where she’d been sitting. Rubbing my hand over my head roughly, my eyelids fluttered closed as a frustrated, tired sigh rolled off my tongue. She just fucking popped up and disappeared with no damn warning. How was I supposed to know what set her off if she didn’t fucking stick around?

  “Here.” The hairs on my neck bristled as Natasha flicked a napkin in front of me, and I glanced up at her. Sipping her coffee leisurely, she watched me with those eyes that seemed so vulnerable and so steely at the same time. “You’re not that useless— you can cut vegetables really nice.”

  “Natasha—" I almost reached out, but the only time she voluntarily touched me was when she hit me. Turning to me, Natasha arched a brow quizzically, and my cheek twitched under her gaze. “I appreciate that.”

  “You should.” She nodded curtly before rushing out of the breakfast-slash-coffee place, and I sat back in my seat to scoff in disbelief. Covering my mouth to hide my grim smile, I turned back around to stare at the napkin she’d tossed in front of me. Her phone number scribbled in pen, and I picked up the plain square to rub it between my fingertips. The way we interacted was insane— me being a complete dumb shit, and her being completely awkward.

  Because she’d never been on a date . . . because she was abused as a kid. My appetite fled at that thought, and I stood up to stuff the napkin in my pocket and head outside. The cold assaulted my face, and I pulled my hood up on the short walk to my car. I had far too much time on my hands to think about something so fucked up, but it was slowly but surely consuming me.

  Natasha was consuming me. I’d been gripped by anxiety after I got home last night, hoping she’d start talking again. She didn’t, of course, but I stayed up regardless. Everything was a blur between leaving until now, and I shook my head viciously as I dug my keys out of my jacket pocket.

  “I need to get a grip.” Climbing into my car, I shut myself inside to rub my hands down my face and neck. I was too old to be going through this shit, and I pulled the napkin out of my pocket, followed by my cell phone. Typing a quick, simple message, I dropped my phone in the cupholder before turning the engine and gripping the wheel. There wasn’t much to do in this city in the dead of winter, and I backed out of my space to head out of the lot.

  “Maybe going home wouldn’t be a bad idea.” God only knew this shit stain in the northern edge of New York state wasn’t my home. I’d been here four months, reluctantly moving here for a job I didn’t really want. My father was right, but I’d never tell him or he’d hang it over me forever.

  There was too much thinking going on for a brain that didn’t do much of the stuff, and a headache sprung behind my eyes as I turned onto the street. It didn’t help that this winter was long and cold, and I didn’t know anyone or anything here.

  Cooking with Natasha was the first time I’d had ‘fun’, if that’s what it could b
e called.

  The kitchen was quiet but not unpleasant or heavy, and I glanced up from peeling potatoes at the table to Natasha by the stove. Her shoulders curled a little, her hands steady but slow as she seasons the steaks she brought out.

  “I’m sorry about earlier, making you lash out.” She paused at my words but didn’t turn around, and I pursed my lips thinly as my chest tightened. “I’ve never been a civilian. I was sent to military school. Technically speaking, I didn’t graduate high school on time because I was deployed when I was eighteen and didn’t get my last few credits until after I came back thirteen months later.”

  Honestly, I hoped that if I gave a little, she’d give a little, and Natasha grabbed the package of bacon to cut off the top. Turning back to the potatoes, I clenched my jaw hard, and awkwardness wiggled deep between my lungs.

  “I almost didn’t graduate on time. I had to take night classes and online courses after Valerie and I got emancipated when we were sixteen.” Grinding my teeth at the hesitancy in her tone, I couldn’t help but wonder why Natasha hadn’t kicked me out. My cheek still stung from her smack, and the metal plate holding my rib together ached from the emotional impact of that hit. “I liked the snow . . . until it turned brown.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice the first few weeks, but then you just want it to end.”

  Everything that came out of my mouth was so damn stupid. Groaning softly in self-disgust, I took a right turn toward the gym and hoped the routine would stop my head from spinning.

  13