The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  “I can tell.” My gaze trailed to the tall, slim wine cooler on the counter, its six racks full of various bottles, but I tried not to judge. “I’ll bring a six-pack next time, then.”

  Nodding hesitantly, Natasha went back to deveining her shrimp, and I stuck the bottle back in the fridge as my mind churned. What was I even doing here? She’d asked me to come over, but why? If she wanted to torture me with her story, it’d be a lot easier to do it through the bug, and she knew I would listen.

  It wasn’t as if we really talked while we cooked, or when Natasha cooked and I just pretended to know something of what I was supposed to do.

  “I like to cook. It clears my head. I wanted to go to culinary school, but it’s such a high stress job, and you’re not going to get any easy work. I like to cook on my own terms.” Breaking the silence, Natasha tossed a shrimp into the bowl beside her, and I wandered over to watch her, but not too close. She picked out the vein from the head and ripped the rest out so easily, with practiced movements, and she glanced over at me warily. “Want to try?”

  “Your fingers are a lot thinner than mine— I’d probably squish the shrimp.” Holding up my palm, I curled my fingers absently, and a small, noiseless scoff escaped me. “I never had to cook. I was too busy learning how to be a good, little tin man.”

  Surprise caught my breath when Natasha held her hand over mine, not touching but close enough to prickle against my palm, and my cheek twitched in agitation. Her fingers were so slender, her nails perfectly oval and shiny from shrimp slime, and I could fold them under my first knuckles. Time seemed to stop when I glanced up to find her big, brown eyes on mine, and my gut tightened when she pursed her lips thinly under loosely knit brows.

  “You have big hands.” The murmur caressed up my jaw, and the hairs in my ears bristled even as a shadow passed through her eyes. “Not like them.”

  My lip curled up in a slight snarl when Natasha looked down, and needles stuck up my arm in waves when she touched her pointer finger to the middle of my palm. Her breath hitched loudly, lower lip quivering as she sucked it between her teeth, and her cheeks paled a few shades. A dazed expression swept across her face, like she didn’t mean to but couldn’t take it back, and I ground my teeth hard. So soft, her fingertip glided up over my knuckles and the callouses I’d built up over years and years of gloves and guns and knives.

  The moment was surreal, how something so ordinary and inconsequential could be so important.

  “It feels good.” Natasha’s eyelids fluttered closed, and tension throbbed against the metal plate in my chest as my heart raced furiously. Gunk from the shrimp followed her touch, and I held my breath as I took her hand, acutely aware of how she immediately stiffened, the intense shift in the atmosphere. Placing her palm on my chest, I caught her wide, glazed eyes when they popped open, and she gulped nervously.

  I saw it flicker in her eyes— her pupils tightening, her irises flashing black— and Natasha pulled her hand away with a hiss. Turning to the counter, she ducked her head to hide behind her hair, and I wanted to say something as her touch lingered, burning through my t-shirt. Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, she sniffed hard, and I almost winced at the harshness of the sound.

  “U-um, yeah. Yeah, you . . . you’re probably right. Um, c-can you just . . . go over there.” Her voice trembled and sputtered, and I walked the short distance to the table to drop into a chair. Gazing at my palm, my mind scattered, I could only barely remember to breathe as awkwardness rested heavily on my shoulders. “H-ha-ha.”

  “It’s okay, Natasha.” Tearing my eyes off my palm, a frown marred my face at the tight, high set of her shoulders, and she flipped her hair a little with a strangled sound. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No . . . n-no . . . I-I’m gonna . . . maybe Illya can come over. Her boyfriend was a Marine . . . yeah.” Still hiding her face, Natasha rushed out of the kitchen before I could stop her, and I inhaled a huge, heavy breath through flared nostrils and held it. My knee bounced furiously, and I drummed my fingers on my jeans as I flopped my head back to exhale hot, stale air.

  Is she really gonna call her friend at two a.m.? Is her friend really gonna show up? Grimacing at the questions circling in my head, I clenched and released my jaw in aggravation. Does she not feel safe? Did I fuck up without even realizing I was fucking it up?

  “You know, you don’t have to worry about it, Natasha. I’ll head out. It’s pretty late, anyway.” Speaking loudly, I stood up, and Natasha was pacing the living room with her phone tightly clutched in her hand. She paused, head whipping up to stare at me through apprehensive eyes, and I nodded firmly. “It’s okay. I should head home anyway.”

  “No, you can stay, Erik.” Holding out her palms, Natasha seemed like she was pushing away rather than buckling down, and I frowned under furrowed brows. “Don’t leave.”

  My palms tingled wildly, and I pursed my lips thinly as Natasha continued her pacing, rubbing the back of her neck with her free palm. There was no argument I could make, and she glanced at her phone anxiously as she grumbled to herself. She dialed a number, holding the phone to her ear and ignoring me completely, and awkwardness slithered up and down my spine.

  “Hey! Hey, can you come down here really quick, okay? Please.” Relief slumped her shoulders, and Natasha nodded with a slight smile on her face. Stuffing my hands in my pockets to hide my clenched fists, I rolled my shoulders as the silence settled. This was undoubtedly the most uncomfortable situation I’d ever been in with a woman. This was worse than when I got hazed for being deployed on a ship a virgin. And that I never lived down. But this . . .

  “Natasha! Natasha!” Finally, she stopped her pacing and looked at me, eyes widening at the slight rise in my voice, and I didn’t bother hiding my frown. “Natasha, you don’t have to wake someone up. We’ll just pick up later where we leave off now. Why are you so anxious?”

  Hope budded in my chest when it seemed, for a second, that she heard me, but it was gone just as quickly at the soft knock on the door behind me. Natasha jumped with a little squeak, and I sighed hotly through my nose as she skirted a safe distance around me. Seating myself on the sofa, my knee bounced, and the same girl that was with Natasha at CVS shuffled into the room.

  Illya had obviously been sleeping, and she paused when she saw me under heavy lids. Rubbing her orange locks, confusion flickered on her long face, and I scowled darkly when her slender brows rose high and sharp.

  “What are you doing here? Natasha, what’s he doing here?” So, no one knows I’m here . . . except Carlyle, probably, considering this is his property. Illya turned to Natasha expectantly, and I bit back a sigh. “Natasha.”

  “Come on, we’re making shrimp tacos. I meant to ask you to bring Theo, but—"

  “His arm started hurting. He’ll be down in a little bit.” She sounded so annoyed, and Illya held Natasha by the shoulders to stare her dead in the face. Watching them interact was strange— it was almost like they didn’t know much about each other but were still important to one another somehow. “Okay, you can’t call us down at two in the morning for tacos. I appreciate being invited, but I was asleep, and I have a huge workload right now.”

  “Sorry.” Natasha cast me a nervous glance, stepping closer to her friend to mumble something I couldn’t hear, and Illya turned to cast me a startled look. This was gonna be a long ass night.

  16

  Natasha

  “I’m just saying, I told a lot of lies in California, but that was a long time ago, Theo. How come you’re still grumpy about it?” The loud giggle that echoed around the kitchen drew my attention, and I turned as I lifted my wine glass to my lips. Illya sat on Theo’s lap, just as tipsy as me, and she poked him in the chest as envy flooded my own. “What would foster care do to me at sixteen, huh? They’d stick my ass in a group home I’d run away from anyway.”

  “I don’t think that’s helping, Natasha.” Tensing when Erik took my glass from me, I frowned when he downed t
he rest in one gulp without releasing my gaze. “Really, you need to slow down.”

  “It’s not called ‘liquid courage’ for nothing.” His eyes narrowed at my slur, and I scrunched up my face as he set my glass on the counter, far away from me. My gaze slid back to Illya as she drunkenly hung over Theo, and my cheeks heated as a nasty frown twisted my lips. They looked happy— everyone was so fucking happy. Illya found someone who accepted her. Valerie found someone who protected her. What the Hell was so damn wrong with me that I could only watch and not participate?

  “Do you want to go sit down somewhere?” Erik didn’t wait for my mind to catch up enough to protest, and I tensed when he gingerly wrapped his mammoth palm around mine. Stiffness gripped my muscles, but his eyes never wavered from mine as he practically dragged me into the living room. Sitting on the sofa, I didn’t dare blink, and Erik sat on the edge of the coffee table to very gently hold my fingers in both his hands. “What happened earlier? If you didn’t feel safe, you should’ve told me to leave, and I wouldn’t hold it against you, Natasha.”

  Rolling my lips between my teeth, I ducked my head to stare blearily as Erik rubbed my fingers between his. His hands were rough and work-hardened, and he touched me with unexpected gentleness. Warmth slithered up my arm, and the alcohol on my tongue tingled my buds as I inhaled shallowly to sigh.

  “They’re different.” My voice slurred slightly, and my head became heavy as I licked my lips heavily. “Not so different, though. That’s what sucks the most— there’s nothing you can do that hasn’t already been done.”

  “There’s one thing. Right?” That lifted my eyes, and I followed Erik’s bulging muscles as they strained when he inhaled deeply. He squeezed my hand, barely noticeable, and my breath hitched as my gaze snapped down again. “If there’s one, there has to be more.”

  “Oh.“ Holding hands. Humming softly in agreement, I curled my fingers around his as a wistful, small smile tilted my lips. “You’re right . . . yeah.”

  Puffing a hot breath, my head swam as the almost alien notion of content swept through me, and I closed my eyes again to save it. There was nothing greater than being close to someone. When was the last time a guy took my hand instead of going right to my hip? The raves and pulsing, drug-fueled, alcohol-crazed parties I went to before . . . everyone was trying to score.

  “It’s so stupid.” My murmur knocked my head back a little, and I glanced up under heavy lashes as Erik pursed his lips over a tense set of his jaw. “It was a good idea at the time.”

  “I’m sure it was. I’m surprised your liver isn’t dead by now.” Snorting a little giggle, I sniffled hard, and boozy flames licked up my cheeks at the gravity dragging down his features. “Nat, you can’t keep living like this. I don’t know how much of this you’ll remember in the morning, but you have to let go or it’ll eat you alive.”

  “Your opinion isn’t so bad sometimes.” Blinking blearily, I pulled a face as I sat up straight, and my brain banged against my forehead from the sudden movement. Erik tensed, his grip on me tightening ever so slightly, and it took me a second to realize someone was knocking on the front door. Standing up, I almost tripped on Erik’s boot, and our contact broke when I held my hands out to stabilize myself.

  Valerie and Carlyle stood on the other side of the door, and my eyes widened in surprise as she cast me a mock, stern look. Neither of them looked like they’d slept a wink yet, still in their clothes from yesterday, and I scrunched up my face as my sister crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Why weren’t we invited, huh?” My mouth dried, and I stammered a little in my drunken stupor as my brain struggled to catch up. Stepping to the side, I could only nod as words failed me, and my heart strained against my ribs. “You didn’t put any music on or anything?”

  Posing the question as she breezed past, Valerie pulled her hair over her shoulder, and I shook my head dumbly. Carlyle cast me a frown, his brow creased in what I dared suggest was worry, but I ducked my head to hide my own frown as sourness invaded my mouth. Shutting the door slowly, my mind went into overdrive, and I wiggled my fingers by my sides as Valerie went straight to the kitchen to pick at the leftover tacos.

  “I thought you two would be busy banging to want to come down and eat my food.” My voice sounded different even to me compared to a few seconds ago, and I leaned on the entryway to the kitchen to frown. My sister tinged pink, whipping around to glare at me, and I grinned broadly. “It’s okay! It’s okay, seriously. I know you’re not gonna stop slobbering for my amazing tacos.”

  “I don’t know, Natasha, they’re very good.” Valerie squeaked in embarrassment, swatting Carlyle’s arm, and my grin widened as I nodded. “I didn’t know if this was going to be a frequent thing, but I can assume it will be?”

  Confusion wrinkled my nose, and Carlyle nodded behind me with a knowing look. Twisting to catch Erik standing uncomfortably in the living room, alone, I gasped before gesturing him over. He walked stiffly, and I could see the caution swirling in his eyes as he gazed steadily at Carlyle.

  “Oh . . . oh, right. Yes, um, this is Erik. He’s my . . . he’s my helper.” Faltering slightly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up when all eyes were suddenly on me. Carlyle didn’t look the least bit surprised, but Valerie rushed forward to stick out her hand all happy dandy. Clenching my jaw, I couldn’t stop myself from smacking away her outstretched palm, and the atmosphere became deathly still and silent.

  Clutching her lose fist to her chest, my sister frowned as bitterness burned beneath my eyelids, and my heart beat way-y-y too fast. She slunk back, grabbing my empty wine glass to fill it and take a gulp, and I blinked back the water in my eyes.

  “Natasha, that was mean.” My throat closed, my face threatening to melt right off from the heat that engulfed me, but from anger or something else, I didn’t know. This was exactly why I didn’t invite Valerie, and I ignored Erik’s mumble as it droned far underneath the blood beating in my ears.

  “I tell you all the time, don’t be too friendly.” Venom dribbled from my tongue, and Valerie’s wide eyes met mine as I raked my hand through my hair viciously. “How come you can’t not be nice, huh? That’s how you get hurt, Valerie.”

  “I just wanted to introduce myself.” Scoffing loudly, I stormed over to Valerie to grab her shoulders and shake, and she dropped the wine glass with a shocked gasp. The shattering of glass, I didn’t even hear it, and I squished her face in both my palms to keep her wide eyes on mine.

  “You can’t trust anyone. No one’s going to do anything for you unless they expect something in return. I tell you all the time! You need to listen to me! You’re nice one time and . . . and . . . and they think you’re interested in something you’re not. I said it . . . I said it, but you . . . you’re still stupid and think not everyone’s bad. Everyone is bad! Valerie, everyone!” She jerked her head in a nod, her lips pursing as much as they could puffed between my palms, and I frowned thinly. “No one cares, not even the littlest bit. And if they do, they’re lying because they want something. Okay? We’ve talked about this.”

  “Natasha?” Reality overlapped with my memories as they became too powerful, and I smiled slightly as I rubbed Valerie’s face playfully.

  “I gotta go. I put your sandwich in the fridge.” Valerie’s face fell in disappointment, and my heart stammered in my chest as I backed up a step. “Don’t be sad. I’ll be back in a few hours. You can go to the Girl’s Club if you want.”

  Valerie scowled, her pudgy cheeks tinging red, and I smiled wider as she threw herself back on the mattress to groan and roll around.

  “You know those girls are mean to me, Nat!” Her complaining pulled a laugh from me even as I pulled on my shoes, and I tied up my hair before she spoke up again from behind me, “I wish Dad was still alive. Why do you have to have a job? That’s not even legal.”

  “It’s fine. I like the job, right, and that’s important, liking your job. You should never do something you don’t like.” The lie s
lipped so easily off my tongue, and I stood up to cast Valerie one last look. She was so young, so innocent, worrying about normal stuff and not . . .

  And I had to keep her that way. As long as I did what I had to do, she could be free. Only three more years, and we could get legally emancipated and leave all of this behind us.

  17

  Erik

  “What’s she talking about, Valerie?” Carlyle’s sharp question wasn’t enough to slash open the encasement of Natasha’s memories, and an intense sense of déjà vu hit me square the in the chest. This isn’t the first time she became delusional.

  “I . . . it was right before we . . . right before our fourteenth birthday.” That must’ve had some significance I didn’t know, and the atmosphere became even more dreary as Natasha continued caressing her sister’s face. “What’s happening? She never did this before.”

  “Um, actually . . . ” Holding up her hand, Illya drew attention but no eyes, and I clenched and released my fists by my sides. “This is at least time number three. That I know of.”

  “How do we snap her out of this?” Tension prickled down my spine, and I shook my head sharply at the snap. No one knew what to do, but flashbacks weren’t something that could just break. Natasha mumbled to herself illegibly, and I reached to rub my hands up my face and over my head roughly. “What happened the last two times, Illya?”

  “Uh, we went to CVS, and I said I’d pay when she didn’t bring her wallet, and Natasha went off about where’d I get the money and to never take anything from anyone. And the second time, we were hanging out, and she started telling me that if anything happened to her, to go to Mrs. Greer, and she’ll help me.”

  “Mrs. Greer was our seventh grade teacher. She’s the one who called CPS anonymously on us.” Valerie’s voice wobbled, and emotions battered my chest as I watched the scene before me unfold. Very sluggishly, Natasha gripped Valerie by the hair with both her hands, and the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. I really doubted Natasha would hurt Valerie, considering these were memories, but anything was possible during a psychotic break.