The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  “Uh, yeah. The original plan was that I was going to move out after six months when I found my own place, but obviously, I quit, so either way, I didn’t see the point if I was just going to have to haul it all out anyway.” Rubbing my head and neck in discomfort, I leaned on the counter to take in the horrible, yellow paint job and ugly, orange tiling. “Not really a place to be proud of, for sure.”

  “My parents always had an apartment, but we were moving into a house when my life fell apart.” Natasha worded things strangely, and she talked about her wretched life like she was describing what a pencil looked like. She rocked on her heels, stuffing her hands in her jean pockets, and I was kinda speechless with the awkwardness of this moment. “You want to ask me anything?”

  “Do you have anything you want to ask me?” Combatting her question with my own, I seriously had no damn idea what was going on anymore, and Natasha shook her head. Her hair swished, and I pursed my lips thinly as my mind churned furiously. “Why did you start seeking me out?”

  “Because the more I thought about it, the more it made sense that you’re a follower, not a leader.” That fucking— ouch! Natasha smiled grimly as my lip curled up, but she was right, and she knew it. “I’ve seen that other cop around. He clearly hates his job. I realized after a while that it all . . . just . . . plain bad luck, I guess.”

  “So, you figured we just got off on the wrong foot, and that I wasn’t as scummy as our first meeting presented me?” She nodded mutely, and my brows furrowed even as a wiggle of relief wormed between my lungs. “On the way back from CVS, you told Illya that cops are the most dangerous, but I’m not a cop anymore. Does that make you feel safer?”

  “I don’t feel unsafe.” That wasn’t the question, but I let it slide for now as Natasha shot me a quizzical look. “You still haven’t asked me why I went up to you in the pizza place.”

  “What’s there to ask? There’s a few reasons. You had the advantage at the time, and you knew it. Also, we were in a restaurant crowded enough not to be missed if something happened. You also had your two coworkers there. Plus, you were the one who initiated it. Every other time, it was me that fucked up and surprised you.” Maybe, Natasha didn’t think I was that perceptive, and I rolled my eyes when she barked a surprised laugh. “I’ve trained for twenty years to know this kind of shit. Reading situations is what I’m good at. That’s why . . . ”

  Trailing off, I could hear my unspoken words hanging heavy in the air, and Natasha wandered across the kitchen to me. She kept a good foot or two of distance, but her eyes didn’t leave mine, and I tensed when she swung her hand to latch her fingers on my own. Her touch was warm, and that heat suffused my chest to the cell as she tinged pink around her ears.

  Shuffling a little closer, her heels never leaving the tiles, Natasha’s breath hitched when I tangled our fingers together, and alarm flashed in her big, brown eyes before she ever so gently rested her cheek on my chest. My heart thundered hard and fast, blood drumming in my ears, and I didn’t dare breathe for fear of shattering this moment.

  “I don’t know if I can ever do that, Erik, but I’m trying. It’s kinda funny, maybe. Before I went out, I told Carlyle I was gonna go with you because I was gonna kill myself at some point along the way.” Ice lodged in my throat, and I gripped the edge of the counter with my free hand until my nails bend back and throbbed painfully. “That way, Valerie wouldn’t know, and she wouldn’t agonize over anything she might’ve done because it wouldn’t have made a difference, anyway. Right now, today, it doesn’t seem so hopeless.”

  “Valerie’s not the only one that cares about you, you know.” I said the only words I could think of, and Natasha sighed, her hot breath seeping through my shirt to scorch my skin. She leaned forward a little, but only her cheek touched me— nothing else— and I unfurled my fingers stiffly to cup the back of her head above her hair. My eyelids fluttered closed, and I inhaled into screaming lungs soothed by the thick vanilla scent that wafted off her hair.

  24

  Natasha

  “You didn’t spend the night? Why not?” Casting Illya a dumb look, I paused my fiddling, and she blushed pink as she shrugged a little, ducking her head in embarrassment. “I’m just sayin’ . . . that seems like the next logical thing to do considering, you know, you’re going to be stuck in a car with him forever. You’re gonna have to sleep in the same eight-foot space.”

  “I like him.” Theo surprised both of us, and my brows nearly flew off my face as Illya jumped a little with a squeak of her own. Turning to him dying of boredom of the couch, I blinked hard, but he continued staring at the ceiling as if he hadn’t said something so shocking. “Him taking medical discharge voluntarily, it says a lot about him. Even you two did fuck, he’d probably be really okay about it. Erik’s an okay dude.”

  “You like him? Theo, you don’t even tolerate me most of the time.” Shooting Illya a snooty look, Theo sat up a little to stretch his legs, and she, in turn, looked at me wild. “What the fuck?”

  “I didn’t get a chance to talk to him because you two were fucking draining that bottle too fast, but if I did, it’d probably be real . . . pleasant.” My mouth dried as Illya’s jaw dropped, and Theo grinned maliciously at his girl as he settled back into the sofa. Turning to stare at the table, I let that comment circle in my head— Theo liked Erik. What a fucking insane concept. Theo didn’t like anyone, and if he did, he hid it behind that scowl that never left his face.

  I didn’t know if that was worrying or not.

  “Anyway, no, I didn’t sleep over. It was great, but I didn’t want to push my luck.” Popping out my lower lip as I sunk in my chair, I twiddled a shirt between my fingers and frowned under furrowed brows. “Holding his hand makes me so nervous, I can’t even think about the other stuff. I mean, I was thirteen when it started and sixteen when it ended. That’s a long time.”

  “Who says you’re definitely going to have sex if you sleep over? Even if things do have a chance to get hot and heavy, circumvent it early. Tell him as soon as you get in the car, ‘I don’t want to do anything tonight’.” Scrunching up my face at that, my mind whirred leisurely as I distractedly put my shirt in the pile to the right of my chair. “Erik won’t pressure you.”

  “I know that.” We’d been slowly sorting clothes for hours now, doing more talking than anything else, and I sat up with a sharp, slightly clogged breath. Illya held up a pair of shorts, and I nodded before she dropped them to her left into a much smaller pile. “He asked me if I felt safe, and it’s like I don’t even know what that even means. Plus, what’s the point of a relationship if you can’t have sex with your partner?”

  “Maybe, you can have an open relationship.” Surprise and disgust gripped my heart in a vice, and Illya giggled at the twisted expression that instantly sprung to my face. “It’s an option— if Erik gets antsy, tell him he can go screw someone else because you can’t or won’t.”

  Pursing my lips thinly, my brain started to work faster. I had never considered having to worry about this shit, and we fell into silence. There was absolutely, positively no friggen way I’d bring that up to Erik, and my heart throbbed painfully in my chest. Was this what liking someone felt like? Because I didn’t enjoy it and I wanted it to stop. I had never kissed a man. I’d never been completely naked in front of a man. I’d never voluntarily submitted to even a caress on the cheek.

  Even at the raves and the parties, I’d conditioned myself to be better at being touched, but there were so many people so tightly packed together. No one ever lingered more than a few seconds before finding a more enticing silhouette in the gloom.

  Plus, what would happen if Erik stopped wanting to spend time with me and be with that other woman? My chest tightened at the notion, and I ground my teeth as my fingers stopped working through clothes. All my attention turned to that. Even the world around me went black and silent for a second. What’ll happen then? I have to make him think I’m a good option— the only option.

&nb
sp; My skin crawled, but I put on my best smile as small hands caressed down my arm and back. The other men in the room didn’t see anything wrong with this situation— me, sitting on some guy’s lap, even though I hadn’t even gotten my period yet. How messed up . . . how deplorable . . . how . . . how . . .

  How did this happen? The question had no answer, and I tensed, my breath catching in my throat when that hand stuck between my legs. My smile froze, but I knew.

  A shrill, insistent cry broke me from my reverie, and I jumped as goosebumps pocked my skin. My heart jumped into my throat, and my hand shook when I snatched my phone off the table. A cold sweat broke out on my body, and I pushed myself up to shuffle out of the kitchen and down the hall to my bedroom.

  “H-hello?” My voice cracked hard, and I ran my free hand through my hair only for my frigid fingers to get stuck.

  “Did you finish packing, Natasha? We’re gonna be shipping out tomorrow morning, and—"

  “No, no, it’s not coming out!” Panic rang in my voice and sloshed violently against my ribs, and I wheezed as my lungs filled with fire. Tugging my hand, a shriek burst from my throat when my phone hit the wall with a sickening thump. Tears pricked my eyes, and my throat closed completely as my knees gave out from under me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe, and blood drummed in my ears, drowning everything else out.

  Small hands, soft, small hands, touched my back, and I whipped around to kick out my feet blindly. The dense lump in my throat dislodged from the scream that built up underneath it, and the hand in my hair only twisted tighter and pulled.

  “No, no, no! No!” It hurt— all of me hurt— and my scalp tugged hard as bloodcurdling shrieks rubbed my throat raw. Pressure built behind my eyes, and tears streamed down my face as phantom laughter rang high above the drumming in my ears.

  “Don’t!” Prickles assaulted my skin like needles, and my eyes rolled back as the pressure on my skull became even more intense. Shivering as fear gripped my muscles, I curled into a tiny, tight ball even as the tugging on my hair sharpened and jerked. Wheezing bare breaths, my lungs enflamed around my heart, and it beat furiously in a bid to jump out of my chest.

  “Illya. Illya, shit. It’s okay. She got you really good, but you’re gonna be okay.” The deep, rough baritone was overly loud but muted, like it was coming through a tunnel, and black spots assaulted my vision.

  I couldn’t breathe, and my fingers went numb as the energy seeped from my arms and legs to keep my heart beating. My loose clothes stuck to my skin as sweat dripped down my jaw and chin, and I spasmed lightly from the cramps that assaulted my abdomen.

  Staring at the wall, shame drenched my naked body and ran rivers down my face, and I clenched my jaw against the sobs that built in my chest. My teeth ached and my lungs refused to work properly as swirls decorated the wall that weren’t really there. The bed dipped behind me and I stiffened as the fine hairs on my neck stood up. Disgusting fingers caressed my side and over my shoulder, and a very thick Spanish accent tickled my ear.

  “It’ll get better, mija.”

  And he was right. It got better. It stopped hurting. It was something as mundane as swinging a bat. It happened, and then it was over. I could definitely do it again, because the sooner I did it, the sooner it’d be over.

  Yeah, I could just pretend, like I’d been doing all this time, and everything would be fine again. Everything was fine. I’d done it before, and it worked. All I had to do was . . .

  25

  Erik

  Rage and worry created a volatile cocktail as I beat the elevator on the stairs, and I kicked open Natasha’s apartment door with fire engulfing my heart. People crowded the living room, faceless mannequins that I paid no mind to, and I stormed through it all to the hallway. She was curled up on the floor, mumbling illegibly to herself, her hand tangled tightly in her hair and pulling uselessly.

  My heart broke for Natasha, dripping in sweat and totally out of her mind, and I crouched down on stiff knees beside her. Every fucking time she came back here, she had a meltdown, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. My hand trembled as I reached for hers, and she jerked with a pathetic whimper even when my palm covered hers. She was soaked to the bone, freezing cold, and my lips thinned as glazed over, brown eyes met mine.

  “Hey, Natasha. What’s wrong, huh?” There wasn’t the faintest spark in her eye that she understood me, and Natasha’s lips moved, but nothing came out. Fighting a grimace, I managed somehow despite the apoplexy searing my veins, and I circled her sweat palm as it spasmed under my fingertips. “It’s okay, just rest.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, her wheezes becoming hiccups, but Natasha didn’t release the tension that strafed her spine. She was so tense, and an unbearable sensation shot up my arm to stab my chest. This was, by far, the worst episode yet, and I couldn’t even do anything. I couldn’t touch her anywhere, and she didn’t process anything I said.

  Watery, bloodshot eyes met mine, wandered, and repeated as her lips moved mutely, and I struggled to breathe as I waited it out. So much circled in my head. What happened to make her this way? What did someone say or do that triggered this?

  Very carefully, very slowly, I untangled Natasha’s hair from around her tightly clenched fist, and a huge clump stuck between her fingers. Gently turning her head, I wasn’t sure whether or not she’d ripped out enough to be noticeable, or whether or not that was a good thing either way.

  One thing was obvious to me, though— Natasha couldn’t come back here.

  Determination branded my chest, and I waited the worryingly short time it took for Natasha to black out. Her eyes rolled back, whole body sinking into the carpet, and the smell of urine plumed in the air. Seconds ticked by on pins and needles before I stood up, and I rubbed my head and down my neck with both my hands. Licking my teeth, my jaw ached as it immediately clenched hard, and my gaze narrowed as I glanced around.

  Shuffling toward the living room, I glanced at the worried faces— worried enough to show up but not enough to try to help. Irritation heated my face, and my eyelid twitched in agitation as I spotted Theo on the sofa.

  “What happened?” The sharp edge to my tone, I had never heard it before, and Theo glanced up as my mind belatedly registered the sound of Illya puking her guts out into the garbage can. He watched my warily, and my lip curled in impatience before he opened his mouth.

  “I wasn’t paying much attention, but Illya said something about being in an open relationship.” My pupils narrowed into slits as I sucked in a sharp breath, and Theo held up his hands in surrender. His mangled fingers curled, caution and maybe neve nervousness dictating his scarred features, and I clenched my fists tightly by my sides. “Like I said, I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Is she okay?” Speaking up meekly, Valerie drew my gaze, and utter disgust curled my face into a full-blown snarl.

  “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re so upset she lied to you, you haven’t talked to her in days. You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?” Red seeped into my vision when Valerie had the audacity to look ashamed, and it took all my strength not to storm over and get in her face. “How dare you? How dare you, after everything she went through to make sure you weren’t fucked up beyond repair, and you ask, ‘is she okay’?”

  “No wonder she feels so fucking alone.” Brown eyes so closely matching Natasha’s welled with tears at my snap, but I had no mercy— not anymore. Natasha was alone, in the hallway, in the middle of a psychotic break, and they were all huddled in the living room doing nothing! “Get the fuck out! Go be mad that she lied to make you happy. Go feel betrayed about her wanting you to have a good life. Natasha gave you every opportunity and ruined herself for you, and you have the gall, the fucking temerity to ignore her? This is your fault, Valerie.”

  Even Carlyle was silent, and I wondered briefly beneath the fog of my mind whether he’d tried to persuade Valerie to initiate contact with Natasha. The younger twin broke down at my accusation, but she didn’t move
, and I took a few threatening steps forward. Breathing fire through flared nostrils, I shook with the force of my disgust as Valerie stumbled back before making a break for the door.

  Ungrateful bitch. Was Valerie going to ignore Natasha until she could pretend everything was fine? Did she feel so justified being angry about the lies that she ignored the intent behind it? Does she even realize the consequences of Natasha’s sacrifice? Did she think it would blow over?

  Everything around me was in hyper focus as I glanced into the kitchen. The range was clear of anything, which means Natasha hadn’t cooked while having Illya over. A huge pile of clothes son on the left side of either chair, a smaller pile on the right, and I scratched my jaw roughly. There was no noise except a shrill ringing in my ears as I stalked over to grab the suitcase standing against the wall.

  An open relationship . . .

  That concept was even worse to hear than Valerie asking such a dumbass question. Disgust coated my tongue, gluing it to the top of my mouth as I ground my teeth down to the gum. Snatching the pile to the right of the chair, I started folding the clothes just to do something, to get rid of this tension zinging through me.

  What the fuck kind of suggestion is that? An open relationship! That defeats the whole fucking purpose of wanting to be with Natasha. If I didn’t have hope for us, I wouldn’t have fucking stuck around! Sure, it worked for some people, but not for me.

  Why the hell were they talking about sex, anyway?

  “What the fuck!” Seething as questions I had no answers to swirled around behind my eyes, I sucked in as big a breath as I could manage, and my sternum popped from the pressure. Methodically picking up, folding, and placing the clothes in the suitcase helped me a little, at least to focus on organizing my thoughts.