The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection Read online

  The Syndicates

  Raven Scott

  Contents

  Theo

  1. Illya

  2. Illya

  3. Illya

  4. Illya

  5. Theo

  6. Illya

  7. Theo

  8. Illya

  9. Illya

  10. Illya

  11. Theo

  12. Illya

  13. Illya

  14. Theo

  15. Illya

  16. Illya

  17. Illya

  18. Theo

  19. Theo

  20. Illya

  21. Illya

  22. Theo

  23. Illya

  24. Theo

  25. Illya

  26. Illya

  27. Theo

  28. Illya

  29. Theo

  30. Illya

  31. Theo

  32. Illya

  33. Theo

  34. Illya

  35. Theo

  36. Illya

  37. Illya

  38. Theo

  39. Illya

  40. Illya

  41. Theo

  42. Illya

  43. Illya

  44. Illya

  45. Illya

  Carlyle

  1. Carlyle

  2. Carlyle

  3. Carlyle

  4. Valerie

  5. Carlyle

  6. Valerie

  7. Carlyle

  8. Carlyle

  9. Valerie

  10. Carlyle

  11. Valerie

  12. Carlyle

  13. Carlyle

  14. Valerie

  15. Carlyle

  16. Valerie

  17. Carlyle

  18. Valerie

  19. Carlyle

  20. Valerie

  21. Valerie

  22. Carlyle

  23. Valerie

  24. Carlyle

  25. Valerie

  26. Valerie

  27. Carlyle

  28. Carlyle

  29. Valerie

  30. Valerie

  31. Carlyle

  32. Valerie

  33. Valerie

  34. Valerie

  35. Valerie

  36. Carlyle

  37. Valerie

  38. Carlyle

  39. Carlyle

  40. Valerie

  41. Carlyle

  42. Valerie

  43. Valerie

  44. Carlyle

  Erik

  1. Natasha

  2. Natasha

  3. Natasha

  4. Erik

  5. Natasha

  6. Erik

  7. Natasha

  8. Erik

  9. Erik

  10. Natasha

  11. Natasha

  12. Erik

  13. Natasha

  14. Natasha

  15. Erik

  16. Natasha

  17. Erik

  18. Natasha

  19. Natasha

  20. Erik

  21. Natasha

  22. Natasha

  23. Erik

  24. Natasha

  25. Erik

  26. Natasha

  27. Natasha

  28. Erik

  29. Natasha

  30. Erik

  31. Erik

  32. Natasha

  33. Erik

  34. Natasha

  35. Erik

  36. Natasha

  37. Erik

  38. Erik

  39. Natasha

  40. Natasha

  41. Natasha

  Oran

  1. Oran

  2. Oran

  3. Oran

  4. Oran

  5. May

  6. May

  7. Oran

  8. Oran

  9. May

  10. May

  11. Oran

  12. May

  13. Oran

  14. May

  15. Oran

  16. May

  17. May

  18. Oran

  19. May

  20. May

  21. Oran

  22. May

  23. Oran

  24. May

  25. Oran

  26. May

  27. May

  28. Oran

  29. May

  30. May

  31. Oran

  32. May

  33. May

  34. Oran

  35. May

  36. May

  37. Oran

  38. May

  39. May

  40. Oran

  41. May

  42. Oran

  43. Oran

  Mateo

  1. Mateo

  2. Mateo

  3. Lucy

  4. Mateo

  5. Lucy

  6. Mateo

  7. Lucy

  8. Mateo

  9. Lucy

  10. Lucy

  11. Mateo

  12. Lucy

  13. Mateo

  14. Lucy

  15. Mateo

  16. Lucy

  17. Mateo

  18. Mateo

  19. Lucy

  20. Lucy

  21. Mateo

  22. Lucy

  23. Mateo

  24. Lucy

  25. Mateo

  26. Lucy

  27. Lucy

  28. Mateo

  29. Lucy

  30. Mateo

  31. Lucy

  Theo

  1

  Illya

  Counting my tips carefully, I set my bills in order from most crumpled to least, ascending, and a tiny smirk quirked my lips. The notes had obviously seen too much of the inside of a wallet, but I wasn’t complaining because they’d go right into my saving’s jar at home. A pleasantness spread across my chest, but I knew this feeling would only last until Saturday night when my patrons realized they had to go to church on Sunday. They’d start feeling guilty for going to a strip club, buy their wives nice flowers, get their kids a football, and act like they hadn’t seen their pastor here the night before.

  Which was ironic and kinda sad and pathetic, but, hey, it was money in my pocket.

  Immorality at its finest.

  “Illya, mija, I thought you would be gone by now.” Roge’s thick Mexican accent slithered up my spine, and I turned away from my money to smile at him. Short and squat, his beady eyes watched me intently from deep in his face. It wasn’t surprising to me a man like him surrounded himself with hot, half-naked chicks half his age. He treated all the girls like a creepy step-dad that wanted to bang us but also innocently take us out for ice cream if we were upset. “Don’t you ride a bike? It’s late.”

  His roughened and textured skin from years of the sun and age wrinkled when he smiled, and Roge’s narrowed eyes scanned me under furrowed, bushy brows. I knew what Roge would see— some plank of a body topped in dyed pink hair that brought out the green in my eyes. I have curves, but you’re just never gunna see them. No one will.

  Natural, brown hair wasn’t going to make me stand out here, so I had to get creative. I wore a full-torso leotard and didn’t have the option to take it off to arouse interest. Of course, being fully clothed in a strip club in itself was unusual, but it often wasn’t enough on its own.

  “I’ll be fine, Roge.” I faked a Spanish accent at work just because it got me better tips, this being a border town and all. His smile morphed into a frown. “It’s not like it makes a difference— three a.m. or four a.m. Actually, I think it’s better because people are up and starting to get ready for their commutes and stuff.”

  “If you say so. I’ll give you a ride if you need it.” Like I
’d ever get into a car with you or show you where I live. Even so, I just smiled and nodded gratefully, and Roge wandered off down the lane, I guess, toward his office in the back. Stripping wasn’t a very difficult job, and I was happy just to be making money at this point. Turning back to my neat stacks, I pulled up a stool and sat down to focus.

  “I’ll count it again just to make sure. I’m really bad at math.” Grumbling to myself, I picked up the smallest stack of twenties and carefully plucked off the top bill. Twenty— forty— sixty. Setting it down, I snatched my substantially larger stack of tens and took a stabilizing breath. Seventy— eighty— ninety— one hundred— one hundred ten— one hundred twenty.

  This was the hard part, and my brows furrowed in concentration as I grabbed the fives. My brain just didn’t do math— I got languages much easier. Sure, I had to count using Schoolhouse Rock songs, but I also learned six languages easy-peasy. Frankly, I’d gladly give up the ability to multiply high numbers to be able to go anywhere and talk the talk.

  Wait, I messed up. Groaning softly, I shook my head viciously and set down my fives to start over. Maybe, I’d be better at math if I hadn’t dropped out of school. Then again, I know enough math to get my GED, so . . . Scowling slightly, the crease between my brows deepened, and I clenched my jaw hard behind thinned lips.

  “Illya.” My mind blanked at the call, and I smacked my palm against the table as a frustrated, low shriek burst from my lips.

  “What! I can’t count for shit! Come on!” I was louder than I intended, but I’d worked here for months and everyone knew I sucked at math. Glancing up as my face flamed in embarrassment, I chuffed harshly as Marcella shuffled toward me to pull up a stool. “I’ve been trying to count this for five minutes, okay? Just—”

  “Relax. I’ll help you out.” I must’ve had, like, severe dyslexia but for math, not words, and I rubbed my palms up my face and into my hair to groan in dismay. “Ready?”

  “Don’t ask me that. I feel like an idiot.” Propping my elbow on the table to hold my cheek in my palm as Marcella started slowly counting my bills while I watched. This ugly sensation clung to my ribs, and I scratched my crown absently as silence rang in my ears. My face twisted in a grimace, and my eyes narrowed on her hands as she started to count while snapping bills from her hand on the table.

  Thankfully, Marcella didn’t say anything to distract me while she helped me out, and I clenched and released my jaw absently. She counted all the twenties and tens, and I scooted a little closer when she got to the fives and ones. This, particularly, was my downfall, and I licked my lips heavily as anxiety gnawed at my gut. I was great at a lot of things, but it was simple math that kicked me in the ass. Ugh . . .

  “So, your total is two hundred thirty-one dollars. Do you want me to do it again to make sure?” I shook my head hard, and Marcella let out a twinkle of a laugh as she put all my bills in a single stack and handed it to me. Flipping her long, brown curls over her shoulder, she smiled with a bright glimmer in her eye, and flames licked my cheeks as I took the bills. “What are your plans for tomorrow? You’re coming in, right?”

  “Tomorrow’s Friday, of course, I’m coming in. I have Monday and Tuesday off, though. Why?” I tucked my bills into my money pouch wrapped around my waist, and Marcella rocked back on her stool to shake her head. Really, it was just a glorified fanny pouch, but I didn’t want to keep so much in something as stealable as a purse or losable as a wallet. “I’m not slated to come in until ten p.m., though, so I’ll probably get some stuff done. I have to go to the store and find something to eat and stuff. My roommate never shops because she buys junk.”

  “Okay. I’ll already be here. I get off at one, but I’ll be sticking around anyway.” Nodding in acknowledgment, I stood up and smoothed my shirt over my pouch as Marcella smiled up at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Illya.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for your help, Marcella.” Shuffling around her as her smile brightened, I pulled up my jeans over my hip absently. Patting my fanny pouch to make sure it was there, I felt around for my keys beyond the fake leather. Nodding, my anxiety of doing basic counting disappeared as I pushed open the door to the ‘sales floor’ of the building. The DJ was walking around with a broom and picker-upper-thing, and the catwalks had been turned off in favor of the big lights hanging from the ceiling.

  For a strip club, this place was fairly clean. We didn’t serve food, and the drinks were outrageously priced, so people didn’t want to spill them and waste fifteen dollars. Making my way toward the heavy double doors that served as an entrance, I was careful not to touch the chairs and barstools that hadn’t been wiped down yet. The crisp, clear air that filtered through the open door replaced the thickness of sweat and alcohol, and I stepped into the darkest part of the night to inhale deeply.

  Life was fucking good right now. Striding leisurely toward my bike, I patted my back for my switchblade and smiled at my own, light steps and pulled my bike chain key out of my pouch. Glancing up at the neon signs that blazed at passing cars tantalizingly, I rolled my lips between my teeth as a sigh bubbled up in my chest.

  I mean, working at a strip club wasn’t ideal, of course, but it was a job. Riding a bike everywhere wasn’t ideal, but it cost nothing. Living in a studio on the verge of being quarantined definitely wasn’t that great, but it was a place to live.

  There was always a ‘but’, a silver lining, and things might not be great, but they were good enough. Kneeling down to unlock my bike, I wrapped the chain around the handlebars before backing it up and straddling the seat. My mind whirred slowly as I pushed off toward the street, and I bopped my head absently to glance around. At this time of night, the roads were dead, the lights blinked instead of their usual rotations, and if I got too close to downtown, I’d see a lot of crackheads.

  Which was why I always took the back route. I had the added bonus of working out, too, so that was nice.

  “Sylvie’s probably going to be waking up right when I get there.” Pursing my lips, I took a breath through my nose as I cruised down the street. I wasn’t sure what was happening with her, but I knew Sylvie was being sneaky again. She was clean and doing well. We had a plan to pay off her drug dealer’s debt, and she had a job as a busser.

  But something was wrong, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. If Sylvie relapsed, I was dropping her like a hot potato because fuck that. I dealt with it once. I wasn’t dealing with it again.

  2

  Illya

  Dropping heavily onto my cot to tie my sneaker laces, I glanced over at Sylvie as she draped across her own cot and played Alien Invasion on her phone.

  “I’m heading to the store. Do you want anything in particular?” She shook her head, her short bob whipping her cheeks lightly, and my lips thinned under furrowed brows. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I think I’m getting sick. I’m just not hungry.” The bland response was the same one she gave me yesterday, and I simply shrugged it off. Sylvie didn’t eat a lot, but I wasn’t going to be responsible for her whole person. “If you could get me a VitaWater, the green one, that’d be great, though. I’ll pay you back next Thursday.”

  “It’s one VitaWater, Sylvie, they’re, like, two bucks. Just don’t forget to pay your half of the electric bill.” She rolled her eyes at me even as a smile stretched her thin lips, and I chuckled softly. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you later.”