Erik: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Syndicate Book 3) Page 9

  “Don’t be stupid, of course n-not.” Sputtering bitterly, Natasha sniffled hard, and my fingers itched painfully to take hers even as she sighed in defeat. “It’s getting worse.”

  “Yeah, it tends to do that right when you think everything’s going good.” My gruff reply earned me a snotty gasp, and I glanced around before spying a box of heavily used tissues on the nightstand. Standing up to grab them, I flicked on the small lamp to have some light, and I set the box next to Natasha before sitting back down. “You know, when I was on my second deployment in the Navy, I shot someone for the first time. We spend a lot of time on ships, but we dock every once and a while. Everyone gets pretty wound up being in such tight quarters for so long, so we get a little wild. It’s a culture, sorta.”

  That time seemed so long ago, and the reality of the situation was simple— twelve years ago, I shot someone. The traumatic part was that I didn’t feel bad about it.

  “They say your first kill sticks with you, but we were in Yemen, and they were in the middle of a war. The first person I ever killed was a woman aiming a rocket launcher out of a blasted-out building’s window.” Finally, Natasha lifted her head, and her tear-stricken face burned bright red in the low light cutting through the gloom. My cheek twitched in agitation, and I inched my hand over the sheet palm up, just in case. “I lifted my rifle and shot her right in the head. I barely even registered that I did it at the time. The rocket exploded inside the house, and it went crumbling down. I think the noise of that building collapsing was worse than actually killing her.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” Reaching my free hand to rub the back of my neck, I could only shrug half-heartedly, and Natasha’s raw expression turned scornful.

  “It doesn’t. Not really. That’s the thing, though, Natasha. You’re right about no one doing anything for nothing. People do things for others for their own satisfaction, for blackmail, for control, for whatever reason. There’s millions of ways to rationalize it. Sometimes, though, there’s a few easy answers that aren’t so painful.” Her disgust darkened, the shadows playing off her profile when she shook her head in denial, and I nodded firmly. “Sometimes, helping people feels good. Sometimes, just being compassionate brings enough satisfaction. Pushing and shoving to feel power over someone else . . . that’s not me. I know words don’t matter, but I would never use your experiences against you, Natasha.”

  “Everything I did, it was all for no reason . . . in the end.” Natasha fell forward, as if admitting that, whatever it was, was the final straw, and her cold cheek seared my palm. Wine-soaked breath wafted up my wrist, but she only sucked in a shuddering, unstable breath that ended in a hiccup. Rolling my jaw, I cupped my chin with my free hand to stroke my beard, and even in an emotionally dead sleep, her tears streamed between my fingers.

  Now what was I going to do?

  18

  Natasha

  Turning off the showerhead with a sharp twist, I leaned on the warm tile to heave a hot, wet breath. Forcing my eyes open, water dripped off my eyelashes, and I pushed open the curtain to step out of the shower. Steam billowed around my ankles, and my toes flexed against the mat as I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around myself. My headache ad dulled in the hour or so I spent being pounded by scalding water, and I inhaled deeply, steadily.

  “I obviously didn’t drink enough.” My tongue stuck to the roof my mouth, and I frowned an ugly frown as despair clung to my insides like bad fried food. Stepping out of the bathroom, I headed to my room to change into clothes I’d already picked out for the day. The world turned around me in slow motion, matching my sluggish movements, and I closed the door behind me to start drying my hair.

  The secret was out, the whistle was blown, and I climbed into my panties and snapped my bra before my energy ran out. Sitting on my bed, I toweled my hair with heavy arms and stared at a distant carpet fiber that was a tiny bit longer than the ones around it.

  Why did Valerie have to ruin everything? And it wasn’t her fault or anything, but I didn’t invite her because I didn’t want her here. My sister was a living, breathing reminder that my life was fucking worthless! Everything I did was useless and futile in the end, and I couldn’t take a step forward without taking three steps back. Looking at her face, so happy and glowing and insufferable, it made me sick.

  Reaching over to grab my shirt, I pulled the fabric slowly over my head and down my torso as my frown deepened. Valerie, Valerie, Valerie— my entire life revolved around her, but her life didn’t revolve around me. She always had friends, or acquaintances, at least, and I had blackout episodes at vague glances my way.

  “What the fuck.” Glancing down at my palm, my eyes narrowed, and my bitterness only intensified as I flexed my fingers long. “I’m disgusting.”

  Shaking my head viciously, I stood up to hop into my jeans, and I pulled on a pair of socks before leaving my room. The apartment was quiet, ominously so, and I wandered into the kitchen only to pause. All of the dishes had been washed and put away, and the counters had been wiped down. The wine glass that had shattered had been vacuumed up, and its missing spot was prominent under the cabinet where they were hanging upside down.

  “You’re awake.” Twisting as surprise squeezed my heart, I frowned as Erik lifted himself from the sofa. “Good morning. Or should I say ‘good afternoon’?”

  “Good? Right. Nothing is good.” Nastiness coated my tongue, and Erik frowned as I scowled at him from across the threshold. “Get out.”

  “No.” My pupils blew at the firm baritone that slammed into me, and I stormed over to rear back my arm. Erik didn’t flinch as fire raced through my veins, and he didn’t try to dodge my slap before it landed on his hard, taut cheek. The resounding crack of skin on skin echoed loudly in my ears, and I banged my fists against his chest as illegibly sounds burst from my throat. Spittle dribbled down my chin, and my fury only grew when he just stood there and took my abuse.

  Small, boiling hot tears pricked my eyes, and I pushed Erik hard enough to send myself stumbling back. He still didn’t move, but I panted harshly with my efforts as shivers rampaged up and down my spine.

  If he wanted to get technical, I couldn’t kick Erik out— this was Carlyle’s apartment, and I was just squatting.

  My shriek of frustration rose above the blood drumming in my ears at that notion. That was right! Valerie, well, she belonged here. She was accepted here as Carlyle’s live-in girlfriend. Everyone treated her like a part of the family!

  Everyone treated me like the fucked-up cousin that should’ve died a long time ago. I was the one they reluctantly involved so they didn’t feel bad about leaving me out.

  “Natasha.” No, that’s wrong. They pitied the lies I spun to make them feel better . . . to hide how bad I am. After all, who would care about me if . . . “Natasha. Hey.”

  Calloused, rough fingertips dragged up my palm, and I blinked as Erik stretched his arm to reach me. His expression hid nothing, and I sucked in a sharp breath when he took a small step forward. Broad, muscular shoulders were straight and relaxed, and his biceps bulged as he reached his other hand to mine. I had to lift my head to hold his gaze, and the smell of him wafted up my nostrils when he came within a foot or so of me.

  “You want some breakfast? We’ll cook something together.” My heart stuttered at the offer, and Erik’s gravelly but soft tone soothed some of the anger sloshing violently in my chest. “I bet you have a great recipe for French toast, yeah?”

  “Yeah.” The croak burned my raw throat, and he cast me an encouraging smile as I wiped my mouth and chin and up my face. His hand never left mine, and the coarse hairs on his knuckles and the back of his palm tickled my skin. “What . . . what happened after?”

  “Everyone left, but I stayed and cleaned up. I didn’t want you to wake up and hurt yourself, so I couldn’t turn on the tv or anything.” Gulping harshly at that, I tore my eyes off Erik and stepped back on stiff knees, but he only tightened his grip on my hands. “Hey, hey
, it’s okay. I’m used to sitting around, waiting, doing absolutely nothing. It was actually kinda nice. There was one thing. I’m not sure how well you’ll take it, though.”

  “What thing?” I could taste him on my tongue when I opened my mouth, and I leaned forward a little as I posed my question. Erik tensed, and the bridge of my nose tingled wildly before my forehead touched his chest. His sternum was hard— really, really hard, like metal plate hard, and I inhaled deeply through flared nostrils.

  “Uh, well . . . Carlyle fired you from your team. He wanted me to let you know he will have already replaced you by the time you wake up. I didn’t tell him how much you hated your job— he went that way by himself.”

  “Oh.” I might’ve been mad if I wasn’t so fucking relieved, and I sniffled hard as I let that thought circulate behind my shuttered lids. “Good. That’s good.”

  “I thought it might be. You know, I was thinking— neither of us have a job, and neither of us are happy here, so why don’t we go on a road trip together?” Surprise jerked my head back, and Erik smiled a shy, hopeful tilt of his lips as he shrugged at my raised brows and slack jaw. “I mean, what’s the worst that’ll happen?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Why? Why . . . what?” Was I still asleep? Was I dreaming in a fantasy land that’d dissipate into a horrified nightmare at any second? What the Hell was going on that Erik thought this was a plausible idea? “Why would we?”

  “Why not? We’ll do all sorts of fun shit, and eat a lot of great food. It’s not like we’re going to find what we’re looking for here, Natasha. You’re going crazy being stuck in here, being forced to watch everyone around you have what you can’t have. That’s exactly what you said. And me . . . coming here was a mistake from the beginning. So, let’s just go. I’m gonna get kicked out of my house eventually— it was being rented to me by the department for transplanting, and I quit, so . . . ”

  “Why would you think I’d do that with you after what you did?” My head spun as confusion lilted my tone, and Erik shrugged half-heartedly a second time. Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth to gnaw under tightly furrowed brows, I didn’t know what else to say. What was I supposed to say? Erik and I had known each other a couple of weeks, and I knew that I was less than impressive right now.

  Slowly turning around as the seconds ticked by, I scratched my head absently as I rounded the kitchen table and opened the refrigerator. My thoughts popped up like drudges from the muck, and I grabbed the bacon, eggs and butter with robotic movements.

  A road trip, being stuck in a car for hours and hours, jumping highways and singing awful country music, and sleeping on shitty seats after taking turns driving. Lots of gas station coffee and granola bars, and a ton of things to argue about.

  That doesn’t sound half bad, actually.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  19

  Natasha

  Staring down at the coffee maker as it dribbled a thick, hot, delicious brew, I gnawed diligently on my bottom lip. Blood drummed steadily in my ears, the swirling on the counter all blending together as my gaze became unfocused. My mind was far away, and a ringing invaded my skull, my eyes watering from the faint urge to blink.

  Valerie wasn’t talking to me. She didn’t return my texts or calls, and I was too much of a coward to go upstairs and knock on the door. Illya was working— whatever she did, I wasn’t really sure— and Erik had to go to the precinct for some reason I hadn’t paid attention to.

  The droning in my ears loudened, drowning out the coffee pot’s gurgles as my heart beat harder, faster, squeezing painfully. My blood simmered in my veins, tension tightening my legs until it hurt, and my abdomen craped as my breaths became shallow and cold.

  “Natasha!” Whipping around, I frowned at the guy leaning over the passenger seat to yell at me from the road, and he frowned, too. “What are you doing out so late at night?”

  I thinned my lips, tightening my grip on what few groceries I could afford from that gross, little bodega, but my legs paralyzed with fear. The guy pulled his junky car over with a metallic squeak of protest, and my body grew cold when he climbed out. We were almost the same height, but I was tall for my age, and I didn’t have to tilt my head too much to watch him round the front of the old two-door.

  “Need a ride? I’m passing by your place.” My mind screamed at me to say ‘no’, to drop my stuff and run, but this guy knew where I lived anyway. A cold sweat dripped down my neck and I mutely shook my head when my voice clogged my throat. He popped open the door anyway, his short, powerful arms rippling under the hem of his t-shirt. “Hop in.”

  “I’m fine walking.” Managing just that, my nerves clearly rippled in my voice, and the guy’s eyes narrowed on me. Shrinking back when he closed the distance between us, I tensed when he grabbed my meager, black bags and gestured to his car.

  Anxiety curdled my blood, mingling with defeat as I shuffled to the open door, and I held my breath. The car reeked of weed and my face grew hotter the longer I didn’t breathe. Shutting me in, the guy climbed in the driver’s seat to set my stuff by his feet, holding it hostage, and I inched closer to the door.

  “So, your mom knows you’re out this late?” Pulling smoothly away from the curb, he posed his question and glanced at me as I shook my head. “Where’s your sister?”

  “She’s at her friend’s.” The lie rolled off my tongue thickly and he nodded as prickles raced up my spine. Valerie wasn’t at her friend’s house, of course, but I had to make her seem more trouble than she was worth. The more people she was friends with, the more likely it’d be discovered. At least, that was my hope— that they’d think she was too risky.

  “Maybe you can do a little something for me and I’ll give you a little extra. It’s not fair that you do all the work and your mom gets the money. She doesn’t even use it for your place. How about we make a deal? You do for me, and I’ll do for you— on the side.” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the blood drained from my face, and I stared hard at the ripped cloth on the dashboard. The guy rifled through my bags absently, and shame tightened my chest. “That’s a lot of junk food. When was the last time you ate a carrot, huh? Tell you what— I’ll take you to a real store and get you whatever you want. Just to be nice. You can think about it, and the next time I’m by, we can talk about it.”

  “Just to be nice.” And then, he patted my thigh, and pushed back my hair, and—

  “Nat—" Jumping at the call, goosebumps blanketed my body and my head whipped up the sent a sharp ache down my neck. Tensing as Carlyle sat on my table, his feet planted firmly on a chair, I sucked in a sharp breath as black dots clung to the edges of my vision. Propping his forearms on his knees, he held my gaze in an iron grip, and I blinked hard as uncertainty chattered my molars. “You want to talk?”

  “N-no . . . no, I don’t. I . . . ” Shaking my head viciously, I tore my eyes off him to cross my arms tightly around myself, and shame engulfed my face. The tiles on the floor moved even though they weren’t supposed to, and I shivered from the anxiety that gripped my spine. “Shit.”

  “Do you need to be hospitalized?” Sinking to the floor, I sat against the cabinets and shook my head, but Carlyle was clearly unconvinced if his tone was anything to go by. “I didn’t ask if you want to, Natasha. You need help, whether you like it or not. As much as I appreciate that you’re Valerie’s sister, I really don’t have time to deal with your mental instability. Mateo is setting up in New York City, and with Oran disappeared, I’m starting the Italian plan over from scratch. I’m not going to come whenever you call. If you need it, I’ll provide you better care than you had last time.”

  “Oran had the right idea.” Not acknowledging Carlyle’s little spiel, I sniffled hard as I drew my knees to my chin. “This place is suffocating. I . . . I asked you to come down because . . . I want to leave. Erik asked me on a road trip, and I want to go.”

  “Why do you think you need my permission? You’re an adult, and you
’ve never been a prisoner here, Natasha.” Carlyle’s eyes narrowed on me as he trailed off, and I frowned against my knees. “Valerie doesn’t know?”

  “She’s not talking to me. I’m only here for her, and if she’s ignoring me, there’s really no point. Besides, if I end up dead somehow, I’d rather she didn’t know for a while.” Despair thickened my voice, and my gaze flickered up to catch Carlyle’s as he tensed noticeably. “If it gets too bad, I don’t want her to stop me. I don’t want her to think she could’ve stopped me. You know, Carlyle, she’s never gone this long without talking to me. To be honest, I don’t care if she’s hurt or feeling betrayed or whatever about what happened. She has that luxury.”

  “If you’re suicidal, I’ll take precautions.” A small, pitiful smile tilted my lips at that, and Carlyle frowned darkly as he leaned back to hold himself on his arms. His fingertips drummed heavily on the table, and I cleared my throat roughly of the dense lump that blocked my airway.

  “You being here is the precaution. You’re here so you can tell Valerie that you tried to offer me help, and I declined, so it’s not your responsibility. It’s okay. I know how it is. The truth is . . . Valerie will be fine. She’ll be sad, but what can she do? Blame you because you’re dating and rich and why didn’t you? No, that’s not gonna happen. I wanted to talk to you because I wanted you to know, but I don’t want you to tell Valerie. If she doesn’t ask me directly, you can’t tell her.” Carlyle’s expression pinched, but he jerked his head in a nod regardless, and a weight lifted from my chest. Heaving a massive sigh, I grabbed the counter to climb to my feet, and he was still as I grabbed the coffee pot in a trembling hand. “I spent almost fifteen years sacrificing for her, and she’s fucking ignoring me. Over what? Over the fact that I’m keeping my problem to myself? Is she so betrayed that she can’t stand the sight of me? Well, it’s not anything new— I can’t stand the sight of me, either.”