Carlyle: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Raven Scott

  Leaning on the door frame, I blew out a hot breath as Carlyle retreated, and I closed my eyes while my sister slumped opposite me. My mind puttered along a little faster now that we were alone, and she stared holes into my face before I managed enough strength to open my mouth.

  “It’s happening all over again.” My bare whisper earned me a sad twitch. I felt it flutter along my cheek, and Natasha took my hands to drag me into the bathroom. She flicked the lights and turned the shower on, and I cracked open my eyes just enough to see where I was going.

  Knowing the water was cold as it drenched my hair and clothes didn’t make it feel any less hot, and I sat down against the tiled wall to pull my knees to my chest.

  31

  Carlyle

  Glaring at my computer screen, I tapped my temple as I examined the photographs that’d been taken of Valerie’s apartment. The damage wasn’t bad enough to suggest instant death, but she would’ve been seriously injured, maimed even, if she was near that box when it went off. Her sofa was blasted backward— the wall had a huge dent, and the coffee table was sticking out of the drywall. If she’d been holding that box, she probably would’ve died, but she didn’t.

  But she could’ve.

  “Fuck.” My lip curled as I sat back in my chair, and I tore my eyes off the monitor to level with Oran. “What did Jerry find out with that sealed record?”

  “Natasha and Valerie were ‘kidnapped’ by Baron Ninety-Nine when they were thirteen and held for six days. They’re a small-time gang that has been escalating over the past seven years or so. The estimated numbers are just under two thousand, but they’re not reliable. According to the extensive evaluations in the report, both were sexually abused, but Valerie took it much harder. There were suggestions that their mother was paying off a debt, but they couldn’t get anything more substantial. When she went to jail the first time, Valerie and Natasha were sixteen. Valerie’s grades improved incredibly after they were emancipated, and she and Natasha both received full rides to college from a survivor group based in Dallas.” Oran spoke with no emotion even as mine threatened to spiral out of control, and he paused for a fraction of a second to breathe. “In jail, their mother was pimped out by female members of Baron Ninety-Nine.”

  “What else?” I could fucking smell it— he was waiting to dump the real bad news on me, and my brother rubbed his jaw harshly.

  “Their father’s not dead. He’s in witness protection and opted to leave his family behind. We haven’t found him yet, but Greg’s working on it. He faked his death after witnessing a murder by Baron Ninety-Nine back in two thousand three. The trial never went anywhere. According to what Greg could find, the mother’s involvement with them is coincidental. Valerie and Natasha’s father is reported to have died in a horrible car wreck with nothing to recover.”

  “Shit.” This was inarguably much, much worse than the whole Italian ordeal, and I raked my hand through my hair as my mind whirred furiously. “Contact the Network. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars for every Baron Ninety-Nine member confirmed dead. Also, did you get anywhere on the sketch?”

  “Not yet. Pedro hasn’t called back yet, either.” Reluctance soured my tongue, and my lip curled in a snarl as I drummed my fingers on the desk. “I have someone going to find the mother.”

  “They better be good.” Pushing myself up, I stalked past Oran and clenched my hands into tight, white-knuckle fists. Theo was waiting outside the door, and I licked my teeth as fire engulfed my heart. “Is Illya back?”

  “She’s in there now.” I knew he was pissed about her foot, but if Theo so much as looked at me wrong, I’d fucking shoot him in the head. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Team up and go to Dallas. Jerry will give you your targets by the time you land. Find them, but don’t kill them. Do it before five p.m. tomorrow, and every trigger hungry cunt in the country will be descending on Texas. As long as you do it fast, I don’t care who you bring.” Talking and walking at the same time was so exhausting, and I scanned Theo sidelong when I stopped to punch the elevator button with my thumb. “Also, make a bomb and blow up one of Pedro’s warehouses. I’m sure that’ll be an incentive to call me back. Do that first thing.”

  “Carlyle, it’s only been two hours si—” Whipping around, I backhanded Oran across the face, and he dropped like a bag of bricks as his glasses flew off his face.

  “I didn’t fucking ask you how long it’s been!” He kept his head down, wiping blood from his nose, and my snarl echoed down the hallway. My knuckles didn’t throb, and I tugged my jacket and sucked in a sharp breath before the elevator doors opened. Glaring at Oran for a hot moment, I turned on my heel and entered the elevator. Theo cleared his throat roughly to get my attention.

  “What about the snake?”

  “She’s on her way. I don’t care if she gets dragged, kicking and screaming. Carl hasn’t failed me yet.” That kid was good at being bad, I’ll give him that, and I frowned as my brother stood up before the doors slid shut completely. Leaning back on the wall, I rubbed my face with both my hands and inhaled a huge, calming breath. “Make sure whoever you bring to Texas knows that if any of those assholes end up dead, I’ll kill you and your whole team.”

  “Good thing I’m going by myself.” Arching a brow, I shot Theo a quizzical look, but he just shrugged, stuffing his fists in his jeans. “I don’t have anyone to call, anyway.”

  “Can you handle it all yourself? Take Llane— she’ll be your assistant.” He didn’t argue with me, and I tilted my head back as the elevator vertigo tried to drag me down. “How do I deal with Valerie?”

  “If there’s one thing I learned, it’s not to stick your nose where she doesn’t want it. She’ll come to you when she wants. Don’t go to her. Illya’s in there right now. She’ll let you know.” Nodding, my heart twisted at how absurd this whole thing was, and Theo blustered a sigh and rolled his shoulders. “Where’s your father? I thought he’d be in the middle of this relishing the chaos.”

  “It’s not chaotic. Not his brand, anyway.” The doors opened, and I stepped out as Theo reached to push the ground-floor button. “The plane’s ready for you. Take whatever you think is necessary.”

  “Yeah.” And he was gone behind a wall of thin steel. Theo would get the job done. He hated shit like this, an innocent woman being terrorized for the fault of others.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Valerie’s father wasn’t dead. She’d been kidnapped and assaulted, but I hadn’t gotten the faintest inkling of any of that trauma. Her mother . . . I was going to enjoy killing her.

  I needed more information, though. Hopefully, that desert snake would be forthcoming, or I’d have to get creative.

  My phone trilled insistently, and I pulled the device from my pocket on my way across the bridge.

  “What?” Oran panted slightly on the line, and I shoved my way through the door in an effort to relieve some of the tension in my body.

  “The snake just arrived. She’s not happy, and she brought her massive ass dog.” My eyelid twitched in agitation before I whipped around on my heel and headed back the way I came. I took the stairs this time, because I sure as fuck wasn’t waiting for that metal box, and I hung up on Oran as my brain threatened to melt as it whirred too fast. Opening a side door opposite the one I usually used, I took a massive breath of the fresh, crisp air, and it only fueled the raging emotions in me.

  Esmarissa looked as . . . unique . . . as usual when she stepped out of the car, and Oran really wasn’t lying about that dog. He was big for a pit bull, and I strode over to his master as she ran her fingers through her long, electric blue locks.

  “At what fucking point does ‘you work for me’ insinuate that you can hide dealings from me?” She opened her mouth, her disgusting tongue ring glistening under the floodlights illuminating the lot, and my eyes narrowed into fine points. “Think about your answer. I’m not in the most forgiving mood.”

  If there was one— one— fucking thing this snak
e knew, it was how to navigate a man that could easily fly off the handle. She crossed an arm under her bust, rocking back on her heels, and her dog trotted over to me to sniff my shoes. He came up to my thigh at the shoulder— truly, an exception to the rule— and I patted his head to feel his prickly, short fur.

  “She called me, yeah, but I hung up on her as soon as she introduced herself. I have enough on my plate— I don’t want to deal with someone who won’t be a repeat customer or conflict with my current ones.” Scanning her long face, I clenched and released my jaw, but there wasn’t a hint of a lie in her tone. “Besides, there’s no fucking way I’d ever consider what she apparently wanted, anyway. I run a talent agency, first and foremost, and those girls are off-limits. From what I’ve heard, Diamon wanted my best actresses for his little scheme. He’ll just have to outwit you the old-fashioned way, Carlyle.”

  “Is your brother still breeding these monsters?” Briefly changing topic, I hummed when Esmarissa nodded, and I made a mental note to contact the guy. “What do you know about Baron Ninety-Nine?”

  “Those are the guys we got our drugs from back in the day. Smalltime idiots—they’re basically a subdivision of Sinaloa . . . or they were until they fucked up somehow, I assume?” Nodding, I knelt down to look the dog in the face, and he fucking smiled that pit bull smile at me. “I can ask Sammy, but it’s been years. He’s got a lot of blows to the head.”

  “You’re staying here tonight. I wan—” The sudden bang of metal on brick echoed through the quad, and my head snapped up at the sound. Valerie sauntered out of the apartment complex, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in her hand, and Natasha and Illya came rushing— well, hobbling— after trying to get her back inside. Her watery, brown eyes met mine, and I held my breath as she made her way over to sidle up under my arm.

  She was ice cold, and the freezer burn of her body ate through my jacket and shirt to sting my side.

  “Oh, can I get some of that?” Valerie held out the bottle, and Esmarissa took a huge gulp to sigh hotly. “Good. So anyway, I really don’t care what you’re doing, but I had no part in it, Carlyle. Whatever bullshit is going on, I don’t want any part of that, either.”

  “You’re not here because of that. You’re here for something else. I hope you didn’t have weekend plans.” This conversation ended, and I gestured to Illya as she watched from a few feet away. “Put them somewhere. I don’t care where. And get the dog a treat.”

  32

  Valerie

  My eyelids fluttered open, and a gasp rasped my throat as consciousness tugged me violently from my drunken sleep. Waiting for my eyes to adjust, I stretched my legs and arms and arched my back, and a groan escaped me when my joints popped. Blinking hard, my gaze found Carlyle seated in a chair, his own focused firmly on the folder in his hands, and I sluggishly rolled onto my side.

  “I didn’t drink enough last night, obviously.” There was no pounding against my forehead, no ache behind my eyes, and I gathered up the pillow as Carlyle glanced at me. Slapping the folder shut, he crossed his knees and ran his hand over his head, and the low light in the room made his eyes seem brighter.

  “I had you hooked up to an IV so you wouldn’t get a hangover. You definitely drank enough last night— enough to give a normal person alcohol poisoning. If you didn’t have such a high tolerance, you’d be suffering something bad right now.” My lips stretched in a small smile, and Carlyle propped his elbow on the armrest to hold his cheek on his half-curled first. “While you were asleep, we found out who sent the bomb. They’re a wannabe gang called Baron Ninety-Nine. Do you know anything about them?”

  “Not really. I know they’re violent.” My answer earned me a soft hum, and I licked my dry lips before parting them again. “Who are you really, Carlyle? When you showed up at my apartment, why did you ask about the fighting?”

  “The truth is, I felt guilty about not telling you.” He took a short breath in preparation, and I held my own in anticipation, though I had a feeling nothing he said would be a shock. “I run the largest criminal organization in the world. Most of my companies are shells or fronts, and I didn’t want you to believe I was perfect. No one is perfect.”

  “Okay.” Stretching out my hand, I waited for him to take it as surprise rose his brows, and a huge surge of relief sloshed in my chest. Carlyle dragged his fingertips along my palm, and I sniffed as the confused silence became tinged with discomfort. “At least you’re honest.”

  “I completely understand if you want no part of it, Valerie.” I rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling, and Carlyle drew circles on my palm and up my wrist. “It’s not something you should take lightly. I’ve had several attempts on my life, and you don’t have to live with that fear looming over your shoulder.”

  “Have you personally killed someone?” Glancing over as he nodded quietly, my mind went a little blank before I opened my mouth. “Are you going to kill my mom?”

  “If you want me to, yes. It’s something you should discuss with your sister. Like I said, I’ll hold onto her until you two make a decision. I’ve got people looking for her right now.” His expression tightened out of the corner of my eye, and I tilted my head listlessly. “There are some things we need to talk about. I’m not ashamed, but I did look into you and Natasha, Valerie, and what I found was not . . . easy . . . to read.”

  “Yeah.” Training my gaze on a particularly large popcorn on the ceiling, I inhaled deeply, but it did nothing to fill the hollow gape in my chest. “My mom . . . when Natasha and I applied to be emancipated, we got the same judge who presided over our family matters. He asked us what really happened. It’s not uncommon to lie— after all, the known misery is better than the unknown. We told him, and he granted us emancipation before we even finished the sentence.”

  “Do you feel you should continue therapy?” He was so straightforward, and I shook my head absently. “Why not?”

  “It’s not something you get over, but I guess I’m as over it as I’ll ever be. I had a really long, really intense slut phase in college. It only stopped because one guy— a good guy, really sweet— had an AIDS scare and told me when he found out. I’m negative. Even when I wasn’t having sex and after moving here, I got tested. When we were ‘borrowed,’ I had to be treated for gonorrhea and chlamydia. I got referred to this really great survivor therapist. It was nice because she didn’t treat Natasha, just me.”

  “I take it she helped you compartmentalize?” Shaking my head again, I sat up to run my hand through my hair, and the strands peeled from my neck and shoulders from dried sweat. Everything was so fuzzy from before I moved here, and Carlyle held my hand firmly as I struggled to organize my hazy thoughts.

  “Um . . . not really, no. She basically told me that people are cruel, and they do cruel things for just the sake of it. Over the years, she helped me realize that if I let it hang over me, those people would win, and I wasn’t gonna let that happen. I never fooled myself into thinking I’d get revenge, so I settled on defeat. They’d never know it, but I’d beat them. Eventually. Besides, it wasn’t what happened to me that was so horrible.” Realization flickered in his eyes, and he rubbed my palm with his thumb. My story came to an end, and there were no flashbacks. There was nothing. No memories came floating up from the abyssal crevices of my mind, and nothing sparked in my chest.

  Which, arguably, was worse, I guess.

  “I never settle.” Goosebumps swept up my arm at his declaration, and I rested my cheek on my knee to watch him cock his head and frown. “Do you have any idea at all why you were targeted specifically, Valerie?”

  “Your guess is probably better than mine.” The conversation came to a screeching halt when someone knocked gently on the door, and Carlyle stood up with a low grunt. Pulling the sheet to my chin, I rubbed my eyes and face as a deeper kind of exhaustion tugged at my very soul.

  “Boss, Pedro is here . . . and he’s pissed.” Scooting to the foot of the bed, I threw my legs over the side, and Carlyle glanced
back at me from under furrowed brows. My toes flexed against the carpet, and I pushed myself up onto unsteady legs with a slight nod. Turning back to the unfamiliar woman, he mumbled something too low for me to hear before shutting the door and turning to me fully.

  “Your clothes are in those boxes.” Pointing at a pile of plain packing boxes, Carlyle walked over to me to hold both my hands by my sides. “Take a shower. Eat. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

  “I’m coming with you.” His lips thinned, but Carlyle didn’t object, and he didn’t agree, either, but who cared about that? “Why is he mad?”

  “I blew up a bunch of his drugs about . . . four hours ago.” Glancing at his watch, he shrugged absently, and a tickle of something caressed my lungs. “It’ll be fine. He’s an amateur.”

  I couldn’t really react to that, and I stepped away from Carlyle to poke through the boxes in the corner of the room. Truthfully, I didn’t care how I looked for once. I grabbed the first pair of jeans and a t-shirt, not bothering with a bra other underwear. My sluggish movements matched my mind, and I glanced at him over my shoulder.

  “Thanks for not judging me.” About what? The STDs? The sob story? The insane amount of drinking I did last night, most of which I don’t remember? Carlyle smiled reassuringly, but it came off as menacing because of the tension in him so visible on his face. When I went to take off my pajamas, my thumbs hooked on nothing, and I noticed for the first time that I was naked. Frowning under furrowed brows, I stuffed my feet into my pants and hiked them up, but my hands shook.

  Wandering over to me, Carlyle gently pulled up the zipper and fastened the button, and I let him wrest the shirt from me. The plain, black t-shirt was soft as he pulled it over my head, and he gathered up my hair as I folded my arms through the holes. Cupping my cheeks in his dry, warm hands— no longer scorching hot— he ducked his head to capture my lips.