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

by Raven Scott

  “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 the 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 s
tabilize 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 slipped 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.

  And that, unfortunately, was what this was.

  “You’ll be fine without me, Val.” Natasha huffed, pressing her forehead against Valerie’s even though she stood there, stiff in shock. “I know you’ll be okay without me.”

  This has to stop. Closing the distance between us, I grabbed Natasha’s hand as I’d been doing a moment ago, and her fingers were ice cold. Buried in Valerie’s hair, they shivered and flexed, and I pried her fingers open as my chest tightened as the blank look on her face. Once free, Valerie scrambled into Carlyle’s arms, but I couldn’t think of anything but Natasha as she blinked for the first time. The cloudiness in her eyes slowly seeped away, and I held her hands firmly even as her head snapped back and her shoulders jerked.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, Natasha’s face paled ghostly, her eyes widening in horror that brimmed her reddening lids. Tearing her gaze off me, her expression only deepened and darkened when she realized Valerie was right there. Chapped lips parted but nothing escaped, not even air, before Natasha walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to slam a door shut.

  “What the fuck just happened?” M
y stalled mind jumpstarted at Theo’s question to no one and everyone, and I covered my mouth to exhale a shaky breath through flared nostrils. Emotions tore apart my chest. The desire to go after Natasha and make sure she wasn’t hurting herself warred with the knowledge that I might trigger her again. Everything was going great until Valerie showed up, and I had the nagging, sinking feeling that Natasha knew she wasn’t holding it together as well as she pretended.

  “I’m gonna go check on her.” Leaving the kitchen and the dramatic atmosphere behind, I walked down the hallway to the only door that wasn’t slightly ajar. The dismal tendrils that seeped through the cracks and underneath wrapped around me in a vice, and I grabbed the handle with a droning buzz in my ears. Holding my breath, my heart thundered the same way it did before an engagement, and I clenched my jaw hard in preparation.

  Natasha sat on her bed, head hung low, a thick comforter around her shoulders, but the stench of blood was absent, which was good. I think. Not shutting the barrier in case, I stood at the foot of her bed, and she sniffed hard as she choked back her cries. In this moment, she looked so pathetic— nothing at all like the person I’d seen so far. Even in what I thought was her worst moment, she wasn’t so wretched and pitiful.

  “What do you want?” My mouth dried like the damn Sahara, but Natasha didn’t lift her head. Her hair didn’t so much as ruffle as she croaked the question. Carefully sitting on the edge of the bed, I rubbed my clammy palms on my jeans as my mind churned furiously.

  “I just want to be here for you, Natasha.” A hoarse sob slipped out, and Natasha shook her head so sadly. I had never felt so helpless, not being able to touch her, not even sure if being in this room was a good idea. Uncertainty battered my ribs, but I couldn’t leave, now, and I cleared my throat roughly. “Were you ever properly diagnosed with PTSD?”