Mateo: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Syndicates Book 5)

by Raven Scott

  Mateo’s back was a stinking, puss-dribbling, dirty roadmap of cuts and skin hanging off his ribs. Even so, his shoulders were strong and taut, and that wretched calmness of going through the motions eased my own troubled thoughts.

  “Welcome to day number seven.” Tearing me from my thoughts, Mateo adjusted his tattering, caked jeans around his waist to fasten the button, and my brows rose when he turned to me. “Happy week-a-versary, Lucy.”

  “How do you know?” He pointed at the light peeking from under the door, and I pursed my lips thinly as I rested my chin on my knees. “The light changes or something?”

  “Yeah. Keeping track of time is one of the easier ways to not go nuts.” The question balanced on the tip of my tongue— how did Mateo know all of this? Did he take a ‘How to Survive Being Tortured’ class or something in high school? Sauntering over to me, he sat down cross-legged just inches from me, and I flexed my toes in my ratty sneakers. “What about you, huh? What’s some of your favorite things to do?”

  “Um . . . I like to garden. I live in Tennessee, in Jackson. My whole yard is a garden. My favorite part is digging up my yard and cleaning the soil. It’s fun.” He smiled tenderly, and I sucked in a sharp breath as I licked my lips heavily. “I also save a lot of money, which is nice.”

  “So, you have your own house. Do you have any pets?” I knew that Mateo was distracting me, keeping me from thinking about the smell, the darkness, the hopelessness, and I nodded. My chest ached as I thought of my dog, and I sniffled and cleared my throat.

  “A chocolate lab, Marshal.” Mateo chuckled at me, covering his mouth with the back of his palm, and I scrunched up my nose. “What? I like that name. Anyway, he’s a rescue. Just the best dog ever. Super sweet and not very pushy, and he’s a trash can. He’ll eat anything. I was thinking of getting another one.”

  “Mmm, I never had pets when I was younger. My dad couldn’t stand them— hated dogs with a passion, in particular. I think, when we get out of here, I’m going to get a dog. Golden retrievers are great dogs, right? That’s what I’ve always heard, at least.” Nodding mutely, I could see it in his eyes that he really did think getting a dog was a good idea, but as Mateo spoke, his smile started to dull. “Maybe, I’ll get a rescue, too.”

  “I think that’s a great idea, Mateo. Um . . . what about your hobbies?” Despite everything he made me say, I knew very little about Mateo, only the superficial stuff. He told me about his brother, his father, and how he grew up an unfathomably rich baby that thought the whole world owed him and was unfair. But, now, I couldn’t see him as anything less than what he’d showed me.

  He was strong, calm under pressure, and smart- very smart. He was coldly calculating when it came to the people that held us captive, and he was very bighearted. Most of what he said about himself didn’t reflect that at all, but that’s because it was all in the past.

  “I’ll tell you a secret, but you can’t tell anyone, Lucy, okay?” His eyes sparkled with conspiracy— or was it the mild infection and fever? I nodded anyway, and he reached to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “I like to sing. When I was little, I always wanted to be a rock star. No one knows, though.”

  “Really? What do you like to sing?” But the question never got an answer when the sliding bar lock on the door cut through our conversation, and anxiety gripped my body in a vise. Even though he didn’t show it, he inched closer to me, and Mateo’s nostrils flared like a bull readying to charge. His strong jaw ticked, and I ducked my head as light spilled into the room. The concrete box that threatened to close in on me was dirty and splattered everywhere in blood, and I squeezed my eyes shut before Mateo clamored to his feet.

  “I hope y—" Whatever snarky comeback Mateo had never rolled off his tongue as he choked on it, and goosebumps prickled my arms and down my back. The smell of salt crusted my nose, but I didn’t dare open my eyes, just like Mateo told me. There was a scuffle, then a thump, and I held my breath as the sound of water sloshing filled the room.

  And then, Mateo’s bloodcurdling screams echoed off the concrete, and I balled myself up tighter as hot water seeped through the holes in my shoes. Water rushing down the drain gurgled loudly just under his furious pants, and the distinct thwack of him falling to his knees rattled my brain.

  “It’ll only get worse from here.” Mateo had told me in the beginning that threats were empty, and if these people were actually going to do something, they wouldn’t warn us, first. I held onto that belief to keep me sane, to hope that we’d get out of here, but the sound of his whimpers and cries drowned out those words. Only when the door slammed shut again did I open my eyes, and I peered through the gloom for his silhouette.

  “Oh, no, Mateo. Oh, God.” He was shivering, his face scraped up when I scrambled to take him in my palms, and he was soaking wet. Pain twisted his sharp features even in the dimness, and my heart slammed against my chest as I wiped water from his shoulders and arms. “What was that for?”

  “Ob-obv-viously.” Panting hoarsely, Mateo’s voice cracked noticeably, and I winced as my chest flooded with a different kind of pain than he was in. “Someone kn-knows what an . . . infection l-looks . . . like. Man, that-t fucking h-hurt.”

  “They poured hot water on you?” Jerking his head back, he sucked up a ragged breath through his nose, and Mateo’s bright, brown eyes met mine. Even now, he looked like he got rained on at the park, as if this was nothing. Sure, it hurt, but hey! It only hurt! Amirite!

  Tears welled in my eyes, and I sniffed as my own nose clogged with how horrific that notion was.

  “Salt water . . . helps promote healing and forces bad shit out. That’s why they make you gargle it when you have a sore throat. There was a lot of fucking salt in that water.” His voice stabilized, wavering, but not stuttering, and I nodded dumbly as Mateo stood up. The water shimmering on his back turned black from the blood and pus that streamed down his skin, but I couldn’t even wipe it away. My palms itched, and I uselessly took his face in my hands as he propped himself on his arm on the wall. “Lucy, don’t cry.”

  “I’ll cry if-f I wa-want to-oo!” Blubbering slightly, I clenched my jaw against the sobs that clogged my throat, and Mateo wiped my eyes and nose tenderly. His hands shook, his face trembled, his whole body was wracked with powerful tremors, but he still found the strength to help me.

  I considered myself lucky— if Seth had been snatched with me, he wouldn’t protect me the way Mateo has. Seth would try to split it exactly fifty-fifty— for the bill at the restaurant when I got something much cheaper, for the movie tickets, when I got a small popcorn and he got a bucket, for groceries despite the fact he wanted to go for only himself.

  We didn’t live together, Seth and I, and I blinked hard at the ring on my finger as disdain coated my tongue.

  “I’m gonna break up with him.” My mumble earned me a soft huff, and I frowned as I gazed at the five-thousand-dollar rock. It honestly wasn’t even that pretty a ring. Seth didn’t get it because it was ‘perfect’— he bought it because his mother picked it out. “I am. Seth is . . . Seth is a great guy, but he’s not great for me.”

  “Ach, you’re just saying that because I’m here.” How can you joke after what just happened? Sadness clung to my ribs like tar, and I shook my head slightly as Mateo waved me off. “It’ll be fine. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

  “They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, Mateo . . . ” My protest trailed off, and I ran my hands through my hair roughly. The greasy, thin strands stayed that way, and disgust skittered under my skin. “All those stupid, little things I put up with, I’m not gonna do it anymore.”

  Mateo didn’t reply, and I crossed my arms over my chest as I rocked back on my heels. If Seth was here, he’d probably try to preserve his own self over me. My fiancé would think twice about getting his back torn up to spare me when I wouldn’t for him.

  At least . . . before Mateo . . .

  4

  Mateo

  Lucy’s head began to
bob from how exhausted she was, and I scanned her face as it smushed against her knee. She tried to stay awake as long as possible, but it was difficult for someone that wasn’t used to it. Thankfully, I’d put myself through this shit willingly when I went to New York City— the hunger, the hopelessness, the lack of physical movement.

  I wouldn’t let Lucy know how far deep that despair dug into my soul, though. It’d been too long; if anyone was looking for me, they should’ve found us by now. Seven days was far, far too long. Chances were that Carlyle wasn’t even looking for me- Hell, he was probably celebrating my being missing. He was so damn impatient that if he wanted to, he could’ve found me before I even ended up in this fucking hole.

  Oran was much more patient, but even then, with the resources available, an entire week . . .

  “Mateo.” The weak slur stole my attention, and I blinked as Lucy reached to caress my cheek. She always looked concerned, always sympathizing, and always had those big, blue eyes trained on me. “You look sad.”

  “Once we get outta here, you should go back to your life.” I covered her palm with mine as a pained expression flickered on Lucy’s face in the gloom, and her touch bristled the hairs on my face. “I have the utmost faith you can bounce back from this.”

  “Will I ever see you again?” Lucy and I should’ve never met, and I cracked a small smile as she scratched my thickening scruff with a thoughtfulness blazing in her eyes. “You probably clean up real nice, Mateo.”

  “I do clean up real nice!” I forced myself to laugh, and Lucy chuffed a little giggle much more genuine than mine as her palm fell from my jaw. Rubbing my jaw and the back of my neck, I struggled not to itch the higher wounds on my back. That salt shit made it almost unbearable, but like everything else, it just faded into the background. “You know, Lucy, I’ve done so much that I’m not proud of. I was a person I was ashamed of. A couple months ago, I started calling my brother, Oran. He’s younger than Carlyle but older than me. At the time, I was so unhappy with my life— I felt so useless and like I was disappointing everyone. I guess, having this happen kinda put me in a better spot than I was before.”

  “That’s messed up, but . . . that makes me really happy, Mateo.” A slick, self-maligned grin stretched my lips, but it was too dark for Lucy to really see the fine workings of my face. Her emotions played so brightly, they were impossible not to see, and the darkness only enhanced them. All this time, I kept telling her don’t freak out and keep calm and try to distract yourself but, really, the only thing to distract us was each other.

  Captivity drew people together, which was what those grease monkeys wanted, but why hadn’t they acted on it, yet? There were no cameras in here, no one to monitor what we were doing and saying, and I’d bet my fucking left nut that the Italians had very little security. That just seemed to be how they rolled— bumbling around blindly with a loose plan that had no details thought out.

  I blinked when the bar locking the door from the outside scraped against the metal frame, and my heart leaped into my throat. Standing up as Lucy curled up in the corner, I clenched my hands into tight fists as all that irritation that’d built up the past week set fire to my insides. I was damn sick and tired of waiting, and if no one was going to come after me, Lucy and I were gonna get the fuck out on our own.

  But when the door flung open to bang against the wall, it wasn’t some disgusting Italian that stood in the threshold, and surprise nearly ripped my brows off my face.

  “Theo! Dude, you have no idea how happy I am to see you!” Theo cracked a smirk, dark and ugly, but not a scowl, and astonishment heightened my voice. He stepped into the concrete box, and my knees wobbled dangerously as Oran stepped out from behind him. “Why didn’t we hear anything?”

  Was this a dream? Was I hallucinating? Had I finally just lost my shit? Striding over to Oran, I flung my arms around him, and he cupped the back of my head as I hugged him tight. His smell wafted up my nostrils, and tears pricked my eyes as relief flooded my veins.

  “I hate guns, you know that, Mateo. Besides, Carlyle’s kicking up all the fuss, and, boy, is he pissed. Theo and I came to get you quietly.” The sound of Oran’s voice was like Heaven’s hymns, and I rocked back on my heels to grab his face. Holding a hand to my chest, he scrunched up his nose in disgust, but the dancing in his eyes betrayed him. “Don’t kiss me or anything. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You guys are by yourselves? Just the two of you?” Oran shrugged, and I whipped around as Lucy struggled to her feet. Relief and excitement to be free, and a barrage of other emotions stole my breath, and I started for her before Theo held out an arm to stop me. My nose clogged as he swept her off her feet, and she practically passed out instantly from the vertigo.

  That was good, though, because I didn’t want Lucy to see or hear me.

  “My driver’s outside. We need to get you some medical treatment, Mateo. We’re going to burn the place down.” Clapping a hand on my shoulder, Oran’s deep timbre skittered along my skin, but I couldn’t make my legs move. Theo carried Lucy’s limp body through the threshold, and only once she’d disappeared did my knees finally give out on me. “Hey! Okay, okay, alright. You’re okay.”

  Catching me before my head cracked on the floor, Oran’s arm slithered around my lower back, and he grumbled as his skin glued to me. Panting and shivering furiously, I struggled to wheeze past the dense lump in my throat, and my brother held my head to his shoulder comfortingly.

  “I w-was starting to think . . . I thought . . . I . . . ” Sputtering as hot tears streamed down my face, I gasped willy for air, and Oran stroked my face as his jaw ticked hard against my forehead.

  “Carlyle refused to let us go until he started his own operation. Theo was actually the one that fought him on it, but, obviously, we lost. What about you, huh, Mateo? How’d you hold up?” I bawled like a baby, and I didn’t even care. The only thing that mattered was that we were gonna see the sun again. Lucy was going to wake up in a hospital bed, safe and sound, and me . . . “The last time we spoke, you said ‘goodbye’ to me. I was so worried when you went missing.”

  “I’m t-too much of a pussy to k-kill myself.” Oran chuckled dryly at that, and he hoisted me up with a grunt as I leaned heavily against him. Sniffling hard, I rubbed my face with my free hand and managed a shallow breath. Too many things crammed in my chest for much more than that, and I hiccupped a sob as I wiped my tears away. “Oran, I . . . I don’t know how t-to explain it.”

  “Well, you have time to think about it. The ambulance is right there.” Outside the room was a flight of stairs leading to a pretty average looking, smallish house, and I glanced around at the bodies on the floor. My toes curled as I shuffled heavily along, but I didn’t stop to kick the lifeless husks. Who knew if I could get myself moving again? Hobbling my way through the living room, every piece of furniture was a blur, and I covered my eyes as we breached the front door.

  The nighttime air caressed my face, and I closed my eyes to savor it. All the tension in my shoulders seeped into the soft grass when the I stepped off the path that led to the sidewalk. There was no moon, no whirring, bright lights of emergency vehicles, and Oran held me up as I stood in the grass. I wish I could take off my shoes.

  “Where are we, anyway?” Gazing up at the stars, I licked my lips heavily, and Oran adjusted his grip on me gingerly. “Lucy . . . she’s from Tennessee, so . . . ”

  “We’re currently in the great state of Virginia. When you wake up again, we’ll be at the nearest hospital. Dad’s worried about you, kid— as worried as he can actually get.” Jerking my head in a nod, I started toward the quiet ambulance, and my brother passed me off to the paramedics to pull off his shirt and wipe his arm. “Knock him out. We got a long way to drive.”

  5

  Lucy

  A soft, weighted blanket draped my shoulders, and I cracked my eyes open to find a face I didn’t know watching me critically. Right now, I didn’t even have the energy to feel anyth
ing, and I squeezed Mateo’s hand just to make sure he was there. I didn’t even the energy for anything else, to even close my eyes again, and the crisp, coarse sheet that covered him stuck to my cheek as my brain puttered to life.

  “Your name is Lucy, right? Lucy Voight?” The deep, solid voice was heavier than the blanket, and I groaned softly in agreement as the guy pulled up a chair next to mine. “I’m Oran, Mateo’s brother. I don’t want to bombard you right now, but there’s some things we need to talk about concerning what you’re going to tell people, Lucy.”

  “Just tell me what to say.” My slur earned me a frown, and I somehow managed to find the strength to lift my head. Every part of me was heavy, slow, and I yawned hugely as Oran watched me through narrowed eyes.

  “Well, what you say depends on how well you can tell the story. I don’t think it’s wise to tell people you were kidnapped by the Italian Mafia and subsequently saved by two random guys that basically ninjaed their way into the place.” Despite the humor in his tone, Oran’s frown didn’t falter, and my gaze found his dazedly as he leaned back in his seat to cross his knees. “You disappeared for a week, so there is an organized effort to find you, Lucy.”

  “My longtime boyfriend proposed to me two months ago with this ugly ring his mom picked out. I said ‘yes’ because we were in front of all my friends and family, but even at the time, I was wondering if I was making a mistake. My best friend Mikayla knows. I’ll just say I had to think about it by myself, and I had to be alone.” Oran’s expression flared in interest, and I flopped back in my chair to heave the most exhausted sigh possible. Mateo hadn’t woken up, yet, but he was doing a lot worse than me. Now, seeing him hooked up to tubes, lying on his front, his back covered in bandages— it was a beautiful sight. “The TV shows lied to me.”