For Logan (Chicago Syndicate Book 5)

by Soraya Naomi

  My knees scrape the carpet as I fuck Rosa with all our clothing on. Her forehead drops to the railing while I have her under my spell, and I’m afraid to break it, so I invade her hot channel. I ride her hard and rough, showering kisses on her jaw and down the side of her neck as our bodies move as one. Emotions that are vicious in their intensity emerge when she turns her face to me, and I see the fires of hunger in her glossy eyes. She displays the look I’ve fallen in love with, the look that no woman has ever given me before. My cock hardens even further as I hammer into her while twining our fingers on the railing and kissing her with an intoxicating assault.

  Moving quickly, I sit back with Rosa on top of me, my thighs pushing hers apart as I fit inside her body and buck my hips up. In response, Rosa curves her back, throwing her arm back around my neck as I cup her between her legs. With every entrance and withdrawal, I watch her breasts bounce over the outside of her gown. We fit together perfectly up here, with the fading music and distant murmurs on the first floor below.

  “Oh, Logan. Yes,” she begs, fucking me back. Her voice washes over me, skittering along my flesh.

  “I’m the only man who will ever be inside you.”

  That makes her whimper, so I gyrate my hips, twisting deeply into her. Her eyes squeezed shut, she becomes wetter, and a cry breaks from her throat as I delve my cock into her tightness with everything that I have.

  “Ti amo,” she slips up, and I grin.

  Quivering and panting, she bows her back, her hand gripping my neck so tightly I’ll have bruises. I feel her spasms, and it’s maddeningly erotic as I experience it with the exact same awareness I had when I first took her.

  Rosa goes slack as I hold her while I’m throbbing with an imminent climax. My muscles tighten, and I roll my hips, a sensation, rich and decadent, flowing through me. Growling, I pump faster and explode, releasing all the repressed love I have for Rosa. It’s the most incredible orgasm I’ve ever felt; my whole body reaches a zenith and my breath lodges as I nuzzle her neck, embracing her firmly.

  Our chests are heaving, yet I remain inside her because this is the only moment of contentment I’ve had in a week. She knows me so well that she’s allowed me to possess her without my having to offer an explanation.

  “Logan.” She strokes my temple with the tips of her fingers.

  I lift my head and admit, “I love you too, Rosa.”

  “Then what happened? What’s going on?” Her eyes pool with dampness now that the high of our fucking recedes.

  “Don’t cry, cricket. I’m so sorry.” I guide her off me to pull down and rearrange her gown.

  We remain seated, face-to-face now, as she brushes her fingers through her tousled hair and I fasten my slacks. Her agony affects my soul in ways I could’ve never foreseen, and I take out the handkerchief from my breast pocket to dab her tears. But my movement stops when I peek over the railing and am met with James’s furious gaze before he stalks across the dance floor to his guard and marches out as the party comes to an end.

  “Fuck!” I leap up, dropping the handkerchief.

  Rosa fires upward as well, gripping the lapels of my tux jacket. “No, you can’t leave me, Logan. Talk to me,” she pleads.

  I clutch her face and reveal, “Rosa, your father knows! He’s been behind this; he’s going to kill my grandmother. I need to go. Now.” Jerking myself free, I sprint down the gilded hall and stairway.

  “What?” I hear her yell, running after me, but dread consumes me.

  Outside, I jump into my car and pull onto the road with screeching tires.

  CHAPTER 39

  Rosalia

  “What?” I shriek, but Logan takes off, and I shadow him.

  As I descend the stairs, Logan’s flying out the front entrance. Despite my long legs, he’s much faster than I am, and I burst through the entrance just as his white convertible blazes across the street and dissolves into the night while a slight chill bites into my bones.

  Upset, I return inside and snatch my purse from the table as the rest of the family is saying their goodbyes, retracing my steps back outside to my vehicle. Pushing the key into the ignition with a shaking hand, I anticipate that Logan’s heading toward his grandmother’s.

  The entire night, I’ve been spiraling into a realm of doubt, feeling that something else is going on, but what does he mean, exactly, that my father is behind it? I’ve barely seen my father, or my mother, lately, and we’ve actually been growing apart for a while. Though I can’t believe that my father would go to these extreme measures. Would he?

  Panicked, I arrive at the nursing home in the Loop and park behind Logan’s convertible at the curb before I dash out. Darting past the reception area, I go up the flight of stairs, toward the third room on the second floor.

  I stop in the doorway, hearing Logan’s earsplitting cry. My hand shoots to the frame to steady myself as I blink and blink in disbelief, my heartbeat thudding in my eardrums from the shock of what I’m witnessing.

  CHAPTER 40

  Logan

  I lurch out of my car, not bothering to close the door. With my pulse racing, I go to the second floor where no one’s around, spiking my fear. In three large strides, I reach Nana’s oak furnished room where I let out a painful sound.

  She’s tucked beneath the covers on the bed with a halo of blood around her chest. They shot her, leaving behind a crime scene that will terrorize me forever.

  “What did he do!” I rush to the bed, shaking her to try to wake her up, even though I know she won’t respond.

  “Nana! NO.” Tears gush out as I sink to the floor and grip her cold hand, pressing my forehead against it, shouting my misery into the mattress.

  For the third time in my life, I’m shattered and empty. But it’s replaced with sheer anger due to the injustice of it all. How everyone is taken away from me. Jenny, Logan, and now, Nana, in the most horrific way.

  In the distance, I hear a gasp and leap up, snatching my gun from the back waistband of my slacks and aiming it at an upset Rosa, who holds up her palms, whispering with tear-filled eyes, “It’s just me. What happened, Logan?”

  My mind’s consumed by fury, by a need to retaliate. I’ve been pushed over the edge of sanity.

  “Logan?” Rosa inches closer while I skirt around her with one goal.

  As I barge out, she grabs my upper arm and forces me to stand still with all her power.

  “Logan, where are you going?”

  I scald her with an incredulous look and snap, “Do not fucking dare try to stop me!”

  She leans away from the sharpness in my voice.

  “Your father did this,” I tell her. “I didn’t kill Mykhail. James did.”

  Her face is a mask of horror. “How? Why?”

  “He’s a fucking lunatic and still sees you as a child! Look at how she’s been killed in cold blood,” I spit, causing her to flinch. “She was innocent in all of this.”

  I charge out of the room to hunt down James, to take my vengeance, which has festered inside me for a week. He might be the former boss of the Chicago Syndicate, but I’m a trained CIA agent turned mafia man – and the beast in me that has been cultivated since I joined the Syndicate will be let loose on the people who tried to control me and take Rosa. The ones who succeeded in taking Nana.

  Consequences be damned.

  CHAPTER 41

  Logan

  I call the manager at Club 7 to ask if James has shown up there, but he hasn’t, so I race to Lincoln Park. I bet he thinks he’ll be safe inside his gated mansion.

  However, what he doesn’t know is that Rosa gave me the keys to get in. I hit the brakes at the main entrance and lean over to open the glove compartment and fish out Rosa’s keys and my silencer, which I screw on to the barrel of my Smith & Wesson. Leaping out, I unlock the gate and drive onward to the house where I get out of the car with my weapon in hand, scanning the windows as I approach the stairs at the front door.

  Suddenly, I see the drapes move behind
the first frame, so I aim and pull the trigger. The glass shatters, interrupting the silence of the black night. Gritting my teeth, I hike up the steps and destroy the lock by releasing another bullet and kicking open the door.

  “James!” I stride inside the foyer and raise my arms – pointing my piece left, front, and right – before prowling forward.

  From the corner of my right eye, I detect movement before a shot rings out from the dining room. I duck and creep straight ahead, firing a round, and I rapidly skulk around the kitchen to the other dining room entrance, finding my target with his back to me.

  The man pivots around when it’s silent for too long, directing his handgun at me. But I shoot faster, blasting him in the chest so that he topples backward, and I launch myself on top of him, pressing my pistol against his bleeding chest.

  “Who killed her?” I bark and bang his head against the tiled floor, repeating, “Who. Killed. Her?”

  “O-other guard,” he stammers as he cries in pain.

  I finish him off with a bullet in his heart, yet my gaze shifts up when I hear a soft click. James crosses the foyer to the kitchen, pointing his revolver to the side and releasing multiple shots.

  Stooping low, I stash my Smith & Wesson in the back of my slacks and steal the guard’s weapon. I surge up, going after James through the kitchen, and as he flies through the back door, I jump on him. We collapse face-down onto the grass, and fortunately, I manage to hold on to my gun.

  James crawls forward, but I latch on to the back collar of his jacket, flip him over, and dig my knee into his stomach to incapacitate him, smashing my fist into his face. The sound of his nose breaking reverberates through the air.

  “You motherfucker!” I scream in overpowering rage.

  “I ordered you to leave Rosalia alone!” he splutters with blood trickling down from his nostrils.

  When he tries to aim his gun at me, I take hold of his wrist, slamming his hand back on the ground above his head and bending his arm in a painful manner so he loses his grip and it drops from his hand before I shove it out of reach.

  “Bastardo!” James howls, jerking his body profusely to try to wrench away from me and successfully jolting my knee off his stomach as he hurls me off him and kicks my gun from my grasp, the weapon sliding forward and lingering on the edge of the pool. We both look at it, staggering up, and I clench a fist and give him an uppercut. In turn, I receive a punch in the side.

  “What do you think’s going to happen?” James roars, breathing raggedly.

  Disregarding his words, I hook my foot onto his ankle and spin him enough to lock my arm around his throat from behind, James clutching my arm while struggling as I drag him toward the pool.

  “You need to pay for trying to control me,” I grind out. “For killing an innocent woman.”

  “Then you should’ve listened to me,” he counters.

  “You’ve pushed me too far. You took the only family I had left.”

  I stop near the edge of the pool where the weapon lies, but James pushes back against me, and the floating lilies disperse as we crash into the water. I plunge to the bottom, pushing up with my feet and gasping for air when I reach the surface before shaking my head and grabbing on to James’s collar as he comes up for a breath. He flails his arms, and I jam a fist into his cheek, strands of my hair plastering to my forehead as I unleash my wrath. Clutching his jacket, I slam his back against the side of the pool, blood and water trickling down his face as his head lolls to the side from fatigue.

  My skull is throbbing in pain, yet a pure need for immediate vengeance provides me strength. I seize the gun from the edge of the pool and press the point between his eyes.

  “What’s your plan, Logan?” he states with a cough.

  “To kill you,” I answer, dead serious.

  “What will happen with your position in the Syndicate? If I’m harmed, the guard’s been ordered to let Adriano find Mykhail’s body. I’ve made sure you’ll be identified as the killer. Adriano will believe you disobeyed your boss’s orders.”

  I wondered why no one had mentioned Mykhail and how James had disposed of the body. Evidently, he has a plan B. Nevertheless, I can work around his plan B.

  He continues, “Rosalia already believes you murdered her friend, and they’ll all know you killed me. What do you think will happen between you and Rosalia then?”

  Hearing her name brings me back to earth for a moment. Rosa, the only light in my dark life. The single person I love whom I have left, because her father executed my last relative.

  “Maybe I don’t care.”

  “You care. You like being in this Syndicate.” He shakes his silver-streaked hair that’s dripping water. “If you end me, your life will be over too. There are cameras here.” He lifts his finger to the left side, but I don’t shift my stare or my aim away from him. “You’ll be a hunted man.”

  He’s ruthless, sly, and always a few steps ahead of his opponent. He was the boss for a good reason. I not only have the position to consider, but also Rosa.

  “If I let you go, you’ll be a problem forever,” I muse aloud.

  James licks his bruised lip. “Are you that afraid of me, Logan?”

  I angle my head to the side slowly, inhaling a deep breath to think for a second through my unbearable grief, and my thoughts start to assemble. With all the anarchy of the last week, I wasn’t able to roam around freely, so I couldn’t even go in to CIA headquarters. James forgets that I’m still a CIA agent too. One with plenty of technological knowledge and contacts. I’m the primary contact for the Syndicate’s current cooperation with the senate – and indirectly, the president, who’s only talked to me. All the communication is between the senator and me. This is my position of absolute power with the CIA and the Syndicate. A precarious plan strategizes in my brain lightning-fast.

  I channel my ire and display a slow smirk, realizing I need to finish this once and for all because James will never allow Rosa and me a peaceful life. He’s too far gone to reason with, and he must atone for Nana’s death. His eyes round as I slide my finger to the trigger.

  “Think about the consequences, Logan,” he warns arrogantly.

  “You should’ve done that. I have no one else left but Rosa. One of us needs to die because you decided that you’ll never accept her and me.”

  “She won’t love you if you kill her father,” he yells in alarm, sensing my savage state.

  “Yes, she will,” I retort calmly. “I want you to know that I’ll marry your daughter, and I’ll be the only man she’ll ever be with.”

  “You’ll never get away with it.” He looks around and tries to edge sideways, but my aim follows him without difficulty.

  “Yes, I will. You, former boss, misjudged how far I’d go to keep her. This is what your Syndicate has made of me. I’ll take my justice. I have nothing to lose anymore; you’ve ensured that. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but not for you. Only because I do love her.” And I pull the trigger.

  The dampened bullet resounds into the night as it perforates the skin between his eyes, and he slouches down into the water. An area of the pool turns crimson with his blood as I toss the pistol – the guard’s gun – into the water and steal James’s phone from his jacket.

  Without any time to waste, I climb out of the pool, wet, cold, and exhausted. Guilt is an emotion that’s been trained out of me since I’ve become a Syndicate member. Still, heartache slows me down. Retaliation is not satisfying when human lives are involved. On the other hand, this is the justice we take in this mafia world. Now, I need to set up the scene.

  I brush my hands through my wet hair and rush into the house to drag the body of the guard out, swiping it over the floor as if he crawled outside and flinging him onto the edge of the pool.

  I look for the security room next, locating it in the basement, beneath the foyer. Within minutes, I hack into the system and delete the footage and back-up of the last hour entirely so no one can find it. Then I abandon the mansion.<
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  As I drive out, I see cars entering the street in my rearview mirror. Immediately, I switch off my lights until I’ve pulled onto the highway and race to CIA headquarters now that I’m not being tailed for the first time in a week.

  ***

  It’s one-thirty a.m. when I maneuver my vehicle into the garage of the deserted CIA high-rise, taking the elevator to the top floor. My settling of scores hasn’t been finished. There’s still a second guard roaming around as a free man – the one who murdered my grandmother. With my fingerprint, I open the door and turn on the fluorescent lights. They switch on row by row on the ceiling, exposing the vast expanse of the tech room where rows of computers are lined up parallel to each other in the center of the room. Shelves with guns, ammunition, phones, tablets, earpieces, and tons of gadgets light up as well.

  After fishing out my phone from my pocket, I get a mini-screwdriver from the shelf to remove the chip and destroy all the data. Then I steal two new, secured phones, and without bothering to sit, I log into the system and enter my password, arranging for a CIA clean-up crew to respectfully take care of my grandmother’s body right away. Lastly, I hack into Club 7’s system to find the home address of the second guard. Within minutes, I’ve collected what I need.

  Determined, I return to the garage and drive out in another car – an ordinary, black vehicle – and leave my convertible behind.

  ***

  The address is on the outskirts of the Loop. Fatigue pulls at me, but acute grief keeps me focused on one goal: full retribution. I slide my revolver with the silencer into the back of my pants, under my suit jacket, and I drive as slowly as possible to keep from making any noise and park five minutes away. Thankfully, my clothes have mostly dried by the time I reach my destination, and I lurk back down an obscure path lined with trees. Rounding a white brick, three-story, I climb the fence to enter the garden, crossing the lawn toward the porch. With my foot, I slide the doormat close against the door and shoot the lock; it trickles onto the mat silently.