For Logan (Chicago Syndicate Book 5) (5 page)

Begrudgingly, I agree, “Fine. But I can’t watch her around the clock.”

“You don’t need to,” Luca explains. “You can have another guard watch her if she’s out of the Loop area and you don’t have time to pick her up. But I’d prefer it if you would when you can. In case of any trouble, protecting her takes precedence, okay?”

“Okay.”

James returns and explains, “Rosalia doesn’t know where Mykhail is. She hasn’t spoken to him.”

He seems to be satisfied with her answer, but there’s a tremble of doubt floating through me. She wasn’t arguing with Mykhail when I caught them. Quite the opposite. They were calmly chatting. Yet I keep my reservations to myself.

“I’m going to Henry’s then,” I announce.

They’re already discussing other business, so I say goodbye. Before visiting Henry, however, I seek out one of my two assignments to talk to her myself.

As I enter Cam’s private room, Rosa’s sitting by her bed and whispering, “Don’t leave me.”

That one sentence transports me back to a moment I’ve been working for almost thirteen years to forget. Those were the exact words I said to my sister when I held her lifeless body in my arms.

It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to feel anything remotely resembling grief, yet Cam’s unresponsiveness to Rosa’s fragile plea tugs at my heartstrings. I guess the organ’s still there.

Without realizing, I close the distance between us, standing behind her chair as she swipes the tears away from the corners of her lovely eyes. I sweep her silky hair aside and place my palm on her shoulder. When she stiffens, I squeeze her in compassion, hearing her sharp intake of breath as my fingers brush her collarbone.

“She’ll recover. Cam’s a fighter,” I ease her.

“She looks so bad,” Rosa mutters as she leans back, covering my hand with hers on her shoulder. The back of her head rests against my stomach.

This seemingly small touch invokes a current of miscellaneous emotions, and I’m aware of her rose-scented perfume when she looks up and meets my gaze.

While I thought she’d be crying, she’s actually composed and quiet. Different from how I’ve seen her on other occasions. She’s being strong and it’s affecting me. This entire situation is hitting too close to home.

While I’m battling my own reaction, our gazes stay locked. Unnervingly so. She studies me thoroughly, too intimately, in that exact way that makes me uncomfortable until – as if lightning strikes – the sudden beep of the heart monitor jolts us back to reality.

She leans forward, and I remove my hand from her shoulder.

Unsettled again by this girl and these disheartening circumstances, I exit without another word, reaching my convertible in the garage before I realize that I didn’t even ask the question I went to her for in the first place.

Why do I keep forgetting my intent when I see her?

Although that thought is quickly overridden by an all-consuming sadness I can never seem to escape. Instead of meeting Henry right away, I find myself at the burial places that hold my heart. Laying two flowers down on each grave, I attempt to organize my rampant emotions. My grief has come and gone, and I need to shelter myself from the Syndicate’s grief regarding Cam until I’m an official member. Until that exact moment, I’m in no-man’s land. But I’m close. I shut my eyes and banish my wayward emotions like I’ve taught myself.

Resolved, I return to my car to go meet Henry and uncover the whereabouts of Mykhail Medlov.

Rosalia

––––––––

O
n Tuesday, I’m on campus at the University of Chicago, sitting in the back of the biological chemistry auditorium. Unfortunately, paying attention to the professor is impossible.

My instructions from my father are clear; continue as usual. I asked about what exactly is going on and what their plans are for Dimitri but was ordered to stay out of things.

Tapping my pen on the desk, I stress about Cam and Mykhail. For Cam, I can’t do anything but pray for a speedy and healthy recovery. As for Mykhail, I’d hoped to see him in class today since his phone number has been disconnected and he hasn’t come by my pool house, but he hasn’t shown up.

I glance down and catch the date on my phone screen, calculating that I’ve missed my period for three consecutive months. Over the last year, it’s already been sparse to begin with, which is weird, but I can’t be pregnant, so I quickly make an appointment online with my doctor for a checkup.

Then I notice on my calendar that there’s a party on Thursday where Mykhail might try to contact me; we both know we regularly attend these parties. Hopefully, I’ll see him there.

***

I
enter the three-story brick mansion on Thursday, yanking up the neckline of my emerald strapless dress. This is an elite party, the type that’s thrown often by various rich students whose parents are always away, so we can do anything we want in here.

A bunch of people are on the couch in the sunken living room, some making out. Some are snorting a line of coke from the coffee table, and others are milling about with a cocktail in their hand.

Luckily, Mykhail appears in front of me, guiding me into the shadows of the room, close to a bookcase.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” I explain.

“Are you being followed?” he asks, his blond curls disheveled.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?” he whispers.

“Yes, I haven’t seen any guards. Don’t worry. How are you?”

“Okay, for now. You?”

“I’m fine. But your father kidnapped my sister and she’s in a coma.”

Mykhail’s eyes widen. “Oh, fuck! Did you know the Syndicate has captured a lot of Ukrainian mafia members? My father’s mansion has been destroyed and he’s MIA.”

“I know bits and pieces but not the entire story. Do you know where your father is?”

“No.”

“Where have you been staying then?”

“At another safe place.”

“Safe place?” I question.

His brows pull together. “Your family really keeps you out of all mafia business, don’t they? It’s a place with tight security for mafia members to hide. Only a few of them know the address. I can’t stay there for long, though, because Dimitri will eventually come looking for us there.”

“And where’s your brother?”

“Adam’s with me. Well, with a babysitter at the moment. All the high ranking men of the Ukrainian mafia have been killed, except for my father. I presume the Syndicate is hunting down Dimitri?”

“I guess.”

“Are they looking for me too, Rosalia?” he wants to know.

“I think so.”

“What would they do if they found me? I know what the Ukrainian mafia would do – they’d torture any enemy.”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

I don’t want to believe my father, Adriano, or Luca would harm him, but Cam’s been injured and Adriano’s livid. Besides, I can’t deny that the Syndicate consists of cold-blooded men.

“Maybe you should lay low for a while,” I suggest.

“Yeah, but I’m not just going to hide and do nothing. I need to make sure that neither the Syndicate nor Dimitri finds us until your family has caught him. Regarding the Syndicate, you can help me. I need to know if they’re on my father’s trail, or mine, or after my brother.”

Would the Syndicate kill an innocent kid? Would my father?

In all honesty, I’m afraid he would. All my life, he’s been engrossed with his organization, working at odd hours. They’ll probably go to extreme lengths to catch Dimitri, maybe even threaten to hurt Mykhail and Adam. I don’t think Mykhail is any better off with the Syndicate than with his father.

“Then I need a strategy. I can’t just start asking my father questions. I’ve never been interested in any Syndicate business.”

“Yes, you need to be careful. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

“I won’t, but we’ve got to think this through before I can start digging around for information. Are you coming back to classes?”

“Not until I know more. I’m keeping Adam inside, and I only came here tonight because I wanted to talk to you. I have a disposable phone and I’ll send you a text so you have my new number. But, right now, I really could use a drink or a line.” He winks. It’s obvious he’s been in a tricky situation like this before, because he thinks a few steps ahead, setting me at ease a little.

Mykhail strolls to the couch and plops down onto it, scooching over to make room for me. From his back pocket, he takes out his wallet for his credit card and a tiny plastic bag with white powder. “It’s time to get a little high.”

We’ve done coke in the past, Mykhail more often than I. Yet I’d like to take the edge off after this depressing week. I grab a dollar bill from Mykhail’s wallet and roll it up while he divides the powder into two straight lines with his card. Then he bends forward and snorts a line, shaking his head as he hands me the rolled-up bill. I run it over the line he set up for me and sniff it up.

“Ah!” I wriggle my nose as it rushes to my brain.

We laze back and let the drug infuse our system, reaching for that invincible feeling coke gives. When I look up at the other side of the room, I’m totally confused. I blink my eyes and swear I’m hallucinating.

Leaning sideways to Mykhail, I ask, “Is that Logan I see, or am I just imagining his arrogant, fine-looking ass?”

“Who’s Logan?” he muses, following my line of sight.

“It’s Wade’s first name.”

His eyes narrow as he inspects the back of a handsome male. “Oh, fuck, yes!” He jumps up. “Shit, were you followed?”

“I’m sure I wasn’t,” I defend stubbornly. “Go! Before he sees you.”

“I’ll wait outside,” he declares, beating a path toward the back entrance.

Logan turns around and settles his gaze on me, angling his head as if I’m the one not belonging here. The funny thing is that as he talks to another guy, he doesn’t stand out. Logan’s hair is an appealing mess, and he’s irritatingly dashing in his white, untucked dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark jeans. Much to my chagrin, he acts self-righteous and brooding. And I’m becoming higher by the second. Not a good combination.

At that moment, a redhead introduces herself to Logan, and I watch him grinning at her.

When he doesn’t shake her off to come to me, I rise and approach them. Confident, I adjust my breasts in my dress.

“Hey.” I stop right in front of Logan but don’t say his name. I’m sure he introduced himself as
Wade
, and that name doesn’t fit him.

“Rosa.” His focus is immediately aimed on me. He glances at my dress and rapidly back up.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“He’s here to join the party, of course. Jax’s brother knows him.” She looks from me to him. “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Yes,” we both answer without breaking eye contact.

“You know the brother of the person who’s throwing this party? That’s a coincidence.” Sarcasm drips from my tone.

The redhead touches Logan’s ripped biceps to regain his attention, but I refuse to release his gaze, and he doesn’t look away from me either.

“I need to talk to Rosa. Alone.”

The girl seethes – I can almost sense her animosity – and slinks away.

Before I get a chance to question him further, he beats me to it. “It
is
actually a surprise to see you here. Why are you out of the Loop?”

“It’s only ten minutes outside of it. I’m practically in the Loop if I take a step back,” I joke.

A frown crosses his face.

“So you’re saying that it’s truly a coincidence that you’re here at this party when I’ve never seen you here before?” I don’t bother to hide my disbelief.

“Yes,” he answers without adding anything else.

It can’t be.

I bet my father or Adriano sent him to get me. Somehow, they’re tracking me. Is he maybe one of the guards or a member of the Syndicate now? If so, he can help me get information about Dimitri.

Then let’s make this more fun, shall we?

“Well, if you’re here for the party, let’s party.” I shift aside and motion to an open area in the middle of the room where a dozen couples are moving to the music and groping each other.

His jaw clenches. Nonetheless, he masks his disapproval. “Okay, let’s dance,” he says blandly and places his hand on the small of my back, shunting me forward.

That small point of contact triggers a shiver down my spine. Inwardly, I laugh because I don’t see Logan as the dancing type and I’m going to go all out with my dance moves. I’m too energetic. Not even he can rain on my parade.

As we reach the area, I try to swivel around, but he grasps my hips, pressing my back against his hard wall of a chest and dipping his head.

“What are you doing?” I murmur, too aware of his closeness and strength.

“Dancing,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, skimming his palms down my hips, swaying me. Entrancing me. “You wanted to dance. Everyone’s partnered. I’m not letting you dance alone.”

Oh, he’s good.

Still, I’m not backing down either. Instead, I lean back against him and he falters for a split-second but recovers and keeps on slowly guiding me to the beat of the music. It’s intoxicating how he skillfully controls me with his breath hot on my neck. Every movement of his solid body is like a challenge. I grind my ass against him, and he lets out either a groan or a grunt. I can’t tell for sure, but I feel it vibrating in his chest.

Despite our already-burning closeness, he amps up the stakes even more. His fingers spread wide over my hips and drift gently to my front, caressing my lower stomach and stopping there. Then he curls his hand into a fist as his swelling erection pokes my behind.

I peek sideways to find him opening his eyes, and the stormy blue color of his irises hold my gaze captive with an unreadable expression. But his body’s reaction has betrayed him.

When I circle around, he doesn’t release me and his palms slide to my back with my rotation, the tips of his fingers splayed right above the swell of my ass. While he beholds me as if he’s trying to unravel a mystery, I link my hands behind his neck. There’s always been a part of me that’s wondered how it would feel to be the object of desire for a man like him; someone good-looking, darkly dangerous, and all man, and he’s irresistible when he lavishes his attention on me.