The Deliverance of Dilan (The Syndicate #4) (16 page)

“We don’t play games, young man. Therefore, I’m going to ask you one question before John kills you. Regardless if you answer it or not, you’re dead. The choice is up to you on whether you want to betray the people who sent you here, knowing damn well you would be caught and die before you do,” Ivan drawls his words out precisely and to the point, his accent heavy.

“I’m not telling you shit. Save your question, you Russian fuck.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Ivan moves within an inch of this man’s bloodied face.

“Like I said, your choice. That’s the only choice you have. Now, here’s my question. Were you sent here to kill her or anyone in my circle?” He tilts his head, awaiting an answer. The man doesn’t speak. Instead, the movement of his head gives him away. His aim is set on Roan.

“I see. You were sent here to take out my son-in-law. To attack us first, in the one place that Juan knows would destroy our stability. Very smart on his part. However, shit for brains,” he lifts one finger and pokes him in the middle of his head, “you made your death agonizingly unpleasant for yourself for considering to leave my daughter a widow.” Bringing himself up to his normal height, he withdraws a handkerchief from the pocket of his dress pants, wipes his finger clean as if he’s been exposed to a deadly plague, and then stuffs the thing into the man’s mouth.

“John. I’m going to assume all security cameras are turned off?” Ivan speaks with authority.

“My guess, they’ve been off for a few hours if this fucker managed to turn them off. I have guys in place. The minute I’m gone with this cocksucker, they will be back on.” John grips the piece of shit by his hair and pulls him straight up, while he tries to squirm out of his hold. I laugh. Not a chance in hell is his attempt to get away going to work. Not with John.

“And your plan to get out of here undetected is?” Ivan asks.

“I’m going to shoot this fucker right in the head. Shove him out the back door. Then I’m calling his boss, telling him unless he wants this to become a media circus, he better have this piece of shit’s body gone within five minutes.” The sound in the room is muted. Even fuckface, who’s been trying to plead through the hanky stuffed in his mouth, shuts the fuck up.

“Don’t call him until you get back here,” my uncle request.

“Come on, motherfucker.” John shoves him toward the door. I watch smugly when the door swings open and two of Alina’s brothers help the struggling, dead fuck exit him from the room.

How in the hell my uncle and Ivan can make shit happen in a matter of minutes is beyond me. They were both on their phones giving orders as soon as Cain called to tell us what happened with Anna. I clench my hands so tightly, thinking about her and how she must feel, that my digits damn near draw blood.

“This shit ends tonight. No one sleeps, eats, or even takes a goddamn piss until we have demolished them all. Roan?” Ivan directs his attention to my cousin, who’s been sitting on the sofa the entire time, his hands over his face, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

He lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot from crying silently. Goddamn, this fucking guts me, seeing him destroyed like this.

“You don’t even have to open the damn thing. I know it’s him.” Shit, my evaluation of my cousin’s emotional state has me going to him. I sit down next to him, guilt ripping my chest in half. I don’t know what to say. I do the only thing I can think of. I put my arm around him, letting him know I’m here, silently asking him to forgive me for this.

“This isn’t your fault, you know,” he tells me. It is, but fuck me if his words don’t slice me open even more. The brave fucker. “Yeah, well, for what’s it worth, you let me deal with how I feel. My concern is you.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s his woman who’s going to need us when we tell her.” He’s right about that for damn sure.

“Fucking hell.” Ivan’s tone is stiff. Both of us lurch forward. “Jesus Christ, they are sick.” Cain’s outburst assaults me like a head-on collision when we approach the now open box. Ivan slams the lid shut before either of us has the chance to see what’s inside.

“Let me see it.” Roan tries to push past them.

“No, goddamn it, Roan. That box stays sealed.” Ivan’s face is twisted with anger and disgust.

“Fuck this. I have a right to know if that’s him.” I can hear the annoyance, frustration, and hurt in his words. I take a deep breath. It’s all I can do. I’ll be out of line if I demand they let him look inside. I know this. He’s not thinking clearly. Hell, he shouldn’t even be here.

“It is him and it’s his woman too. Is that what you want to hear?” He rotates his entire body to face us. “What?” I watch my cousin unravel, his body damn near crumbling to the fucking floor before Cain grabs him under his arms.

“Why in the hell would they do this shit? She has nothing to do with any of this. Goddamn it, dad. Fuck.” Roan jerks out of Cain’s hold. This has to be one of the lowest points of any of our lives. I don’t want to know what’s inside that box, or how the hell they even know it’s them for sure, but Roan does.

“Just tell me, damn it. Tell me how you know it’s them,” he pleads desperately.

Ivan puffs out a large steam of air before he speaks.

“If their matching tattoos of each other’s names on their wrists are enough for you, then that’s all you need to know.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. I’ve laughed and cried with my cousin our entire lives. Smacked each other around a few times too, but never have I seen him break down like this. It’s tough to watch a grown man cry. A strong man who would give his life for you. A man who loves hard. And now, when he looks his dad in the eye, the visibility of him hating even deeper crests across every feature on his frame. From the way he stands to the look of determination. He’s pulling his shit together. We fight first, mourn later.

“Don’t you dare deny me to kill that cocksucker like you did Royal. He’s mine, dad, whether he’s the one who killed them or not. That piece of shit is mine.” The gaze he had fixed on his dad now travels to all of us standing in this room. Not a single person speaks. If he wants his redemption, he’ll get it. Just like I’m going to get my deliverance. No matter how badly I want to be the one to kill Juan myself, I’ll give this kill to Roan as long as I’m the one who gets to take out Jazmin.

“Make the call, Ivan,” John grunts when he walks back in. He slips off his black leather gloves and shoves them deep into the back pocket of his well-worn jeans. He’s changed his shirt over the course of the last ten minutes since he walked out the door with that now dead fuck. Damn, the dude is quick, doesn’t fuck around.

“Very well,” Ivan slurs in his Russian accent then places his phone on top of the round, wooden coffee table in the middle of the living room, where we all reside. Shit, years ago you would have never seen the Diamond Empire along with the realm of all the Solokovs in one room, but now we’re a family. Bonded not only by marriage but respect, loyalty, and honor for one another.

“Ivan Solokov. I’ve been patiently waiting for someone to call me. Is the Diamond family too upset by their wedding present to call me themselves?” His toying laughter bellows through the phone.

“I would say no, since we’re all here, you pussy,” I retort.

“Ah. Dilan. Speaking of pussy. How is that stunning, little woman of yours? I’m most assuredly going to have to bathe her for days in disinfectant to get your smell off of her before I fuck her. Tell me, does her ass feel as tight as it looks, because my cock has been hard since the first time I’ve seen her. She’s quite tasty, sí?” He’s taunting me. We all know it. I grip my hands together at the nape of my neck before I answer him or wish I had some damn superpower to climb through this phone and slaughter his fucking ass.

My resolve is spitting like embers from a wildfire, ready to blow the hell up at any time. My uncle cuts me off before I’m able to respond, which pisses me the fuck off. I pull my hands away from my neck, every muscle tightening and my anger building. I sit on my hands. Literally. The need to destroy anything, to draw blood, is scratching at my skin like a leech.

“You address Ivan or me. No one else,” he strains out, his mouth twisting in a self-conscious smirk.

“What’s the fun in that, Salvatore? Let me guess, I’m the guest of honor to the newfound kingdom of the joining of your families?” God, I despise this cocky bastard. Who does he think he is?

“Listen, you motherfucker. This shit ends now. You threw down the gasoline. Now, we’re going to light the fucking match. You tell your men to come and pick up the piece of shit who lies dead behind this building, in the gutter out back. Then you and your slut of a sister better stay hidden. I’m coming for you, motherfucker, and when I do, you’re going to wish you never stepped foot in this city. I will end you. I will make you suffer, and before I do, you will watch your sister get a bullet right between her eyes.” Roan sucks in a deep breath, his chest heaving up and down, darkness like I’ve never seen in him before darkening his expression.

“Are you finished, Roan? Wait, don’t answer that. Take a long, hard look outside. See the bright lights? The busy streets? The millions of people wondering about?” He pauses. “Fuck off,” Alina’s brother Anton dismisses.

“Very well. Don’t look. Let me say this. I’m speaking to each one of you. It seems you all have something to say to me. Your words mean nothing to me. You don’t have the upper hand here. I do. You see, out there among all those people are four very important people to you. Or should I say women.”

We all look at each other in bewilderment. Two of Alina’s brothers snatch out their phones, while I close my eyes, knocking my head back in the chair. He sure has a way with fucking with us. No damn way he has anyone.

“You’re bluffing.” My uncle leans into the phone. Sweat suddenly appears on his forehead.

“Nice try, Juan. We don’t scare that easily. In fact, we don’t scare at all. We seek revenge. Now, enough of these games. Prepare for war.” Ivan’s hand reaches for the phone, I’m assuming to disconnect the call.

That’s when we all hear it. The screaming. “Fuck.” John draws his gun, aiming it at the phone as if the sound of a shrilling woman is going to take away whatever disgraceful thing they are doing to her.

“Oh, yes. I have your wife, John, even though I didn’t want her. She’s a persistent woman. Brave, I would say. She hasn’t lost her touch. The stupid woman begged me to take her. She’ll be the first to die, unless you all do exactly what I tell you.”

Every single man in this room remains quiet, unsure of what the hell to do. Cain is damn near ready to explode. Roan’s jaw is slacked; the only movement from him is the flaring of his nostrils. John drops his hand, his gun slipping to the floor.

“I see I have your attention now. I’m far from bluffing. I also have your wives, Ivan and Salvatore. And lastly, I have the beautiful Anna.” That’s when I stand. My heart gives out. My lungs try without succeeding to suck in air in order to breathe. “Don’t you touch her.” My voice is unable to shred the madness I’m trying to convey. Even I hear the desperation, the weakness, and the yearning need to surrender.

“It’s a shame her body will have to be scrubbed, her silky flesh hanging off of her body before I lay a finger on her. By then, she’ll be unrecognizable, too disfigured for me to want her, Dilan. It saddens me, because I would love nothing more than to fuck her. To mark her. To make her mine.”

“You are one sick bastard.” Ivan bends down toward the phone. I’m unable to speak any further. All I have are images in my head of the horrendous things he will do to Anna if we don’t find them.

“Not sick, smart. Your wives mean nothing to me. In fact, I should kill them. However, it’s not them I want. I want you, Salvatore, Ivan, John, and Dilan. The rest of you, I don’t give a shit about. You’re too weak to ruin me. So here’s what I propose. You have until nine tomorrow morning to find me. To decide if you will trade your lives for you wives. If you don’t, then Cecily dies first. And one more thing. My sister is quite torn up about the phone call she received from the prison, regarding the death of Miguel. Which means there will be no trade for the beautiful Anna. It seems my sister wants her a lot more than I do. For some reason, she does not find her appealing the way I do. Maybe I’ll change my mind, show her how to be fucked by a real man before I turn her over to Jazmin.”

ANNA

Something is off. I have no clue how I know this, but I do. I walk clumsily down the vacant hall with Cecily. Our hands are clasped together. My intuition is screaming at me that she knows it too. Whether it’s the snowstorm that’s happening inside of the room we just left or not knowing when, where, why, or how they are going to strike at us next, I really don’t know. All I do know is, something is wrong.

This indescribable nagging hits me worse than anything I’ve experienced before. It’s far worse than what happened several months ago.

It’s paranoia more so than a gut instinct. My thoughts are consumed with it. Pressure begins to press down on my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. Before I have the chance to ask Cecily to stop so I can catch my breath, she comes to a complete stop and brings her hands up to cup my face. “Anna, listen to me. We need to be in the open. There is no doubt in my mind there are more of his people in here. He’s smart. I believe he planned all of this ahead of time, knowing damn well we would all be here. Whatever the hell is running through your head, you need to flush it out. I need you with me right now.” I feel her motherly touch on my skin, her words trying to penetrate through my foggy smog-filled brain.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“To the bar,” is her response. We don’t make it to the bar. In fact, we take a few small, steps, and then everything happens fast. Three men surround us with guns pointed directly at our heads.

“This was easier than we thought. Give her to me,” one of them speaks. His face is covered in scars. His teeth are stained. His eyes are dark. “Fuck you. You will have to kill me first,” she speaks calmly, quietly, her hand gripping mine tighter. This cannot be happening. My body begins to tremble. The walls feel like they are caving in. Bluntly, I stagger backwards when one of them slams the butt of his gun into the side of my head. I struggle to stand upright, but my legs are giving out. Someone catches me before I hit the ground.