The Deliverance of Dilan (The Syndicate #4) (2 page)

Then I saw the shadow in the alley, close, ready to strike. I dove for her. Saved her that night. I’d do it all again, knowing she’s safe. The pain from those gunshot wounds that are now in the past, I’ve dealt with, recovered from.

However, Anna is the type of woman a man like me—who’s been secretly planning to destroy, kill, and take down the Mexican Cartel that helped put him in a hellhole for years—needs to stay away from. Very few people know what the fuck went down with me when I was in prison. My Uncle Salvatore and John Greer know. How he knows, he hasn’t told me to this day. Someone inside those fucking walls of hell, I’m sure.

The rest of my family knows nothing. I’ve asked my uncle and John to keep the knowledge of the shit I endured to themselves. If Roan and Cain and the rest of my brothers knew, they would be out for blood. They’re as loyal as I am. They would want to help, but no damn way am I risking any more of the people I care about getting hurt.

I sure as hell can’t risk any of them knowing what I’ve been planning. They’ll sure as shit be up my ass, demanding what the hell I’m doing with this bitch when they see me tonight though. I won’t lie to them, but I will try like hell to tell them to stay out of it. Especially Roan. This is his wedding. Fuck. I hope he doesn’t notice me until he’s at least said ‘I do.’

My only wish is that I could have a woman as pure as Anna. She thinks I can save her. She couldn’t be more wrong. It’s my heart that needed saved. Still does. I’ve fallen for a woman I may never have. A woman who could erase my tainted past. A woman I left behind, knowing that if she comes anywhere near me, this time I won’t be able to save her. This war will end with more bloodshed than any war before this. This is my war. One that is going to go up in flames.

ANNA

“You look beautiful, honey.” My mom, as biased as she is, stands behind me in my bathroom. I’ve never been one to care about my looks. I’ve never had a reason to, not until six months ago. But hey, who’s counting, right? He’s gone. Traveling the country, he said. Well, he told everyone but me. He refused to see me. That destroyed me more than the hurtful things he said before all of our lives did a nose dive, dangling on the upper ledge of pure damn hell. Liar. Coward. Prick.

“Thank you, mom. You look stunning yourself,” I say truthfully. She does. Her blond hair is in a French twist, her makeup light on her gleaming, blue eyes I’m grateful to have inherited. And her dress. She’s wearing a light blue, strapless dress with a sheer overlay that sits just below her knees. No one would believe she was forty-six years old. She’s beautiful.

Right now, though, I want to be alone. I’m thankful she’s become close to Beth and Charlotte. As a result of their friendship, along with the fact we both work for Deidre now, mom baked the cake for today, so she has to leave a little earlier, which also means her boyfriend of a few months will meet her there. I couldn’t be happier for my mom. She deserves someone who is only devoted to her, and Ramsey is the guy. He adores her.

“I’ll see you there, honey,” she says happily.

“Be there soon.” Following her down the hallway in our apartment, I help her put on her long wool coat and grab her clutch for her. The minute the door closes behind her, I prevent my shaky legs from collapsing from underneath me by bracing myself up against the door.

I’m not looking forward to today at all. And this is what pisses me off.

Filled with anger mixed with sadness, I make my way back to my room. I stop just inside the doorway, staring at the dress I bought for today. It’s a sexy, short, royal blue dress with a lace overlay. One arm is draped to my wrist in lace, while the other shoulder is completely bare. It screams sophistication and confidence, which I’ve never had. I do now though. Thanks to Calla, Alina, and Deidre, and the many talks we’ve had. They boosted my confidence to levels I never even knew existed.

I no longer think of myself as the athletic tomboy. Even though I do everything to still stay in shape, to keep my body limber and toned, I no longer look in the mirror and see what I used to see before. Now, I see a woman who holds her head up. A lady who wants a man who doesn’t deserve me. And yet, I still want him. The things he said to me are lies. I know they are. He is so full of shit. He’s scared. Of what, I have no clue.

“Shit.” I’m so mad for thinking of the one man who I desperately want to see me in this dress. I chose it for him.

I know he’ll be there. I feel it in my gut. It’s been six months since I’ve seen him. Six months since he helped save my life, only to destroy it the first chance he had. I hope he chokes on whatever the hell he’s drinking tonight when he sees me. It may be childish of me to think that, but after what he said to me, it’s the way I feel. Loser.

I sigh and sit down on the edge of my bed. I shouldn’t be thinking about him at all. The ungrateful son of a bitch.

Over the past several months, whenever my mind would drift to him, wondering what he’s doing, or better yet who, I tried focusing on anything else to try and get my mind off of him. It didn’t matter what I did, whether I would work late, try and follow a new recipe, bake dozens of cookies or cupcakes, only to shove half of them in my mouth and watch those calories go straight to my ass, nothing helped to keep my mind off of him. I like my new curvy body, thanks to my sweet tooth. I can have my cake and eat it too as they say. Although, I would much rather eat him. Asshole man that he is.

I always think of him. The man with the dark brown hair and eyes just as brown, with the colorful tattoos on both of his arms, across his back and chest. Fucking asshole.

I bend down, retrieving the box that holds my five-inch strappy heels. Not the best shoes for winter, but hey, when you live in a place where there’s a cab on every corner, or where you can call to have one pick you up and drive you wherever you need to go in this large city, then strappy high heels it is. On top of that, these heels show just how smooth and toned my short legs are. At five foot two, I need all the help I can get.

“Ouch.” I grimace and place my hand through my robe over my now bare pussy. This morning, all of us women went down to the day spa on the third floor of our apartment building. We all got manis, pedis, waxing, and our hair done. My long, blond hair is curled into loose waves and swept to the side, where they drape over my shoulder. I love having the spa right here. I even made an appointment a few weeks ago and had my hair colored. It’s darker underneath with a few slivers of dark threaded throughout the top and sides.

Mom and I are living in Aidan’s old apartment. He immediately moved all his personal belongings over to Deidre’s after the night I try to forget. Not only did Dilan almost lose his life that very same night, there were several others of us who thought we were going to die or wound up hurt worse than we actually did as well. I had several bruises and broken ribs to prove it.

I cringe, thinking of that night, all thoughts of my very first waxing gone. It’s not like anyone will see it anyway. Why I let Deidre talk me into it, I will never know. That shit hurts, but it sure beats shaving, especially if the hairs stay gone for four to six weeks, like Monique, the wax specialist, said.

I move to my dresser. It’s the one I had in our old home. A bedroom set my father bought for me when I graduated high school. The dresser and nightstands are black. My king size bed is black too. The headboard is made of leather. I’ve accessorized it with a cream-colored sheepskin-styled rug. The bedding is a deep burgundy, with a matching sheepskin comforter, in which I tend to drown my sorrows. Off-white lamps with their spiral design bases and square shades finish the style. I even dangled some crystal beads from them. I love this room. And the view of New York it gives me.

Tears spring to my eyes, thinking of my father. He was murdered by my half-brother. It was a nightmare. One I don’t care to relive. Ryan Drexler Jr. is dead now. He can no longer hurt me, or my mom, or Aidan. My dad may have been a scammer, a cheat, and an evil man, but he was good to my mom and me. Always there when I needed him, even though he lead a double life, married to Ryan’s mom, who is a bitch, while having an affair and then had me with my mom.

“God, Anna. Today is a happy day. Roan and Alina are getting married. Leave things in the past. Especially things you have no control of,” I scold myself. I’ve been down this shit road of self-doubt, an uneasy mind, and heartbreak. Fuck them all. My so-called half-brother didn’t win when he tried to destroy us, when he left my body broken and beaten. And my dad didn’t break my mother’s heart either, like I thought he would when we found out he was dead. I mean, it broke her heart when he died, especially the way he died, but she moved on. So did I the best I knew how.

I remember her words so clearly when I asked her how she was doing a few days after we found out about his death. “He was never mine to begin with, sweetheart. I loved him once and he loved me. We remained friends for you. That’s what parents do when they love their child.” That about knocked me off of my ass to hear my sweet mom say that, when all this time I thought she loved the man.

And we didn’t find out until a week later when I tried to call him, only to have his son Ryan Jr. answer the phone. Abhorrent and disgusting terms flew out of his mouth. The names he called both my mom and me. He was out of control with rage, angry over the fact that my dad had left me money. Money I couldn’t have cared less about. Hell, I didn’t even know he died, let alone left me money. All I wanted to know, deserved to know, was where my dad was buried. The man was out of control, told me nothing. I didn’t even attend my dad’s funeral, didn’t even know he was gone. I’ve learned to deal with it though. He loved me. This I know. He knew I loved him too. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’m only sad I wasn’t able to say goodbye to him.

“Enough, Anna. Move your ass. Maybe some hot, single guy will catch your eye tonight.” With my mood perking up, I move, pulling out my matching strapless bra. I ditch my panties. No way am I covering up down there. Not when it feels like it’s on damn fire.

Thank god it’s not bright red anymore. This causes me to laugh, out loud. Here I am with the top half of my body cold with insensitive memories, while my bottom half is hot and heated. Could make for a very interesting evening. Especially if Dilan does show up.

I slip my robe off and put my bra on, loving the way it makes my breasts look even bigger. I pick up my dress and moan when I step into it at the way the silk feels on my skin. Soft. With a little wiggle of my hips, I have it over them, then place my arm into the lace and feel like a woman.

“Oh, wow,” I say when I look in the mirror. “Not too bad, Anna.” I turn around, checking out my ass. Eat your heart out, Dilan. If you’re there tonight, you watch how this ass can move.

I place a pair of silver diamond studded earrings in my ears—another gift from my dad when I turned sixteen. Then I spritz my favorite perfume on and strap on my sandals. I leave the confines of my room, pull my long wool coat out of the closet, and grab my matching clutch and my phone off the counter.

“Here we go,” I say, grabbing my overnight bag to stay at The Rosalie Hotel overlooking Central Park, where the reception will be. I open the door and lock it behind me.

I make it to the lobby, my sandals letting everyone know I’m determined more than ever to have fun tonight, as they click across the tiled floor as if they have as much of a strong mind as I do. I’m determined to enjoy witnessing Alina and Roan pledge their love for another, to appreciate the fact that I’m resilient—despite the whole kit and caboodle so-to-speak shit I’ve dealt with over the past several months. Marty, the sixty-five year old doorman whom I adore, whistles when I stride up to him, greeting me in his pleasant voice. I love this man.

“You have a wonderful time tonight, Miss Anna.” He opens the door and helps guide me into the waiting cab.

“I sure will. And you tell that wife of yours I said she’s lucky to have you.” He nods. Then chuckles. I tell him that every time I see him.

“You know I will.” He winks then shuts the door behind me.

The snow is falling lightly as I stare out the window of the cab I called for earlier. I’m not one to drive much in this town. And my car isn’t the best in the snow anyway. Another gift from my dad. A red Jaguar. I’ve had it in storage since moving here. One of these days, when the weather breaks, I’ll take it out. Drive through the mountains. Who knows? Right now, though, I’m enjoy watching the people walking around in the middle of winter. Bundled up. Some hand in hand with a loved one, while others out looking for love. It’s a town full of so many possibilities. People flock here for no reason, from all over the world.

The skyline at night is like nothing I’ve seen before. It’s breathtaking, seeing the tall buildings lit up. This is a city in a world of its own.

We pull up to the quaint church on E. 61
st
Street. My nerves are probing away in every direction by the time I pay the driver and step out into the crisp winter air. I’m chilled the minute I climb the steps, my bare legs screaming for warmth.

“Hi, Ramsey.” He’s waiting inside the door like he said he would be. “Hey, Anna. Let me take your bag and set it in the room with all the others.” He takes my bag from my hand. Even though the wedding is small with family and close friends, I suspect it will be larger than expected with all the acquaintances the Diamond and Solokov families have combined.

“And your coat.” He helps me guide it off. “Thank you,” I say politely, while I wait for him to hang my coat and take my bag to the room where a staff member from the hotel is supposed to retrieve them from and leave them in our rooms.

“This is exquisite,” I tell him when he returns.

“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, except you and your mom, of course.” I playfully tease him by saying, “I couldn’t agree with you more. She is quite breathtaking, isn’t she?”

“She is. So are you, Anna. Don’t ever forget that,” he answers bashfully. He’s always saying sweet things to both mom and me. “And here she is.” His eyes gleam when my mom approaches. So do hers as she walks our way, focused on him. Her gaze shifts to me when she stops in front of us.