Saints of the Syndicate by Natalie Nicole

Chapter 3

Declan

 

In all these years, I never once thought it was possible for my frigid dead heart to spur to life. From the day I was born, I've been held to impossible expectations, and beat within an inch of my life when I didn't appease my father and his tyrannical ways of life. At least until I was able to fight back against the beatings. I've since let myself go beyond the limits of feelings. I fight, fuck, and party with zero thoughtas to the consequences.

I simply...Do. Not. Care.

No one has ever given a fuck about me other than Sinclair and Giovanni. We all bear similar scars of mental and physical abuse from our tormentors. We just wear our wounds differently.

Sinclair is a control freak from hell. He’s calculated as fuck in everything he does. Whether it's slitting someone's throat, his daily routine, or barking demands. He rarely loses control of any situation he is in. The only people that break us are our fathers. But fuck, they bring out the worst in all of us.

Giovanni retreats to the confines of his computers. He is a self-taught genius with them, which has saved our asses more times than any of us care to admit. He also has a photographic memory of even the most mundane information, like the utter ridiculous Trident codes of conduct that have ruled our lives since before we were born.

Myself, I live for the thrill. Be it the adrenaline rush of racing my customized Bugatti Chiron Sport down the California freeways, the toxic mix of pills and alcohol that fuel me, or the rush of dirty raunchy sex whenever and wherever I can get it. If it can numb the utter hell that floods my subconscious on a daily basis, the monsters lurking just beyond the depths of my mind that are just lusting for the chance to fully pull me into their depths of zero return, I'll do it.

The demons we all carry on our backs would be enough to send a sane person, fuck, a normal person on a fiery path of destruction that could level Los Angeles in an hour tops. The absolution of our sins we perform on an hourly basis is enough to send God himself on a spiral towards the pits of hell that are our lives.

But here I am, standing beside the only two people I would lay down my life for and not think twice about it. We’re looking down at the crowd of people, and she has already brought an increase to my pulse. There’s an unknown warmness spreading through my body just from looking at her, and it almost drops me to my fucking knees.

What the hell?

I find myself gripping the railing overlooking the club to keep my balance. I’m not quite sure if it's the alcohol and pills coursing through my veins, or the shift in my soul from this chick. I steal a quick glance at Giovanni and Sinclair to see them as completely enthralled as myself.

"You guys are looking at the same person I am, correct?"

Sinclair doesn't move his gaze from her. "Short silver sequin halter dress with the low back that allows us to see the dimples above that voluptuous ass. 5-inch black stiletto heels. Simple makeup to accentuate her natural beauty. Long brown hair that fades to blonde. Also, she looks absolutely out of her element, like she cannot wait to escape her situation? Yeah. I fucking see her."

I snort at his statement. "Observant bastard. But yes, her. Giovanni, how quick can you pull information?"

"Already on it. I’m going through the CCTV footage from the front door for the last half hour, since she doesn't seem like she has been here that long.” He goes silent for a moment. “And got it."

I don't know why I'm even surprised he found her that quick, but I am. Apparently, Sin is also as he finally glances away to look at Gio. "Well? Are you going to fill us in, or do we have to beat it out of you, asshole?"

"Insolent crybabies," Giovanni mutters. "If you must know, I started with our school to see if she goes there, and lucky for us, she does. Bethani Larie Reece. 21. A sophomore scholarship student at Blackwell University. Double majoring in journalism and photography with a minor in Russian. Her birthday is November 15th. Originally from Seattle, Washington but the last known address before moving here 2 years ago is in the slums of LA. The reasons are unknown. Doesn't say anything about family or any more personal information either. No social media, nothing else. Almost like a little ghost trying to hide something, or just that private of a person."

We both gape at him momentarily before Sinclair speaks for us. "Jesus Christ, G. You just got all that off your phone in under 30 seconds?"

With a shrug and a smirk, because he is a cocky shit like that sometimes, he replies, "You would know how to do this shit too if you actually listened to what I've attempted to explain - multiple times - with you pricks. But nooo, you'd rather rely on me for the information, since you're both lazy shits like that. But to answer your question, yes, I got that off my phone in under 30 seconds. I was already pulling it up before either of you said anything," he finishes with another smug grin.

Right pompous asshat he is somedays.

I finally glance back down to find Bethani seated at the bar with what looks like a couple of friends near her. What happens next sends my blood boiling, and by the stiffening shoulder of my friends, they are also seeing it.

There is some douche bag, beady-eyed looking fuck walking up behind her chair and putting his hands on her shoulders. She stiffens quickly, but then loses it just as fast as her face turns stoic. She almost looks pissed off. Good. Even from up here, I can see the fear that temporarily washes across her face, and it makes me want to storm down the stairs and knock the satisfied smirk off that fuck-stick’s face. "Giovanni....."

While not looking up from his phone, he grits through clenched teeth, "Fucking on it."

I take a quick glance over to Sin. He is white-knuckling the railing to our private suite the same as me.

"Mother fucker!" Gio yells while damn near breaking his phone.

We both look over to the pulsing fury that is evident on his face, and I know Sinclair is wondering the same as me. What the fuck is going on? G storms over to the security line phone we have up in the suite and starts yelling as the person answers,"Karl! Get your ass up here NOW!"

I look back over to Sinclair, his eyes are on Bethani. I finally turn back towards Gio as Karl, our head of security, comes barreling through the door. But he doesn't make it too far into the room before Gio has his hand around Karl's neck and is slamming him back into the hallway.

"Do we not pay you and the rest of security well enough?" he demands as Karl's face is shell-shocked. Fuck, though I’m pretty sure my face looks the same. Giovanni is the most docile of us. It takes a lotto rile him up like this, but when he is pissed, watch the fuck out.

"Y-yes, sir. You pay us all ex-extremely well," Karl mutters.

"Then why in the ever-loving FUCK did some pompous asshole make it through our fucking doors with a fake ID? Ex-fucking-splain. Now!"

"S-sir?"

"Fucking hell, Gio.Will you fill us in before you have a fucking coronary or kill our head of security already." Sin demands.

Giovanni turns his murderous rage towards us, and through gritted teeth says, "That fuck stick down there with his hands on Bethani has some shit bag fake ID that Roman let through. The picture is him, but the info shows a 67-year-old man that died 7 months ago. Whoever that prick down there is, he took the guy’s license, carefully pulled it apart, put his face in it, and then fixed the license back together. All the fucking training we give these guys and they let dumb shit like that pass? Fuck. That!" He turns his anger back to Karl. “I want that son of a bitch out of the bar in the next minute or every single one of you will be fired at the end of the night! Make sure you confiscate his license, and do not leave fingerprints. You're down to 45 seconds. GO!"

Karl hauls ass downstairs while we all return to the balcony to watch the show. We stay silent while we watch the crew take whoever this guy is out of the club rather unwillingly. He is saying all sorts of shit we can't hear because of the music, but something he says has Bethani's face paling for a moment, and I can't help but wonder what the bastard said.

Finally, Sinclair speaks, "So you gonna elaborate on your...outburst there, G?'

After stewing for a few he finally says, "Yeah...Like I said, our security let a bullshit fake ID through the door. It makes me wonder if Roman got paid off somehow to let the bastard through. Or is he that damn stupid. I'm already cross-referencing him with the area, but nothing is coming up since all his information is trash. Either this guy doesn't want to be known because he does illegal shit, or he has the right people to keep his shit hidden because they know they are against us. To top it all off, as soon as I saw Bethani's fear, I instantly wanted to rage against the guy to protect her. Fuck, I haven't even talked to her yet and I'm already drawn to her like no fucking other and just want to protect her. Fucking hell."

Sinclair rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. "Not sure why either, but I already feel the same way to dude. Let's just keep an eye on her from up here until she leaves. Then we’ll come up with a game plan later on how to grab her attention. We've shared chicks before on occasion, this doesn't seem to be that different than any other day of the fucking week."

"Fine," Gio relents, but it doesn't seem like is in the same mindset as Sin. Yeah, we've all fucked the same girl at the same time, but Bethani seems different than our normal MO already, and I haven't even talked to her yet.

Glancing back down at her, she finally turns towards the balcony. I swear my fucking heart stops as her eyes meet mine, even though she can't see me as anything more than a shadow. Her fucking perfect aqua eyes meet mine, and she gives us the most dazzling smile ever behind gorgeous full lips. With a quick wave and a mouthed 'thank you' towards us, she finally turns back towards her friends, and I feel like I can finally breathe again.

"Fuck," Sin mutters.

Gio mumbles something in Italian. I'm assuming he is agreeing.

"We're completely fucked already, aren't we?" I question.

They both don't answer, but I already know they agree.

This girl. That ray of utter fucking sunshine sitting at the bar...

Is going to be our fucking kryptonite.