SINdicate: A BT Urruela FanFiction Novel: Cerberus MC Book 1.5 (4 page)

I look to my right and see a cute brunette with a severe blunt cut bob and so much shine in her eyes it’s hard to look away. She’s hopeful I’ll say yes as she twists her hands together, wringing her fingers against each other. She looks almost devious right now, and even though I know it’s a horrible idea, I’m not a complete asshole.
It’s only class, right?

“Sure,” I tell her trying not to sound completely put out.

She squirms in her seat like she’s won the damn lottery as I turn my attention back to the teacher who’s informing us that we will be working on camera technique kissing. This is the best news I’ve heard all day. At least with this type of kissing, we don’t have to touch each other’s mouths. Camera technique is all about making it look like a couple is kissing. The angle of the camera shows the back of the head and has more to do with the placement of the shot rather than the actual physical act of kissing.

As usual, several tripods are set up around the room, and we go to the corner where Aviana and I always go. The cameras are digital, but we turn them on to record, so later we can see ourselves and work on perfecting whichever acting technique we are learning.

I turn the camera on as I walk by and wait for the next instruction from the teacher.

“I want the males back to the cameras first,” the teacher says. I work on getting in place and notice just how tall my partner is. I won’t have to bend down hardly at all to make this look right. It’s a plus for today I guess, and I try to hide my disappointment in not working with Aviana.

“Sheryl, you can have your back facing the shot first since you’re partnered up with Samantha today,” I hear the teacher say directing another set of students. I look over and cock an eyebrow at the pair of girls as they get ready to get to work. I could watch those girls make out all damn day.

I hear a throat beside me clear, pulling my attention away from the two blonde bombshells who are about to practice a kissing scene. I chuckle lightly as I see several of the other guys in class more concerned over the lesbian kiss that’s about to take place than the girls that are standing in front of them.

What can I say? We’re men.

“Positions!” I hear the teacher say with a less than enthusiastic tone.

I turn back to my partner and roll my shoulders, preparing to get this class over with.

“I’m Candy by the way,” my kissing partner for the day says with an outstretched hand.

I shake her hand. “BT,” I tell her. “You ready?”

She shakes her head enthusiastically. She steps in closer to me and reaches her hands up to twine in my hair. Licking her lips, she says, “I’m more than ready.”

Where the fuck is Aviana?

“Action!” The teacher says.

I lean my body closer into Candy and place my hands on her neck mimicking her stance. I stop a few inches from her mouth as the instructions in the book said is required for a camera technique kiss. This girl goes all out and crashes her lips against mine, and before I can protest, she’s got her tongue in my damn mouth!

My eyes widen, and I push her away gently. “What the hell?” I say more than a little annoyed.

She shrugs her shoulders. “We’re at kissing practice,” she says.

“That’s not the technique we’re supposed to be practicing right now,” I huff with more force in my voice than I probably should have after being kissed so feverishly by a woman most men would consider a perfect ten. I wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand, and she has the gall to look offended.

I’m not an idiot. I know that the women at the acting studio talk about me all the time. I ignore the gossip and their attention. Strangely enough, the more I ignore it, the more they seem to gossip. It’s gotten so bad that some of the guys sneer at me when I walk past as if I can control them and the shit they say about me. Last week I was most decidedly gay, and today Candy has taken it upon herself to shove her tongue down my fucking throat.

“Can we just work on this?” I ask as she stares at me with her arms crossed over her chest like I’d just attacked her mouth without invitation.

She gets a sly smile on her face which forces me to hold a finger up stopping her as she slinks closer to me. “Camera technique,” I remind her.

This is possibly the most torture I’ve suffered in acting class and for the briefest of seconds, I wish I was back in the sands of the Middle East.

***

I text Aviana again after leaving class. I do it jokingly, but I let her know that she was truly missed, and I had to suffer through Candy’s attack since she wasn’t there. She doesn’t respond. I get a sinking feeling in my gut as over the next couple of days she doesn’t show up at class or respond to my text messages.

I do my best to keep busy at the gym. We’ve had a few guys come in with a real desire to get fit before they head off to basic. I love working with these guys the most. I’m a patriot through and through, and I know that level of pride for my country sticks with them, even when I can tell at first they almost want to back out when they discover the injury I suffered while at war.

It’s been nearly ten years since Hell rained down on me in the desert, and although a loss of a limb has become my new normal, I know I’d still be in the middle of the war with sand in my ass if my Humvee wasn’t targeted and struck with an IED.

Even with the new guys I’m training to get in top physical shape, I can’t seem to shake the eeriness over Aviana’s absence from class. She’s been gone from class now for three days, and I know that even our evening, which I’m now considering a disaster, is not bad enough to keep her from more than a half a week of class.

I realize, as I try to make a plan to reach out to her, that I don’t know anything about her other than her phone number and the way her mouth fits perfectly against mine. I plan to ask around tomorrow at class. I know a few girls I’ve seen her talking to in class, and I hope to hell they know something about her. If they don’t, I may have to consider even more drastic measures, like breaking into the registrar’s office to get her home address.

It would be pretty shameful for a Purple Heart Recipient to get arrested for burglary, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take if only to make sure she’s okay and not in some sort of harm.

Aviana

The sound of hushed voices registers in my ears as I try to force some form of cognizant thought into my brain. The neighbors usually aren’t this damn noisy, but as more of the elderly in the building either die or get moved to assisted living, the tenants get younger and apparently louder. I’ve lived in this building for two years, and if I could afford to live in a nicer place, I’d jump at the opportunity. I know, however, that’s not going to happen anytime soon.

I roll over and resist the urge to pound on the wall and tell them all to shut the fuck up. At the end of the day, they're my neighbors, and the last thing someone should do is piss off the people who live right next door, especially when you share a wall with them.

I try to force my eyes open and realize how heavy they feel. I reach back into my subconscious and try to figure out if I drank a lot last night. My tongue seems thicker than usual, I have a pounding headache, and stiffness in my bones even the most expensive massage could never work out.

I crack my eyes and do my best to sit up on my bed. They widen painfully as I realize I’m not home. The room is dark, but I can tell immediately that the room I’m in is most definitely not mine. My pulse pounds in my ears as I try to remember what happened last night.

I look beside me and feel a wave of relief wash over me as I find myself alone in bed. Only once before had I woken up with only vague memories of my night with some guy I had no idea his name or how I came to be naked beside me. The incident lead to months of blood work and finally relief over not contracting some fucked up STD. I vowed then and there that I’d never put myself in a situation like that again, which is why I’m so freaked out right now.

“Think, Avi,” I mutter to myself.

I hiss when a vague memory of leaving BT’s house hits me. I know I made it home then…

I cup my hands over my mouth as a guttural scream escapes my lips. I was attacked last night. Through tears and shame, I inventory my body. Other than my headache and the disgusting taste in my mouth, I’m still wearing my clothes from last night. This gives me hope that nothing, well other than being abducted, happened against my will.

I bring my knees to my chest and hug my arms around them just as a door opens, and a looming shadow stands in the doorway. I raise an arm to shield my eyes against the blinding light.

“She’s awake, Boss,” the man in the doorway says over his shoulder.

I shrink back and make myself as small as possible as he steps out of the way and another man walks further into the room. He reaches a hand out and flips the light switch, casting the room in the harshest light I’ve ever encountered.

I tuck my mouth and nose into my knees but keep my eyes on him, terrified what will happen if I look away. I have no idea how to react to a situation like this, but I know turning your attention away from it will only keep me from seeing what will happen.

“Hello, Aviana Maguire.” His voice is two packs a day rough, and I cringe at the thought of him coming closer to me.

I’m not an idiot; I know what happens to girls who get abducted. I vow to myself that I’ll die before I let one of them touch me or hurt me like that.

“I’m Vito,” he continues.

“Why am I here?” My voice is shaking which makes me feel weak, but I can’t help the tremble in it while this huge guy, in a suit of all things, stands in front of me.

“Mitch Maguire is your dad, right?” I narrow my eyes.

“Clearly I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t sure,” I spit at him. I’d like to say that I have no idea where the sudden fierceness came from, but knowing this has to do with my dad, makes me seethe with anger.

“Firecracker,” he says with mild approval. “I like that.” He smiles at me, and I curl even further into myself. “Your dad owes the SINdicate a lot of money, sweet girl.”

His pet name makes my skin crawl. I don’t want him to think I’m sweet. I want him to see me as vile as I see him.

“Still doesn’t explain why
I’m
here,” I say even though it’s clear he’s gotten his ass in some hot water.

He tilts his head to the side as if I know what’s going on with my father.

“Look,” I say trying to sound like a voice of reason. “I haven’t seen my dad in fourteen years, and I’ve only spoken to him on the phone like three times after he disappeared when I was eleven. The only reason why I’ve spoken to him at all is because he sought me out hoping I’d loan him some money.”

His face remains impassive as I throw out the information from my fucked up, nonexistent relationship with my father.

“If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone what happened,” I reason with him. “This is clearly a misunderstanding. I don’t have any money, so I can’t pay you whatever it is that he owes.”

He grunts and rubs his face with his hand. The gleam of the light reflects off of an expensive watch. How much could he possibly owe that would cause thugs to abduct a woman? This man clearly has money. His suit is designer, and if the watch is any indication, I’m certain his cufflinks are platinum as well.

“That’s not how it works, sweet girl. Your dad owes my boss over two hundred thousand. That’s not an amount we can just let slide.” He clasps his hands in front of him and waits for my reaction.

Tears roll down my face. “I don’t have that kind of money,” I admit knowing that there is no telling what will happen to me once the words leave my lips.

“We know that. We’ve been following you for days.”

I gasp. Days? How did I not know I was being watched? Don’t people get like a sixth sense and feel creeped out when someone is following them?

“If you know I don’t have the money, then why am I here?”

My attention is pulled from him to the open doorway where I see two women pass in some of the skimpiest clothes I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and that’s saying something. I live in Tampa after all.

I cut my eyes back to him when a horrible thought comes to me. “I’ll die before you turn me into a fucking hooker,” I say with renewed hatred.

His laugh catches me off guard, and even more so when his head tilts back, and he clutches at his chest as if I’d just told the most hilarious joke. He calms quicker than I’d thought possible after such a boisterous explosion of laughter.

“Well, sweet girl,” he says wiping his eyes as if his amusement brought tears to them. “If you do as you’re told, and your dad gets the money together quickly, we won’t have to resort to turning you out.”

My hands tremble as I clutch my forearms around my knees. “Where am I? Last time I talked to my dad, he wasn’t in Florida.”

“You’re not in Florida anymore either,” he says as he turns and walks away.

He shuts the door softly behind him. If he wasn’t endangering my life or threatening to make me a hooker, I could easily admit how handsome he was, but the look in his eyes and his apparent ease at criminal activity makes him the most dangerous man I’ve ever met.

He gave no directions. He didn’t explain what is expected of me. He just left. I realize then that I’m doomed. There is no way in hell my dad will have the ability to come up with two hundred thousand dollars. Even if he could, he’d never use it to rescue a daughter he’s had no involvement with the last decade and a half.