Possess(The Syndicate: Crime and Passion 1)(6)

“We’re friends, Maxim. You know, friends?” he said.

“No. I don’t know,” I replied flatly, keeping the rising anger out of my voice. I didn’t have friends, and I wasn’t certain how I felt about Sergei counting Senna among his.

“Right. Forgot who I was talking to,” he said, a smile lifting his lips.

“Do you need a reminder?” I asked, anger increasing the longer I allowed myself to think about his relationship with Senna.

Sergei lifted his hands in surrender, his easy smile spreading across his face. “Chill out, Maxim. Sorry. No offense intended,” he said.

Though he was apologizing, Sergei’s eye held a mischievous gleam, one that suggested he well knew the direction my thoughts had taken. That shouldn’t have been a surprise. Sergei had been a part of the Syndicate for years and had worked more closely with me than most. Still, I didn’t enjoy the idea he might have such insight into my thoughts.

“Keep your ears and eyes open, but do nothing,” I said, turning back to the business at hand.

Sergei’s smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “I have someone on Santo and two of his guys twenty-four-seven,” he said, showing some of the intelligence and acumen that made up, but only barely, for his other, more grating characteristics.

I nodded and then turned and left. As trying as Sergei could be, and he was, I wasn’t entirely focused on him. He was eager to move up in the Syndicate, craved more responsibility, and that ambition would serve him well, assuming he didn’t push me or someone else into killing him first.

Despite his talents, he still needed time to mature, and I had limited patience. It would have been easier if Sergei was responsible for the tight anger I had to keep at bay.

He was, but only indirectly. His behavior was irritating, but nothing more than that. But his mention of Senna, my reaction to it, was of much more concern.

Of course Senna was with me. She was always with me.

I had tried to be without her before, had thought maybe I could leave her somewhere and drop in occasionally.

I had failed miserably.

Those first months, I’d made plans, told myself that when the time came, it would be easy enough to stash her away and get back to business. But it hadn’t been. The day I had planned to leave, I’d prepared, her watching me as I’d readied myself. I’d taken two steps and then turned to stand in front of her.

“Gather your things,” I’d said before I stopped to think about why.

Now, I didn’t even indulge the pretense that she should be anywhere but with me.

Sergei knew that, everyone knew that. Senna’s presence wherever I went was a given, as predictable as the rising sun. Which made it—her—a liability, and liabilities were dangerous.

But I could handle danger.

What I couldn’t handle was Senna’s hold on me, whatever it was about her that made me act counter to all reason. Nor could I handle the little voice that whispered questions about her closeness with Sergei.

In many ways, Senna was my opposite. She had a deftness with people that made them like her, care about her, an affection she genuinely returned.

With everyone except me.

I hadn’t let many close to me, and by extension her, but over the years, I’d seen it happen. Senna would find some point of commonality, build a bond with the hardest of men, one that would endure years of separation and pick up again immediately.

With me, though, it was never like that.

I never sensed the gentleness she used with Adrian, the easy fun between her and Sergei, the mutual respect she shared with Priest.

There was always something between us, rough edges that were always there just under the surface, not acknowledged by either of us, but still ever-present.

I suspected I knew what it was on my part, but I didn’t know what it was on hers.

Suddenly, I was anxious to see her and felt an incredible relief when the car rolled to a stop in front of our accommodations. I delayed, though, and instead checked the working quarters and made sure they were secured to my liking. Only then, after I had gathered myself, did I go up to the next floor.

I followed my nose and came upon her in the kitchen I had had added for her. I cared nothing for things, but I insisted on the best of everything for Senna, though she’d never once asked anything of me. She moved around the smallish kitchen, seemingly unaware of me, though with Senna, I couldn’t always tell. She was one of the few people I couldn’t read immediately. I watched her, something I’d done for a decade now. Something I had never tired of.

She was short, barely came up to the middle of my chest. When I’d first found her, her face had been round, plump with the youthfulness she hadn’t then outgrown. Now, though, while her face was still round, it had matured, her dark brown skin still smooth and unlined as it had been back then, but her features sharper.