Deadly Bonds (Syndicate Killers #2)

Chapter One

Addison

“Addie, are you sure about this, hun?” Mom’s worried tone touches my ears over the phone’s speaker, and I take a deep breath.

Count to ten. Breathe.

Don’t blow up.

Crashing out only makes her anxiety worse.

“Yes, mom,” I mumble into the receiver. “Loxley and I have been inseparable since high school. Why wouldn’t I be sure about moving to Columbus?”

I hear what sounds like a mountain of paperwork falling from the other end of the phone, and I give Mom a minute to collect herself.

“It’s just so far away! How will we have brunch if you’re eight hours away? How am I going to know you’re safe?” She sounds frantic on the line.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and closing my eyes tightly, trying to push back the frustration rising inside me as Mom's anxiety seeps into my own.

She’s only worried about my safety.

Don’t lose your cool, Addie.

Time to gentle parent the parent.

“Mom—” I begin, only for her to cut me off in a rush.

“You can’t even remember to wear underwear! How are you going to survive on your own?”

I roll my lips in to keep my laughter contained. It isn’t that I forget. It’s that I hate wearing panties. They’re restricting. Can’t blame a girl for choosing comfort.

But Mom doesn’t see it that way. Instead, she sees her twenty-seven-year-old daughter, who still needs her hand held.

I can’t blame her for her smothering either. Ever since dad died when I was ten, she’s been a complete mess. It was a freak accident. His truck ran off a bridge in Montana, and he was trapped as the cab slowly submerged in water.

Mom was devastated.

My parents didn’t have the perfect marriage, but they cared in their own way. They’d argue, but once it was over, things always went back to normal.

No, it wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t hate each other. I think the only thing that gives me solace is knowing they both loved each other and found their own ways to show it.

The loss of my dad shattered a piece of Mom I don’t think will ever heal. She developed severe anxiety and refused to keep us in one spot. I bounced around so much from the age of ten to sixteen that I can’t remember what my last stable home looked like.

I never questioned her because she’s been like this my whole life. Now that I’m older, it still bothers me occasionally, but she’s locked up tight. Questioning Morgan Bright is worse than pulling fucking teeth. So, I stick to what I know and leave that part of my life behind.

I still hold a special place for my dad in my heart. I keep a picture of us tucked safely away in my wallet. It was taken the day I won nationals in math for my school back in New York two weeks before his accident. After that, our lives were changed forever.

I’m so lost in a memory that I tune in as Mom continues her "My Daughter is a Lost Cause” rant.

“…you could have died! The gas—”

“I thought we buried this argument!” I groan, tossing more clothes into my box with a force that crumples my neatly folded tights. “My old apartment didn’t even have gas!”

“It could have, but you wouldn’t have known because you didn’t check with the front office like I asked you to multiple times!”

I let my head fall back to my shoulders as I release a breath, deliberately reminding myself that she means well. Beneath my irritation, I know I’ll understand her worry once I have kids of my own, but right now the patience it takes feels exhausting.

It’ so hard.

“I’ll ask the front office about the gas,” I finally resolve. “I’ll come home every two weeks, and we can do brunch before I go back to Columbus.”

That should help. I hope.

There’s a resigned sigh from her, and I have to refrain from celebrating.

Morgan Bright: 12,000

Addison Bright: -10

I’ll never forget the twenty-first birthday fiasco where Mom had to pick Loxley and me up from a bar because we both got too drunk to drive.

She stayed relatively quiet, only slightly berating us, while we dropped my friend off.

Then she cursed me out so loudly it hit a Hz only dogs should hear.

Some of the words she used I had never heard of before.

I was left with ringing ears, curiosity, and a tracking app on my phone. So, I knocked my score down to -100. It seemed fitting at the time, but it’s gradually increased over the years.

“Okay,” she says softly. “You’re a grown woman, and I can’t stop you.”

No, you can’t.

“But!” She interjects. “If anything happens, Addie, you call me. Immediately.”

Damn defeatist.

“Alright,” I smack another handful of clothes into the box. “Don’t you still have the tracker on my phone?”

“Damn right I do, kid.” She sounds proud.

I roll my eyes. “Shouldn’t be hard to find me then.”

She chuckles. “I know you think I’m overbearing, Addie, but I care for you, sweetheart. Ever since your dad…” Her voice trails, and I stop, my hands freezing mid-air.

Come on. Just say it. Please give me something.

“Never mind,” she shakes herself out of it, and my shoulders deflate. “The point is, I want you safe. Call a few times a week, please.”

I try not to show my dejection, but my hand falls away from the box, feeling unexpectedly heavy with her dismissal. Sadness tinges my voice. “Yeah.”

“Lots of kisses! Let me know when you get there, okay?”

“Okay, mom.” My lip wobbles, and the bridge of my nose stings with the heaviness of years of secrets. There’s still so much I wish she would tell me, but it’s like our past is a taboo subject. She won’t even indulge me about my own father.

“I love you, Addie.”

“Love you too, mom.” As the line goes dead, a tear escapes and slides down my cheek. I swipe it away, forcing myself to breathe deeply. The ache builds, but I push it aside, tucking the hurt away for later.

I have somewhere to be.

With a wave of determination, I pack until the sun begins to set outside my small bedroom window. Loxley sends me a few messages, reassuring me that she’s okay while she's alone in Columbus.

I smile absently at my phone. She’s definitely living a fucking dream right now with her childhood friend. I’m eating every bit of information up like it’s candy.

Lox: Atlas should be stopping by the bakery tonight.

Me: Oh, more punishments ;)

Lox: Let me live.

Me: I am! Just let me live vicariously through you is all I’m asking.

Lox: You know you’ll get the details later.

Me: Don’t wuss out and give me the PG version again.

Lox: It’s my sex life!

Me: Whatever! Be safe. Wear a condom.

I’m happy for her. This guy is obsessed with her, and I know she would never admit it, but I think she’s obsessed with him too.

Childhood friends turned lovers.

At least one of us is having a happily-ever-after. A familiar name whispers across my mind, and my movements stop. Dark, buzzed hair and hauntingly striking dark blue eyes flash in my head, clear as day.

Row Kingsley, from what I could gather. Atlas’s older brother.

How do I know him?

The few days I spent in Columbus were a whirlwind. I still don’t think it’s a coincidence I had so many run-ins with the stoic, stone-cold eldest Kingsley sibling…

My brain circles back to our first ‘coincidental’ meeting.

I wake long before the sun has risen, the day after Sweet Haven’s grand opening. As I peel my eyes open, I groan at the darkness outside of Loxley’s apartment window.

I mentally curse the habit I picked up from my dad long ago.

We were always early risers. I remember setting alarms in an attempt to catch him before he left for work.

We would sit in the kitchen, and he would drink his morning coffee while I drank chocolate milk.

It was one of the many things we shared when he was still alive.

I rub the sleep from my eyes and begin getting dressed despite grogginess still pulling me down. I messily brush my teeth and throw my hair up in a half-assed bun.

All of my father’s inherited features stare back at me in the mirror.

Golden sun-kissed skin, a light freckling across the bridge of my nose, and long brunette hair that grows faster than I can keep up with.

I'm transported back in time when my sight snags on my hazel eyes.

A time when I remember those same eyes, riddled with slight age and crows' feet, smiling back at me.

Miss you, Dad.

I sigh, throwing on a pair of tights and a hoodie before grabbing the key Lox had made for me and my purse. I disarm the alarm system and step out into the humid apartment complex’s hallway.

I don’t expect to see anyone out here, so I startle when I look up and almost run into two police officers dressed in blue, taking a statement from a middle-aged woman wearing a pink bathrobe.

Her blonde highlights look messy and unkept, and the dark bags under her eyes suggest she hasn’t been sleeping. “Please, I haven’t seen Charles in days. He always calls…” Her voice wavers as fresh tears fill her eyes.

One of the cops taps on the device in his hands, inputting information. “We’ll contact the company he works for and check if anyone has seen him.”

The woman perks up. “Can you let me know something once you do?”

The officers share a look before the one holding the tablet sighs. “We’ll be in touch, Ms. Parker.”

I squeeze by them, mumbling an apology as I walk towards the elevators. The last thing I want is to get caught snooping. My heart goes out to the poor lady trying to find her boyfriend, but I don’t want to end up being a shoulder to cry on.

Because my soft heart would make me comfort a total stranger, and I’m far too tired for that right now.

Luckily, Loxley’s apartment is only a block from a coffee shop.

I take the elevator down, crinkling my nose at the stale smell of the building. It isn’t a horrible complex, but my friend could have chosen something more up-to-date.

I step into the lobby and greet Mrs. Olivia with a wave before heading out onto the sidewalk.

The morning air is just warming up, and I can make out the first ray of light in the sky as I take the emptied block.

As I get closer to the quaint little shop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose, and I’m all too eager to open the glass storefront door.

The bell overhead chimes, and I quickly scope out the front of the shop. A man in a suit sits in the farthest corner with his laptop open and a coffee mug beside him as he taps away at the keys. A woman is standing at the counter, placing an order with the lone cashier running the morning shift.

My eyes gloss over the menu, and I quickly choose Loxley’s drink—something too sweet even to be considered coffee. I settle for something bitter to get the blood flowing and place my order once the woman before me finishes.

The barista works quickly, handing off our drinks like she’s being timed.

I mumble a thank you before grabbing both cups.

The lid of my drink teeters, almost slipping off, and I’m distracted as I attempt to fix it.

I don’t even notice when the coffee shop’s doorbell chimes, and I almost run into the person walking in.

Large hands gently grab my shoulders, stopping me as a heated blush paints my cheeks. I look up, an apology dying on my tongue. “I’m so sorry…”

Familiar dark blue eyes that rival a roaring ocean stare back at me with an intensity I’m not used to. Like they hold the weight of the world instead of an untold story. Dark, buzzed hair strikes a chord with me immediately. As does the strong jaw and slightly crooked nose.

“Watch where you’re going.” Those firm lips soften slightly as he speaks in a rough, low tone. It sends goosebumps down my arms, and I have to blink my surprise away at the pleasing sound.

I scowl, my gaze drifting to the tattooed arms still holding me in place—black, dangerous ink snakes up sculpted biceps that stretch his white t-shirt’s sleeves.

I’m pretty tall for a woman. My five-foot-seven stature has always been a blessing, but next to this man, I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes. “Excuse me?”

What was his name again?

I think Thalia, the woman I met at Sweet Haven, called him Row.

What the fuck is that short for?

Romaine lettuce?

Row, row, row your boat?

Hehe, good one, Addie.

A finger tilts my chin so I’m left staring at a solid chest. “Pay attention, Addison.”

Awareness zips down my spine, and I’m left speechless as he lets me go and brushes past me. I stare at the coffee shop’s door, my brows slowly furrowing.

What the fuck?

I glance over my shoulder to see the man standing at the counter. He orders a black coffee as if our encounter didn’t just happen.

It’s a coincidence. Nothing more.

I shake myself out of it before using my hip to push the door and step out onto the sidewalk. I want to brush it off, but can’t shake the feeling…

If only I had known that it would be the first of a few.

I pick at my lip, those familiar nerves tingling in my stomach. I’m working myself up over nothing.

Damn. Mom really has done a number on me.

I toss my phone down on the bed, placing my hands on my hips as I peer around my emptied room to clear my head.

I didn’t have much to begin with, so packing has been quick work.

I have my clothes and a few knick-knacks I couldn’t part with stowed away.

The furniture stays since it belongs to the owner, and I hardly keep anything in the fridge.

I’m used to bouncing around. I learned long ago that keeping oversized items made moving days a fucking nightmare. Every apartment I’ve rented has come fully furnished, and I rarely stay until my lease is up.

I’m not even sure why. Call it something I inherited from my mother, but it’s like I could never stay put. Moving from place to place has become a habit. It’s like an itch I have to scratch before it festers.

Maybe it’s because you haven’t found a place that feels like home yet, Addison.

My therapist’s words circle my head, and I worry my bottom lip between my teeth—a nervous habit I picked up over the years.

When was the last time you felt safe? Cared for?

Dr. Windsor really knew how to ask tough questions. A year after his retirement, I still miss the old fart. He was the only professional who really seemed to care about his job and my well-being. Everyone else just kind of follows the basics.

“I have an eight-hour drive to Columbus tomorrow morning, and I’m reminiscing about my therapist.” I press my fingertips to my forehead as if I can will the thoughts away. “Get a fucking life, Addie.”