SINdicate: A BT Urruela FanFiction Novel: Cerberus MC Book 1.5 Read online

  Table of Contents

  SINdicate

  Copyright

  Kincaid

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Need Signed Paperbacks?

  More from Marie James

  Kincaid

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  SINdicate

  BT Urruela FanFiction

  Cerberus MC Book 1.5

  BY: Marie James

  Copyright

  SINdicate

  Copyright © 2016 Marie James

  Editing by Mr. Marie James & Hale’s Harem Betas ;)

  Cover design by Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs

  EBooks are not transferrable. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Kincaid

  First couple of Chapters HERE

  Kincaid is the 1st Book in the Cerberus MC

  SINdicate does overlap with that series, but it’s considered a standalone!

  Chapter 1

  BT

  The stinging slap across my face echoes off of the walls in the silent room. Aviana gasps and pulls her hands to her mouth as her eyes widen in shock. I can’t help but smirk when I feel the heat of her handprint spread across my face.

  “Out of all of the things you could’ve done, you think hitting me is your best course of action?” I attempt animosity and the deepest growly voice I can manage in this situation.

  I take a step toward her, and she takes a step back.

  “BT!” The teacher says from across the room. “I know she’s adorable, but you have to wipe that shit-eating grin off of your face if you’re going to convince the audience that you’re pissed that you’ve been smacked.” She sighs and shakes her head.

  I turn my head to the teacher and shrug my shoulders. “I’ll work on it.”

  The teacher winks at me as if she knows something I don’t.

  “Sorry,” I hear Aviana mutter from beside me. I tilt my head at her in confusion. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

  I huff playfully. “I’ve been hit harder before.”

  “That’s all for today class,” the teacher announces as she makes her way across the room to Aviana and me. “I’d tell you guys to pick different partners, but we start work on kissing scenes tomorrow.” She cuts her eyes between us. “I have a gut feeling you guys will get that right.”

  I follow the teacher with my eyes as she exits the class with the other students. When I cut my gaze back to the petite blonde that has had my attention for weeks, I notice the look of shock on her face. She cuts her eyes away from mine and crosses the room to gather her things. Is she still shocked at hitting me or at what the teacher just said?

  Like a lost puppy, I follow. My jacket is in the chair right beside her purse and a few books.

  “Hey,” I say grabbing her attention again. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this evening.”

  She remains silent as she busies herself by stacking and restacking her books. Just as I’m beginning to wonder if she’s ignoring me or didn’t hear me at all, she responds.

  “What did you have in mind?” She clutches her stack of books to her chest. My pulse gains speed. She’s blown me off time and time again, but she’s never once seemed to entertain the idea of hanging out.

  “Figured you could come over. I can make dinner,” I shrug trying to remain as nonchalant as possible. “Watch a movie?”

  She grins at me but then narrows her eyes. “Did you just ask me over for Netflix and Chill?”

  I throw my head back and laugh. By the time I’m able to calm myself enough to look back at her, I see a small smile playing on her lips. “I have Blu-ray also.”

  The composure she’s trying to maintain fails and her smile widens. “Is that so?”

  I nod my head. “I make a mean spaghetti,” I entice her.

  She shifts her weight and reaches to move her purse strap back on her shoulder, just for it to fall down to the crook of her elbow again.

  I reach up and rub my face, certain that the handprint she left is gone by now. “You owe me for the assault,” I say, trying to gain sympathy.

  “That’s not how it works,” she says, not buying into my bullshit.

  “That’s how it should be,” I tell her, dropping my hand from my cheek.

  I widen my smile, certain that pouting at this point wouldn’t work.

  “You’re quite the charmer; you know that?”

  I’m captivated by the way the light reflects off of the brown flecks in her hazel eyes. If I didn’t mistakenly leave my man card on the dresser at home, no doubt I’d have to pull it from my wallet and hand it over to her.

  “We can watch The Office,” I finally say when her blink breaks the spell she’s wielding over me. “Consider it homework for acting class.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me suspiciously. “You realize you’ve asked me out over a dozen times? What makes you think today is going to be any different?”

  “I figure my luck has to change eventually.”

  The way her eyes dart to my mouth as I speak, causing her to lick her own lips makes me hopeful.

  “Dinner and a movie, huh?”

  I nod.

  “I do love spaghetti.” She taps her finger against her lips, contemplating my offer playfully.

  “Salad and garlic toast also,” I say to sweeten the deal.

  “Well in that case, how can I resist?”

  I’m like a giddy puppy as the desire to bounce around and fist pump the air barely stays hidden. Rather than embarrass myself by doing a quick celebration dance, I hold out my hand to her.

  “What?” she asks looking down at my empty hand.

  “I need your phone so I can add my name.”

  She hands it over, and I text myself from her phone and add my contact info into her favorites.

  I hand it back and pull out my phone that just buzzed in my pocket. I shoot my address to her phone.

  “Seven o'clock sound good?” I ask.

  “Sounds perfect,” she answers.
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  We just stand looking at each other. I want to reach out and hug her for some strange reason, but I can’t determine if that would be stepping over a line she hasn’t approved yet.

  “Okay,” she says breaking the awkwardness. “See you at seven.”

  She side steps me and exits the room just as another class begins to file through the door. A quick look at my watch informs me I have six hours to get groceries, hit the gym, and make sure the house is presentable.

  I nod a hello at several of the guys coming into the classroom. I’ve been taking classes here for several months now and have made a few acquaintances. Everyone is friendly… on the outside. If anything, I’ve discovered that we’re all technically in competition with each other. We all want the same roles. We all show up for the same castings. Most are cordial in the halls of the acting academy, but very few are interested in actual friendship.

  I have tons of friends and fans for that matter. I don’t have much time to add anything extra to my plate. Between acting class, work at the gym, writing, and Warrior Inc. I have hardly a free minute to myself. That being said, I’ll rearrange whatever I need to if it means I can spend time with Aviana Maguire outside the walls of this school.

  I’ve been flirting with her for weeks, since this block of classes began. She’s absolutely beautiful, but it’s her shyness in class that drew me to her. The contradiction of wanting to be an actress in any capacity and being as shy as she seems, made me want to get to know her more.

  Her shyness has helped me wiggle my way into her good graces. We partner up a lot in class to work on various skills the teacher deems mandatory of a good actor. I approached her the first day, and it seems I’ve made at least enough of an impression that she hasn’t turned me down each time I’ve asked. That right there gives me hope.

  I can’t even think about class tomorrow. I’m excited about kissing techniques for actors and terrified all at the same time. Maybe I can persuade her into practicing some of those techniques tonight, if anything so we won’t be awkward and nervous tomorrow in class.

  I climb up in my truck and pull out my cell phone. After adding Aviana’s name into the contacts, I shoot her a quick text, hoping she won’t think I’m psycho for contacting her so soon.

  BT: Do you have any food allergies/aversions?

  I put the truck in drive and make my way across town to the gym. I have only one client today, so after his session and my own workout, I have nothing but time for dinner with Aviana.

  I pull up to the gym, grab my bag, and my phone out of the console.

  Looking at the screen, I see she has replied.

  Aviana: I don’t particularly like onions, but I have no allergies that I’m aware of.

  I pocket my phone, making a mental list of the things I need to get from the store. I’ve done a lot of traveling for various photo shoots recently, so I know my fridge is practically bare. I adjust my grip on the gym bag and head to the locker room. I love my job here almost as much as I love to work out myself, but I have to admit I’m hoping the next couple of hours fly by.

  Chapter 2

  Aviana

  I’ve sworn off dating and relationships for good. With my childhood and the destruction I’ve seen two people capable of causing each other, I’m certain there’s no chance that happily ever after even exists. I know some couples look happy in public, but that doesn’t mean things are as they seem behind closed doors.

  My parents looked happy in public, but once they were sealed behind the thick front door of my first childhood home, they were at each other’s throats constantly. The fake smiles and happy personas came out again the minute they stepped off the front porch. That was, until my mother had finally had enough.

  My dad left one day when I was eleven years old and never came back. I didn’t hear from him for ten years and when he finally sought me out, he hadn’t changed from the memories I had of him from childhood. Many of the fights between my parents were always about money and how he was spending more than she could make. I never remember my dad having an actual job, and much of the family strife was centered on that fact.

  Mom? I’d like to be able to tell you that Mom got better after Dad left, but things just kind of stayed the same. For a while, it would just be us, then she’d get a boyfriend. The boyfriends eerily reminded me of my father. They didn’t work and came with their own set of issues, whether it be drugs, gambling, or both.

  Due to my less than perfect upbringing, I’ve made sure, up until this point, to avoid anything that could possibly resemble a relationship. This is why I was beyond shocked when I said yes to BT when he asked me over earlier.

  BT. Where do I even begin? He’s gorgeous, a veteran, quick-witted, and the beard damn near slays me every time I look at his face, and that’s only when I don’t get trapped first by his magnificent brown eyes.

  What’s the problem then? BT screams relationship. He seems like the guy who’s just waiting for his soulmate to come along. I know I’m not that person, so I never felt like it was right for me to stand in the way of him meeting her, whoever she may be.

  I can’t even tell you how many times he’s asked me out. I’ve turned him down each and every time, until today. Today, the back and forth banter I’ve grown fond of made me, for a split second, want to be that girl. A second. A flash of urgency for him when my palm slapped his face in class. I nearly groaned when my hand met the roughness of his beard, and I tried to play it off and covered my mouth with my hands.

  I should’ve agreed to go out with him but insisted that we head some place public, but I don’t date. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t noticed how sexy his arms look when they pull the fabric of his t-shirts. I’d be an idiot for not taking in the expanse of his back and the way every muscle in his body dances like a well-orchestrated symphony when he moves.

  He’s absolute perfection, and most people would think I’m nuts for not jumping at the many chances he’s offered to hang out, but once again, I don’t date. He’s the talk of all the girls at the acting academy. Many have flirted with him and only received a gentlemanly rebuff to their offers; rebuffs that I hear ranged from just going on a date to some of the things I’m ashamed I’ve pictured doing with him myself.

  Now the consensus is that he has to be gay. I know he’s not for several reasons. One, he’s also turned down the gay guys in the class. Two, I catch him watching me with the same look on his face that I know I must have when I’m watching him.

  I caught that look more than once today. It was hungry and lustful. So I’m hoping tonight goes the way I’m thinking he wants it to, the way I want it to, which is also the only way I involve myself with a man. I said I don’t date, not that I’m a prude and don’t like sex. As a matter of fact, I love sex. I just haven’t had any in a while; another reason I think I finally caved at his offer this afternoon.

  I pinch my cheeks, attempting to add some color to my face. I’m in a loose fitting t-shirt and some cute leggings I bought online. I’m cute but not ‘this is a date’ cute. Plus, the leggings are super easy to get off, and they stretch in case there happens to be a little hanky-panky later.

  A quick look at my watch tells me I have fifteen minutes to make the twenty-minute trek to his house. I don’t want to seem overeager, even though I could easily admit I’m actually looking forward to where this evening will lead. I mean, I’ll admit it to myself, just not anyone else.

  Due to traffic, the trip over took even longer than I’d thought, so a simple five-minute tardiness has now turned me into a fifteen-minute late asshole. I’m an even bigger jerk for leaving my phone sitting on the bathroom counter, so when I realized just how late I was going to be I couldn’t shoot off a text to him. I clear my throat, ready to apologize as I raise my hand to knock on his door. I don’t hear any noise coming from inside so I push the lit doorbell to the right. I glance around the adorable neighborhood as I wait for him to answer.

  Eventually, I hear rustling and his voice as he ta
lks to someone inside. I can see now that we won’t be alone, the direction I’d hoped for probably won’t come to fruition tonight. I’m a little disappointed and begin to wonder if in fact he isn’t actually asexual and just wants to be friends.

  The door is tugged open, and I look up into his mesmerizing brown eyes. I see a wave of relief wash over his face. Seems he thought I was going to stand him up.

  It’s not until I hear, “Stop, Scout!” that I notice the small brown and white ball of fur circling my legs fast enough to make me dizzy.

  He bends at the waist and scoops up the anxious dog, cradling it in his arms as it tries to wiggle free.

  “Sorry,” he apologizes. “We don’t get much company. She’s more of an attention whore than a guard dog.”

  I immediately drop my purse on the porch, take a step forward and scratch the adorable little dog’s ears. She licks my hands and continues to wiggle in his grasp.

  “You’re such a cute little thing aren’t you?” Embarrassed with the little baby voice that always seems to sneak out when I’m around adorable animals, I raise my eyes to him to find him watching. I take a step back, give the dog a final pat on the head, and pick up my purse.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I say holding my purse strap in both hands in front of my body.

  “Don’t worry. Dinner’s almost ready.” He turns and places the dog on the floor at his feet only for her to skitter back out on the porch and wiggle around my feet once more.

  I reach down and pick her up because that’s just what you do when a tiny dog wants attention.

  “She sheds,” he warns as he opens the door wider for me to step past him into his home.

  “Most dogs do,” I say with a wink as he watches me pass him.

  He chuckles lightly and closes the door behind me. He holds his hand out indicating my purse and hangs it on a hook inside the entryway closet. The smell of delicious food hits my nose, and I’m certain my stomach is going to cause even further embarrassment soon when it begins to grumble.

  “It smells delicious in here,” I admit as he turns toward what I assume is the kitchen.

  “I’m Sicilian and Cuban,” he says over his shoulder. “Cooking sort of comes naturally.”