by I. A. Dice
Then there were things that changed without my knowledge. Changes I wasn’t aware of until a situation betrayed that my brain no longer had the last say. The fucking muscle in my chest took the reins.
I understood why my world had been reappraised. I could explain why I felt and acted the way I did.
Nothing had surprised me either; not the newly acquired reflex of reaching for a gun whenever it seemed Layla was in danger, not the putting her above all else; not even the desire to protect her regardless of the consequences. And when I thought nothing would surprise me, I proved myself wrong.
For years rational thinking was losing the battle with anger. I wasn’t one of those guys who can calmly assess a situation despite the accompanying emotions. No, I was the kind to act first, and think later… Too late to change anything.
The emotions buzzing in my system pushed me to make Julij bleed, but this time, I stopped to think before throwing my fists left, right, and center. Spades deserved a few punches too. Layla’s desertion would come back to bite everyone if it wasn’t for one small detail – she’d be the only one to get hurt.
My people would brush off the punches, and forget about it a few days down the line. But not Layla. She’d torment herself if anyone got hurt as a result of her escape. And since her happiness was among my top priorities, I couldn’t do it.
Well, at least I tried very fucking hard, and if Julij hadn’t told her bodies were piling up since the minute we came back to Chicago I would’ve succeeded.
“I left her under your protection, Spades!” I spat out, emerging outside of Jess’s house. “You were supposed to watch her and yet she slipped past security!”
He stood by his car, hands in pockets, and two vertical wrinkles in the middle of his forehead.
“I’m her bodyguard, Dante, not a nanny.” Annoyance worked its way up to his face. “And how did I let her escape? He’s the one you want,” he motioned to Julij. “If it weren’t for him, she’d still be home. How was I supposed to stop them? Shoot?”
Jackson pushed away from the car, and stood next to Spades, scratching his head. “Should I point out I wanted to shoot the tires, but you didn’t let me?”
“You what?” I hissed, gritting my teeth, a vein throbbing on my neck. “You wanted to shoot at her? What if you’d hit the tank?”
“Or Layla’s head,” Julij mumbled, kicking a small pebble around.
“You shut up, and you,” I pointed at Spades, “go home and get your shit together. No one has access to the property except for security, Layla, and me. Understood?”
The delicate reprimand pissed him off, but he wasn’t prone to holding a grudge. He should’ve been happy I still had some self-control left.
He nodded and got behind the wheel. Jackson did the same, leaving me alone with Julij, who stood by one of the pillars that supported the balcony on the first floor, jiggling the keys about, staring at the ground, acting cool.
The aura of pomposity was back. It seemed to be some sort of a defense mechanism. Instead of admitting he fucked up, he pretended not to give a damn about what I thought.
“It was your idea, Julij. It was your fucking idea to meet at the club and get a plan of action together, and instead of going there you went to my house and took my girl from the only safe place in the country.”
“Safe?” he scoffed, crossing his arms.
It felt like a déjà vu – Julij from six months ago making an appearance with that zero-fucks-given attitude.
“Nineteen bodies in five days. Two of your men dead. And you’re still refusing to send her to Moscow. Stop deluding yourself. She’s not safe here.”
“She’s safe,” I growled. “No one got close to the house. Security’s good.” Well, at least at keeping people out. Not so good at keeping them in. “Once Morte dies the bounty will be insolvent thus, closed.”
I shoved my hand into the pocket but failed to locate cigarettes. I jogged down the concrete steps, and retrieved a packet from the car, then put a Marlboro in my mouth, fired the zippo, and surrounded myself with a cloud of smoke, gathering my thoughts.
When I brought Layla back to Chicago, both Julij and Anatolij were adamant she shouldn’t stay; that she’d be better off hidden somewhere off the grid, somewhere foreign and out of reach.
Anatolij offered to take her to Moscow, where no one could as much as think about undertaking any orders without his consent. Russia was enormous, but mafia bosses in the country had to report to Anatolij and required his approval on business deals, new ventures, and allies. He was like a God over there.
And it seemed rather suspicious he offered to protect Layla not asking for anything in return.
Julij remained silent. He knew I wasn’t done talking, and waited for me to take hold of myself, though it seemed impossible without Layla’s help. Her touch would calm me faster than a few punches at Julij’s nose.
“I tolerate it that you love her,” I began, and his attitude changed.
He stood taller, looking down at me to showcase confidence and uphold the Don Corleone persona he had going on.
“I don’t love her.”
I took a drag, shaking my head. “Who are you trying to fool? I don’t like it, but I can do much about it short of killing you. Keep your feelings in check, and you’ll be good. I trust you.”
Unfortunately, because of his feelings, Julij was the one person I trusted one hundred percent when Layla’s safety was concerned. He didn’t love her as much as I did, because no one could, but his feelings ran deep, and he’d go to extreme lengths to protect her.
“She asked me to come,” he said, staring at his brown leather shoes, searching the jacket pocket for a lighter. “She sounded upset, and I thought the crown wouldn’t fall off your head if you waited for me.”
I threw a zippo at him and scoffed. Between the two of us, Julij was the one with an imaginary crown on the Russian, aristocratic, big head.
“You should’ve said no.”
A sad smile crept onto his lips. “I can’t.”
He stared at me as if to non-verbally admit his feelings. That shitty attitude disappeared as fast as it appeared, and the Julij I respected came back. We both knew his feelings were undesirable. And we both knew we couldn’t do shit to change the way he felt about my star.
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to her, and you know it.”
That was the problem. I did know it. Julij would take a bullet for Layla. It was driving me livid. All the more that his feelings were the only rational explanation for Anatolij’s offer to hide Layla in his mansion five thousand miles away from Chicago.
A black Mercedes with tinted windows entered the driveway and stopped next to the Charger. My gun was out of the holster and raised before the engine died.
“Relax,” Julij said. “It’s Anatolij.”
The driver walked around the car to open the back door.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Good question.”
Anatolij emerged, his face impassive, the black suit immaculate. He zeroed in on me, and nodded in greeting, disregarding the gun aimed at his head. I tucked it away, listening to the gravel crunch under his feet.
“Giving the circumstances I’m pleased you don’t take any chances,” he said, patting my back. “But I’d consider you wiser if you’d admit that for the time being Layla would be safer in Moscow.”
“What are you doing here?” I changed the subject, refusing to get dragged into another discussion about sending Layla away.
They had a point. I was playing with fire keeping her in Chicago, in the center of the new war. Moving her off the grid would reduce the risk, but it’d also induce my paranoia. I needed her here where I could check on her whenever I wanted; where I could personally protect her, and see with my own eyes that she was okay.
Anatolij glanced at the house, his expression unreadable. “I’m visiting an old friend.”
Julij ascended the concrete steps, and stopped next to me, shaking
Anatolij’s hand. “I didn’t know you knew Jess.”
“There are many things you don’t know.”
A train of thoughts started in my brain. I had little information to go off, but Anatolij paying Jess a visit struck me as odd. If I were to trust Julij’s stories, the last time Anatolij was in Chicago was twenty years ago.
Anatolij stared at me, his eyes drilling a hole in me. “We met when Jess worked as a waitress in Nikolaj’s restaurant,” he volunteered.
But his words weren’t what struck a chord. No, I finally realized what it was I found so familiar about him.
His eyes.
Anatolij smiled a small smile, as if he could read my mind, and hear all the questions multiplying in my head. The answers I was coming up with weren’t making much sense.
“I think we should talk,” he said, the light-gray, almost steel irises fixed on me.
“What’s going on?” Julij asked, looking between us.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Anatolij said and looked back at me. “Meet me at the hotel tonight at eight.”
☐
“Do you have to be so stubborn?” I asked Layla as we raced through the streets of Chicago toward our house.
Anatolij and all the newly discovered, yet unconfirmed information kept my mind busy. Possible scenarios as to what happened twenty years ago played in my head.
The V8 roared every time I accelerated, wanting to get back home as soon as possible. The clock was ticking, and I had a lot on the agenda. Layla’s desertion set me back an hour and a half.
I waited until she finished talking with Jess, and as expected, their conversation stretched from the agreed half an hour to almost an hour.
“You like that about me,” she said, faking a smile.
She couldn’t fool me. At first glance, it was obvious something worried her, but I didn’t have time to inquire.
Spades opened the gate, noticing me from afar. Or maybe he heard the engine long before he saw the car.
“I do, but I like knowing that you’re safe. Considering the situation, I also like knowing where you are. And I like it when my people don’t call to tell me you ran.”
Jackson was the one to relay the news. And he had to do so three times because the panic in his voice made him stutter, and I struggled to understand a single word, let alone a sentence.
Layla beamed. “So that’s the problem. You thought your bride made a run for it? Don’t worry. You can’t get rid of me.”
“I was rather worried Julij confessed his love and kidnapped you.”
“Love?” she snorted. “That’s silly. We’re friends.”
If I hadn’t already parked in the garage and focused my attention on her, I wouldn’t have noticed that she started pulling on the hem of her jumper. I still had no idea how she managed to lead me by the nose the past few months while under Frank’s orders. She couldn’t lie. Even now, she couldn’t hide her emotions.
She knew about Julij’s feelings.
One question remained – did he tell her, or did he show her? Neither was acceptable, but the latter meant a one-on-one meeting with Jackson, and the end of our business partnership.
I could tolerate that he loved her, but if he tried to adore her, he’d end up preparing Happy Meals at McDonald’s for the rest of his life.
It wasn’t about me not trusting Layla because if there was one thing I trusted her about, her feelings for me were it. She only loved me, and no one could change that.
It was about the rules – you don’t touch a man’s girl – and lack of respect for the rules was the worst flaw of a good accomplice.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. He said, and did nothing. He didn’t have to.”
She got out of the car, signaling the end of the conversation. Maybe she had to process the newfound admirer, or maybe she knew for a long time but didn’t expect that I knew too.
I opened the passenger side window. “Can you please stay home now? I’ll be back late, but Spades is staying with you, and so is Nate, Cai and five others. You’ll be safe as long as you’re here.”
She pursed her lips, wrinkling her nose. “How late is late?”
“Don’t expect me before ten, but call me if you need me.”
“I know, I know,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “The gun is in the nightstand, the walk-in wardrobe is like a safe, and all windows are bulletproof,” she recited.
A small smile tugged on my lips. Layla wasn’t pleased when I told her about the new security feature added to the house – armored doors Julij kindly installed in the walk-in wardrobe while we were in Texas.
“Just in case she needs to hide,” he said.
And I approved.
Layla walked around the car, and climbed onto my lap, lacing her fingers on the nape of my neck. She leaned in to steal an innocent peck, grazed her nose over mine, and sighed ever so softly, knowing damn well I wouldn’t be able to dismiss her after hearing that.
I couldn’t get enough of her now that she was back, and mine. I rediscovered her lips, weaving my hand through her long curls, pushing her harder into my chest.
My head hit the headrest, and a low growl escaped me. “Go, star. I’ve got a lot to do, and it’s getting late.”
She bit my lip, moving her small hands to my face. She kissed me, the rhythm of her lips slow and gentle, but breaths shallow and hastened.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into my mouth. “I had to see Jess.”
I nodded, pressing my mouth to her forehead, and patting her hips. “Get going.”
Hot lips drew a line across my jaw to stop at my ear. I clenched my fists along with her jumper as a rush of desire flooded my system when she bit on my earlobe.
“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she whispered, then stepped out of the car and started climbing the stairs.
I raked my hand through my hair, watching her hips sway from left to right. She stopped at the top step, looked over her shoulder, and winked at me with a broad smile on her face.
God, she was perfect.
FIFTEEN
LAYLA
Papers littered the coffee table in the living room – lecture notes that Rookie kindly brought for me from Jane. I hadn’t missed much yet, but there was no telling when I’d be able to attend the lectures again, so I wanted to stay on top of the material.
I only managed an hour of studying before I was forced to push the papers aside, and now a laptop stood in front of me, and three pretty faces watched me from the screen.
When arriving with the lecture notes earlier, Rookie explained that neither he, Nate nor Cai wanted to risk their girls’ safety by allowing them to visit. The comforting news was – they wanted to visit, and since we couldn’t make it happen in reality, we settled for a virtual chat and a very real glass of wine.
They met up at Bianca’s house to face-time me, dressed as if we were hitting the club later on.
“Jeez, I’m glad you’re back, girl. We need a night out!” Bianca squealed, readjusting the pink, strapless dress she wore, which barely contained her large boobs.
“Well, that ain’t happening anytime soon,” Luna pulled a face. “Layla’s not allowed outside the front door, let alone go to Delta.”
“True. I don’t know how you can remain so calm. I’d be freaking out if there was a bounty on my head.”
Jean elbowed Bianca shooting her a glare.
“Don’t listen to her. You’ll be fine. I’m sure Dante will skin the fucker who oversees the hit soon, and we’ll all go dancing.”
Surprise, surprise. I wasn’t the only naïve one out there.
I chuckled, sipping on my wine. “Don’t hold your breath.”
They looked up, staring into the camera on their laptop, and consequently right at me.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Jean frowned. “Where’s the negativity coming from?”
“Can we please change the subject?” I sighed, getting up to refill my glass. “Anything but th
e hit, please. It’s bad enough that I think about it twenty-four seven, I don’t want to talk about it.”
They exchanged a knowing look and nodded.
“Sure, and I know just the right topic,” Luna said, beaming. “You’re freaking engaged to Dante Carrow! And we want to know how it happened.”
“Yeah, but first, show us that big ass rock!” Bianca squealed.
And so I did, still not quite believing Dante wanted me forever.
We talked for a long time. It was getting late, ten o’clock came and went, while they bombarded me with wedding ideas.
“Oh. My. God!” Jean giggled finishing a third or fourth glass of wine. “I just had the best idea! You should do a themed wedding!”
“Yes!” Luna clapped, bouncing on the bed, and spilling Jeans wine. “How about Disney? You could be Bella!”
I burst out laughing. “That makes Dante the Beast.”
“Well, he kind of is, isn’t he?” Bianca winked suggestively, and my cheeks turned pink.
She’s been asking inappropriate questions about mine and Dante’s sex life for the last half an hour.
“Oh, come on! You’re such a prude! Give me something!”
The sound of tires squealing, metal bending, and a car crashing halted their giggling. Despite the closed bulletproof windows, I could hear the commotion that erupted outside as if it happened two rooms away. A blend of different voices shouting orders for a few short seconds before a round of gunshots rumbled above all else.
My legs turned weak, the dread in my lungs like cold mud.
“Are those… Gunshots?!” Luna cried, fear in her eyes.
Cai was still here securing the house, and waiting for Dante to return. Nate went home an hour earlier, and I guessed he was the one Bianca was trying to reach, pressing a cell phone to her ear.
“Get back to Dante’s,” she yelled a second later, throwing me completely off balance.
I hadn’t expected her to send Nate over here where he could get hurt.
“If anything happens, you hide. Understood?”
Dante’s words echoed in my head, but Luna’s tearful gaze had me running to the nearest window overlooking the driveway. Dante’s men were backing out toward the house, shooting at a black van that broke through the gate. Its back door was open, and a man dressed in black was firing a machine gun.
