Broken Promises

by I. A. Dice

  “This way,” the henchman said, leading us to the nearest loge occupied by three men.

  Despite never meeting Mauricio in person, it wasn’t hard to guess who the boss was. He resembled mafia men from the Prohibition times – white suit, dark shades, and a cigar in his hand. He rested one elbow on his knee, leaning toward the stage to get a better look at the naked ass. Signet rings marked his fingers, and a large cross with diamonds hung from a thick chain around his neck.

  Oh, and let’s not forget the hat. White with a black ribbon tied around it. He was a carbon copy of Al Capone. Compared to Mauricio, Nikolaj was an imposter, a tribute act.

  “Dante Carrow,” Mauricio said, the high-pitched voice sounding odd coming from a man of his overweight size.

  He rose to his feet, shaking my hand firmly, then introduced his people, and shoed them away along with Spades and Julij. They took a seat nearby, giving us a false sense of privacy.

  “What can I get you to drink? Cognac? Whiskey? Bourbon?” He summoned a waitress with a snap of his fingers.

  The girl, her boobs bigger than my head, leaned over the table, presenting the tray to me. I took a glass of bourbon and accepted the cigar Mauricio offered. Etiquette required fifteen minutes of vague conversation before we could get down to business, so I started with praising the club.

  “How about we skip the pleasantries, Dante?” he interrupted before I had the chance to finish. “I know why you’re here. I know that nobody refused yet, and I know how much you offer.”

  “The price is negotiable,” I said, taking a sip.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I couldn’t check who tried to reach me. It’d be disrespectful, and the little chance I had to win Mauricio over would diminish.

  “You’re doing it wrong.” He crossed his legs, resting against the back of the couch, a cloud of smoke surrounding his face. “Instead of paying for protection, pay for murder. You’re searching for the promoter yourself, and if you were to order a hit, pay, say, twice as much as Frankie wanted for Layla, you could lead most of the daredevils away from her.”

  The grip I had on the glass tightened. “It won’t work. Layla’s the easier target. And Morte is mine.”

  Mauricio laughed, patting me on the shoulder. “Stop acting like a child; “Morte is mine,” he mocked. “What difference does it make who kills him? The main thing is that he’ll be dead, right? That the order will become insolvent, and you’ll be able to bring Layla back home.”

  A cold sweat ran down my spine, the rhythm of my heart picking up, as I watched Mauricio, searching his eyes for a confirmation that he knew where she was.

  “No, I don’t know where you hid her, but I guess there’s a reason why you drag this dimwit with you everywhere,” he nodded to Julij.

  He rose to his feet, urging me to do the same, then gestured at his people to stay put, and led me around the bar and through a pair of doors into his office.

  “Sit down.” He pointed to the leather armchair next to a coffee table and took a seat on the opposite one. “Julij’s just as clueless as his father was. If not for Frank, Nikolaj would have nothing. All he was good at was piggyback riding. If you don’t stop focusing on one thing at a time, you’ll share Frank’s fate, Dante. Julij will take advantage of your inattention. He’ll take your partners, your product and your position.” He took a long drag of the cigar, leaning toward me. “Open your eyes, Dante. You’re smart, you’ve been a part of this life for years, but for months now you make one mistake after another, like a novice.”

  “How do you know so much about me?”

  He scoffed, finishing his drink. “Who was I working with all those years? Frankie was jealous of you. You’ve done much better than he did, and you’ve exceeded at everything every step of the way. Everything you touch turns to gold.”

  That was plausible. Frank’s hatred began before we killed Dino. I didn’t see it then, but years later it came to me that Dino died because he started trusting me more than he did Frankie, who was his second in command. Frank felt threatened, his position hung by a thread. Degradation wasn’t an option, and that was how the plan of taking over Chicago came to life.

  I was too close to Frank back then. He had me wrapped around his finger the same way he had Layla not long ago. We were both at some point in our lives manipulated, taught to believe in him, and follow him blindly. It was Frank’s greatest gift – the ability to turn people around him into his puppets.

  It took several weeks of separation for me to start coming out of the haze. When Dino died, and I remained locked in my house, I began to see through Frank’s bullshit.

  And he messed up Layla even more. It was a miracle she saw him for who he really was when she did.

  “Frankie has been obsessing over you for six years, and that’s why he started making mistakes. The business was in decline, the partners began to turn away, but it didn’t matter. He wanted you. He wanted to leave you with nothing, not even a will to survive, and for that, he was willing to sacrifice his daughter.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m following in his footsteps?”

  He nodded, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re like a racehorse in the fog. You are wandering in a maze with your eyes closed. You’re touching the walls, instead of opening your eyes.” He reached for a bottle of cognac and filled his glass and mine. “Let me guess. You want to find Morte and force him to retract the hit. You’ll wait for a few weeks, maybe months, kill the ones who won’t get the message, and then bring Layla back home to live a happily ever after. Am I close?”

  I didn’t answer. I met the guy half an hour ago, and I had no intention of sharing my plans with him.

  “Nobody knows where Morte is,” I said. “My people have been looking for him for a month now. If I can’t find him, what makes you think anyone else will? Ordering a hit only conveys the message that I am out of options; that I am desperate, and more killers will arrive hoping to force a mistake on me so they could get to her.”

  A sad, pitiful smile crossed his lips. “Stop thinking about Layla for a moment, stop worrying. I’m more than certain Anatolij will sooner kill half his people than let someone hurt her. He’s a damn honorable guy.”

  I swallowed hard, my hands growing damp. I really was blind and made mistakes worthy of an amateur if it took Mauricio half an hour to deduce where I hid Layla. Julij shouldn’t be here. He didn’t mean anything in this world yet, there was no reason to have him around. I agreed to him tagging along because he helped transport Layla to Moscow; because he was almost as determined to ensure her safety as I was.

  “Relax. I don’t start with the Russians. And I have no intention of chasing Layla for three million. Frank hit an all-time low ordering that hit. It’s something I can’t tolerate, and would never participate in. I’m just trying to make you realize that because of how you look at the case, you miss obvious things.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “Let’s say I’m getting sentimental in my old age,” he shrugged. “My grandson was born recently, my wife acts twenty years younger... I heard about the bounty on Layla, and I tried walking in your shoes. You’re a clever guy and a great businessman. I regret that our paths didn’t cross years ago. Things would look different now.”

  The short conversation was enough for Mauricio to make it onto the short list of people I respected for the kind of humans they were. I had a feeling that if we met all those years ago, working with him would’ve been a breeze, but this was neither the time nor place to start a new business venture.

  First things first.

  “Thank you,” I said, rising from the armchair and holding my hand out to him.

  He nodded, extinguished the cigar. “Get rid of Julij, order the hit on Morte and find something to blackmail him with just in case.”

  We left his office, and Spades and Julij rose as if on cue. After a stiff, non-verbal goodbye, they walked away, waiting for me by the exit.

  “Open your eyes,” Maur
icio said again, then embraced me like the true Italian he was.

  We picked up our guns and left the club, getting into a limousine. I pulled out the phone, checking who tried to reach me. Instead of a missed call, I saw an unread message from Layla.

  I smiled under my breath, looking at a picture of my star wearing a gold dress straight from the twenties. Feathers were pinned in her hair, and she wore that disarming smile that touched her gray eyes. A short question waited under the photo.

  How do I look?

  Like everything I need.

  I dialed the number to hear her voice. Mauricio was right, my ever-growing obsession with Layla was destroying my ability to think straight, to see the big picture. I had to draw a line between us for a while to try and focus my attention on what mattered most right now. I couldn’t do it if we were in touch.

  “You look gorgeous,” I said when she answered.

  “I like it too. Twenties fashion suits me. I look good with feathers in my hair.”

  “You look good with a smile, star. What time does the party start?”

  “Late afternoon. It’s only nine a.m. here, baby. I wanted to show you the dress before you fall asleep.”

  “I’m glad you did. Dance until dawn, and get used to it. You’ll be on the dance floor all night long at our wedding.”

  She chuckled. “Can I count on my husband to dance with me too?”

  A smile crossed my face hearing her refer to me as her husband. The image of me standing in front of the altar hadn’t crossed my mind until I met Layla. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get married. There simply wasn’t a fitting candidate in my life.

  In fact, up until Layla, I was never in a serious relationship. I lived in the moment, not caring about what the future held. And then Layla made an entrance, and I wanted her straight away. I wanted her to be mine. And a few weeks later I wanted her to stay mine.

  Dancing wasn’t something I enjoyed, but I was willing to make an exception for my wife. One dance, or five… Maybe a dozen.

  “I’ll be the first one to dance with you. And the last. And some numbers in-between. I promise.”

  I took a deep breath, convincing myself that for her sake, we should stop talking for a while. She was both my ruin and my panacea. She occupied every conscious and unconscious thought, making it damn near impossible to protect her.

  “Go on,” she urged impatiently. “Get it out. What’s going on?”

  As always, she riddled out the change in the atmosphere, even though she was five thousand miles away. All it took was one deep breath, and she knew something was wrong.

  “I won’t call you for a few days, star.”

  “Why? Did something happened?” An unhealthy dose of worry crept into her voice, and the muscles on my shoulders tensed painfully because I hated hearing her like that.

  It wasn’t normal. Relationships don’t work like that, people don’t feel the sort of inordinate protectiveness I felt toward Layla. We were both emotionally challenged but in different ways.

  “No, I just need to switch off for a few days. I’ll call you when the chaos is more manageable, but if anything happens, if...”

  “I know,” she interjected. “I’ll call you.”

  “Do what you have to do, and don’t worry about me. Maybe it’s unreasonable, but I feel safe here.”

  She had no idea how much I wanted to stop worrying for five minutes; to catch a breath; to get a break from the overpowering, irrational feelings.

  “You are safe there,” I confirmed. “Stay close to Anatolij. He won’t let a hair fall off your head.”

  She scoffed, clicking her tongue. “Funny you should say that. Julij has a different opinion on the matter.”

  My eyes narrowed at Julij, who sat opposite to me, watching Vegas through the tinted windows, lost in thought. The dreamy, barely-there smile hinted as to who he was thinking about. Since he came back from Moscow, Julij acted more infatuated than before. Or maybe he just stopped hiding it.

  “And what might that be?” I asked.

  “I spend a lot of time with Anatolij, and Julij seems to think his uncle wants to get in my pants.”

  A chuckle escaped me. God, not being able to tell Julij the truth was killing me. It’d dissolve his feelings toward Layla in a blink of an eye, but I promised Anatolij to keep it to myself until he found the courage to tell Layla himself.

  “Julij’s got a vivid imagination.”

  At the sound of his name, he looked up, raising an eyebrow in question. “What?” he mouthed.

  “That he does. I have to go, baby. I’ll wait for your call. If I can make it that long without talking to you.”

  The real question was whether I had it in me to stay away from her.

  “Have fun, star.”

  “What was that about? What did she say?” Julij asked as soon as I cut the call.

  “I told you I’ll tolerate that you love her only until you cross a line. Tone down with the envy, or I’ll show you how much a broken jaw hurts.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. “She told you…”

  “You thought she’d hide it?” I shook my head, genuinely amused by his cluelessness. “She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the little trust I’ve put in her so far.”

  Layla was tiptoeing around me since the moment I arrived in Texas, but slowly, she was regaining her confidence, and I couldn’t wait to have the girl I fell for back, showcasing all her colors.

  “It’s not about jealousy, it’s about safety,” Julij began, seemingly pissed off that Layla hadn’t kept their conversation a secret. “She’s alone there, and I wanted her to be careful. But don’t twist it to your preference. She isn’t mine, and I don’t care who she sleeps with.”

  Spades had no chance of reacting. Julij had no chance of seeing the outrage coming. It all happened in a flash. I lunged forward, and grabbed Julij’s shirt, smacking his head against the window hard, towering above him.

  “Layla is mine, and she only sleeps with me.”

  I didn’t have to throw it out there, but in a way, I marked the territory. I’ve warned Julij, not once and not twice, but he chose not to listen. And now he decided to disrespect my girl. And there was no fucking way I’d let anyone say or even suggest anything bad about her.

  “That’s strike one, Julij,” Spades hissed behind my back. “Do yourself a favor, and don’t say shit like that about her again.”

  I felt his hand on my arm, pulling me back, and reluctantly, I let go of wide-eyed Julij, who adjusted his shirt, his jaw working, eyes shooting daggers my way.

  This probably wasn’t how he imagined us working together. To date, all he got out of our arrangement was a kicking, and I could see his patience wearing thin. Too bad the cards were in my hand, and all Julij could do was nod along.

  “It was your idea to send her to Moscow, because you supposedly trust Anatolij, and now you say he’d hurt her? Bullshit. You’re in love, you’re jealous, and you’re pissing me off,” I growled, staring Julij in the eyes, waiting for one false move, one more foul word out of his mouth.

  It’d justify manslaughter. Or at least in my eyes it would. I was on the verge of overloading and needed an outlet for my emotions.

  There was one thing that’d erase his feelings in a blink of an eye. One piece of information that’d turn his world upside down and force him to stop dreaming about Layla.

  I was running out of reasons not to tell him. I wanted to see his face when he found out. I wanted to see the little hope he had for a relationship with my girl evaporate, but I couldn’t tell him the truth.

  Not yet. Not while Layla remained clueless.

  We arrived at the hotel, and Julij, slightly pissed off and still sulking, left Spades and me in the lobby, storming toward the elevators.

  “Why do you put up with it?” Spades asked, taking the direction of the restaurant. “You don’t need him. You don’t need Nikolaj’s affiliates. We’ve b
een doing fine by ourselves.”

  Yes, we were. And we could do without Julij, but in the face of the newly discovered information, I knew Julij was to remain a part of mine and Layla’s life forever, no matter how much I wanted him to go.

  “He’ll always be around so I’d rather keep him close, and profit.”

  We took a seat by one of the empty tables. The waiter approached seconds later, taking our order.

  “How’s Jackson doing with Morte? Any Luck?”

  I shook my head, staring into the distance, thinking of what Mauricio had said.

  “Find something to blackmail him with.”

  Knowing Morte’s way of thinking, the effort he had put into being untouchable, I didn’t think twice about the reference to Sandra he slipped into our conversation.

  But maybe I should’ve.

  She was the one and only woman that he loved. She messed him up when she left. He was never the same since. And that had me thinking.

  Layla stabbed me in the back, but I forgave her. And even if I decided to leave her alone, finding out a few years down the line that she was in danger, I wouldn’t be able to turn a blind eye.

  Feelings don’t just go away. True love lingers at the back of our minds, hearts, and souls forever – numbed, suppressed, but always there, a bitter-sweet aftertaste of better times.

  “Change of plans,” I told Spades, not stopping to think it through. “Forget Morte. We’re looking for Sandra now.”

  “Sandra?”

  I nodded, already pressing the cell phone to my ear. “She was to Morte what Layla is to me.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  LAYLA

  “I’m sorry for being late. Dante called,” I greeted Anatolij, joining him in the dining room for breakfast.

  He sat by the table, reading the morning paper, with a cup of espresso in hand.

  “You’re not at school, you don’t have to apologize. Is everything alright?”

  I shrugged, looking out the window at a post-card picture of Anatolij’s garden covered in snow. The blizzard last night kept me awake. The wind played a haunting melody, raging outside as I laid in bed, eyes open, watching the snow swirl in the air until it covered most of the window.