Broken Vows

by Nicole Fox

  I unlock my car doors as I get close, and as soon as the lights flash, there is a bang of light and then the ground rocks underneath me.

  I drop to my knees and throw one hand over my head, the other over my stomach. Debris flies everywhere, and my ears are ringing as I stare at the destruction. Then, everything goes dark.

  24

  Luka

  Patrick must have kept his mouth shut because the Irish are wholly unprepared for our ambush. The soldiers charge in first, taking out the few measly guards stationed around the abandoned warehouse. As soon as they are gone, I follow inside.

  There is return fire, but it is embarrassingly small. My guess is that because they weren’t expecting an attack; most of the men weren’t armed. Which means they are just hiding inside behind barriers, hoping we leave. We don’t.

  When the return fire dwindles down to only two or three guys shooting back at my twenty, I call off my men and shout a deal into the air.

  “We’ll cease fire if you bring me Cole Morrison.”

  My words are met with silence for ten long seconds before I hear hushed arguing, and then, a few minutes later, lone footsteps. I chance a look over the crate I’m standing behind, and see one man stepping forward into the center of the warehouse. His arms are above his head.

  “Announce yourself,” Gabriel yells from beside me.

  The man reluctantly gives his name. “Cole Morrison.”

  I nod to Gabriel and he commences rounding up the rest of the Irish and escorting them to a back room to be monitored. Then, Cole is brought to me, his hands behind his back.

  He is not nearly as ugly or stupid as I’d hoped. In fact, he is kind of handsome. Tall, blonde, and muscular. I can picture him with Eve, and it fills my veins with fire.

  I grab him by the arm, taking him from one of my soldiers, and lead him outside to a narrow alley between warehouses. Cole pulls out of my grip as soon as we are outside. “What the fuck do you want with me?”

  I level my gun at him so he knows I’m not playing any games. “What do you know about the attack on my wedding day?”

  He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t look confused. “Nothing. Why would I know anything about that?”

  “Because you were engaged to my wife.” The word settles between us like a stone, and I want to kick it straight into Cole’s teeth.

  He smiles, and before he can show any of his teeth, I lower my gun and shoot his right kneecap. He screams and falls to the ground.

  “Don’t grin at me, you piece of shit. Tell me what you know about the attack. Who orchestrated it? Did you do it because you were angry Eve was marrying someone else?”

  He is bleeding and fetal on the ground, yet the asshole still has the nerve to laugh. “I never cared about Eve, and she definitely didn’t care about me.”

  “Then why were your men there?”

  He hesitates, and I aim my gun at his other knee cap. His face pales, and he spills his guts like I’ve just cut them open. “Benedetto told us about the wedding.”

  “Benedetto?” I know who he is, but I want to make sure. I want to double and triple check these facts.

  “Benedetto Furino,” he clarifies. “He told us about the wedding and helped us figure out the best way to get inside. We were nervous, so we only sent a few of our men in. And they weren’t our best. I guess you saw how that worked for us.”

  “Still managed to kill some of our guys,” I snarl. “When did Benedetto tell you about the wedding?”

  “Morning of,” he says. “We’d been planning it for a while, but he didn’t know when the wedding would be. Some kind of secret, I guess.”

  My heart hammers in my chest. Eve didn’t tell them. This entire time, I assumed that if Benedetto had something to do with the attack, then Eve would have been in on it. But if he didn’t tell the Irish about the wedding until the morning of, that means Eve didn’t tell him when it was. She didn’t help him plan any of it. Relief and shame mingles inside of me, making my insides twist.

  “Why?”

  “Shit, I don’t know,” he says, clutching his knee and whimpering. “Benedetto said something about the ‘damn Volkovs always thinking they are one step ahead,’ but I didn’t ask questions. That all goes above my pay grade. I provide the weapons. I just know he wanted the Furinos and Irish to team up. He has wanted it for a long time. That is why Eve and I were engaged.”

  “What happened?” I ask. “To the engagement? Why didn’t you go through with it?”

  “Because Eve fucking disappeared,” he says, clearly still bitter about it. “Apparently, marrying me was the worst thing she could imagine, so she disappeared for two years.”

  I would have thought I’d hear about it if a don’s daughter went missing for two years, but Benedetto probably didn’t make the news public record. It’s embarrassing, and the more I think about it, it is classic Eve. The thought almost makes me smile.

  “When she reappeared, Benedetto came back, promising things would be different this time, but I’m not big on second chances,” Cole says, trying to look tough. Though, that is difficult considering he is covered in blood. “I guess he decided strapping her to you was better than nothing.”

  “If he wanted to use her to unite him with allies, he did a piss poor job,” I say. “I am no ally of the Furinos.”

  Cole shrugs. “My guess is he thought she would be a better spy than she is.”

  I lower my gun, trying to decide what to do with Cole. He is a rat. He teamed up with the Furinos to attack my family, and then turned on them in an instant. He is only out for his own gain, but I don’t have a solid reason to kill him. Aside from wounding the Irish infrastructure, his death would be pointless. Plus, he is chatty enough that he might be of further use. I could have Gabriel and some of the other soldiers hold him somewhere until I’m certain we have all the information out of him we need. Taking prisoners go against my code, but hearing that Eve has actually been loyal to me this entire time is putting me in a merciful mood.

  “But hey,” Cole says, sitting up and smirking at me like we are old friends, despite the fact I just shot him in the leg. “At least you got a little use out of her before it fell apart. Her father hands her out like a prostitute, but I didn’t even get to fuck her. Shame, too, because she is hot.”

  He is still talking when I shoot him in the head. He falls sideways, mouth open like he simply paused in the middle of a sentence.

  I hide the guns we took from the Irish in the basement of a Volkov-owned bar called The Trap Door. We’ll strip them and sell them later. After all the shit they pulled, it is the least the Irish can do.

  I’m just walking out the front doors and back towards my car when my phone vibrates. I expect it to be my father asking how the mission went, but when I grab my phone, I freeze. It is Eve.

  I never gave her my number, but I had hers. This is the first time I’ve seen her name appear on my screen, and I wonder what it could be about. I planned to talk to her tonight. I should have trusted her. I should have listened to her when she told me the truth about her relationship with Cole and her father. For the first time in my life, I’m willing to fall on my knees and apologize. I’ll beg for her forgiveness if necessary.

  “Hello?” My voice is strained and desperate, and I quickly clear my throat. I’m willing to beg, but that doesn’t mean I should start off the conversation on my knees. She doesn’t need to know how ready I am to see her.

  “Hello.” The distinctly male voice on the other end of the line roots me to the spot. My hand clenches around the phone tightly enough I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.

  “Who is this?”

  “Give up the guns you just stole from the Irish, and you can have Eve back.”

  “Who is this?” I roar into the phone.

  “Give up the guns you stole from the Irish,” the voice repeats. There is a slight amendment to the second half of the statement, though. “And we won’t hurt your wife and child.”

  My blo
od goes cold. I want to scream into the phone and make every threat in the book. But the line goes dead before I can wrap my head around what the man just said.

  Wife and child. Eve is pregnant. Eve is pregnant with my baby and someone has her.

  I walk towards my car and then turn and pace towards the bar. I feel like an animal trapped in a cage, desperate for a way out. My emotions are too big to fit in my skin, and I fist my hands at my side and roar up at the sky.

  I should have gone after her. I knew her apartment wasn’t safe, and I should have held her against her well. Even if I had to chain her up. I should have done it until I knew for certain she would be safe. And now, who the fuck knows where she is. Who she is with. What is happening to her.

  I run angry fingers through my hair, pulling out chunks of it, but I don’t care. I need to find her. I need to get her back. I call her number back over and over again, but no one answers. All I hear is her soft voice on the answering machine, telling me to leave a message. And it is that voice that eventually brings me back to reality. Her voice helps me make sense of what is rioting inside my chest.

  Love.

  I love Eve.

  I didn’t think I was capable of it. Two months ago, I would have laughed in the face of anyone who told me it was possible, but here I am, pacing in the parking lot of a bar, loving Eve Furino. Or, actually, Eve Volkov. My wife.

  I tuck my phone into my back pocket and march back into the bar. I walk past the bartender and the soldiers and go straight for the basement door. I need to be alone, and I need to figure out what to do next.

  I have to save the woman I love.

  25

  Eve

  My throat is dry from screaming, and my arms are raw from fighting against the restraints around my wrists. I can hear muffled voices and people moving around me, but I haven’t been able to see anything since a black bag was thrown over my head in the parking lot.

  Suddenly, I hear footsteps moving towards me, growing closer and closer. I sit up in the metal chair I’ve been strapped to, my heart lodged in my throat. I let out a yelp when rough hands pull the bag from over my eyes.

  I blink against the brightness, trying to let my eyes adjust. Slowly, I can make out a shadowy figure in front of me and movement beyond them. There are multiple people in the room with me. The man closest to me laughs.

  “Pathetic. I never would have thought you were a don’s daughter.” He kicks the leg of my chair, and I jolt in surprise, making him laugh again. “You have a shit poker face. Anyone with eyes can tell you are terrified right now.”

  I want to tell the genius that I was just nearly blown up and then kidnapped, so of course I’m terrified, but he continues talking before I can find the words.

  “Does it make you feel better to hear that Luka Volkov will be murdered soon?” he asks.

  My heart stops.

  “Or does that make it worse?” he continues. “He’s your husband, but none of us have been able to figure out whether you like him or not. Care to weigh in?”

  I blink again, and I can finally make out that I’m in some kind of warehouse. I don’t recognize the men around me, so I know they aren’t Furinos or Volkovs.

  “Irish?” I ask, looking up at the man standing in front of me. His hair is shaved, making his small head look even smaller compared to his meaty body.

  He kicks my chair again, and I’m surprised he doesn’t kick me. I can tell he wants to. He doesn’t look like a diplomatic, talk-it-out kind of guy.

  “I’m asking the questions. Answer them, and I won’t cut your pretty face up.” He leans forward, his acrid breath hot on my face. I turn away from him, nose curled.

  “What’s the question?” I ask, sounding as disinterested as I can.

  He runs a finger along my jawbone. I turn away, but the ropes around my wrists make it hard to move. “Did you enjoy fucking Luka Volkov?”

  I clench my jaw, and then look him in the face and spit. It lands in his eye, and he curses and backs away, wiping at his face. His cheeks go red with rage, but the men behind him chuckle.

  He is back in front of me in an instant, his face only a few inches from mine. “Be careful, girl. You are only as good as your information. If you refuse to tell us anything about Luka, we’ll kill you. And I’m the one in charge of whether it will be slow or fast.”

  A shiver runs down my spine, and I do my best to keep him from seeing it. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Where is Luka Volkov?”

  “I don’t know.” This is the truth. For the first time in weeks, I’m glad I don’t know anything about what Luka has been up to. I don’t have to lie. I genuinely don’t know. “I ran away from him a few days ago. I haven’t talk to him. I’m not sure where he is or what he is doing.”

  The man stares at me, his eyes cold and assessing. Then, he grabs the black bag and pulls it over my face again.

  The air is stagnant and stuffy, and I want to ask for him to take it off, but honestly, it is better than being asked questions. Especially questions I don’t know the answer to. I don’t know anything. I may be a don’s daughter and an underboss’s wife, but I don’t know a damn thing that is going on.

  I don’t know why I’m here or what the Irish want to do with me. Maybe it has something to do with Cole, but I can’t be sure. I certainly don’t know why they blew up my car.

  I can still feel the explosion reverberating in my bones, and I hope it didn’t hurt the baby. I didn’t fall on my stomach, but the ambush was a blur of blows and dragging. Did someone touch my stomach? Did anyone hit me or throw me into something roughly? It’s hard to say. I’m desperate to lay a hand over my stomach, as if that would somehow protect my unborn child, but I don’t. These men might not know about the baby, and I don’t want to give them even more ammo against me.

  “Maybe a game of Russian roulette would wake up her memory,” the man says to the crowd of men around me. They all cheer and stomp their feet like they are watching a football game in a rowdy bar.

  When the barrel of a gun presses against my temple, I’m grateful for the bag over my head. That way, no one can see the tear rolling down my cheek. He cocks the gun, and I’m not sure if he’d really do it or not. If he’d really pull the trigger and leave my life to chance, but I have no reason to think he wouldn’t.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and say a silent apology to my child. If I’d stayed at the mansion, none of this would have happened. I shouldn’t have run away.

  The man counts down—three, two, one—and my entire body is shaking with anticipation.

  Then, a voice. “Stop.”

  It is calm and level-headed. No sense of panic or urgency. And I hear the man with the gun back away. Then, new footsteps approach. When the bag is pulled from my head this time, it is a gentle motion, and it doesn’t take nearly as long for my eyes to adjust to the lights. As soon as I look up, I recognize the shadow looking down at me.

  It is my father.

  The first thought I have is that I’ve been saved. My father was at the restaurant a few minutes before my attack. Maybe he heard the explosion and came back to find me gone. Maybe he came after me.

  Except, that thought falls apart when I see the way the Irish mob members are backing away from him. My father doesn’t have a weapon or an army of Furinos behind him. The Irishmen are simply…listening to him.

  Goosebumps bloom across my skin.

  “They won’t hurt you,” he says, running a hand across my hair. “Not until they have to.”

  I shiver involuntarily. This can’t be happening. I feel like I’m going to be sick, and I don’t know if it is morning sickness or not. It might just be that this level of betrayal is unnatural. A daughter shouldn’t be held against her will by her father. She shouldn’t have to worry if he’ll let her be harmed or not. Perhaps, my body is just reacting to that.

  “But I’m sure Luka will come and trade you for the guns he stole.” He steps away and crosses his arms. I don’t see any love or
concern in his eyes.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I don’t understand a word of it. Nothing makes any sense. My head is swimming, and I wonder if there wasn’t some kind of powdered drug in the black bag. A hallucinogenic. That would make more sense than this.

  “Your husband stole something from me this morning, so I stole something from him.”

  He means me. I’m the ‘something.’

  “But don’t worry,” he says. “I’m sure you and his child are more important to him than a few measly weapons.”

  “Fuck you.” My confusion channels into rage so fast it nearly makes my head spin.

  My father smiles, but there is no humor there. “None of this would have happened if you had simply played your part, Eve. If you had stayed with Luka, you’d be safe right now. I even came to you tonight and gave you the chance to correct your mistake, but you turned your back on me. So, you have no one to blame for this situation but yourself.”

  “‘My role’?” I ask, lip pulled back in disgust. “I don’t even know what is going on. How could I have changed any of this?”

  “You are a beautiful woman, Eve,” he says, stepping forward and bending low so his eyes are level with mine. “I’ve been telling you your whole life, you don’t need to know a damn thing. You just need to look pretty and make a man love you. Cook for Luka, fuck Luka…distract Luka. That was your job, and you failed.”

  “Distract him from what?” I ask, trying to ignore the fact that my own father just told me my duty was to fuck one of his enemies.

  “From this,” he says, gesturing between himself and the men around him. “I wanted to team up with the Irish, which is why you were engaged to the gunrunner years ago. You screwed that up, too, unfortunately, but I fixed it. Luka helped. He was so smitten with you, he proposed the solution himself the first time he met you. All I had to do was force the pieces together. He loved you from the moment he saw you, whether he could admit it to himself or not, and I used his emotions as an opportunity. You were more difficult to persuade, but you came around. I had faith you’d come around again, but you disrespected me tonight, Eve.”