The Pledge: Mafia Vows

by SR Jones

  “Maybe, but most people are shallow. They only glance at the surface. Maya is glamorous, but she’s not truly beautiful the way you are. She’ll be ordinary by the time she’s fifty. You’ll still look like a Greek Audrey Hepburn. Not that it will matter a jot, if you’re still so neurotic.” He steeples his fingers and smiles at me. “I think there are deeper reasons for your actions,” Yannis says. “I’ve heard what you told your shrink.”

  “What?” I screech. “How? Those sessions are private.”

  “Nothing is private. Not if you know how to get the information. She records her sessions on her phone. Naughty of her when she hasn’t explicitly told her clients as much. I hacked her files. You’re not honest—not with yourself, and not with her. I think you’re more scared of getting trapped in the life your parents lead, and having to host regular, boring social functions, than you are of anything else.”

  He laughs. “After all, in some ways you’re very brave. Are you not? You fear the tedium of society. It’s why you go off trekking to dangerous places. It’s why you did this. This might scare you, but becoming a doctor or a lawyer and having three kids, and a husband who spends more time out of the home than in it, with the odd vacation thrown in? Terrifying!” He gives a fake shiver. “Having to go for after work drinks and attend endless meetings? That scares you a lot fucking more. You need freedom, and the idea of being put into a box that you have to stay in for the rest of your life terrifies you. You’re scared around people, you say, but not when you’re halfway up a mountain in Nepal, right? You’re an adventurer at heart, Stella. We ought to be true to our natures. You need to live free. You could no more spend your time trapped in courtrooms surrounded by other law types than I could get a nine-to-five job and become an honest, hardworking little drone.”

  He trails a finger down my arm. “Perhaps all your fear, all of it, is nothing more than a fear of being trapped. After all, trapped things will chew off their own limbs to escape, and maybe you’ve been metaphorically chewing at yours for years.”

  I swallow hard. How the hell does he know this? How does he see me so clearly? He’s right. I am more scared of being surrounded day in and day out by lots of people who I have to socialize with and make friends with, despite them boring me senseless, than I am of trekking in Nepal alone. I don’t know how to do it, the polite and boring chitchat. I always sense people think I’m cold, odd. It’s why I have few friends, Maya being the main one. And Maya? She’s always been her own person. A crazy, funny, sexy bundle of fucked-up that I love like she’s my sister.

  “And now you’re wondering how I know so much about you?”

  I swallow down my dry, sore throat and nod.

  He smiles, and it’s creepily cold. “I read people. I am, apparently, an anti-social narcissist. A malignant narcissist in other words, and your worst nightmare.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “A little bit of sociopathy, a dash of narcissism, a touch of anti-social behavior, and boom. Labeled. Everyone’s ultimate nemesis. Except … not for you personally because you’re useful, and you don’t interest me. Not sexually, anyway.”

  The relief I feel is staggering.

  He laughs. “I ought to be offended by your outrageously apparent relief. But boring good girls, who go around pretending to the world they’re more sexually mature than they are hold no allure for me. I don’t like brown hair, either. I like to hurt blondes.”

  I think of Aggatha and try to hold back the shudder that runs through me at his words.

  “Anyway, you’re a means to an end. I don’t want to hurt you because I don’t need any more hassle with those apes Maya has surrounded herself with, and from my observations of you and them, the handsome one likes you.”

  “Alesso?” I shake my head. “That’s where your reading of people falls down because he honestly doesn’t. I thought he did, but recently, I’ve realized I’m probably wrong. He has no interest in me. Not beyond being a decent person who wanted to help me after your and Costa’s men took me.”

  He snorts at my words. “A decent person. You think Alesso is decent? Jesus, you need to learn how to understand people way better than you do. He’s no more decent than me.”

  “He doesn’t enjoy torturing women sexually,” I fire back before literally biting my tongue. Shit, why did I blurt that out? I wait for him to hit me or something, but he doesn’t. He watches me, head slightly to one side.

  “I think you might be surprised at some of the things Alesso likes to do. Some of the things he has done. Did you know he shot a woman in the head?”

  I jolt, despite trying not to show emotions.

  “Yes.” Yannis nods as if in satisfaction. “He was on duty, and she was armed, but apparently, no hesitation. Bullet to the brain. A young woman, some might say still only a girl. What kind of man can do that, do you think? A good man? Even if she were a danger to him and his men, wouldn’t a good man shoot her … say, in the leg? No, not Alesso. He shot her in the fucking face. He’s a dangerous motherfucker, and it’s why he’s one of the few people I’m wary of. And if you think he’s bad, you don’t want to know about that bastard they hang around with. Andrius. His wife, his beloved, was kidnapped and given to him, like a thing. These are the men you have been hanging around with. Yet you think Alesso is good.” He shakes his head and laughs.

  I don’t answer. His taunts have hit home. I can’t get the image of Alesso shooting a young woman out of my head. Andrius always scared me. You’d have to be a fool not to be terrified by him, but I had no idea how deep his depravities ran. His wife was kidnapped. Oh, God. It seems, I’ve been hanging around with some deeply unsavory characters, all the while telling myself, despite the evidence, that they were the good guys.

  “Alesso also likes to fuck around.” Yannis’ words break into my thoughts. “And he doesn’t fuck nice.”

  I don’t want to hear anymore, but he’s not done.

  “And his kind of fucking … well, it might not be as extreme as mine, but I’ve been with a woman he once had, and he’s rough.” Once more his fingers trail down my arm. “He won’t be all romantic and gentle. That man, he’s got the face of an angel, and women fall for it every time, but his heart is almost as black as mine.”

  He sits back and crosses his legs. “I sometimes like to play with men too. Alesso doesn’t interest me. Know why?”

  I shake my head, totally at a loss for words with the things he’s told me.

  “Because deep down, he’s a nothing. A void. Damen … now he’d be fun.” He grins. “He’s a control freak who loses control far too easily. Markos? Wow, well, who knows what’s going on there? I think he’s deeply damaged. But Alesso? Let me tell you, from one sociopath about another. I don’t think there’s all that much there beneath his pretty surface.”

  I shiver, whether from his lingering touch on my arm, or his words, I’m not sure.

  “As for cute little Aggatha. She liked it. She enjoyed all the sick shit I did to her, until it accidentally went too far, and then she ran to the hospital when things would have healed anyway. To make matters worse, when it came out, she played the victim in the media rather than admit to her desires. I won’t have anyone making me look like a prick in public. Nobody.” He grounds out the word with such venom my stomach roils. “Most women who’ve had me say I am the best they’ve ever had, and I don’t play around with women who like it vanilla. I like women who want it to hurt. I’m not a stupid man, and I don’t give into my tendencies unless the recipient is willing. The hassle that comes with the other option isn’t worth it. Aggatha, though, she broke the contract. Betrayed the rules. She went blabbing when I was done with her, so now that bitch owes me, and so long as she keeps paying me back, I won’t make her life hell.”

  “I don’t understand. You were involved with the people who kidnapped me. You were involved with that awful stuff that went down with Maya’s mother. Why care if some woman says you raped her? Your other crimes are bad enough.”

  “If I ever fuck
up enough that I go to jail, being accused of a litany of mob-related crimes is one thing. It will only garner me respect. I never touched Maya or her mother. I didn’t want Costas to do what he did. The idiot had no control. None. I do. Do you know anything about Greek prisons?”

  I shake my head because actually I don’t, and his change of conversational direction has me confused.

  “They are hell on earth. This is not a country you want to go to jail in. If you do, you most certainly don’t want to be identified as a sexual predator. Mob boss, thief, murderer even. All things to get you respect. Rapist? Not so much. I don’t need that shit following me around, so I make sure the women I am involved with are broken enough to want the abuse I enjoy dishing out. Aggatha will be making a statement to the effect that due to drink and drugs, she lied about what went on between us, but the damage is already done.”

  I don’t know what to say to any of the things he’s telling me. If what he says about being a diagnosed narcissist is true, he’ll be an adept liar. All of this might be utter bullshit.

  He studies me for a moment. “You know, if you actually care about things and want to make a difference, you ought to write about the prison system.”

  I give a terse nod, and then ask a question I want the answer to. “Why not simply ask me to write what you want, instead of this elaborate charade? Why take me? You have to know that you’ve already most likely stirred things up so far as Alesso and the guys go.”

  “When we get to where we are going, you can call your silly friend, Maya, and tell her all is well. I doubt they’re already aware you’re gone. You’re not that important to any of them, dear.” His words sting because I’m not. They didn’t want me living with them, did they? I expect Alesso was the one who stopped that. Didn’t want me trailing around after him, like the lovesick idiotic fool I am … was. I think the image of him shooting a woman in the head has put paid to those ideas.

  Yannis glances at his watch. “We will only be another fifteen to twenty minutes. You still have your phone; we didn’t take it off you, did we?”

  They hadn’t, which had confused me. Until I saw that even at the docks as we slowly pulled away, I didn’t have a signal.

  “It doesn’t work out here.”

  “No, and the dock is a black spot too, but it will work once we’re on dry land. At my island. We took you so you know how serious we are and to show you we can do it. We can get to you, your family too, whenever we want. As long as you write the article we want, put exactly what we say in there, and never write what you’ve found out about Pachis and me, you’ll be fine. Once it’s gone to print with your name on it, you’ll never be able to take it back and print the truth about us without trashing your reputation entirely. Don’t worry, the story we are giving you is true. All we need is for you to use it to take the heat off Pachis. Your editor will definitely run it because it’s scandalous as hell. As for taking you… I could hardly waltz up to you in the street now, could I? You’d have made a scene, the way you females do. I simply want this cash cow Pachis and myself have got going to continue, and I don’t need any more shit from you, that cunt Maya, or her stupid husband.”

  I take a breath and sit back. Things could be so much worse. This way, I only have to damage my journalistic integrity, and I already know I will because I’m too scared to do otherwise. Then I’ll … what? Go and put myself in that box I so desperately want to avoid? Become a doctor, or worse, a lawyer. Ugh, the very idea makes me want to poke my eyes out. I will be leaving Athens, though. I’m not safe here. This place where Yannis, the Nyx, and even Damen and Alesso play their murky games is tainted now forever.

  It sucks to have to turn my back on something I quite enjoyed, but I know I won’t continue down this path. The thing I liked about journalism work was the way it was mostly just me, researching. I had to talk to people, of course, but nowhere near as much as you’d think, and mostly one on one. My fear of crowds, speaking, and social events doesn’t really come into it. The beauty stuff in particular didn’t call for me to interact with anyone, but I felt it demeaned me, so I had to try and do something better, didn’t I? So stupid.

  Maybe I can mix my love of travel with a career? Be a travel writer? After all, it might not pay well, but I don’t care much for material things. I’m not like Maya, and I don’t want to be able to spend hundreds on shoes or bags. I have nice things because my parents buy me nice things, and I get gift cards for high-end stores for my birthday from aunts and uncles, but I’d rather spend my money on traveling and experiencing new places.

  If I burn my bridges now, though, give in to blackmail, and the truth comes out eventually, I won’t be able to do anything, will I? No travel writing, no doctoring, nothing. My reputation will be ruined, and I will be lucky to get a job in a shop. The truth will most likely come out too, one day. It always does. If the world finds out I sat on information about what Pachis and Yannis were up to, allowed them to go on robbing the public purse, I’ll be finished.

  My name will be sullied if that happens. I’ll have covered up the crimes of a corrupt politician who is in cahoots with the mob. But if I say no, I don’t doubt for one moment that Yannis will hurt me, badly.

  I’m lucky I’m not his type and that he holds no interest in me, but that won’t stop him from hurting me if I don’t do as he says. Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

  The engines splutters twice and makes an odd groaning sound before complete silence.

  What the hell now?

  “What’s going on? Why have we stopped here?” I turn to Yannis, panic in my voice.

  Oh, God, what if Pachis has changed his mind and simply decided to throw me overboard?

  My heart speeds up, and my palms are clammy as I wipe them on my silk-clad thighs. I wore a dress to this supposed party, and it makes me more vulnerable than these two men in their trousers and shirts. Damned women’s clothing. No wonder we often struggle to get away from danger, with stupid restrictive skirts, dresses, and high heels. Our clothes bind us, I realize. Maybe it’s why I’ve always felt most at home in loose pants or shorts, a t-shirt, and a backpack?

  “I don’t know,” Yannis says with a frown as he glances around the deck.

  Pachis comes onto the deck, his face drawn. “Engines are dead, think it’s a fuel leak or something.. Not sure I can fix it.”

  “You fucking better fix it,” Yannis says, almost lazy in his tone.

  Pachis bristles and rakes his fingers through his floppy hair. “I wasn’t the one who said no staff, remember? You were the one who insisted none of my staff could be here, and who insisted that your staff would be the ones to man the boat, and then they would all leave so we could get Stella to your island to write her tome. Why the fuck didn’t you let us keep someone on board who could run this thing?”

  Yannis moves so quickly it takes me a second to process. One moment he’s sitting next to me, limbs relaxed, and the next he’s up in Pachis’ face, the man’s shirt twisted around his fist.

  He pushes the smaller man up against the wall of the inner deck and grinds out, “Fix the fucking engines, we need this little lady to call her friend and tell her all is well. This is your boat. I assumed you’d have it in perfect working order; it’s hardly a long trip.”

  We languish there for what feels like hours as both Yannis and Pachis take turns trying to fix the engines. They’re both down there now, trying to mend the damn things. They’ve left me on deck alone, and I could jump in and swim for it, but they know I won’t. It’s dark, and I can’t see the shore. If I head in the wrong direction, I’m dead. Yannis has me bang to rights when he says I’m a wuss. Scared. Useless!

  I bring my phone out of my purse once more, holding it aloft, praying for a signal, but nothing. Ugh.

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I try to warm my skin by rubbing it. Stupid silk dress. Thing might be pretty, but it’s not warm. I could go below deck, but the less time spent in the company of Yannis, the better.

 
; I glance around at the dark ocean and do a double take. Out there in the black depths, I see a light. It’s approaching. Heading this way for sure.

  Oh, God, what if it is the coast guard? Will Yannis attack them? Will there be a gun fight?

  This yacht is old, I think. The doors to the inner deck are old-fashioned, and one of the things I noticed is they have a turnkey lock. Heart hammering, I stand and creep toward the door leading to the inside of the boat. I don’t go on boats, hardly ever, and I have no idea what the terminology for the various parts of this boat are. All I know is the two men are underneath me right now, and they went through this door and into what looks like a seating area, a sort of floating living room, to get to the engine. If I close and lock this door, it will disorientate them, take them longer to get back onto deck, and give me chance to wave that boat down.

  Without thinking, I do it. I grab the key from inside the door, close the door quiet as I can, and use the key that is on the inside to lock it from the outside. Pocketing the key, I rush around the deck to where the boat is approaching. There must be flares or something on this boat, surely. But I can’t see anything, and when I look back to that bright white light, it no longer seems head-on to our position.

  Shit, if they turn, I’m done for. I don’t know what to do, and then it hits me. I grab my phone and swipe up to bring up the torch.

  Holding it out in front of me, I rapidly flick the torch on and off. Surely, they’ll see this?

  For a long, nail-biting few minutes, nothing happens. Then the boat turns toward us. Yes. I don’t know who these people are, but it’s got to be better than the situation I’m in.

  Yannis has promised not to hurt me, but he’s admitted himself, he’s a malignant narcissist, one of the most dangerous personalities there is. Trusting him is like trusting a shark not to bite you.

  As the boat nears, my heart rate starts to pick up once more, but this time with excitement. The engine is loud, but I don’t care, those two bastards will struggle to get out on deck.