The Promise: Mafia Vows Two

by SR Jones

  That shit is down to Stamatis and how widely he wants to burn his path of vengeance.

  “And Yannis was in this alone, not with the help of his father.”

  “His father knew nothing. He’s as weak and stupid as my own, so why would we tell him? The whole point was for myself, Yannis, and the Nyx to gain power from our fathers and take some of their business.”

  The Nyx are deadly as fuck, but they have made a mistake in doing this. They believed what were probably lies and exaggerations from two coked-up idiots who never had to work for anything they had in their lives. As far as one percenter clubs go, the Nyx are amongst the most notorious, but I doubt they’ll want to take on someone as globally connected and deadly as the likes of Stamatis, Andrius, and Allyov.

  “You think your father will simply forgive you for this?” I ask, breaking into Andrius’ interrogation and earning myself an annoyed glare from my Ukrainian friend.

  “Yes. I mean, he’s going to make me pay.” Costas sniffs again. “Probably shove me in rehab and make me do a ton of shitty jobs for the next two years, but he’s not got much choice. He’s my father.”

  “And yet, you tried to dethrone him, did you not?” Andrius says. “Just now, you described him as weak.”

  Costas snorts and sighs. “He has been weak. I want to try to repair things, though, but he’s got to change too. He betrayed my mother. Slept with his brother’s wife. He committed sin after sin. He isn’t innocent. If he’d been a better father, perhaps I’d have grown to be a better son. We’ve both fucked up, and now we both have to work together. Find a way forward.”

  “You know what the ancients did to those uppity children of theirs who tried to take their place?”

  Another sigh.

  “Well, Cronus ate his children rather than let them take his empire. So, what do you think your father might do to you, for not only trying to take his place, but by defiling his true love, and his daughter, and planning to harm his other child?”

  “You exaggerate what happened and what was planned,” Costas says with a sneer.

  Andrius backhands him, fast and sharp, Costas’ head flying backward before he rights himself.

  “You’ll pay for that, you Russian shitter.”

  “Jesus Christ, how many times do I have to tell people. I’m Ukrainian.” Andrius hits him again, and I wince. He promised Stamatis one thing—to make this quick.

  “Technically,” I say, getting Andrius’ attention so he doesn’t get in a third slap. “You’re both. And let’s move this along. We made a promise to Stamatis, remember?”

  Andrius nods, and his mouth twists in disgust. “I wish I hadn’t made such a promise.”

  “Yep, well, you did, and I have told you everything, so come on. Untie me.” Costas seems to have made a fatal mistake so far as his understanding of the promise Andrius and I are discussing. Clearly, he thinks it means we promised to let him walk away, when in fact we only promised to make his death quick.

  He turns to look at Maya and smirks. “Sorry, but you’re going to have to deal with having me back in your life, sister dearest.”

  I too find myself wishing Andrius hadn’t made his promise not to drag this out, but he did, and we’re men of our word.

  “I didn’t make the promise you think I did, Costas.” Andrius smiles, and it’s as cold as the Arctic wind. He walks a few feet away from Costas and shakes his head at the sniffling, smirking idiot.

  Andrius takes out his gun and aims. I hope he’s got a suppressor on there to muffle the sound.

  “Last chance,” I murmur to Maya, but she doesn’t move. I grab her hand and squeeze tight.

  Costas’ arrogant sneer fades as he looks around the room. “You’re kidding me. You can’t do this, my father will kill you. Damen, come on. Alesso? Fuck, you guys have known me for years. Tell this Russian he can’t do this.”

  “Your father gave me permission,” Andrius says.

  It’s cold to do that. To tell Costas his father sanctioned his death. But that’s Andrius. He won’t stop if you’re in his crosshairs, for anything or anyone … except for Violet. She can stop him. The same way Maya can stop me. Our women are both our greatest strength and our biggest weakness. I wouldn’t change things, though; I realize with some shock as I relish the warmth of Maya’s small hand in mine as the awful scene unfolds in front of us.

  Costas’ mouth falls open, and he draws in a deep breath before he begins to scream and thrash in his chair.

  Andrius sighs at the dramatics and double taps him in the chest.

  The boom from the guns being fired shocks Maya, because her body jerks next to me in time to each loud reverberation.

  Costas’ body jerks too, much more violently three, four times, then he slumps. Andrius strolls to him, casual as fuck, and puts his fingers to his neck.

  “He’s gone.”

  Maya sags, and I catch her as she goes down. Shit. I knew she shouldn’t have seen this.

  “Thank, God,” she says as she starts to cry. “Thank God he’s dead.”

  Okay, so maybe I once again misunderstood where she was coming from. I cradle her to me and hold her up as she cries against my chest. Her tears are soaking through my clothes, but I don’t care.

  Reece walks over to Andrius and Costas’ body, looks at the kill, shrugs, and says, “I’d have double tapped him to the head myself.”

  “Yes, and you British men were only taught such things because your guns were so useless,” Andrius rejoins.

  They start bickering about who had the worst weapons, the Soviets or the Brits, but I’ve tuned them out and am focusing on Maya.

  The girl is shivering, and she needs to go home.

  I don’t feel too great myself, and wonder if I’m getting sick. I hardly ever do, and now would be lousy timing, but I definitely don’t seem to be on top form. My head aches, and my throat is dry.

  We get to the car, and I open the passenger side for Maya. She looks at me, throws her arms around me, and gives me a huge hug. It’s warm, and it feels a lot like home.

  “Take me home,” she says softly.

  I do as she asks, after saying a profuse set of thanks to Andrius and Reece. We’ll probably see a bit more of Andrius going forward now he’s been dragged back into all this to some degree.

  I climb into the car and glance at Maya who looks fit to drop. As I guessed, after about five minutes, she falls asleep. The stress and the tension have probably left her, and I’d bet good money she’s about to get a massive comedown from all of this. She’ll need watching for a few days, because times like this are when people can do crazy things. The adrenaline goes, and it leaves you with an emptiness and a sinking knowledge of the crushing reality of what you have lost. I should know.

  We reach home, and I jolt to realize I’ve thought of Yaya’s place in such a way, instead of a den for all my worst nightmares. It will be a home, though, if Maya and I make it one. Perhaps even have kids one day. It’s not something I’ve ever thought much about before, but now … now the idea is starting to … if not appeal, not completely terrify me.

  “Hey sleepyhead,” I say as I gently nudge her awake.

  I’ve come around to her side of the car and unclick her seatbelt as I lift her into my arms. She snuggles into my neck, her puffs of breath against my skin there making something wild in my heart beat hard and true.

  Another car pulls up, and Alesso and Reece step out.

  “Has our Ukrainian friend left already?” I ask.

  “Yep, gone back to his pregnant lady. He’s worried in case there is any sort of retaliation attempt for taking Costas out.”

  “From who?” I ask as I climb the steps, still cradling my sleepy, warm woman.

  I’m shocked when I have to pause to take an extra breath. Maya weighs nothing compared to some of the packs I’ve carried on my back during my service, sometimes for days or weeks on end. Jesus, I need to hit the gym again.

  “I doubt the Pappas family will want a wider war,
so either Yannis is out on his own, or if he wants to try to fix things with his father, he’ll need to toe the line.” I am talking as I carry Maya, and it winds me a little. Disgusted at my seeming lack of fitness, I push on. “The Nyx? Doubt they want a war either. Not with Costas gone now, and their attempt to take us out at the cemetery failing so spectacularly. They have to know they’re in Stamatis’ sights now, and he’s going to need to publicly make them pay for their part in this, if not now, for sure if they make one more wrong move. They are powerful in their own corner of the world, but they don’t have the resources or firepower we do. And law enforcement will most decidedly take our side against them. I think they’ll be keeping a very low fucking profile.”

  “I agree,” Alesso says. “You never know, though, and Andrius is a paranoid bastard.”

  It’s as if we’re trying to convince ourselves all will be okay now. The reassuring words spill out, but they’re heavy and ashen. Lies, I know deep down. This isn’t all over by a long shot.

  We enter the silent house. The dining room is groaning with fine food laid out on the huge table, and enough wine to get two hundred people heavily drunk. No one is here. The scene at the cemetery put paid to any idea of a gathering to celebrate Marina’s life. Another way for Costas to tarnish her memory.

  Carrying Maya to the sofa, I place her on it, taking care to make her comfortable. She sighs, and her eyes droop closed again as she once more falls into sleep.

  Heading into the kitchen, I motion for Alesso to join me. Liam and Reece both trudge up the stairs together. I presume they’ll be packing up and heading off back to Britain sooner rather than later now that things seems to be settling down here. Andrius has apparently told his Spetsnaz men to stay for as long as Alesso and I feel they are needed, and to provide whatever support we ask for.

  I go to the fancy coffeemaker and switch it on. I need a cup of something strong, and I’d prefer a glass of Johnnie Walker, but I want to keep my head clear.

  “So … the other day with Stamatis was a surprise, eh?” Alesso sits at the table and looks at me.

  “Yeah.” I keep my voice neutral.

  I wonder where the hell Markos is and take my phone out to call him, when he appears in the doorway.

  “I swear sometimes, I think you’re psychic,” I tell him.

  “Why?” he asks.

  “Because you often appear when I’m thinking about you,” I tell him.

  He shrugs and heads to the chair next to Alesso, which he slumps into, and takes out his worry beads, the incessant clacking starting up.

  “I suppose we need to talk about what we’re going to do moving forward,” Alesso says. “I doubt you’re going to want to live in the apartment with Maya?”

  “Not really,” I answer, turning to them and leaning against the worktop.

  “So, do we keep it on for just the two of us?” Markos asks Alesso.

  “You could,” I answer, not waiting for Alesso to speak. “Or … you could both live here. There’s a ton of room. I’m going to get someone in to strip the place out, redecorate from top to bottom, make it modern and spacious. I don’t see the point of you guys shelling out for an apartment in the city center when you could be here. And you’re like brothers to me.”

  Alesso nods, and I swear his throat bobs a little as he swallows thickly. “Thanks, man. Long term, though, I doubt your lady will want us here if you two get all settled into cozy domestic bliss.”

  I snort. “Did you miss the part where my lady turned out to be a bad-ass Mafia Queen in waiting, who is more than happy to step up and stand by my side in this world? You and me, Alesso, we’re going to be targets now, the same way Stamatis is. We need each other, and to be honest, we’ll need more protection. There’s a ton of land with this house, enough to build on, or to extend this property. Stamatis had us, and he also has security who live on his property. I’m thinking we do things a little differently.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Markos scrubs at the scruff at his jaw.

  “Yeah. How about we offer those guys of Andrius’ a permanent role with us, and also reach out to other ex-Special Forces? We know we can trust them, brothers under the skin, right?”

  Alesso nods.

  I carry on. “You guys live in the house with us, for now, and we’ll look into getting some more accommodation built on the land here. It means if either of you settle down, you’ll have space to call your own, but we’ll all be together, watching one another’s backs.”

  “You know.” Markos leans forward. “It makes sense. What makes the bikers so strong, gangs like the Nyx, is the fact they have a compound they all live in, and they have one another’s backs completely. Do you know the FBI find it harder to crack outlaw biker gangs than any other kind? Because they have a code and loyalty like no other. We could build something like that here. If we each had our own place, and then built accommodation for the men helping guard us, also on the grounds, and hired ex-military to work with us, we’d be recreating what those gangs have going for them, but in our own way.”

  “Yep, and we create loyalty by paying the men good wages and giving them a roof over their heads. There’s enough room to build five or six apartments around the back of the land, and there’s already two big disused garages there. We could convert those first into somewhere for Andrius’ guys to live. They have an apartment each, we build a games room, a communal living area, and they each have their own place with a bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and small den.” As I talk, I realize I’m fired up over the idea.

  “We can use Andrius and his connections to employ ex-Russian Special Forces. Those guys will live like kings here compared to life back home.” Markos clacks his beads as he talks. “They will be loyal to Andrius, and therefore loyal to us. We keep a tight ship, very tight. Us three, the men we employ, we are a team, a gang of our own, if you like.”

  “Fucking hell. It makes sense.” Alesso shakes his head. “A lot of sense. I like what you said, Markos, about us recreating for ourselves the very thing that makes gangs like the Nyx so strong.”

  I smile at Markos. That’s his genius, his superpower if you like. He doesn’t say a lot, but when he does speak, it’s worth taking the time to listen.

  “So, bit of a shock for you two when Stamatis offered you a seat at the top table, huh?” Markos brings up the meeting, and I’m struck by guilt. These men are planning to lay down their lives in defense of me and mine if needed. They want us to build something here, together, and yet, I’m keeping information from them.

  “I already knew,” I blurt out my confession. I hadn’t meant to tell them like this, but between my fuzzy head, the chills starting to wrack my body, and the nausea eating away at me, I need this convo over sooner rather than later. I’ll tell them and then take myself off to bed for a few hours.

  “Excuse me?” Alesso shoots me a puzzled glance.

  “I knew what was going to happen. Well,” I elaborate, “it didn’t turn out quite as expected, because Stamatis clearly changed his mind, but … I read an email from him to Allyov saying he wanted to ask me to step up. He stated that as Maya’s husband, and one of his most trusted men, it made sense to offer me the position. Clearly, between the email being sent and the meeting, he had second thoughts, and offered it to both of us.” I indicate between myself and Alesso, then add, “Which I am pleased about, I hasten to add. Feels right this way.”

  “You knew?” Maya’s voice has me turning to the doorway.

  “Yeah,” I shrug. “I was going to tell you too.”

  “When?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When did you know?”

  I frown because I can’t recall. “I can’t remember, why?”

  “Think,” she snaps, and it’s angry.

  What the hell? I might enjoy her feisty side, but sometimes it gets too much.

  “A few days ago,” I answer.

  “Oh, I see now. It’s all suddenly very clear.”

  Alesso clears his throat and make
s to stand, but she holds her hand up. “Oh, no. No need to leave, after all, we’re one big, happy family, aren’t we?”

  “Maya, what’s gotten into you?” I don’t need this. Not tonight. Not when my head is pounding, and my throat is getting worse by the minute.

  “You found out my father wanted to invite you in as his second, right before you told me you loved me?”

  Oh, shit. I can see where she’s going with this, and she’s so wrong. So very wrong.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Maya

  Damen pushes himself off the counter and walks toward me. He’s big and menacing, but I won’t let him intimidate me, not this time.

  “Oh, no, you aren’t going to stop me from speaking my mind by being your big, bad self.” I put my hands on my hips. “It’s all a bit convenient, isn’t it? My father decides to make you a huge part of his empire, partly I am sure, because we’re married. And you suddenly have a conversion to being the sort of guy who can tell a girl he loves her?”

  “Maya.” His voice is a warning rumble. “You’re emotional and over tired, and you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, so you ought to shut up.”

  He wipes at his face, and I notice he’s sweating. It’s not warm enough for him to be sweating, and I realize I still hoped he’d prove himself to me, prove my initial reaction was wrong, but his manner, his blinking eyes, the sweat—they all point to a liar.

  Disappointment hits me hard. I thought a lot of things of Damen, but him being a weak liar wasn’t one of them.

  “God, I am such a fool,” I cry.

  “Yeah, you are, because you still don’t trust me, and I am done with being the receptacle for you to pour all the issues you have with father figures into. If you can’t trust me, we’re fucking finished.”

  I see red. The arrogant bastard. He’s trying to finish it with me?

  He goes to push past me, but I stop him with my hand on his chest. “Oh, no. You don’t get to be the one to call the shots here, again. To take the damn high ground.”