Broken Promises

by I. A. Dice

  Instead, I waited for death, while remaining in love with one guy I wanted to love until the end of time. Not that long ago I thought the end of time was far away, somewhere in the distant future, but now it seemed my end of time was looming nearby.

  I sat upright, tearing the cannulas from my arms.

  Dante was looking for me. And not to kill me.

  I jumped out of bed, a sudden injection of strength helped my legs hold my weight. I had to get back to Chicago right now.

  The door to my room opened again, and a doctor walked in, frowning when he saw me out of bed. “Layla, you need to lie down,” he said, getting closer, his hands outstretched as if to catch me.

  “I need to see my cousin. She was in the car with me.”

  He shook his head, grabbing my arms gently. “You can’t leave this room. Get back to bed.”

  Did he think he could keep me here? I just found out there was a bounty on my head and the one person who could keep me safe wanted to do so. No one could keep me here. I had to grab Jean, Taylor, and Rick, and head for Chicago.

  I scanned the room, an abstract plan at the back of my mind. A metal tray sat on the table nearby, calling me. I didn’t stop to think, to consider my predicament; the fact I wore a hospital gown, or that I could barely stand on my own two feet. Dante was all I could focus on.

  I grabbed the tray and swung at the doctor, hitting his head. He went down, swearing under his breath. By the time he managed to scramble back to his feet, I was running barefoot through a bright corridor, passing doors left and right, but aiming for the ones at the far end. Again – I didn’t stop to think that I had no idea where I was going or where to look for Jean.

  The French doors in front of me opened, and a tall man marched through them, a dozen or so men hot on his tail. His eyes widened, and all he had time to do was open his arms before I crashed into him.

  “Whoa, where do you think you’re going birdy?” he chuckled, holding me at arm's length.

  “Let me go,” I tried wriggling out of his grip, but he wouldn’t budge.

  “Howard, what the fuck?” he asked, glancing over my shoulder, and I looked there too.

  The doctor stood outside of my room, massaging a sore spot on his head. “She hit me with a tray,” he complained.

  A murmur of laughter resonated throughout the corridor, and the man in front of me smiled. “Good job, but I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere until Dante gets here.”

  “He’s coming?” Hope made a reappearance.

  “Oh, he’s coming, alright. He’s on his way, and my task is to keep you safe until he arrives, so do me a favor and cooperate.”

  “Who are you?”

  A striking smile took half of his face. “Me? Call me Johnny. And get back to bed.”

  TEN

  DANTE

  After nine hours in the car, two nights without sleep, and two weeks of functioning on coffee, whiskey, and cigarettes, I was exhausted, but I’d run a thousand miles from Chicago to Dallas if Layla waited at the end of the road.

  Rookie still sat behind the wheel, focused as ever, and refusing to let me drive. My phone rang every so often during the night. Blake’s son, Johnny, called twice to report a dead body. Ten hours passed since Layla’s admission to the hospital, and already two hitmen tried their luck in getting to her before me.

  Julij was checking on us every hour too since he stayed up to organize the security detail.

  I glanced at the dashboard and clenched my fists. The fuel gauge slipped into the reserve, and the hospital was still over fifty miles away. I took my cell phone and dialed Nate, who sat behind the wheel of the second Charger.

  “Pull over at the next gas station.”

  “Okay, yeah. We’re almost dry too.”

  He managed to overtake us a few miles back when Rookie’s girl, Jane, called, distracting him from focusing on the road. Nate made it a point of honor to not let Rookie back in the lead. It was his way of staying entertained, and Rookie allowed him a moment of fun. Somewhere behind us was Cai and Jackson.

  We arrived at the station, and Rookie jumped out of the car to stretch his legs.

  “You want anything?” I motioned to the shop.

  “Chewing gum and water,” he said, placing the nozzle in the fuel tank. “Argh, screw it, get me a coffee. Large. And sugar. Lots of sugar.”

  I smirked under my breath. Jane forced him on some fancy cleansing diet, and he’s been torturing himself with homemade salads and lemon infused water.

  Cai pulled up behind us, and the passenger side door opened.

  “I love this car, but next time I’m taking my Range Rover,” Jackson groaned, scrambling out of the Charger. “I didn’t realize how uncomfortable these are for longer journeys.”

  Cai shook his head amused, and looked at me. “He’s been whining like this since Arkansas. Can he ride with you now? I can’t promise I won’t kill him before we get there.”

  Jackson was ruthless, sometimes even sadistic, but he was comically delicate too. He could break half of the bones in a guy’s body with his fist, then walk around with a cold compress for three days, complaining his hand hurt.

  We got back in the cars and just as I anticipated the last thirty miles of the road stretched out like bubble gum. And the closer we got, the more anxious I became about seeing my star again.

  Ten minutes before arriving at the hospital, I rang Johnny so he could meet us outside. He waited by the main entrance, looking like a carbon copy of his father. Just younger.

  “You made up a fair amount of time on the way.”

  Johnny shook my hand when I approach with Spades and Nate on both of my sides, two steps behind.

  “This is Howard. I thought you ought to know how Layla is.”

  Howard moved his weight from one foot to another, staring me in the eyes to showcase confidence. He was older than I expected, probably in his fifties.

  “She’s good. Awake, alert.” He cleared his throat.

  “She’s a feisty one,” Johnny added. “She knocked Howard over his head with a tray when he refused to let her see her cousin.”

  I couldn’t help a smile when my entourage chuckled behind me.

  “Yeah, she’s a handful. I presume her cousin was in the car too? Where is she now?”

  “Jean and two guys. They’re waiting for you in the cafeteria. Kept bugging me all night to let them see Layla, but it’s your call.”

  “Layla first, lead the way.”

  We walked through the sterile corridors, passing doctors and nurses on the way to Layla’s room. My body was like a ticking bomb. I felt heavy, anxious, and overwhelmed with longing at the same time. Dread washed over me when we entered the last corridor.

  Armed men stood in strategic places – by the door, by the window and the emergency exit. With each step closer to Layla more contradicting emotions resurfaced. It’s been fourteen long, torturous days filled with attempts to forget.

  But who was I kidding? The day I realized she meant more than anyone else, I crossed a line, and there was no coming back.

  The smell of gauze and antiseptic hit me when I pulled the handle, and pushed the door open, bracing for a difficult to handle sight, expecting bruises, cuts, tears…

  But the bed was empty.

  Good thing I noticed it before taking the room in as a whole or else the flatlining heart monitor would’ve brought me to my knees.

  The I.V. stand stood by the bed. A cannula laid on the sheets stained with a few drops of blood. An open travel bag was tucked underneath a chair to the right, and a steaming paper cup of coffee stood on the nightstand. Of course. Layla couldn’t start a day without a dose of caffeine. It must’ve been the first thing she asked Howard to get her this morning.

  I was about to turn around and ask Johnny where the hell she was when a door on my right, partially hidden behind a room divider stood open, and Layla emerged from what must’ve been a bathroom.

  She froze, fear clearly visible in those b
ig, gray eyes. Wet hair stuck to her neck and shoulders, falling further down her back, and wetting the white fabric of the V-neck strap vest. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she did her utmost to keep the rest in, to act brave.

  All the tension left my muscles, my body relaxed for the first time since Spades rang to say Delta was on fire. I twitched to move, but she jerked back, startled. Her cheeks flushed pink.

  “Don’t move,” I hissed, taking the first step, and willing her to stay where she was.

  There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Even if she’d lock herself in the bathroom, I’d knock the door down two seconds later.

  I caught her hand, and drew her frail frame to me, wrapping one arm around her back, then moved the other to cup her face. Adrenaline rush hastened my breath. She was thinner than two weeks ago. Cuts and bruises marked every inch of uncovered skin, and she trembled like a timid kitten.

  But it all ceased to matter when our lips connected, and my heart fell back in place.

  She whimpered, choking back the tears, adamant not to showcase any weaknesses. But she couldn’t fool me. I felt her emotions as if they were my own when our lips worked in sync. She let go of fear because she knew I’d take care of it. She knew she was safe with me.

  The one thing she clung to was guilt. Every touch of her fingertips on my skin, every look, and every kiss was designed to show how much she cared and loved me, so I wouldn’t dare doubt her.

  I didn’t. Not for a moment.

  “Don’t leave me again,” I whispered into her mouth before losing any inhibitions I hoped to have.

  The kiss turned greedy, forceful. Layla’s hands rested on my neck as we fought to say with the kiss what neither of us knew how to say with words. I broke away first, pressing my forehead to hers, stroking her cheeks with my thumbs.

  “Never leave me.”

  Her absence was the one thing I couldn’t handle. The hell I refused to endure again.

  “I promise. And I’m sorry,” she uttered, biting on her lip.

  “I know…”

  “No, you don’t.” She tried to take a step back, but I held her flush against me, not ready to let go. Her eyes fell to the floor, and the atmosphere thickened. “I’m not apologizing for following Frank’s orders. And I won’t,” she glanced at my confused face, tears dancing in her eyes. “I don’t regret what I did.”

  “Then what are you apologizing for?” I stepped back, my shoulders tensing.

  It made little sense, but I wasn’t any closer to hating her than two minutes ago.

  She clung to me again, desperate to make me stay. “I’m sorry I doubted that you loved me enough to forgive me.”

  Trembling fingertips dug into my jaw and Layla rose on her toes. A forceful, lustful kiss followed igniting my senses despite her confession. There was no resisting the urgency of her lips, the guilt radiating off of her in almost tangible waves.

  “I love you,” she whispered, grazing her nose across my cheek. “I hate what I’ve done to you, but I don’t regret agreeing to help Frank. Otherwise, I’d be regretting meeting you, loving you…”

  I didn’t let her finish, kissing the confession of her mouth so she couldn’t take it back. The remnants of doubt faded away, leaving no trace, no proof that I ever wondered if she was worth fighting for.

  And she still had it – the ability to turn the asshole in me to a soft toy. No wonder I fell for her. Instead of wishing to turn back time, refuse to help Frank and ensure a death sentence wouldn’t hang over her head, she was confident that I was worth what Frank had thrown at her.

  “I’m taking you home, star. But first, I want to talk to your cousin and her friends about what happened last night.”

  She nodded, looking defeated. “Morte was here, he told me about the hit,” her voice broke, but she shook her head, and straightened up. “Some family I’ve got.”

  “Morte?”

  My palms grew damp. I hadn’t once considered him to be the promoter. He was a ghost of the past, absent from my life for over six years.

  Layla moved away, taking a seat on the bed. “What’s the plan? You can’t possibly think you can kill everyone who tries their luck.”

  Watch me.

  I crouched beside her, taking her hands in mine. “I’m here now, and this is when you stop worrying. I’ll take care of it. No one will touch you, star.”

  I’d crawl out of my skin to make sure she was safe. The intensity of my feelings was scary. Just as the immensity of power, the petite cutie held over me.

  She smiled a weak, forced smile, hinting she didn’t quite believe I’d be able to close the hit. Too bad, she had no idea what I was capable of.

  Twelve years – twelve long years, I’ve been involved with Mafia, and the list of my sins was ever-growing. Since day one, I had one substantial advantage over Dino’s people. They were all clever, crafty, and loyal. They all followed orders and respected the hierarchy.

  But there was one thing that distinguished me from them. Something that made me invincible, unstoppable – I had nothing to lose.

  All of Dino’s men had something that could’ve been used against them. Be it a girlfriend, a wife, or a child – they were all easy to blackmail. They had to be cautious.

  The one person in my life I cared about to some extent was my mother, but I didn’t think highly of her back then. She was a mess after my father had left her.

  Depression consumed her whole, and she dived into work to keep sane, spending as much time away from home as possible. She used to leave on tours for weeks at a time, and whenever she was back in New York, she busied herself with social meetings, composing, or shopping.

  It was as if both of my parents abandoned me, and I had to grow up fast. Not an easy task when you’re a sixteen-year-old spoiled brat with an ego the size of Illinois. A stereotypical college douchebag – rich; captain of a football team; sleeping around with the whole cheerleading squad.

  That was until I left New York for Chicago, moving in with my uncle – Carlton’s father.

  Ruled by hormones, needing an outlet for the pent up rage I was a lethal weapon in Dino’s hands – greedy, untouchable, and careless. There wasn’t a task I wouldn’t fulfill. Not a job I’d refuse.

  Until Layla.

  I was in trouble the minute I saw her. I knew I’d happily let her wrap me around her finger. Something I used to mock punched me right in the gut – feelings. A whole magnitude of them.

  Three months down the line and Layla was it for me. The one thing I could be blackmailed with.

  All those years I pitied the fools who fell in love, making themselves vulnerable. But vulnerability wasn’t a flaw. The need to take caution with my actions didn’t weaken me. It made me stronger, smarter.

  A faint knock on the door made Layla jump.

  “Come in,” she said, draping the damp hair over one shoulder, eyeing the door, a pink glow on her cheeks.

  Spades walked in and stopped two steps in. He sized Layla up, his face unreadable for a few seconds, making Layla squirm under his piercing gaze. Then a small smile made an entrance.

  “Hey, girl. Glad to see you’re okay.”

  Two wrinkles appeared on her forehead as if she couldn’t understand why Spades didn’t seem angry.

  “Remember what I told you when you ditched the lectures, and I found you in the cafe?” he asked but didn’t give her time to recall that afternoon.

  I, on the other hand, found the answer I searched for. That very afternoon was when my protectiveness over Layla spiraled out of control. I remembered standing outside of the university building, flicking through my phone, checking recent emails, and growing impatient.

  The crowd of students thinned, and soon enough, the courtyard was empty. No Layla in sight. I tried calling her once, twice, and more. No answer.

  Not a single idea as to where she could be, what could’ve happened.

  Cue in dark scenarios – kidnapped, raped, dead.

  My mind went into o
verdrive, cold hands gripped my throat, and the tiny possibility of Layla being hurt destroyed my composure.

  I remembered dialing Spades’s number, and the tension in my voice, back, and throat. The rope tightening around my chest. It was irrational, foreign. I never felt or acted so out of character before. But I also never felt anything remotely close to what I felt for Layla, and the sudden onset of fear was both – justified and infuriating.

  “It stands,” Spades continued, watching Layla with a smirk. “Dante still has hay instead of a brain when you’re not around, so be a doll and don’t leave his sorry ass again. Deal?”

  He was right. I really couldn’t deal with reality knowing Layla wasn’t mine. The fourteen days without her were a blur of pain, regret, and self-loathing.

  Layla nodded, relief flooding her sad, tired eyes. “Deal.”

  “Now,” Spades glanced at me, and for a second looked ready to ask me to step outside, but decided against it. “I sent Nate to speak to Layla’s cousin, but she’s threatening him with death if he doesn’t let her come here, and refused to speak to anyone but you.”

  I squeezed Layla’s hand, then pressed a kiss to her forehead before rising to my feet.

  “Stay with her,” I told Spades, heading out of the room. “And get Howard to check her over again. Thoroughly.”

  He smirked, shaking his head, but kept whatever he wanted to say to himself. I walked out of the room. Before following Nate to the cafeteria, I took the emergency exit and stopped on the staircase to call Morte – the son of a bitch I used to consider a friend.

  Frank, Morte and I were Dino’s main entourage for almost four years. Morte was like Luca – a skilled and merciless killer. He and I took care of the dirty work, although the list of my sins was substantially shorter than his. I’ve seen him murder at least a hundred people.

  He was there the night Dino died. He helped Frank and me and then went his own way. I had no idea he and Frank remained in touch all those years.

  “Dante Carrow,” Morte said, answering so fast I had a feeling he waited for my call. “Took you long enough to figure it out. Although I guess you didn’t really, did you? Layla told you I paid her a visit?”