The Pledge: Mafia Vows

by SR Jones

  I’m not messing around when I tell her she needs to come with me. She’s not safe. She’s also not smart when it comes to the big bad world, and she needs someone to protect her. To guide her. The thought of which has me so hard I could burst. It’s wrong, but the idea of teaching Stella about the big bad world, with lessons in braille, is too damn tempting.

  I want to be her teacher, in all things. God knows why. I shouldn’t. I tell myself over and over I’m the guy who doesn’t want a relationship, but with her … maybe I do. Possibly a fucked-up kind of relationship, but one, nonetheless. Certainly, I possess an almost overwhelming need to keep her safe.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out to see Damen’s number light up the screen. “Yeah.”

  “Don’t bring Stella here,” he says, no preamble.

  “What? Why?”

  “The dude who is after her? Seems he’s in Athens. It doesn’t mean he knows anything. After all, his lover lived half an hour from here, but it might mean he knows something. I don’t think you should bring her back.”

  I look around at the shithole she’s staying in and wince as a pounding bass starts up somewhere down the road. Christ, it’s not even mid-day. “Friend, we cannot stay here.”

  “Go to Andrius.”

  “What?”

  “Take her to Corfu. To Andrius. He’s got guys there, as you know. He always has two or three men on duty around his home out there, and he’s got security cameras, that guard dog, and Christ knows what else. Take her there. Stay there until we tell you it is safe to come home.”

  I sigh and run a hand through my longer than usual hair. “Fine. I’ll take her there. How’s Maya? Can she still sit down?”

  I’m joking, but when I told Damen that his wife had been keeping information from him regarding Stella’s phone calls, his face had darkened.

  Damen gives a deep chuckle. “Not decided what to do about her little transgression yet.”

  She lied to him by omission, by not telling him Stella had been calling her. It could have put Maya in danger too, and if there’s one thing guaranteed to drive Damen nuts, it’s Maya putting herself in harm’s way.

  I was the one who found out about Stella’s calls, and when I saw the unmarked number come up on Maya’s phone and put two and two together, I ran a trace, and here I am.

  If Stella had changed her name, I doubt I’d have found her so easily, but in yet another sign of her naivete , she dyed her hair, but kept her name the same. Once I’d tracked the signal on the phone to within a couple of kilometers, I only had to go around asking if anyone had seen a girl called Stella, and showing her photo before I came up with an answer as to her whereabouts.

  “Take it easy on Maya. She’s loyal.” I can’t believe I’m sticking up for her, but I like the girl.

  He laughs. “You know full well she’ll get around me in five seconds flat. Anyway, if I put her over my knee, she’d probably enjoy it.”

  Too much information.

  And then I get images of me doing exactly that to Stella. Would she enjoy it? I would. I like nothing more than turning a pretty ass pink, but Stella? She’s most likely not into anything like that. I bet she’s so vanilla. I can be vanilla for her, but for how long? Would I get bored?

  Damen’s deep chuckle reminds me I’m still on the phone with the over-sharing bastard.

  “Okaaaay. Well, I’m going. I’ll be in touch when we reach Andrius’ place. Later.”

  “God be with you.”

  I hang up the phone without a reply and sit on the bed, looking around the sparse room. It strikes me as odd that Stella would come somewhere like this. Somewhere full of people and crowds when she doesn’t like them. I know, I’ve watched her. She’s not the confident young woman she first appears to be.

  The door to the bathroom clicks, and she walks out. She’s put the clothes on she ran in there with, but she’s also done something to her hair and slapped bright makeup on. Her pink lips are bold against her olive skin. She looks sinful. Knowing. She looks the polar opposite of what she is.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  Her mouth pulls down in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

  “Why the hair, the lipstick … why here? You don’t like crowds.”

  “No,” she says. “You’re not quite right in your assessment of me, Mr-Know-It-All. I don’t like scrutiny. I hate having to stand up and speak in front of groups of people or make polite conversation when I’m feeling anxious. Here … here, I can get lost in the crowds. They’re mostly drunk, and they never stay. They are tourists, and at the moment, workers for the most part who come and go each season. The Greek owners are far too interested in making sure the police don’t fine them for playing music too loudly, or in counting their cash at the end of the night to care much about their staff. So long as I do my job well, am friendly and polite, it works for me here. I simply blend in.”

  “You must get noticed, though. Looking the way you do.”

  Her mouth pulls up at one side, a smile threatening. “Are you saying you’re starting to like my hair?”

  “I don’t like it as much as your natural hair, but I suppose it is kind of sexy.”

  “How are we getting back to Athens?” she asks as she scoops up a bag from underneath the bed and opens it on top of the covers.

  “We’re not.”

  “What?” She stops what she’s doing and turns to me.

  “Change of plan. You said you don’t want to go home, right? You like traveling around. We’re going to Corfu. To see Andrius.”

  Her face pales. “Oh, no. He scares me.”

  “No need to worry. His lady is there with him. He’s totally pussy whipped … er, he, erm, you’ll like her.” I trail off lamely.

  “Pussy whipped?” She purses her lips. “I hate that term.”

  “It’s probably a bit misogynistic, sorry.”

  I say the apology, which is completely unlike me, because I don’t want a row, but I also genuinely don’t want to offend her.

  “No, it’s not that. It is sexist, but more … I think it’s … childish. Like there’s this idiotic idea of how a real man behaves, and any guy who loves a woman is whipped. It’s bullshit.” She flushes but pushes on. “It takes more manliness and guts to admit you have feelings for another human being than it does to go around posing and preening and pretending to be a hard man.”

  I stare at her. “You think I pose and preen?”

  “No, not you. Just the kind of guys in general who go around saying these things.”

  “I just said that thing.”

  “Yes, and you’re better than that, so you shouldn’t ought to say it, should you?”

  With those words, she proceeds to turn around and haphazardly throws things into the open bag. Either Stella is dreadfully messy, or she doesn’t care all that much for material things because her clothes are tossed in, all mussed and crinkled. I resist the urge to take them out and fold them.

  Instead, I tell her I’ll be outside, waiting, and I head out into the living room area and onto the tiny balcony beyond.

  Bringing up ferry and flight times on my phone, I try to figure out the best way to get to Corfu. We’re going to be traveling about as far as you can within Greece. I want to avoid Athens, but doing so will mean a long and messy journey via car, ferry, and maybe even bus. I don’t want Stella’s name showing up on flight lists, though.

  Fuck it. I take out my phone and call in a huge favor. It’s one that will mean I owe a very nasty man, but I’m happy to make the trade if it means some sick people-trafficking fuck has no idea where Stella is for the next few weeks.

  We won’t be able to leave until this evening because the man I spoke to needs four hours to prepare her new ID.

  I step from the already warm and bright morning back into the coolness of the living area. Stella’s roommate is nowhere to be seen, and I wonder if she’s made herself scarce or is hiding in her room.

  Once I have the new ID
for Stella, I can book flights and get us off this damned island. In the meantime, I once more swipe across my phone and search my contacts. Seeing Andrius, I hit the call button.

  “Yes?” he answers on the second ring.

  “Can I come and stay for a few weeks? It’s the girl, Stella, the one who got beaten. She’s in some trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “The people trafficking kind. Nothing to do with any of the shit going down with us; well, it started that way, but… Fuck, it’s complicated. Can we come?”

  “Da. But you better not bring the trouble with you.”

  “We won’t. I’m getting her a name change as we speak.”

  “Okay. Don’t go bringing shit our way. I have one very pregnant wife, and I don’t want her upset. I let you come because you are like a brother to me, but I don’t need hassle right now.”

  “Wife?” The last I heard they were engaged.

  “Yes, we tied the knot.”

  I don’t say anything. I’m surprised he didn’t invite me.

  I think my silence tells him as much.

  He sighs. “It was just us, Levi, Justina and her lady. We kept it as small as possible because Violet wanted it that way.”

  “Hey, no worries, man. I’m pleased for you.” It makes me laugh that he included his dog as a guest at their wedding. Guy is getting soft as butter.

  He chuckles. “Thank you. I tell you, Violet is the best thing to happen to me. You need love, Alesso. I tell you, it changes everything for the better.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. I’m not really the settling down type.”

  Fucking liar, an internal voice chides. You came here to fetch this little lost girl home with you; what the fuck do you call that?

  “You keep on as you are, and you’ll be some old man drinking in a bar full of people in their twenties, while all your friends are at home and happy.” He gives a dark laugh. “How do the English say it? Oh, yes, a sad sack.” He laughs, as if he’s fucking hilarious.

  I merely grunt. “As I say, I won’t be following you old men into domestic bliss anytime soon.”

  He mutters something in Russian. “What?” I ask.

  “Marriages are made in heaven, my friend. It means, God decides. If you meet her, you meet her. If not, you will be the old, sad man. Higher forces than us decide these things.”

  “Oh, God, you and Damen with the religious shit. Stop it already. I’ll see you in a few hours, friend, and please, no more Russian proverbs. I can’t take it.”

  “Okay, but I tell you this then. Every time with Violet is still more exciting than the countless, faceless women from before. Still. She challenges me, and the challenge is … intoxicating.”

  “What is it with you and Damen? Firstly, the religious shit, then with the too much information. I don’t wish to know.”

  He laughs as he hangs up the phone, and I find myself grinning. It will be good to spend some time with him. And to see Violet again.

  She’ll be quite far along in her pregnancy now. The idea of having kids scares me to death, but it’s something I’ve thought about more since Andrius and Violet told me their news.

  It still scares me, though. I’ve seen too much. The terror and the hate humans can inflict on one another. The state the world is in. None of these things make me want to inflict the horror of the human condition on a new, innocent life.

  Intellectually, I know it’s a good thing not everyone feels the same way, or the human race would die out. Emotionally, though? I don’t want to be personally responsible for bringing someone into this world. It’s a cold and cruel place, and life is hard.

  God, sometimes I depress myself.

  My mother would love it if I settled down and had a family because my sister sure as shit won’t be. She doesn’t want kids, never has. Her life is her career and her partner, and she’s happy with that. She might change her mind, though, because if anyone had told me Andrius would be happy to become a father, I’d have laughed until I cried.

  Still, he isn’t cold with Violet, so the bastard can feel things. And he loves that damn dog of theirs, so there is hope for his cold heart.

  Is there hope for my dark one?

  We’ve had to hang around in Malia all day, so I’ve taken Alesso on a tour of the few bars open in the day this early in the season. He seems to hate it here.

  “Don’t you like clubbing?” I ask him, then add jokingly, “Too old for it now?”

  He narrows his eyes at me and takes a swig of the light beer he’s nursing. He says he wants to keep his wits about him, so no heavy drinking for him. “I go clubbing in Athens sometimes, but if I go clubbing, I have a reason.”

  “What reason?”

  He stares at me, and his mouth twitches as if not sure whether to speak or not.

  “Spit it out,” I tell him.

  “Either to drink too much brandy and forget everything, or … find a woman and forget everything.”

  I try to hide my flinch at his words. I asked, didn’t I? But the idea of him trawling for sex with strangers hurts me. I don’t know why, but it does.

  “You find strange women and have sex with them?” I poke at the wound like the idiot I am.

  “Sometimes.” He sighs, looks out to the street, and then fixes me with his far too pretty blue eyes. “I’ve always preferred it that way. I’d never pay for it; who knows if those women really want it. I don’t get men who do that. I don’t want a relationship, but I like sex. What else should I do?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t some men have like … fuck buddies?” I flush at the word. God, I am such a dork. “That sounds better than nameless sex. A friend with benefits.”

  His mouth hardens a little. “I have enough friends, and I don’t need to be spending time with the women I fuck, finding out what their favorite color is, or where they like to eat at.”

  Wow. Talk about cold.

  He smirks then. “I suppose you think I’m morally degenerate.”

  “It’s not a question of morals,” I supply. “If both parties want it, then what you’ve been doing isn’t morally wrong. It is, however, empty. Or at least, I see it that way. If I was going to have sex with someone, I’d at least have to like them as a person first.”

  “Did you like surfer boy?” he shoots back.

  Ha, I think, screw you, because yes, I did. “Yes, actually.” I sound so prim. Ugh.

  He leans in close, licks his lips, and lowers his tone. “Do you like me?”

  “No, I think you’re a pig.”

  He clutches his heart as if mortally wounded, and I smile a little at his theatrics.

  A waitress wanders over, an English girl called Katie, and I swear, she does a double take when she sees Alesso.

  “Hey, Stella, who is your friend?”

  Alesso turns to look at her, and I take in what he’s seeing. Blonde hair, natural. Tanned. Slender with what looks like naturally big boobs and curvy hips. Every man’s dream woman basically. Her big blue eyes widen as Alesso checks her out, and she wets her lips.

  “He’s my boyfriend, actually,” I say, and bite back a smile. I can play Alesso at his own game.

  “Is that right?” She arches her brows as if she doesn’t believe that a hunk like him would be with a girl like me.

  “Yes, that’s right.” Alesso turns away from her and winks at me. “Oh, and we’re fine, thanks; we don’t need anything.” He dismisses her without even looking at her.

  When she’s gone, I can’t help asking because it seems I am a glutton for punishment.

  “Is she the type of girl you’d take home for sex?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugs.

  “I bet I’m not.”

  Oh, Lord, what am I doing?

  His gaze slides to me, and he swallows a gulp of his beer. I notice everything about the movement. The way the bottle dangles from his long, tan fingers after he takes the swig. The way his throat works as he swallows, and the quick lick of his lips before h
e starts to speak.

  “No, you’re not.”

  Ouch. I asked, but it hurts. “You’re not a one-night kind of a girl, which is why I’ve been avoiding doing anything with you.”

  Okay, so that doesn’t sound as bad as I thought.

  “What kind of a girl am I?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure you do yet, Stella. But it would be fun finding out together. It would be scary too. Hence the avoidance. But then you went and did something so stupid I couldn’t avoid things any longer.”

  With those words, he picks up his beer, downs the rest of it, and slams it onto the wooden countertop in front of us. “Come on, your new identity awaits.”

  I let him take my hand as he helps me off the stool. I don’t need his help, but I crave his touch. The touch he says he isn’t going to give me unless I make the first move.

  I’m contemplating how many days I think I can hold out, when the image of him wiping the tear from my cheek and sucking the moisture from his thumb pops into my head.

  Yeah, he’s too much.

  I need to rein myself in, and not allow myself to make that first move because if I do… This guy? He’ll take everything I am, and all the things I haven’t become yet. Of that I am sure.

  An hour later, I’m inside a poky little taverna in Heraklion, the island’s capital. I don’t think this place makes any money from being a taverna. Three men are sitting outside, playing backgammon and drinking ouzo, but there are no other customers.

  The man who runs it, however, seems to have a sideline in creating fake IDs. He’s been in the back with Alesso for a while now, and I’m getting nervous. What if something has happened to Alesso? What if that awful man, Simon’s partner, is here, watching me from across the road? I stare out into the bright light of the street, feeling vulnerable and afraid.

  Footsteps behind me have me spinning around to see Alesso.

  “Here you go,” he says, and thrusts a passport and driver’s license into my hand. I take them and look.

  Dimitra Iona. Not bad. I turn to him and smile. “You picked a good name.”