Page 32 of Broken Promises
“Stay with Layla until I’m back. Get Mark to check her over again.Thoroughly.” I start in the direction of the door but don’t make it far. Layla holds onto my jacket, keeping me in place. I turn back to kiss her head. “Give me fifteen minutes, Star.”
Reluctantly, she opens her fingers, letting me leave. I’ll have to work on her insecurities, whatever they might be, because this version of Layla doesn’t fucking suit her.
Before I follow Nate to the cafeteria where Jean waits, I take the emergency exit, stepping out onto the staircase. Slim chance this will work, but it’s worth a shot. I pull out my phone, scrolling through the contact list toMso I can call the son of a bitch I considered a friend long ago.
For four years, Morte, Frank, and I were Dino’s main entourage. Morte was like Luca—a skilled, merciless killer. We took care of the dirty work together, although the list of my sins is substantially shorter than his. I witnessed him murder at least a hundred people. He was there the night Dino died, too, then went his own way. I had no idea he stayed in touch with Frank all those years.
“Dante Carrow,” he answers so fast I bet he was waiting for my call. “Took you a while to figure it out. Although I guess you didn’t really, did you? You arrived at the hospital half an hour ago, so I bet Layla told you I paid her a visit.”
Son-of-a-bitch. He’s around here somewhere, hidden in the shadows, watching me from a perfect vantage point. He’s probably on his stomach with a sniper rifle to keep him company. Even if I were to send my men out there, they wouldn’t find him. They’d end up dead before they could get near him.
The tone of his voice alone, cheerful and superior, is enough of a clue that this conversation won’t do me any fucking good. It’s pointless. He will not retract the hit.
I’m not surprised. I was perfectly aware of this before I dialed, but... “Ten million. Ten million wired straight to your offshore account inside of an hour if you end this farce.”
“Tempting,” he muses, purring down the line like an obese, lazy cat. “Ten million is a lot of money for one woman. You only met her because Frank wanted your head, heart, and that black soul of yours. What’s so extraordinary about the girl, Dante?” He pauses for a moment, though I doubt he expects me to actually answer the question. I’m not here for his entertainment. “You know you can’t bribe me, my friend. You know that a job is sacred. No one but the principal can retract a hit, but a drowning man clutches a straw, doesn’t he?”
“Frank is gone.” I tighten the hold around my cell. “Layla shouldn’t pay for his obsession.”
“Wrong. She’s not the one who has to pay. You are. She’ll just die while you’ll live knowing she died because of you.” He speaks slowly, no emotion or humanity to his voice or his fucked-up world ruled by a deranged moral hierarchy. “By the way, how could you be so stupid? You’re weak. You’re helpless because of Layla. You can be threatened,blackmailedbecause you’re in love. I thought I taught you better than this.”
My jaw locks painfully, but a cunning smile is there too, begging to be unleashed. Years ago, days after the love of his life, Sandra, left him without a word, Morte and I talked about sentiments, scruples, and love. None of those belong in our world. A woman always complicates business and brings confusion and chaos into a well-organized world.
I never realized the accuracy of that statement until Layla became my priority. Until she took the shine off what I once considered key: power, respect, and money. All became less relevant when she—without my consent—entered my heart to keep it under lock and key.
“You were an easy target for Frank because you fell for his daughter. You did exactly what he wanted. Exactly what heknewyou’d do. You walked right into that one, my friend. Learn from your mistakes because it’s clear that you didn’t learn from mine.”
“Frank commissioned the kill order to get back at me. Why did you agree? What happened tonever threaten a man’s family? She’s your goddaughter. You were there when she was born.”
“And now I’ll watch her die,” he clips with maniacal satisfaction. “It’s quite poetic, don’t you think? I watched her take her first breath, and I sure fucking hope I’ll watch her take the last. Don’t take my involvement in this personally. No hard feelings. This is business, Dante.”
He no longer sounds robotic. I could even risk and say he feels sorry for me. Back in the day, we were close-knit, brothers by choice, but in the face of the hit, the past doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t help me even if I were his biological brother. Even if I gave him all I have. There’s no turning back. There’s only a race.
Who’ll die first?
Morte or Layla?
I draw in a harsh breath. “I’ll see you very soon.”
“My death won’t change a thing.”
True, but I’ll kill him anyway, even if just for the sick satisfaction of making him pay for the one mistake he made in his life—threatening my girl. I cut the call, light a cigarette, and lean against the wall, staring at the opposite wall with a menacing scowl. I need a minute to gather my thoughts, clear my head, and refocus because all I want to do now is run out of the building to find the fucker lurking close by, untraceable. The moment doesn’t last long, ending when Nate shoves his headout the door.
“Jean, Tayler, Rick,” he says, pushing the door open further. “She’s a world-class bitch, Rick’s ex-marine, and Tayler’s afraid of his own shadow.”
I drop the cigarette on the tiled floor, butting it with the heel of my leather shoe. “Lead the way.”
Once in the cafeteria, I have no trouble spotting Jean. Long, messy hair, arms crossed over her chest, and an annoyed expression makes her stand out. She sits out of the way with two guys and three disposable cups on the table in front of them. Over the years, I came to realize my presence alone can straighten people’s backs. Literally. It works on Jean and Tayler, who pull themselves up in their seats, sitting taller, but Rick remains unaffected. Nate doesn’t need to tell me which one he is. I can spot a soldier in any room. They carry themselves with respect and a sense of higher purpose, a superiority of sorts. He must’ve seen his share of gruesome reality by now, so he’s not easily intimidated.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the infamous Dante. Am I right?” Jean waits for confirmation before unleashing her anger. “How thoughtful of you to finally join us. I’ve gone gray waiting. I want to see Layla, and don’t even try to bullshit me about safety measures. We had her back last night. You can’t forbid me from seeing her!” She blows an unruly lock of red hair from her face, chest heaving.
“Wasn’t my intention.” I sit on the last empty chair, sending Nate away to order coffee. “You can say goodbye in a minute, but first, I want to know what happened last night.”
“Goodbye?” Rick asks, hands crossed over his chest. He scrutinizes me, waiting for one false move the way he was taught in the army. I’m not sure what’s going on in his head, though. Does he really think he can take me down? Doubtful. “What do you mean bygoodbye?”
“I’m taking her home.” I keep my tone casual not to enrage either of them any further. They have the information I need. Playing nice is in my best interest. “So? Fill me in.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
