Page 40 of Broken Promises
I look at him with wide eyes, but before I say anything else, Julij turns the key, and the roar of the V8 cuts through the silence. Spades and the rest of the security appear in the half-opened door. Julij revs the engine, winks at me, then slams the pedal to the floor, forcing everyone to flee out of the way as we jump out of the garage.
The sudden change of ground from concrete to gravel throws the back of the car sideways. Julij steers the Challenger out of a most likely intentional oversteer. We gain speed, driving straight at the gate where Dimitri stands with a grave expression. He nods at his boss as we burn past, fitting into the hole between a concrete pillar and the still-opening gate. In the side mirror, I spot Jackson, his gun raised, aimed at our car. Spades jumps in front of him, knocks the pistol out of his hand, then shoves him toward the garage, gesturing and yelling.
“They’re about to chase us,” I say.
My throat constricts with the nerves, accompanied by a hollow feeling in my chest. I’ve always been a rebel, but this time, my rebellion doesn’t result from the desire to give Dante a hard time. I simply don’t believe I’ll live happily ever after. I want a chance to see my mother before I’m dead.
“Of course, they will. Hold on.”
I don’t have time to grab anything. The car turns sideways again when we make a sharp right at a far too high speed. I’m thrown at the door and knock my head against the window.
“Ouch,” I hiss, massaging the sore spot.
“I told you to hold on!”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly prone to taking orders, am I? Apparently not even when they’re supposed to keep me from harm’s way.” I wince, eyes glued to the side mirror.
A moment later, a cacophony of horns filters through the closed windows, ringing in my ears. Traffic ahead veers off to the sides, splitting like the sea.
I brace my legs against the floor, my hands clasped around the door handle. Julij turns a blind eye to every red traffic light on our path, burning through the intersections and ninety-degree corners as if he really is the lead character in a high-budget action movie, escaping imminent death. His blatant disregard for traffic regulations will have us six feet under before the villain can catch up.
“Watch out!” I cry, pressing my back as far into the leather seat as humanly possible, when a truck moves from the right to cross the busy intersection ahead.
Julij slams on the brakes. Tires squeal, filling the car with a stench of rubber and burned brakes. Not even my tight hold on the handle keeps me in place when centrifugal force shoves me forward. My seatbelt locks, and the suddenstopknocks the breath out of me.
“Shit, hold on! Grab the fucking doorhandle and don’t let go.” he booms, then mutters something in Russian. He shifts into gear, stomping on the gas. The back tires lock, spinning fast before we shoot forward, crossing the intersection in a cloud of smoke. “And the fun begins.” He points to the rearview mirror.
Two Chargers, a Mustang, and Camaro emerge from the gray cloud, hot on our tail. Not even the police can organize a chase as fast as Spades.
“Turn right at the next traffic lights. We’ll go through the estate and lose them in the maze of short streets.”
Julij nods, his blue eyes firmly on the road. His unwavering focus is reassuring. The obstacle course ahead calls for undivided attention. Rush-hour traffic barely slows down Julij or the cars behind.
“You need to guide me, sugar. I don’t know Chicago well. Tell me when I should turn.”
My fingers ache from clutching the handle. My whole body is so taut it’ll take days to relax the muscles in my shoulders and back. Next to me, Julij’s the exact opposite. Annoyingly laid-back as he bites back a smile. Utterly unaffected by the heart-stopping close calls we just, somehow, lived through. He’s having a blast.
I straighten up, pumping my fingers to rid the stiffness, inhale two deep breaths, and attempt to control my trembling hands before I play the role of sat nav. Neither the Chargers, Mustang, nor the Camaro is visible in the side mirror. Either Dante’s people chose a different route or fell behind. They probably figured out the purpose of this trip. Spades was around when I asked Dante about meeting Jess. He’s a bright guy; he must’ve guessed where we’re heading. Even if he didn’t, he’s surely called Dante by now.
“I think we lost them,” I say five minutes later, directing Julij toward the house I used to call my own.
“Call Jess. Tell her to open the garage. Just because I took you doesn’t mean I’ll take any risks.”
“Do you think a sniper hunkers by the gate, and I’ll drop dead the second I exit the car? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s really enough that Dante’s overreacting for all of us.” The seatbelt saves me from a broken nose for the second time when Julij slams the brakes, stopping the car at the curb.
“Don’t underestimate what’s happening, Layla.” He turns his body my way. “It’s been five days, and there are already more bodies to account for than my father disposed of during his career. You have no idea how many amateurs and professionals found out about the hit and the price for your beautiful head or how many will try to kill you.”
A nasty chill starts at the top of my head, radiating to the tips of my fingers. “Dante said no one tried to get to me yet,” I swallow around, the pulse throbbing in my throat.
“What did you expect?! You thought he’d inform you every time we kill another hitman?” Julij huffs out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “Some people would skin their kids for three million dollars. You’re the target of dozens, if not hundreds of people. They’ll kill you the first chance they get.” He curls his finger under my chin. “I won’t risk your safety any more than I already have.” Poorly disguised fear buzzing in his voice coupled with worry crinkling his forehead forces my heart into a higher gear. “I’ll take you to Jess, but you’re undermyprotection right now. I won’t let a hair fall off your head.”
More words seem to linger, unspoken. The air between us hums, teeming with tension sharp enough to bite my skin. I don’t understand why his sharp, assessing eyes bore into mine in such a steadfast way until he glances at my lips.
That’s not good. Looks like the infatuation that started in Dubai never went away. Instead, it evolved into deeper feelings. How have I not noticed this sooner?
He cares more than he should, and now, by stealing me from Dante’s house, he’s risked his alliance, business partnership, and friendship with Dante. A friendship that bloomed despite past animosities and will now most likely die an untimely death thanks to me.
Blood roars in my head the longer his eyes linger on my lips. He looks like he wants to eat me. Like he’s seconds away from gripping my face to catch my lips with his. The creases on his forehead deepen, and the determined look turns into a pained scowl. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he lifts his hand, ghosting his thumb along my lower lip.
