Page 37 of Broken Promises


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“Ha, ha,” he grunts. “What’re you doing now?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Dammit,” he says, but he doesn’t ask again. It’s become our shorthand over the years. We’ve helped the cops tame this city far more than most government agencies, so we get something in return: to take vengeance where we see fit. “We’ve had a lot, Dimitri, between your father and now this…”

“I didn’t ask my father to kill himself, did I?” I snarl. “I didn’t ask these bastards to try to hurt—”My woman, I almost say, which still doesn’t make sense, but I can’t fight how true it feels. “For what it’s worth, Angelo, I’ll do my best to be quiet.”

“That doesn’t exactly fill me with relief.”

I hang up the phone, my GPS telling me I’m almost there. The phone call with Mikhail was short, but I was sure I could hear a subtle shift in his tone as if he wanted to say something.Be careful, maybe, but he knows that would just be distracting.

Parking up outside Artyom’s condo, I try to tame this darkness in me. That’s always been a fear of mine—wondering if whatever evil impulses drove our father are nestled deep inside me. I can usually keep the darkness at bay, but now, withmy woman, I’m almost panting, my teeth gritted, wanting to roar.

My fucking woman.

Stepping from the car, I check my holster and slowly approach the house. The street is quiet, my footsteps seeming loud, my breath somehow seeming louder. I walk around the large complex, finding Artyom’s rear window and stalking it. An alarm will probably sound when I smash the glass, but?—

“I knew you’d come,” Artyom says from behind me. I recognize his gravelly voice from the few times I’ve worked with him, but the last time was a couple of years ago. He’s more heavily involved in the illegitimate, not the legit side of the business.

I turn slowly. He’s standing at the fence which separates his small courtyard area from the next. He was waiting for me in the next yard, and when he heard me, he opened the small gate. His pistol glints in the moonlight as he aims it at me. He’s a big man, almost my size, his eyes dark, hard, and unflinching.

“I guess this ends here, then,” I say, opening and closing my fists.

I’ve stared death in the face many times. I could usually keep calm, but now I’m thinking of Lia. I’m thinking of her narrowing her eyes as she stares at her canvas, biting the end of her paintbrush, the brave smile on her face as she folds her arms, glaring at me, pouting, so cute, so perfect, so mine.

I don’t want to die. As obvious as that would seem to other people, it hits me like a revelation. I don’t want to leave Lia behind.

Artyom sighs. “Are you going to come easily?”

I wait for his backup to arrive. I’m alone because I don’t know who to trust, but where arehismen? When he sees me looking, he sighs. “It’s just me, sir. Just me.”

“Sir,” I spit. “Don’t pretend you’ve got any respect for the Sokolovs now.”

“I’ve got even less respect for the Petrovs,” he snaps.

I search his dark eyes, my heartbeat thudding so heavily it’s like I can hear it in my ears. “I’m guessing they made promises they couldn’t keep.”

Artyom laughs grimly. “That’s all this life is, Sokolov, promises never kept.”

“Maybe with my father,” I tell him, “but that’s over now.”

He shakes his head. “You can’t talk your way out of this. We both know you’re not letting me get away with what happened.”

“Be specific,” I growl. “If I’m dying tonight, I’d rather do it without games.”

“Listen, Sokolov. I know you care about the girl.” My bones go cold. “I could see that when we were following you. You don’t smile like that for anybody else. That’s what I told him.”

“Told who? Nikolai Petrov?”

“Who else?” Artyom says. “Your old man and he made some deals.”

“I’ve still got two weeks to marry his daughter.”

That’s never going to happen. I can’t even imagine marrying and wanting Mila—wanting anybody who isn’t Lia. Artyom doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s time we took a walk,” he says.

He doesn’t want to shoot me here, outside his condo, despite the silencer attached to his gun. People will wake up and call the cops. I square my shoulders. “This is as good a grave as any.”

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