Page 1 of Captive Vows
1
LUKA
The shredder sucked in the last of the documents. Whirring and grinding, the gears turned, the blades scissored, and the evidence of someone’s murder was gone. These remnants and strips of paper would be burned, just in case. After being the boss of the Dubinin Family for decades, I knew better than toeverleave anything to chance. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that my staff and men, the entire force who heeded my direction, could be completely trustworthy. I only employed the best. I only retained the loyal. Erasing all proof of life—or death—was my responsibility, and that was what I excelled at. I would always be responsible, and I expected the same attention to detail and diligence from my organization.
Because we sure as hell hadn’t obtained this much power and wealth by being sloppy or slacking off.
“Ready to go?” Allen, my personal assistant, asked.
I nodded, not looking away from the removal of those documents. I’d only get up and walk away once I saw that every last sheet of photos was ruined beyond recognition. Technology made things easier. Convenience was the biggest bonus of emails, texts, and other forms of instant communication. It alsomeant that everything could be more easily traced and hacked. Hence, these old-school glossy photos of a kill that my son, Emil, had overseen.
My son knew how to assassinate without leaving any footprint or clue behind. I trusted him, perhaps more than any other, but it was still necessary to review the proof of a hit done well.
Allen hadn’t left. He wouldn’t push or nag me to hurry. That wasn’t his place. He existed on the top floor of the office building as my executive helper. My comrade in arms, previously. When he was wounded too severely in a turf war some eleven years ago, he’d volunteered to be my administrative right-hand man. It was an arrangement that suited us. While I’d never admit to anyone else being able to finish sentences for me, he intuited when I wanted something. Allen was never one step ahead of me, not truly, but he was often on the same step as me, aware of how this business worked and how I led my life.
“The cleaners are almost through with your car,” he added.
I allowed the start of a smile. The mention of that rare antique—the Rolls Royce that everyone calledmycar—reminded me of the triumph I’d experienced when I took it from one of those cocky Italian capos from the Rivera Family. I couldn’t stand those fuckers, and that was why it had felt all the more rewarding when I explained that his prized possession was now mine. I’d never forget the glory of striding toward that sleek black car right before my men beheaded him, letting him watch me take his car before we took his life.
It wasn’t the best choice for transporting bodies, but I hadn’t counted on needing to relocate one earlier. Sometimes, these things just happened. No matter how messy my violent life as a Mafia boss could be, I had plenty of professional and thorough cleaners in my employ to handle it all. The blood, guts, and gore.
Satisfied that the photos were ripped, I stood and buttoned my jacket. Only now did I make eye contact with the bald, gaunt-faced Allen. He seldom smiled, and that suited me just fine. With a life like mine, softer emotions were a waste of time.
“Ivan is downstairs waiting for you,” he said, referring to my nephew.
“And Emil?” I asked.
He nodded. “He’s ready to go as well.”
I arched a brow and snorted a laugh. “I wish this kind of backup wasn’t necessary.”
“But it is,” he said, falling into step with me as I left my office. Outside the ceiling-to-floor windows that made up the entire lengths of two walls, darkness hung over the city. New York City never slept. With glittering lights spread out down below, the sparks of life proved there was plenty of activity.
I could only hope that the meeting I was about to go to would be actionless. I was sick of these headaches, all the whiny rivals, all the back-stabbing enemies, and even all the lying moles and rats. Like any other criminal organization, the Dubinin Syndicate suffered some betrayals from within.
Violence was the currency with which I lived my life, but after so many incidents of having to remind everyone that no one could fuck with us and get away with it, it really did blend into a blur of the same old.
“Backup is always necessary,” I replied to Allen. No matter what we did, who we dealt with, or where we went, someone was bound to try to kill us. Even that was getting really fucking old. Tedious.
Boring.
I’d never admit that I realized how dull my life was getting lately, but I couldn’t deny the listlessness that was taking hold of me. It was always the same bullshit. Maybe the players weredifferent from time to time, but I was getting tired of having to put up with the same thing over and over again.
“Backup is especially warranted for a meeting withthesedealers,” Allen added as we entered the elevator for the ride down to the garage.
I nodded once, acknowledging and agreeing with him without a word.
Of course, I’d need to be on guard when speaking with the dealers at the warehouse. Going to the docks was risky business for the amount of traffic going on there, particularly at this hour. But it was the fact that I was meeting with the counterparts who had to associate with some members of the Vipers Cartel that pissed me off. The Cartel and the Riveras. Between the two of them, I had no fucking patience and absolutely zero goodwill. I’d never trusted them. Not in business. Not in taking their word as fact, either. Ever since my wife, Maria, was killed near the conjunction of their turf in the city, I’d been committed to blaming them for the death of my wife and unborn daughter.
Blood had been shed.
Fingers had been pointed.
Years had passed.
Still, the anger persisted. Because forgiveness had never and would never be granted on that topic.
Merely recalling those tense, dark times of loss and grief threatened to spike my anger now. Any thought of the woman I’d lost over twenty years ago had the power to sway my mood. Instead of neutral and tense, I could be enraged and raring to fight. Missing her had faded over time, but it was the regret that I’d lost my partner too soon that pissed me off.
