“No one is going to question it,” he assured, and pulled the car to the side of the street to allow her to get out. “I’ve got to return this rental to the agency, go into the airport and change into another role. I won’t be back at the house for a while, Giacinta, so you watch yourself.”
“Luigi needed an alibi. He knows where I am today and he had no idea when the deed will be done,” she said, pouring confidence into her voice. “He’s with Aldo’s sister. You can bet he wants her to be his alibi.”
He nodded. “Even so, malyshka, you watch your back.”
He leaned across the seat and cupped her face in his hands, thumbs sliding along her skin, causing shivers. “I don’t like you out of my sight.”
He took her mouth, gentle. Tender. Almost reverent. The kind of kiss that always shook her. Always melted her. Her heart stuttered hard in her chest. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back, falling into him. Mesmerized by him. Loving him with everything she had.
Casimir pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Promise me you’ll be careful, golubushka, and don’t call him until I’m back with you. He could already have contracted with one of his men at home.”
She nodded because she still couldn’t find her voice. She brushed her mouth over his, caught up her purse and exited the car. Slinging her camera around her neck, she hurried to the bus stop. She only had a minute or two before the bus showed up. It was all about timing.
Lissa stood with two other women, both locals, laughing and taking pictures when police cars and an ambulance screamed by, heading in the direction of the apartments. She paused for a moment, just like the women, staring after the emergency vehicles, and then the three of them began an animated conversation that continued even after the bus arrived and all three got on.
16
Lissa paced back and forth in the library. She had spent a lot of time in the library growing up. It had been her place to go when she was upset. Luigi rarely, if ever, came into the room and no one else did either, so over the years, it had become her sanctuary. She liked the connection of the old books with the new. She liked the peace. It was always quiet, allowing the chaos in her mind to calm.
Waiting for Casimir’s safe return was nerve-wracking. She was certain he was safe, he had only to take the vehicle back and return as Tomasso, but until he was back with her, she couldn’t quite get the feeling of impending disaster out of her stomach. She glanced at the clock. He shouldn’t be much longer. She resisted the urge to text him. Phones were a hazard. Still…
She sighed and went to the large window that looked out toward the gardens. The estate wasn’t huge, but it was beautifully kept. Luigi seemed fond of his flowers and trees. He had a large gardening crew. They were gone for the day, but she was certain old Alberto, the head gardener, would be making one last sweep of his domain before he left for the night. He always did a walk-through before he left.
The sun set with a fiery glow, the large ball seeming to drop from the sky into the sea, spreading orange and red across the surface of the water, turning the deep blue into a strange blanket of colors. She liked this time of day, between day and night, when the sun was setting and the moon was rising. Sky and sea seemed to come together, forming a beautiful, colorful illusion of fire pouring into the waves.
“Miss Piner?”
She turned toward the door. One of her uncle’s newer recruits had his head only inside the room. He looked a little shy and very uncomfortable. Luigi had hired him right after she left the last time and he didn’t know her at all.
“Yes? It’s Raimondo, isn’t it?” She smiled encouragingly. He was a little younger than the others and still had a bit of a baby face.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but we have a situation and I can’t get Signor Abbracciabene to respond and I’m not certain what to do. Old man Alberto is in the back gardens and he’s very upset. I’m afraid he’s going to have a heart attack. He’s making me crazy. I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Arturo told us that if Signor Abbracciabene wasn’t here then we’re supposed to come to you.”
“Do you know what set him off?” Alberto was known for his hysterics. He crooned to his flowers, swore at his workers, and occasionally had complete meltdowns that required pulling him back from the edge. Luigi had told many stories of taking knives and other sharp objects away from Alberto when he was having one of his fits. He had been with Luigi for as long as she remembered, always working in the gardens and only caring about his precious plants.
“I have no idea, but he’s got long shears and he’s threatening to stab himself through the heart with them. I don’t want to get near him. He came at me once and I nearly took out a gun and shot him.”
Lissa laughed. That was Alberto. Some things never changed. “Don’t worry, Raimondo, I’ll handle it. Where is he?”
“All the way in the back, Miss Piner. In the plot where those really tall bushes with the pink flowers are. The ones that grow over the arches.”
She knew where it was. Alberto didn’t allow his young gardeners to ever work that particular piece of the property. He did it himself. The plants growing there were very rare and difficult to grow, but under Alberto’s care, they grew thick and wild and very tall. There was a small jungle of pure beauty, and the head gardener was extremely proud of it. She couldn’t imagine if one of the others had touched his precious plants just what he’d do.
“That’s not good,” she murmured aloud. “I’ll go.”
“You don’t need me, do you?” He sounded more nervous than ever.
She burst out laughing again. Seriously, he was one of Luigi’s soldiers and he was afraid of an older gardener. “I can handle it,” she assured him.
He waved and his head disappeared again. Lissa followed him out of the library, making certain the man had ascended the stairs. She couldn’t imagine if her uncle was going to send an assassin after her that it would be Raimondo. He was too green, but she wasn’t going to take chances. She heard the door to his quarters close and she found her vest and jacket, shrugging into them, fitting weapons into the specially concealed pockets.
Being cautious had kept her alive throughout her childhood, her teenage years and now into adulthood. She hadn’t informed Luigi of Aldo’s death, so she doubted if he’d put a hit out on her that soon. Still, Angeline was Aldo’s sister. It stood to reason if his wife was informed of his death, she would call his sister. They were good friends. Luigi might know. Again, he always liked to hear details, and it would be awfully fast for him to set someone after her, but there was no sense in not taking precautions.
She wrote a note to Casimir, explaining where she was and that Alberto often had these little meltdowns. She’d join him the minute she managed to get the gardener calm again. Having dealt with Alberto on more than one occasion, Lissa took her time walking through the labyrinth of plants, exotic grasses, bushes and trees, hoping he’d calm down a little on his own.
The grounds were beautiful, thanks mostly to the head gardener. He was a master when it came to getting things to grow. She wound her way through the many plants and flowers until she heard the old man muttering to himself in Italian, threatening to cut the heart out of someone named Tito. She rounded a particularly spectacular flowering bush that was taller than she was and found the head gardener with his head in his hands.
“Alberto? What is it?” She spoke softly. Gently. His plants were like his beloved children, and she could see the hack job someone, presumably the absent Tito, had done to a rather exotic-looking plant. Three others lay on the ground, drooping, roots exposed. There was a gaping hole in the ground where the plants had been. The dirt was wet and a hose still spouted water, so that the ground was nothing but mud.
Her breath caught in her throat, one hand went up to cover the sound of distress at the sight. Someone had made a terrible mess of things. Alberto gestured wildly, flinging his arms around and pointing to the bare roots, mud and hole. He lifted one of
the plants on the ground and threw it, his Italian so fast it sounded like automatic gunfire. He told her Tito had tried to transplant some flowers overgrown in another area to this sacred patch of the garden and in doing so had destroyed a rare plant that Alberto had been coaxing along for years.
Lissa had to admit, the mess was terrible. She couldn’t imagine that Tito would be keeping his job after making such a horrible mistake. Not only did Alberto look like he was angry, he looked close to tears. She had no idea what she could say to make this better. She stepped closer to the dying plants in an effort to buy some time to figure out the best way of handling the matter. Crouching down to inspect the ones strewn around, roots showing, she caught sight of the hole. Standing, she’d only seen a small corner of it. The rest was covered by the tall bushes around it. The hole was very deep and wide, like a grave…
Lissa tried to turn and stand at the same time, one hand still covering her throat. She felt the thin wire as it cut into the back of her hand and the side of her neck. He yanked her backward, toward him, so that she lost balance and fell against his chest.
“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered. “Have no choice.” Alberto spoke in Italian to her, his head close to hers as he tightened the wire, twisting fast.
In that moment, when she was certain she was going to die, she still found time to note he sounded sad, remorseful even, but determined. She dug her heels into the ground and shoved backward, slamming her back against his chest, putting inches between them, allowing her to straighten.
“Damn it, quit fighting. He didn’t want you to suffer,” his voice hissed in her ear. “He said to tell you, ‘sorry.’”
She slammed her foot down on his instep, her hand slipping into the inside pocket of her vest. Her fingers closed around the prize even as blood trickled in a semicircle around her throat. She drew the knife and slammed it, first into his thigh and then yanking it out, and back into his ribs. She didn’t get a good angle on the ribs, but it went in.
He screamed, and for a moment his hands loosened their grip on the garrote. Before she could fling herself forward, he had control again, his hands tightening viciously, ignoring the knife in his ribs. Just as suddenly he was gone. She dropped to her knees, reaching to loosen the wire with one hand. Blood poured from the long slice on the back of her other hand and ran freely down her neck where the wire had sliced her skin.
She scrambled away from Alberto and turned to see Casimir, looking like Tomasso, his face a mask of pure fury. She could feel the heat coming off him in waves. His skin glowed, exposing the fire element burning inside his belly.
She tried to speak, to tell him she was okay, but no sound emerged. She flung the garrote onto the ground beside what would have been her grave and watched with a horrified fascination as Casimir nearly pulverized the head gardener with his glove-covered fists.
She made two attempts to get to her feet again, but failed both times. Casimir. Stop. You’re going to kill him.
That’s the fucking idea, he spat back, but after one last, very vicious punch to the face, he yanked the assassin to his feet. “Tell me who hired you? Who put the hit out on Lissa?”
His face contorted with pain, Alberto choked once and then shook his head. His gaze avoided Lissa’s.
“You’re going to die. How that happens is what we’re discussing right now and it’s entirely up to you, although I’m so fucking pissed at you I’d rather you choose the hard way. You want to go quick and painless, you tell me what I want to know. You don’t talk to me, it’s going to take you a long, long time and you’re going to know what the word agony means.” There was no mercy in Casimir’s voice.
Casimir. Honey. I know you’re upset but… Lissa trailed off. He didn’t turn his head or look at her. His jaw was set, his face an expressionless mask. His eyes were flat. Cold. Dead. She was looking at the monster, the one shaped in that school from so long ago.
“Take a walk, Lissa,” he ordered, snapping the command at her.
She tried again, her heart beating fast, her voice no more than a hoarse whisper. “Honey.” She killed, yes, but she didn’t torture, she didn’t prolong a death. She tried her best to make it quick and painless, no matter what she felt about the target. Casimir didn’t have the same scruples, that was very evident.
“Walk away now,” he snapped.
Clamping a hand to her neck, she took a deep breath and moved away from the two men, but refused to leave. Casimir had saved her life. She knew that. She also knew there was no stopping what he was doing. He would extract the information he wanted in the way he chose, whether she approved or not. He was his own man, and he took her protection very seriously. She sank down to the ground, pulling her legs to her, keeping pressure on the wound at her neck. Alberto hadn’t managed to open her artery but it was close.
Alberto screamed in pain. There was a sickening crack. She closed her eyes, listening to the gardener’s breath come in horrible ragged gasps. “Luigi. He didn’t want to do it. He told me he had no choice. He wanted it done quick. Without pain if possible. If she hadn’t fought me…”
“And then what were you supposed to do?”
“Send him proof. Show her dead. Put her in the ground, cover her and replant.”
“One picture? Two? Text saying it’s done?” Casimir demanded.
Alberto hesitated and there was another mind-numbing scream. Casimir hadn’t given him a chance to think about it. Lissa’s stomach lurched. First Cosmos had sat at the table with her family and then he’d betrayed them. Arturo had held her when she was a little girl and wiped away tears. He’d betrayed her. Luigi, her own uncle, her father’s brother, had set the entire mess into play by the ultimate betrayal, and now Alberto, another man she’d known since she was a child, had been willing to kill her as well.
She didn’t want to sit there and watch this. She didn’t want to hear any more. She wanted to cry her eyes out, somewhere safe.
“He wanted three pictures. One showing she was dead. One in the grave. One with the grave covered and the plants back in place,” Alberto confessed.
Look away, Giacinta, Casimir said. I mean it, malyshka, look away now.
She obeyed him immediately. She knew the moment she did, Alberto was dead. Casimir broke his neck. He lowered the gardener to the ground, dug his cell phone out of the man’s back pocket and gestured for her to lie down next to the hole in the ground. He arranged the garrote around her neck, took a picture and then lowered her into the grave. It was muddy. Disgusting. Still, she lay down as if flung there. Casimir took another photograph and then helped her out of the grave.
Lissa staggered back to where she’d been sitting and watched as her husband rolled Alberto’s body into the deep hole. He found the shovel and pushed mounds of dirt over the body. It took a while to completely cover the evidence and replant, so it looked as if the gardener had recently transplanted more flowers to the area. It was dark by the time Casimir took the last photograph and sent them off to Luigi.
“You can’t stay here, golubushka,” he said. “It isn’t safe. He has to believe you’re dead. I doubt if he’ll come back tonight, but we can’t take that chance.”
“I can’t check into a hotel looking like this,” she pointed out. She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t know what she was feeling, but she was close to tears and she didn’t dare start crying. If she did, she would never be able to stop.
“Is there a shower in the gardener’s shed?”
It wasn’t exactly a shed, but a place for the crew working to use the bathroom and take breaks. Lissa had played in it as a child, but it had been years since she’d been there. She’d forgotten all about it. She nodded. “Yes, but I don’t have any clean clothes.”
“I’ll get the things you’ll need, Giacinta.”
His voice was so gentle her heart turned over and a lump formed in her throat, threatening to choke her. She didn’t answer him because she couldn’t. She just nodded and turned away from him, stumbling toward the b
uilding back in the trees. No one would be there this time of day and she could cry all she wanted in the shower where no one could see or hear her.
The door was secured, but she had no trouble picking the ridiculously easy lock. The building was old and needed care, but the water was hot. She stripped out of her muddy clothes, turned the water on as hot as she could stand it and stepped into the stall. It wasn’t in the least bit fancy, not like the showers in the main house, but the water felt good until it hit the lacerations on her hand and neck. That stung. And that started the tears. She put one hand on the tiled wall, stood under the cascading water and wept.
She had no idea how long she stood there, but then Casimir was there, naked, in the shower with her, turning her unresisting body into his arms and holding her tight against him. One hand went to the back of her head, palm against her wet hair, holding her face to his chest, while his other arm locked around her back. She stood stiffly for a moment, and then there was no resisting his comfort. His strength.
“I’m here, lyubov moya. I’m not going anywhere.”
He knew. He knew exactly how she felt. The terrible feeling of betrayal, as if everything and everyone she knew, almost from the time of her birth, had conspired against her. This man holding her knew betrayal. He knew treachery at its worst. He knew what it felt like to live a role, to get so mixed up you forgot yourself, who and what you were. He knew all of that intimately.
Fire Bound (Sea Haven Sisters Page 30
