Fire Bound (Sea Haven Sisters)(16)

“Before we go any further,” Belsky stated, “I need to know who you’re buying this information for.”



“That’s none of your business.” Even Lissa’s voice was different. Two notes lower. Slightly husky. Still, it was authoritative and clipped.



“I can’t just hand over information like this to anyone,” he hissed. “I could be killed.”



“You knew that when you agreed to make the deal,” Lissa pointed out.

The two stared at each another for a long time. Lissa didn’t look away or back down. Her features were set and her hand crept toward her gloves and clutch, as if she would pick up both and walk away.



“I don’t have time to play around. If you don’t have what I need, just say so. I was told you were someone who could be counted on.”



Belsky’s breath hissed out. “I got you the information you wanted. It was much more difficult than I thought it would be. The price has doubled.” He leaned across the table. “Miss Patrice Lungren.” He sat back, satisfied that just knowing her name, identifying her, would frighten her.



Lissa hesitated, her hand fluttering for a moment, as if being called by name had thrown her. She straightened her shoulders and allowed her hand to fall gracefully to the table. “Your difficulties are not my problem. We agreed on a price, Belsky.”



Casimir didn’t react, but he felt his heart jerk hard in his chest. He wasn’t a man to feel fear. He could go into any situation with ice in his veins because he had nothing to lose. Now, there was Lissa Piner with her flaming red hair and her soft, appealing laughter. He wasn’t going to lose her to a weasel like Ivan Belsky. He knew the man. A rat for the Russian mob operating out of Moscow. He wasn’t in the least bit trustworthy or reliable. Not. At. All. He would sell Lissa down the river in a heartbeat. Whatever she offered him, he had gotten more playing both sides.



What was she doing even talking to a man like Belsky? He nearly groaned when she casually took an envelope from her clutch and laid it on the table. The white packet, clearly thick with cash, lay beneath her palm. Belsky stared at it. Realization that she wasn’t going to budge had him sighing. He reached for the envelope, but she didn’t move her hand, just continued to stare at him.

Casimir’s gut tightened. He stood up, snapping his book closed as Belsky removed a thin package wrapped in a brown paper bag and tied with a string. A neat touch, Casimir acknowledged. The man slid it across the table to Lissa. She put her hand on it before releasing the packet of cash to the weasel. Casimir shuffled right on past them without looking at either of them.



The trick to a disguise wasn’t always the features so much as the details. The walk, the hunch, the particulars of a character one took on. He never forgot those details, especially not when someone’s life depended on it – and he was certain Lissa’s life did. Inwardly he cursed in Russian, his native language, and he was inventive about it as he kept to the slow, lumbering pace of his role. He didn’t look at Lissa, or Belsky. He knew what was waiting for her outside. He had to get there first.

He’d known the moment he investigated Lissa and found out her uncle was Luigi Abbracciabene, a name connected to what had once been a small mob family living in the town of Ferrara. It had been easy enough to find the newspaper articles on the massacre of the family and all of the soldiers and workers on the estate. The Abbracciabene family had run afoul of the Porcelli family, a very large, connected family, violent and given to bloody wars. They’d instigated the massacre. He’d found Giacinta’s name and it was reported she had died as well. He knew she hadn’t.



Luigi lived a good distance from his brother, and had no part in the family business, at least that had been what every paper said. The Porcelli family hadn’t bothered with him. It was reported he was quite ill. Casimir suspected he’d been much more than a mere bystander. Every family had an enforcer. An assassin. A man just like him. One that lived in the shadows and slipped out only when needed. Luigi had been that man for his family. He’d rescued his niece, hidden her from the world and raised her. Trained her. Set her on a path of vengeance, or justice – however one looked at it.

Casimir turned over every possibility of where the second assassin would be. They would want to catch Lissa away from people but before she made it to her car. Belsky would crowd close behind her, stay within striking distance. He had to believe she could handle Belsky. He had to trust that she would never meet him without the knowledge that he might betray her. When Belsky had called her Patrice Lungren, she’d faltered – clearly an act. She knew. She had to know.