Fire Bound (Sea Haven Sisters)(47)

She shook her head, not lifting it from the pillow. “I can’t sleep here. He can’t know about us. He’d come after you, Casimir. You know I’m right.”



“I know I have to keep you safe. I want you with me, so there’s no chance he tries to arrange an accident early. I’ll watch over you, let you sleep a couple of hours, and then I want you again. After that, you can slip back into your room and we’ll get ready for the day. You’ll have to insist on Tomasso being with you, not Arturo. Find a reason.”



Casimir slid down in the bed, curling his body around hers, hooking her around the waist and pulling her into him until she was partially under him. He waited for her to relax, to melt into him in the way she did when she accepted him. It took a little longer than he expected and he found himself smiling. Lissa wasn’t a woman to blindly obey. She would think out every decision for herself. He knew he was a controlling man, but he liked that she wasn’t a woman to be controlled. It would make for fireworks, occasionally, but he could live with that.



She fell asleep fast, drifting off with a small sigh, leaving him wrapped around her, indulging himself by letting his fingers caress her skin just below her breasts, occasionally brushing the undersides just because they were so soft and he could. Her hair smelled wonderful, a faint, almost elusive scent he knew he would never grow tired of.

First, before any of the others, they had to get to the dog handler. He had a few questions for the man. He wanted absolute confirmation before they proceeded with any plans. He was positive he was right and Luigi Abbracciabene was a treacherous snake of the worst kind, but he wanted proof for Lissa. He would get that proof for her – for both of them. If they were correct and Luigi was guilty, then while she reported her successful removing of Cosmos Agosto, he was going to take care of Arturo. He didn’t want to be nice about it either. With Luigi being Lissa’s alibi when Arturo died, her uncle wouldn’t suspect her of making a move against him.



Lissa moved, her body pulling in on itself, knees curling, drawing up so that she was in the fetal position. He tightened his hold possessively. She made a soft sound of distress in her sleep.

“Shh, lyubov moya, you’re safe. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.” He stroked caresses down the back of her head in an effort to soothe her.



Another small sound escaped and with a sinking heart, he realized she was weeping in her sleep. That tore him up. He lay there in the dark, holding her close, whispering to her in Russian, tempted to sing her a Russian lullaby, and all the while he planned out Luigi’s death. If he’d ever once thought to prolong a death, or torture someone, it would have been Luigi.

“You’re breaking my heart, Giacinta,” he whispered against her ear. “You have to stop.” He was growing desperate. He wasn’t a man who felt desperate, and yet, there it was, she was turning him inside out.



He cupped her breast, his thumb sliding gently over her nipple while he nudged the thick mass of hair from the nape of her neck so he could kiss his way across that tempting strip of skin. The soft weeping continued, but she turned from her side to her back so he could make out the distress on her face. The deep sense of betrayal. Grief for her lost family. She’d accepted the fact that her uncle had been the man behind the murders of her family. She knew Luigi had spared her in order to shape her into a weapon to use to further his cause. She also knew he had no choice but to kill her when the last obstacle in his path to become head of both families was removed.

Casimir wanted to weep along with her. That kind of treachery was beyond measure – beyond comprehension. He found it took all of his discipline, every bit of his control, not to stalk downstairs and put a bullet in the man’s head. Instead he bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. Her face was tear-wet.



“Giacinta. Lyubov moya, open your eyes for me.”



The terrible emptiness swallowing her whole receded just a little, pushed aside by the velvet caressing voice breaking into her endless loop of a nightmare. Lissa wanted to reach for the voice, but she couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t break free, not when she was so broken, pieces of her scattered on the ground all around her. Luigi had done that. Her beloved uncle.



She had worried about him for so long. Every time she came to see him, he had to spend time alone in the wing of his house suffering with his bout of multiple sclerosis. Now she knew: while she worried, he spent time with his wife and family so he would have an alibi when she took down another member of the Porcelli family. He’d left her with nothing at all.