Fire Bound (Sea Haven Sisters)(71)

He chose an alternate route to get to Cosmos’s estate and parked his vehicle where he had before. Again, there were no cars on the street and no one was out walking their dog. It was always the unexpected that could sink a job faster than anything. That person that came home early or forgot something important and returned for it. He stayed in his car a few minutes, getting a feel for the neighborhood, learning the rhythm of it.



Making certain the dome light wasn’t working, he stepped out of the car and moved with absolute confidence – as if he belonged – toward the back gardens where he’d entered the property before. He didn’t hesitate once he was in the cover the foliage provided. He jogged toward the cliff. Coming around the shrubs, he spotted Arturo heaving the widow’s body over the cliff.

Arturo turned and, without a glance around, snagged the bloody blanket and walked back to the house. Casimir had expected him to leave immediately. Instead the man clearly had something important to do in the house. He followed at a distance. Arturo left the door open. Casimir took that as an invitation, but just in case, he was even more cautious.



Arturo didn’t consider that anyone might be watching him. He went straight for the study and the computer. Pulling on gloves, he turned the machine on and, while it was booting up, poured himself a drink of whiskey. He downed it quickly and poured himself a second. The death of the widow had rattled him more than he let on – that or Luigi wasn’t happy she’d died.

Arturo kept his gaze fixed on the screen. Once the computer was running, he sank into a chair and began to type. Looking over his shoulder, Casimir could see it was a suicide note. The widow just couldn’t live without her husband. Casimir moved in close like the phantom he was, coming out of the shadows to stand just behind the bodyguard.



“Arturo. I think we need to talk. Don’t go for your gun. I’d have to shoot you, and right now, all I intend to do is talk. You make me pull the trigger and I’m aiming for your heart. In case you wonder, I don’t miss.”



Arturo leapt up so fast he knocked the chair over. Casimir hit him on the side of his head with the butt of his gun. Hard, uncaring if the blow killed him. Arturo crumpled like a sack of potatoes. Casimir pushed the body aside with a none-too-gentle kick from his expensive shoes and leaned in to add a few lines to the suicide note. He shut down the computer and hoisted the body to his shoulder, strode from the house and dumped the body in the trunk of his rented car.



He shouldn’t do this. He should dump the bastard in the sea and let that kill him, but he couldn’t stop himself. He used zip ties to bind Arturo’s hands and ankles and then slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth just in case he woke on their trip back to the building where Arturo and Luigi trained women for their prostitution ring.

Casimir knew better. He was making this personal, and one didn’t make any job personal. Arturo represented every one of those instructors who had beaten him bloody, or beaten his partner in front of him. One always won and one always lost. Either the man had the discipline and control to withstand the sexual assault or the woman did. Either he could arouse the woman or she could arouse him. Whatever the demand, one of the partners was severely beaten or killed. More than one of his partners had been killed.



He closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling bile rise, hating those memories. Hating that he’d caused such pain to the young women forced to partner him. Hating that he’d caused their deaths. Men like Arturo felt nothing for the men and women they tortured, used and discarded. He shook his head and drove back to the “school.” Luigi had come to this place every evening. There was no doubt in Casimir’s mind that Luigi had used the widow often and aided Arturo in her “training.”



He cursed under his breath and slammed his palm against the steering wheel. He’d come here several nights in a row and sat outside. Waiting. Watching. All the while, inside, they had tortured the young woman. These men planned on killing Lissa. Her uncle would never try to keep her alive in his prostitution ring. She knew too much and she was far too dangerous.



Arturo was awake when Casimir raised the trunk lid. His eyes spat hatred and a promise of retaliation. Casimir smiled at him. “Hey. Don’t look so surprised. You had to know it was coming. You’re a loose end.” He dragged Arturo from the trunk, not being in the least gentle, deliberately dropping him twice on the ground as if his dead weight was too much to lift.

Frown lines appeared in Arturo’s forehead. He made all sorts of noises, shaking his head in denial.