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 building 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."