Page 39 of Dangerous Deception

I don’t lash out this time. A cold rage settles over me, cooling the heat of my anger. My pounding heart begins to slow and I lift my chin, gritting my teeth.

“Boss.” Vito touches my arm and then holds up a tablet displaying our captive’s banking information. “You gotta see this.”

“What the fuck?” Displayed in a long list is every large payment Jim ever received. Some of the amounts were over fivehundred thousand dollars, chump change in my line of work, but that’s not what catches my eye.

The money comes from an offshore account displayed in a second, smaller window just under Vito’s thumb. The name jumps out at me like a dagger.

Pascal Castiglioni.

“He wouldn’t…” My eyes lock with Vito’s. “There’s no fucking way this is accurate.”

“It’s a locked account,” Vito murmurs. “Took everything I know to get this far, but I’ll keep digging.”

“Please. And Vito?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Not a word to anyone until we know for sure, understand?”

Vito nods and rolls his eyes slightly. His loyalty and secrecy are a given, but given the sensitive nature of this, I have to make sure. “Sure, but Boss… how does someone supposedly so deep in debt afford payments like this?”

Pascal wouldn’t deal in human trafficking, surely? Most of us follow unspoken rules, and carting people about like cargo is against one of the core principles that keeps us on top. I can’t stomach the thought that he’s involved in such a disgusting line of work.

And how does this factor into his debts? I provided a large sum of money when I married Adelina and allowed him into several drug supply routes. Still, Pascal insisted those drugs were for hospital schemes where he undercuts insurance companies to make a quick buck.

Something I found strange, but given how Adelina’s mother died from sickness, perhaps it’s a personal thing. So what’s the connection?

There are too many unanswered questions, and the last thing I need is to make a bullheaded decision that fucks things up even more.

The only thing I know for sure is that I’m done here.

“Your nose is broken, so you can’t smell it,” I say to Jim as he weakly glares at me. His false rush of confidence is fading fast. “But Vito didn’t waterboard you with water.”

Jim’s eyes widen and confusion shines like a beacon from them.

Digging my hand in my pocket, my fingers curl around a lighter. Pulling it out, I flip the edge and a single flame blooms to life.

Jim’s eyes widen.

“It was gas.”

With a flick of my wrist, the lighter flies through the air and lands against Jim’s chest, where it sits for a second before gravity drags it south.

A second is all that’s needed for the flame to ignite the gas soaking Jim’s skin. Flames burst over his chest, burning hair and skin alight as they sweep upward toward his gas-soaked face.

Jim opens his mouth to scream and drags the flames into his lungs the moment he takes a breath. He goes up like a candle wick, and his dying screams of terror are music to my ears. Jim thrashes with unexpected strength, but he’s fully ablaze within ten seconds.

“Nice touch with the gas,” I say to Vito, who smirks proudly.

“They never expect it.”

“Fucking cunt.” Watching that fucker burn alive in front of me for what he did to Adelina is satisfying, but it doesn’t erase what he did or how traumatized Adelina is. All I can do is remove her captors from existence.

“I want that tape scrubbed,” I say, tilting my head toward the laptop. “Every copy gone, you hear me?”

“Understood.”

“And set up a meeting with Pascal.” I watch Jim burn to a crisp, his ragged cries slowly becoming nothing more thanwaspish croaks as he succumbs to his injuries. “I’ve got some questions for him.”

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