Page 98 of Forbidden Confessions: Vol. 2
I sneak around the side of the ritzy bungalow, avoiding motion-activated lights and mounted cameras to peek in windows, getting a sense of the floor plan, potential entry points, and possible hiding places. A plan begins forming when a light flips on inside at the back of the house.
Shit.
Easing behind a hedge, I hug the fence as the slider to the patio opens. A fluffy gray poodle trots out, heading straight for a half-dead patch of grass in the desert landscaped backyard. Is that prancing little thing Paul’s dog? I pictured him with a pit bull.
The mobster stumbles out in a limp bathrobe with its belt flapping around his knees. He’s got one hand down his pale boxers, leaving his hairy belly hanging over the elastic, as he scratches his balls. After taking a long last drag, he lifts his cigarette away with his other hand while he watches the dog.
It walks in circles, flitting from one spot to the next. Finally, she squats to do her business, then yaps at Paul a few times before dashing back into the house. Paul puts his cigarette out in a flowerpot beside the door and steps back inside.
Time for me to make my move.
Before Carboni can shut the door behind him, I rush him and slam it closed. The dog barks, but I ignore her, hooking an arm around Paul’s neck, then pressing my Glock to the mobster’s temple.
He stiffens. “If you’re a burglar, you’re fucking with the wrong guy.”
“I’m not a burglar, Paulie. I’m a dead man—or at least you thought I was. But I’m going to return the favor and do it right. I want your last thought in this life to be that you fucking failed. And to know that, soon, you, Donzelli, and your whole operation will be nothing but dust.”
“What the fuck?—”
In the precious time it takes him to spew those three words, I yank the tie free from the loops of his bathrobe, coil it around his neck, and pull back with all my strength. Immediately, he starts choking, flailing, and fighting. But I’m younger, in better shape, and absolutely determined. Sure, he’s got his survival instinct working for him. And yeah, it would be easier to simply shoot him, but a lot louder and messier and less satisfying. He’s done this and worse to scores of powerless victims. He should go out knowing how it feels to be tortured out of his very last breath.
He grabs at the tie, grunting and kicking as he tries to turn back to me. But I hold firm, twisting the tie tighter and tighter around his neck until his grunts turn to choking coughs. Even in the shadows I see him turning red. The dog continues yapping as Paul’s movements turn sluggish…then stop altogether as he slides to the floor. I tug one last time and hold the noose in place for another couple of minutes before I finally let go.
The scum isn’t coming back, and good riddance.
A quick glance around the kitchen tells me the dog has plenty of food and water. Havana would kill me if I left his pet in distress. The police will find Paul Carboni’s body before too much longer. I’ll make sure of that. And someone will take care of the pooch.
Then I shove the bathrobe tie in my pocket, slip out the back door, cling to the last of the shadows as I creep back to the car, and disappear from Paul’s neighborhood like I was never there.
After a quick stop at a hole-in-the-wall diner that I know has zero security equipment and about the same number of customers at this hour, I swipe a cigarette lighter from an older woman’s table when she’s not looking, head into the men’s room, and burn the bathrobe tie. Less than two minutes later, I wash my hands, clandestinely return the lighter, get a cup of coffee to go, then text my brother one word.
Done.
Finally, I slide back into the car, run a necessary errand, pick up another item I’ve had stashed away for weeks, and head back to our love shack so the life I really want—with the woman I love—can hopefully begin.
12
Havana
* * *
I have no idea what time it is when I roll over in one of the most comfortable beds I’ve ever slept in and stretch. Two things startle me from my drowsy state. First, everything between my legs is deliciously tender. Second, there’s a hard, naked body next to me.
Ransom!
The night comes rushing back as I wake to find him lying beside me, his black eyes tender. He draws me closer and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Morning.”
I’ve never woken up beside another human being, much less a man who makes my heart jolt and thump with nothing more than a smile. I can’t resist the urge to be closer, so I snuggle against him. “Morning.”
“Did you miss me?”
I frown. “You were gone?”
“I left to take care of some business and grab a couple of things.” His grin widens. “But I guess you didn’t miss me at all.”
Maybe not in my sleep, but being this close to Ransom now…
“I did. Want me to prove how much?” I nip at his stubbled jaw and toss my thigh over his hip, entwining us.
