The Caregiver Vignettes 6-10 Read online

THE CAREGIVER SERIES VIGNETTES 6-10

  By

  Astrid ‘Artistikem’ Cruz

  Edited by

  Stacia Rogan

  ~~~

  Copyright © Astrid H. Cruz 2014

  Companion to The Caregiver Series

  Learn more about the series at https://thecaregiverseries.wordpress.com/

  ~~~

  Text and cover art copyright © 2014 by Astrid H. Cruz

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  On how Romulus convinced Scarlett to sign the contract

  On how Romulus convinced Scarlett even further

  On how Scarlett and Ferdinand met

  On Scarlett and Bobby’s split

  On how Douglas and Scarlett got on Romulus’ nerves

  About the author

  On how Romulus convinced Scarlett to sign the contract

  Detective Inspector Romulus Moretti awaited Rafael Cisneros’ and my arrival at Heathrow. Our flight was delayed by a couple of hours and even when I called him to tell him we could hail a taxi when we got there, he insisted on picking us up himself, no matter how late it got.

  It had been two weeks since our meeting in Miami and we’d kept in touch both by phone and email. He was more than okay with me asking questions and wanting more information, and he answered every one of my queries with enough detail to make me feel better about this.

  Only thing was, I preferred his written answers. Our phone calls were lengthy. Too lengthy. And strayed towards more personal subjects every now and then.

  I must confess there was something about him. Something I still couldn’t pinpoint and that made me feel a little queasy.

  It’s probably that he’s a cop, I kept telling myself. Even if you’ve always dreamt of becoming one you have to accept the fact that you were raised not to trust them.

  Baggage claimed, Cisneros lead the way to where Romulus was waiting with his police officer stance and a smug smile on his face.

  “Cisneros.” They shook hands before Romulus turned to me, his smile softening to an almost tender one. “Miss Lang. Welcome to London.”

  The moment we stepped out into the cold my stomach started doing somersaults. This was it. The one opportunity I’d been waiting for my whole fucking life. The chance to put my past behind and start anew. Bonus points for it to be in a different city also.

  “Are you hungry?” Romulus asked as he held the passenger door of his car for me.

  I stared at him for a bit longer than normal. “A bit.”

  That was, apparently, the answer he was waiting for because he grinned and said, “There’s a pub near the hotel where you’ll be staying. We could go there.”

  Did I fail to mention he booked a hotel room for me? I always stayed at Cisneros’ while in London, yet he wouldn’t have any of that. I wasn’t in a position to protest, nor did I want to start an argument with the one who was only a John Hancock away from becoming my boss, so I said yes to that.

  And yes to leaving Cisneros at his house before heading for said hotel.

  And thanks but no thanks when Cisneros reminded me he and Bobby were only a call away if I needed anything.

  What could happen, really? It wasn’t as if I hadn’t killed men double Romulus’ size.

  We were off and the first thing Romulus did was sigh.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Rafael is always so stressed. Pissing himself all the time.”

  “Only when there are cops around. Ever been to one of his parties?”

  “No,” he drawled. “He’s never invited me to one. Are they any good?”

  “Good? They’re the best. Nothing but champagne and cigars.”

  “You smoke?”

  “Depends on the occasion.”

  A side-glance, a cocked eyebrow. I was getting some signals from this guy I didn’t really know how to interpret.

  Or was it that I didn’t want to interpret them at all?

  I wasn’t a naïve little girl. I knew where this could go if I let it.

  Getting a good look at his hands, I noticed he didn’t have a ring, nor did his ring finger show a lack of sun exposure over the last knuckle.

  “Do you have any children?”

  My inquiry took him by surprise, to the point of making him scoff. “Yes. Three.” I nodded, letting him be consumed by his thoughts about why I brought that question up, until he asked back, “Do you?”

  Didn’t he know everything about me already?

  “No.”

  Now he nodded and said nothing more.

  It takes two to play this game.

  “Here we are,” he announced once we arrived at the hotel.

  He took my luggage, checked me in, and escorted me to my room. “Everything’s paid for and if you incur any other charges during your stay the agency will cover it.” He stood by the closed door while I inspected my surroundings.

  “I haven’t signed anything yet.”

  “It’s a risk we’re willing to take.”

  I swung my bag over the bed to cover what my eyes were doing, which was studying him. He looked more relaxed than at the airport, although his arms were crossed over his chest.

  His looks were more than agreeable, I must confess. A strong build, sweet dark eyes, and grays in his hair that really suited him.

  “Do you need anything? Should I come by later?”

  “Nah, it’s okay.” I glanced at my watch and it was late, but not too much. “Is that invitation to the pub still on?”

  “I can give you some time to deal with the jet lag.”

  “Nothing a couple of pints can’t take care of.”

  He sent me a half-grin, uncrossing his arms and turning for the door. “I’ll wait in the lobby.”

  I stared at the door as it shut behind him and didn’t notice I hadn’t moved until my mobile vibrated inside my jacket pocket. Bobby. I wasn’t picking that call up so I texted him I was okay before checking my makeup and heading down to where Romulus was waiting for me.

  We walked over to the pub, sat at a table away from the windows, and were quick to start on our beers and plates of chips.

  “Tomorrow we’ll visit Spring Gardens so you can meet your coworkers, get acquainted, see the premises.”

  “And what is this about? Getting acquainted with the boss?”

  He leaned back in his seat, giving a look around before staring straight into my eyes. “I know you’re not used to having someone supervise your work. I promise not to be the obtrusive kind.”

  “What do you know about my work anyway?”

  He pushed himself forward, elbows on the table, and drew his face as close to my side as he could. “I know all I need to know: that you’re the best. And, between you and me, I believe that, very soon, you’ll be surpassing your grandfather. A great feat for a 24-year-old.”

  “You said my contract would start and end with you.”

  “It will. You’ll work under me from the moment you sign to the moment you call it quits. In the rare case that I may have to be the one who ceases to work
with the project, you’ll be free to decide if you want to stay working with us or not.”

  “Us. That’s something you still haven’t explained.”

  “You sure ask a lot of questions.” He was resting with his arms on the table now. “I wonder if you’d be so eager if it were you on the other side.”

  Some guttural cat-like sound threatened to come out of my lips.

  “Try me.”

  He ordered another round and waited until we were served.

  Ready. Steady. Go.

  “Last job.”

  “Two weeks ago.”

  “For whom?”

  Raised eyebrow. “A friend.”

  “Where?”

  “Monterrey, México.”

  “Any other jobs in your agenda?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you have a concealed weapon with you right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it the one you used for that job?”

  “I use rifles for my jobs.”

  “Who was the unlucky bastard?”

  Pause. “A shop owner.”

  “Shop? What kind?”

  “Pawn shop. Arms trafficker.”

  “How did you kill him?”

  “Waited until he got into his car and shot him in the head from a building across the street.”

  “Witnesses?”

  “Nope.”

  “How did it feel to pull that trigger?”

  “Like always.”

  “And how is that?”

  I leaned over the table to join him midway. “Better than sex.”

  “Is it?”

  “Very.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Then you’ve never had a rifle in your hands and a target in sight.”

  “I have.”

  “Then you know it is.”

  “I find many differences between both acts.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m the one asking the questions.”

  I sat back, my eyes not leaving his, and raised my hands to my