Devil's Due: A Thomas Caine Thriller (The Thomas Caine Series Book 0) (4 page)

The sirens outside grew louder.
 
The beautiful girl leaned in close, and her skin smelled of baby oil and jasmine.
 
She kissed his cheek.
 
"You go now. Take care of hand.
 
Stay low for while. I come see you later, OK?"

Caine nodded.
 
"Right."

He headed out into rain.

"Hey!" Naiyana called after him.

He turned, and saw her leaning in the doorway.
 
Her smile was radiant, and for a second, he felt as if the sun had managed to pierce the clouds above with its dazzling rays.
 
"Thank you," she said.
 
"You good friend to me."

He waved and started away, quickening his pace.
 
Within a few minutes, the bar, the blood, and the body of the big Russian man were all left in the gloom behind him.

Caine stared out the window of his small, sparse apartment.
 
The place was clean, to the point of being sterile.
 
No art hung on the walls; no pictures of family or loved ones sat on his desk.
 
He never knew if he would have to leave in a hurry, so he kept his furniture and belongings to a minimum.
 
The place felt empty.
 

The building was far enough away from the walking street that the noise of the crowds was usually a distant murmur.
 
But tonight, the only sound he heard was rain pelting the windows and the muddy streets below.

He watched the sheets of water run down the cracked pane of glass.
 
The street lights reflected a halo of red and green circles in the droplets on the window.
 
He thought about what had happened earlier in the day.
 
The fight.
 
The blood.

Naiyana had said he was a good friend.
 
Caine wasn't sure that was true.
 
He looked back over his past, the things he had done.
 
The lives he had taken.
 
All in the interest of preserving democracy.
 

He suppressed a grim laugh.
 
The interests he had been preserving were those of his handler, a high-level case officer in the CIA.
 
Him, and other men like him.
 
They claimed they were acting for the greater good, and Caine had believed them.
 
Over the years, he had seen the cost their vision of the future claimed in blood, a cost they relied on others to pay. Caine had begun to wonder if the price was too high.
 

It had been Rebecca, a woman he had worked with briefly in the CIA, who had awoken something in him ... the ability to feel again, the desire to see more in himself.
 
To be more than just a weapon, a blunt instrument sent out to murder.

Their affair was brief, but in their time together she had touched him.
 
Changed him.
 
But it was that love, that desire to change, that forced him to remove her from his life.

Caine was betrayed.

To cover up an unsanctioned black op, his handler arranged to have Caine and his partner disappear.

Caine saw his partner murdered in cold blood, gunned down by the targets they were sent to eliminate.
 
Caine managed to survive the attack, but suffered through a period of brutal captivity and torture.
 
And when he finally escaped and returned home, he discovered the ultimate betrayal.
 
His country believed that he was the traitor responsible for his partner's murder.
 

He knew that any further contact with Rebecca would only put her in danger.
 
He had brought death to her doorstep.
 
The only way to keep her safe was to allow others to believe him dead.
 
So, he disappeared.

Caine knew how to survive off the grid.
 
He used his contacts and criminal connections to make a meager living on the outskirts of society.
 
He had been trained to operate invisibly, leaving as little sign of his presence as possible.
 
It wasn't a fulfilling life, but it kept him and those he cared about safe.
 

Deep down, he feared that all the bloodshed, all the pain and suffering he had caused, was a curse.
 
He could never escape it.
 
No matter how far he ran, violence and death were always just a few steps behind him.

Now, violence had followed him to Naiyana.
 

There was a knock on the door.
 

Caine paced across the studio apartment.
 
He peeled back a small piece of tape that covered the peephole in the door.
 
The tape was a security precaution.
 
It kept people outside from being able to look through and track his movements, watching for him to block the light.
 

Looking through the tiny fisheye lens, he saw Naiyana standing in the dark hallway.
 
She cradled a bag of groceries in her arms.
 
He opened the door

"Naiyana, you know you don't have to--"

The beautiful girl rolled her eyes.
 
"Khx phak kxn, just let me in."
 
Caine smiled as she pushed past him and entered the apartment.
 
“Cops give you a hard time?” he asked, as he shut the door behind her.
 
“Did the Russians come back?”

“Cops come, ask questions.
 
I flirt, they leave, just like always.
 
And you know how many Russian’s we get in bar?
 
They all the same, think their money make them kings.
 
I can handle them.”
 
She set the groceries down on the counter and surveyed the room.
 
"You been living here how long?
 
Place always look empty.
 
You need a plant!"

Caine laughed.
 
"Trust me, plants aren't my specialty."

Naiyana gave him a hug, and Caine winced as her arms brushed against his ribs.
 
She looked him over with concern, and wrinkled her nose.
 
"Still sore, huh?
 
You smell like xu. You take hot shower. I cook."

Caine didn't speak much Thai, but he knew the word "xu."
 
It meant excrement.
 
He locked the door, replaced the tape, and trudged towards the bathroom.
 

"You hungry tonight?" Naiyana called from the kitchen.
 

"Starving!" Caine shouted back as he stripped off his sweaty shirt and turned on the shower.

"Good.
 
I cook lots.
 
Keep you healthy for next time you fight."

Caine stuck his head out the door as he waited for the shower to warm up.
 
"What makes you think there's a next time?"
 

He heard pots and pans clattering in the kitchen. Naiyana leaned out and smiled at him.
 
"Men like you, always a fight."

Caine shook his head, closed the bathroom door, and stepped under the scalding hot water.

A few minutes later, he was showered and seated at a tiny folding table they set up near the kitchen.
 
Naiyana had cooked a simple green curry, and the smells of cumin, ginger, and chicken wafted through the apartment.
 
Somehow, the smells of Naiyana's cooking transformed the small, spartan space into something else.
 
To Caine, for the couple of hours she was there, the empty apartment became a home.
 

Caine lifted his chopsticks to his mouth and devoured another bite of the spicy dish.
 
He washed it down with a sip of cold beer from a frosted glass.
 
"How's your brother doing?" he asked.

Naiyana made a clicking sound with her tongue.
 
"Oh, Taavi?
 
So much trouble, that one.
 
He get into a fight today, too.
 
Black eye."
 
A look of concern flashed across Caine's face, but Naiyana smiled and shook her head.
 
"Don't worry, nothing serious.
 
Just boys being boys."

Caine looked up at her as he shoveled more food in his mouth.
 
"If you say so.
 
Just make sure he keeps away from the street gangs."

Naiyana took a sip of beer and pushed at the food on her plate with her chopsticks.
 
"He crazy, but not stupid.
 
I tell him you won't be there to save him next time."

"I didn't save him," Caine said.
 
"I just talked to some people.
 
Made them see it was in their best interest to leave him alone."
 
Caine smiled, but a dark glint flashed in his green eyes.

Naiyana smacked his hand.
 
"Don't be so modest!
 
You save his life.
 
I owe you."

Taavi was Naiyana's younger brother, a street thief who sold tourists cheap trinkets, and sometimes lifted their wallets in the process.
 
He had run into trouble with the organized crime gangs that ran the area.
 
Caine had used his connections, and a few well-placed threats, to straighten things out.

After that, Naiyana had shown up at his door, offering to reward him the only way she knew how.
 
He turned her down.
 
He was lonely, and she was beautiful, but it just didn't feel right.
 
The next day, she showed up with a basket of fresh chicken and vegetables from the market.
 
Again, he tried to turn her away, but without saying a word, she brushed past him into his tiny, dismal apartment.
 
She found her way to the kitchen and cooked him dinner.

She had repeated this simple act of kindness once a week, every week since.
 
Now, he looked forward to Naiyana's home-cooked meals and their conversation afterwards. Somehow, she had become his closest friend, despite the fact that she knew nothing about him or his past.

When Caine's plate was clean, Naiyana poured him another beer and cleared the table.
 
She turned from the the sink and watched as Caine sat down on the small bed, wincing in pain.

Naiyana walked over and sat next to him, her face filled with concern.
 
"Hey, you hurt bad, huh?"

"I'm fine," Caine said.
 
"Just need some rest."

"Naiyana shook her head.
 
"Let me see.
 
Shirt off, now."

"Naiyana, I--"

"No buts," she snapped.
 
"Shirt off, lay down.
 
Now!"

Caine sighed, but did as she said.
 
Naiyana whistled as her eyes danced over Caine's toned, muscular abdomen.
 
The skin above his ribs was mottled with ugly purple bruises.

"Big strong man, huh?
 
That other guy bigger, though.
 
He mess you up.
 
Wait here."

Naiyana got up and rummaged through her purse.
 
She grabbed a tube of ointment and sat back down, straddling Caine's body.
 
Caine shifted, trying to push her off.

"Naiyana, come on."

The beautiful girl laughed, and pointed her finger at him.
 
"Hey, don't get any funny ideas.
 
Serious business here!"
 
She began to rub the ointment on his bruises.
 
Caine gritted his teeth as her fingers pressed into the sore, tender flesh.

"My mother use this ointment on my father, after tree fall on him," Naiyana said.
 
"Now, I use it when I dance.
 
Good stuff, it help."

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

She shook her head.
 
"I keep telling you, it nothing.
 
You help me; I help you."

Naiyana's finger traced the small white scar that sat just above his chest, near his shoulder.
 
"What happen here?"

Caine sat up, and Naiyana shifted her weight off of him.
 
She sat next to him on the bed.

"That happened a long time ago.
 
In Japan."

Naiyana picked her beer up from the floor and took a sip.
 
"Another fight?"

Caine ran his fingers through his hair.
 
"Not exactly.
 
I tried to help someone.
 
Things got complicated."
 

"But you did help them?"

"Yeah.
 
I did."

"You save their life, too, I bet.
 
I told you.
 
You good man; you do good things."

Caine exhaled.
 
"Listen, it's getting late, and I'm exhausted.
 
You should go.
 
Make sure your brother gets home safe."
 

Naiyana met his gaze.
 
Her deep brown eyes were warm and seemed to smile with a life of their own.

"Why do you fight for me?" she asked in a soft voice.
 
"Other guys, they want this, or they want that.
 
You don't want anything.
 
You help me, look out for me, look out for my brother.
 
All I do is cook you dinner."
 

Caine stood up and put on his shirt.
 
"Today, you said you saw something in me, something scary?”

Naiyana nodded.
 
“Sometimes.
 
But that not all I see."

Caine sighed.
 
"At night, I have dreams. Nightmares, terrible things.
 
Things I've done."
 
Caine touched the scar on his shoulder.
 
"That person I told you about, the one I helped?"