Page 223 of Breaking Rosalind
Carlo scoffs. “I’m quick. I don’t need it.”
Cesare grabs the older man’s shoulder. “When a highly trained assassin with over a decade of experience tells you to wear armor, you follow her fucking instructions.”
My chest swells with warmth. I don’t remember any man I’ve slept with demanding that another give me respect. Cesare is the first who has even acknowledged my skills.
Carlo glances up and down my body armor, his gaze now assessing. Ignoring him, I continue to the truck’s interior, making last-minute suggestions to increase our chances of leaving the Moirai HQ with our lives.
The final modification we make to the armored truck is the addition of a black box from Dr. Daniel’s ambulance. This will prevent the shutters at HQ from falling, ensuring a faster escape.
When the vehicle is ready, Cesare pulls me to one side. “I want you to stay behind.”
Gazing up into his pale eyes, I place a palm on his chest. His heart beats fast, echoing my own anxiety and betraying his stoic mask.
“We already talked about this,” I say, my voice soft. “Who’s going to help you improvise if something goes wrong?”
His jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare with frustration. “I’ll put on an earpiece. You can direct us from a mile away?—”
“HQ is surrounded by cell phone jammers,” I say. “Their network is the only way of communicating within a half-mile radius of the building.”
Scowling, he jerks his head to the side. “Don’t you think you’ve risked enough?” In a much lower voice, he adds, “She’s depending on you.”
“Which is why I want to make sure we both get out of this in one piece,” I murmur. “She’s depending on you, too.”
He turns back to me, his eyes softening. “What do you mean, love?”
“Are we ready to go?” Gil lumbers up to us, holding a chain attached to four of the shackled hostages, each shackled at their hands and feet with their heads covered in bags.
“Talk later,” I say.
We board the truck we reinforced and direct Gil to seat the hostages by the double doors. The other six sit in a larger truck that contains enough explosives to reach the Moirai’s middle levels. The mercury nitrovolucite Xero’s people seeded around the building and the bottom floors will have to do the rest.
As we pull out of the warehouse, my phone buzzes. I reach into the pocket of my body armor to find a message from an unknown number.
Target found. St. Dismas Medical Center. Hamlet, New Jersey.
It’s followed by a photo of Matteo lying in a white hospital bed, shot from outside the window.
My stomach churns at the sight of him lying there still drawing breath.
Cesare leans into my side. “What’s wrong?”
I pass him the phone. “They’ve found him.”
His nostrils flare, and his features twist with disgust. I can’t blame him. Matteo brutally murdered his two exes, hoping to frame him before trying to do the same to Sofia. It’s hard to imagine anyone being more despicable than him except for his brother, Tommaso, the pimp.
“Shit,” he hisses. “We need to be there now, before he gets discharged.”
I squeeze his hand. “We’ll never get another chance to target the Moirai.”
He breathes hard, his face flushing. The last time I saw him so furious was when one of his men shot me in the shoulder, and Gil had to stop him from shooting up the entire room.
“We’ll handle Galliano later,” I say.
He nods, too furious to form words. I also fall silent, trying to keep my mind far away from thoughts of my former stepfather.
Several minutes later, the truck stops behind the complex of buildings that make up the newly renamed Casino Montesano. From what I overheard, Roman stayed there overnight with Emberly, the woman he brought to the family dinner.
Benito won’t come with us as he’s only just taken back control of the business and is still weeding out people loyal to the man who framed Roman for murder.