Page 249 of Breaking Rosalind

My little assassin took them out and saved the old bastard for last.

“Don’t move,” the bastard snarls into the back. “Now, get out from under him and check on the boss.”

Releasing the wheel, I twist around in my seat and lurch for the asshole. With one hand, I grip his wrist and aim the gun toward the ceiling. The other shoves the lighter into his eye. His skin sizzles, bringing up the familiar scent of burned flesh.

The gun fires. Once, twice, three times before Rosalind’s slender hand appears to wrench it from his grasp.

One shot later, and the side of my face is spattered with brain matter and warm blood. The bastard slumps into my shoulder, but I shove him aside and take back the wheel.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice still charged with adrenaline.

“Yeah,” she replies. “But I don’t know about Matteo.”

“I want to stop the car and kiss you.”

“Keep driving to the warehouse,” she says. “If we can get there before Gunther, we can see if it’s an ambush.”

“I have a better plan.”

She pauses. “What?”

“Our priority is Miranda, right?”

“Yes?”

“The diamond stud earrings I sent her contained trackers. If she’s still wearing them, we can pinpoint her exact location without walking blindly into a possible trap.”

“Cesare.” She exhales a long, exasperated breath, as if she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Thank you.”

A pained groan echoes through the back seat as I’m about to take the exit. One glance through the rearview mirror tells me that Matty survived the shooting.

“He’s alive?” I ask.

“Not for long,” Rosalind says, her voice full of venom.

“Don’t do this,” Matty croaks.

Rosalind punches him hard across the face, knocking him unconscious. She reaches into his safari jacket and extracts my phone.

After making me disable the security, she navigates to the app. “She must have left an earring in Helsing Island. The other one is...”

“What?” I ask with a frown.

“A mile off St. Anne’s Marina,” she replies, her voice rising with alarm.

“So, he’s keeping her on a boat.”

She slams her fist into the leather. “Gunther knows I don’t like water.”

“Don’t worry, love. You can wait onshore while I take the speedboat.”

“No,” she says.

I hold my silence, not wanting to remind her how water makes her weak. The only reason I captured her that first time when I was hopped up on that drug was because her body went rigid when I pushed her into the pool. When I took her to the yacht, she couldn’t even bear to look out of the window.

But I shouldn’t underestimate a mother’s love. Rosalind will endure anything to save Miranda.

“Forward the location to the group chat and tell them we’re escaping the Galliano brothers,” I say, turning off the GPS.