Page 257 of Breaking Rosalind
This plot is high risk, and Gunther is almost guaranteed to shoot Matty on sight, but I only need a few seconds to create a diversion.
If this doesn’t work, Rosalind will surely kick my ass.
I stand at the edge of the speedboat wanting to throw a grappling hook on the cruiser’s railing and scale the hull. Swashbuckling bullshit like that will only cause a ruckus and ruin the element of surprise.
The waves lapping against both vessels barely drown out Matty’s whimpering.
Contrary to his bullshit, there are plenty of hand and foot holds for me to scale the cruiser’s side. “Just like rock climbing,” I mutter under my breath, “except with the risk of hypothermia.”
I peer into a porthole, finding the cabin inside empty and dark. Gripping the frame around it, I raise my leg to use it to anchor my foot. I stretch out an arm and grab a row of small bolts that allow me to shift my weight upward.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I ascend the hull, balancing my weight on panels, grooves, and ledges, until I reach a cleat on the side deck.
Matty remains silent like a coward, not wanting to increase his odds of death by attracting the attention of Gunther. If he doesn’t want to open negotiations, then I’ll force his hand.
I climb up on the deck and crawl on my belly down the side of the cockpit, only rising to peer through its window to find a sliding door leading to a set of steps. At the end of the deck, I catch my first glimpse of the old bastard still clinging to life.
He’s wringing his hands, edging to where I anchored the speedboat. Before he can think of escaping, I shoot a flare into the sky.
Bright red light illuminates the ship, accompanied by a loud bang. A rough voice from inside the cabin barks, “Who the hell are you?”
Matty’s arms rise to the sky. “Please, don’t shoot. I’m Matteo. Matteo Galliano. Your client. My brother, Tommaso, paid the Moirai?—”
“There is no fucking Moirai,” the man barks. “Not after some traitorous bitch sold us out to the Montesano family.”
“It was Rosalind, right?” Matty gives him an encouraging nod.
I grind my teeth. He should be luring the man outside, not trying to find common ground. In a minute, he’ll announce that there’s a Montesano sneaking up behind him with a gun.
“What do you know about her?” the man asks.
“She shot me.” Matty lowers his arms to gesture at his blood-soaked pants. “You see?”
When the man doesn’t answer, he gulps. “She’s in a limo being held by four of my men. I came out to negotiate for the release of Miranda.”
My eyes narrow at the suggestion that Matty counts me as one of his lackeys, but I hold steady, ready to shoot the man the moment he shows the back of his head.
“You think you can come here and dictate terms?” the man snarls.
Matty shrinks away, making me think Gunther is on the approach. My heart soars when a large figure steps into view. He’s wearing a bulletproof jacket and a helmet, so I aim for the back of his neck.
Just as I’m about to pull the trigger, Matty yells, “Cesare, now!”
The man whirls around and fires an automatic gun in my direction. The bullet whizzes over my head, and I shoot back. Matty charges at the man, pushing them both into the cabin and out of view.
“Fuck.”
Fury sizzles through my veins. Is this old bastard trying to get the last of his offspring killed? I scramble to my feet, run into the cockpit and through the sliding doors.
At the bottom of the stairs, Matty wrestles the man against the wall, already having ripped off his helmet. He grinds against the other man, their bodies so entangled that I can’t get a clean shot, so I fire at them both.
When they both fall limp, my insides tighten with regret. Matty wasn’t supposed to die so quickly. I wanted him to save him for the basement.
I step over the bodies and into the cabin, where I find a small figure cowering in the corner. It’s Miranda, her eyes wide with terror and tears streaming down her cheeks. My heart clenches at the sight of my innocent little sister.
“Please,” she sobs, “Don’t hurt me.”
I slip my gun into my pocket. “It’s me, love.”