Page 77 of Breaking Rosalind
I lean in closer, studying her features for signs of deception, but she’s unnervingly stoic. “When will they strike?”
“At the first opening.”
“Which is?”
She inhales a deep breath. “Triple hits are difficult. They’ll wait for the next time all three of you are together.”
I stare down at Rosalind, waiting for her to elaborate. Silence stretches out across the playroom, broken only by the pounding of my pulse.
When Roman was on death row, we looked into multiple ways to get him released. I wanted to fly a helicopter into the prison when he was out for exercise, but Benito and Leroi said it wouldn’t work. Alderney State Penitentiary is too well guarded, with high towers manned by marksmen.
All escape scenarios ended with the same result. The authorities storming our stronghold, and Roman spending the rest of his life on the run.
He was innocent, with an iron-clad alibi for the night that woman was murdered, but Frederic Capello had so much dirt on the judge and everyone connected to the case that he buried the truth beneath corruption and lies.
Our only chance of freeing Roman was to attack the threat at its source. First, we needed to take out the officials keeping him behind bars. Next, we needed to kill Frederic Capello, his brothers, his cousins, his lieutenants, his bastard sons. Every motherfucker capable of striking back needed to die.
Roman had to wait a year and a fucking half for the right moment for Leroi to wipe out the entire Capello family. That’s why I believe Rosalind when she says a triple hit is difficult. If one of us survives the assassination, we wouldn’t stop until everyone involved was dead.
“Tell me about the holes you found in our security,” I say.
She looks me dead in the eye. “None.”
“Bullshit.”
“The perimeter of your estate is surrounded by twelve-foot-tall walls coated in anti-climb paint. Those can still be scaled, and maybe someone could get past the barbed wire and electrified fencing, though I’m sure your guards will notice any glitches in the current.”
That’s true, but I refuse to give her any recognition. “Continue.”
“A five-minute search of the County Clerk’s office shows that every plot of land surrounding yours is owned by a real estate company that once belonged to your father.”
Frederic Capello embezzled Dad out of his entire portfolio, his casino, and a whole host of other assets Roman is working hard to retrieve.
“And?” I say through clenched teeth.
“Each time the firm sent an analyst to scope out the land, they never returned.”
The corners of my lips twitch. Our guards might gossip like a bunch of assholes, but they’re competent, mostly loyal, and leave no fucking traces.
“So, how will they get to us?”
“Same way I got to you,” she says, her eyes hardening into flint.
Her words cut through the air like throwing stars, each lodging into my chest. Cold seeps into my heart as I piece together her meaning. I’m the weakest link. The trojan fucking cat carrying enemies disguised as quarry within its jaws.
My breath quickens, and culpability wraps its icy fingers around my throat. I should walk away, report everything I’ve learned back to Benito and Roman, then put a bullet in her skull. Finish this hateful little assassin before she fills my mind with more poison.
Fury pounds through my eardrums, drowning out my self-restraint. Through clenched teeth, I hiss out the words, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Every system, no matter how well designed, has its weaknesses,” she says, her eyes searching my soul. “Your cousin was supposed to be my way in through the Montesano gates. He never so much as introduced me to any of his friends.”
She pauses, letting the words trickle through the cracks in my defense, letting my fury simmer to a dangerous boil until my ears ring. My hand finds Lucrezia, and my fingers tighten around her hilt.
Every reprimand my brothers and Gil ever made rises to the surface, to mingle with her taunts. I’m useless. A liability. I caved into her trickery within minutes while Leroi stayed strong for months.
“But you brought me straight into the heart of your estate with the promise of kinky sex,” she says, her lip curling. “I didn’t even need to inject you with drugs. The promise of a blowjob combined with rudimentary reverse psychology got you swallowing an entire vial of oxypentanol.”
Rosalind gazes up at me, her eyes smoldering with defiance. She’s daring me to lash out in a fit of rage and make a mistake she’ll exploit. To give her an opening so she can escape.