Page 248 of Breaking Rosalind

Nino lifts himself off the seat, his huge body blocking out the light. His meaty hand lands on my thigh, causing an explosion of nausea. My heart is beating so hard that I’m surprised he can’t feel it from the vibrations of my skin.

His thick fingers slide up to my crotch, pausing at the scrap of lace, making me hold my breath. I can’t react. Not until the moment is right.

“Why did you return her panties?” he asks with a chuckle. “They’re in the way.”

“Slide them to the side,” Matteo says, his voice amused.

“Is she wet?” Gio asks.

“Gimme a minute.” Nino leans closer, his hot breath invading my sinuses with a foul cocktail of stale coffee and garlic.

Not yet.

Thick fingers glide over my labia, and I suppress a shudder.

Not yet.

“Dry as a fucking desert.”

Matteo chuckles. “She was never like that with me.”

“Maybe I should go first,” Gio says. “Get her nice and ready.”

Nino grunts. “It’s bad enough having you here while I’m trying to fuck. I don’t need your commentating.”

“Fine, fine,” Gio mutters. “Just leave some for me.”

Nino shoves my legs apart and reaches for his fly, leaning so close that the gun in his chest holster presses into my shoulder.

Now.

Panic squeezes my chest like a vise, crushing the breath from my lungs. I try to move my arm, but it’s frozen. It’s been over a decade since my last freeze response. Adrenaline surges through my veins. I command my fingers to move, but they won’t twitch.

Now, Rosalind.

NOW!

ONE HUNDRED

CESARE

Gripping the steering wheel, I lean back in the driver’s seat, straining to hear what’s happening in the back. Rosalind could be suffocating beneath a pile of men, crying out for help, but the privacy screen is soundproofed, so all I hear beneath the pounding of my pulse is the engine’s gentle hum.

Each time I glance into the rearview mirror, all I see is the fucking divider. My willpower is fraying. I want to snatch this asshole’s gun, stop the car, and keep shooting until there’s nothing left but blood and shattered bones.

I turn on the cruise control, already picturing how to disarm the driver before taking out our captors, but I force myself to stop.

My impulsive days are over. I’m a man in love. A big brother with a little sister in peril. Besides, Rosalind would never forgive me if I jeopardized the handover. She wants Miranda safe at all costs. So do I, but I want it to be my life on the line, not Rosalind’s.

The GPS tells me to exit in a mile for Beaumont City, so I steer the limo toward the right lane. I need to trust that Rosalind can take care of herself, but my fingers won’t stop twitching toward that gun.

A muffled gunshot breaks the silence. Before I can even gasp, it’s followed by a second and a third. I pull out the cigarette lighter, only to find the asshole in the front passenger seat has already yanked open the divider and stuck his gun through its opening.

All three men lie sprawled in their seats with bullet wounds. Two are unmoving, but Matteo gasps for breath with blood blooming crimson across his suit.

Triumph surges through my veins.

She did it.

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