Page 40 of Her Keeper
I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, and lifted my chin. I didn’t give one single damn if I wasn’t welcome here. I didn’t care what Jimmy Rossi thought of me personally, or what he thought I’d done. Sure, he probably didn’t much like that I’d sold information to a reporter, but Michael had forgiven me, and I didn’t see how Jimmy could stay mad at me.
Not when I was about to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.
Were there problems with my plan? Absolutely. Holes? Yes, definitely. The distinct possibility that he wouldn’t take me up on my offer and I’d end up never walking out of this house again?
Yes.
But I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Because as far as I could see, this gambit was the only play I had left. It was the only way to get Jimmy off my back and stop his hit men, and therefore the only way to save Joseph and Michael from their own father.
It was the only way to save the Rossis from themselves, and from the enemy they had within their walls.
It was the only way to end all of this.
I got out of the car and walked quickly toward the front door, moving fast enough that I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing or all the million and one ways it could go wrong. I definitely didn’t think that I might have seen Michael for the last last time and driven right to my death.
All I thought about was that one way or another, me entering that building was going to bring this thing to an end.
I lifted my hand and knocked on the door, expecting an armed guard to answer, and there was a long pause, though I could hear someone talking on the other side of the door. I wondered what this house was like. Did they have a reinforced door the way Michael did? I knew Irish Brennan had steel reinforcement throughout most of his house, as well, to protect him if someone was shooting from outside.
I assumed Jimmy Rossi had the same.
Then the door opened and I forgot about reinforcements.
That wasn’t a hulking goon on the other side of the door, gun cocked and pointing at my face. It was the youngest Rossi.
Donatella, more commonly known as Dante, was only eighteen and had, from what I knew of her, lived her life much like I’d lived mine. Sheltered. Hidden from the world. Raised in a spoiled but protected world where no one was allowed to touch her. She was the baby of the family and every man related to her—and those who worked for them—had gone out of their way to make sure she had the safest childhood possible.
I mean, it was a stretch when you were the daughter of an Italian mob boss. But from what I’d heard, they’d done their best.
I didn’t know her well. I was friends with Joseph but had never been to his house, and had only known Michael because we’d gone to school together. Dante was young enough that she’d never been in school with us. I thought I’d talked to her maybe twice, when we were much younger.
Now she was nearly grown up. And she was beautiful. Lots of long, blond hair and blue eyes, with features that were a neat mix of Michael and Joseph. She was tiny, probably about Sloane’s size.
And she was looking at me like she wanted to kill me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she snapped.
My eyes darted from her to the men standing behind her, and I realized that she’d pushed through them to answer the door herself. They must have known that I was the one out here, and that I came alone.
She wouldn’t have gone out of her way to answer the door if she was actually ready to kill me. I didn’t think.
“I came to talk to your father,” I told her quietly.
To my surprise, she grabbed my arm and dragged me close. “That’s not a good idea, Penny. You do realize that he’s trying to have you killed, right?”
I shook my head, trying to follow her sudden change of tone. She no longer sounded like she wanted to kill me. She sounded like she was trying toprotectme.
I wondered suddenly if I could count on her as an ally. Because if I could...
That would make this visit a lot easier.
“I realize that,” I hissed. “But I also know that I have information he doesn’t have. Information that he’s going to want to hear.”
She huffed out a laugh. “And you think that’s going to save you? Dear Old Daddy isn’t exactly thinking clearly right now, if you know what I mean.”
I gave her a sideways look, realizing suddenly that I might not know the girl, but Sloane certainly did. Sloane had probably known this girl since she was born.
And given how Dante was talking, she wanted to be just like Sloane when she grew up.
