She places her hands on her hips, brows lowered as she looks me up and down. She just needs to stomp her foot to complete the picture of a spoiled brat. And then she does, and I snort a laugh, quickly trying to cover it with a cough.
I know right away she must be one of Dutch’s cousins. Their hair color is the same, and the little dimple in their brow when they frown is identical. I remember Dutch reiterating that her female cousins wouldn’t be a problem, that they were more spoiled than anything. Although this girl is certainly acting the part of a spoiled princess, I wonder if Dutch might be wrong about them not being dangerous.
All it would take is the barest amount of training for them to be just as vicious as the rest of the family.
Look how Dutch planned the deaths of fifty-six people, then nearly beheaded Andrea.
The girl crosses her arms and announces loudly, “We should kill that one,” pointing to Ryan, “and that one,” pointing to me, “we should lock in Daddy’s cellar. I want a new toy to play with.”
I stay silent, but rage pours through me at the thought of this child putting her hands on me. My jaw ticks as I look at her, mouth curled in a snarl. The girl takes no notice, waiting to see what the person behind me says.
“Once we have Daniella, you can do what you want.”
She bounces on her toes and claps her hands. The sinister delight shining in her eyes makes me feel dirty, like I need a shower.
She reaches out a hand toward me, for what purpose I can’t imagine, and shrieks when I lunge for her, snapping my teeth. The man behind us hits me across the back with the butt of his rifle, but I barely flinch. I glare at her, daring her to try and touch me again.
This time, she stays back, but I can see the wheels turning in her head. If Dutch and the others aren’t able to save us, I shudder to think what she might have planned for me. Her underlying viciousness makes me wonder if she’s Cesare’s daughter, Carlotta. I should have paid more attention to the photos of the girls, but I had been more focused on the men.
The man laughs when I hear Dutch’s voice come from the helmet, calling for Ryan. Fear spreads across my chest, chilling it. If he hurts Dutch, I’ll tear him limb from limb, then destroy the others.
“Be prepared!” he calls out, and several voices answer back in the affirmative.
Fuck. It only being the two of them here would have been ideal. I’m sure I made out at least two other voices.
“Cousin!” the man says into the comms. “Please, come out and join us. And bring your little friends with you.”
He walks around to the front of us, allowing us to see his face for the first time. I recognize him immediately from the pictures Dutch gave us. Carmine, Cesare’s son. If I remember correctly, he’s twenty-two and has been taking lessons from his psychotic father since he was a baby. He has a gun in each hand, pointed at our heads.
Carlotta moves to stand behind us, her presence at my back making my hackles rise.
A couple of minutes pass before the doors open, and Dutch shouts, “I’m coming out!” She tosses her AR-15 out in front of her, and it clatters to the ground. A man runs out of the bamboo and grabs it, then disappears inside it again. He must be one of Vincenzo’s men, as he wasn’t Alvise or Benito, the remaining male cousins.
She steps out, and the sun seems to shine a little brighter. She has her hands raised and locked behind her head, her eyes locked on Carmine, a sinister smile stretching wide across her face. “Here I am. Release these two and I’ll let you take me in.”
What the fuck is she doing? I narrow my eyes at her, but she doesn’t look at me, keeping her focus solely on Carmine. Ryan stays still and silent beside me, but he’s watching her closely.
“Where are the rest of your friends?” Carmine asks, trying to peer around her to see into the darkened landing.
Dutch’s smile falters and wilts away. “Injured and dead,” she says, her head tilting down for a moment. She takes that second to flick her gaze to me, her lip curling up just a fraction before she schools her face into one of grief. She raises her head and focuses on Carmine again. “You’re just like your father,” she murmurs. “If I had known it was you here today, I would have brought many more people with me.”
Carmine’s chest puffs out.
“Stefano and Andrea, well, they were too stupid to live. But you? You, Carmine, are a true opponent. One worthy of the Gianelli name. Your father and mine must both be so proud of you.”
“They will be when I bring you in.”
Dutch nods wisely. “I always knew you should be the one to take over when Vincenzo eventually dies. I just know you’ll do great things with the business, make it soar to new heights.” Carmine preens some more, his grip on the guns loosening as he basks in Dutch’s praise.
Once more, her eyes quickly flick to mine, and I understand that she’s trying to buy time. I doubt her claim that the others are dead, but I did hear a scream, so it’s possible they could be. But then she wouldn’t be buying time.
The house blueprints come up in my mind’s eye, and I scour over them. The rooftop patio overhangs the backyard—if you can call it that. It’s really just another patio, but you can access it from the basement level. I freeze as I realize what she’s doing. In the far corner of the patio we’re on, there’s a hatch that leads to a ladder, to allow for escape from the top floor in the event of a fire. Unless you’re looking for it, you would never know it’s there.
The others can access it from the basement patio. Climbing up they’d be able to get up here without Carmine realizing.
The bamboo rustles in the breeze, the leaves tapping against each other. Carmine takes his eyes off Dutch for just a moment, his glance going to the bamboo where the others are hiding. Ryan springs forward, disarming Carmine while at the same time, Carlotta winds her arms around my neck, and I feel the chilly bite of the knife against my throat.
I freeze, keeping my hands in place behind my head. I’ll let her think I’m complying, that I’m scared of her. If the knife was at Dutch’s throat, I would be.
