Page 107 of Freed
Russo.
Cesaro sees it. “You still think he’s in it?”
“I think men rarely act alone when there’s a woman at the center and money on the table.”
He inclines his head. “Fair.”
I set the pen down and lace my fingers together. “If Russo is innocent in this, I’ll know soon enough.”
“And if he isn’t?”
The rage in me smiles first.
“Then the war he threatened starts early.”
Cesaro is quiet for a beat. “What about Miss Miller?”
That question lands lower than I like. I don’t answer immediately because I don’t know whether to lock her away for hersafety or drag every truth out of her while she’s too weak to run. And because part of me is still furious enough to remember the burner phone and the lies and the way she looked me in the eye while hiding entire worlds behind those blue eyes.
When I finally speak, my voice is flat.
“She does not leave this room. No food, no water, no medication reaches her unless it passes through my hands or the doctor’s.”
Cesaro nods. “Understood.”
“And put two women outside her door. Armed.”
His gaze flicks up. “Women?”
“She’s frightened enough.”
He doesn’t argue.
I gather the pages into one neat stack and tap them against the desk.
“I want every servant broken apart and every lie they’re protecting dragged into the light. I want to know which thread leads to Marino and which leads to Russo.”
“And if it leads somewhere else?”
I look up.
“Then whoever it leads to will wish it had been Russo.”
Cesaro leaves without another word.
I stand alone in the study for a long minute, staring at the door.
Upstairs, Elizabeth is waiting. Maybe crying. Probably hating me. Too bad. Because no one is taking another shot at her while she is under my roof. No one.
I reach for the gun in the desk drawer, check the chamber, and slide it into the back of my waistband. Then I turn toward the door.
It’s time to go back upstairs.
21
Birdie
The shouting downstairs has stopped, but now I hear something worse.
