Page 96 of Freed
A hard smile pulls at my mouth.
Then I think of Elizabeth again.
Of her standing in my office with tears streaming down her face, hand over the slight curve of her stomach. Of the way she looked at me like I was a monster. Of the way she said the baby was his
His.
The word hits like a bruise.
If it’s Russo’s child, that complicates things. Not strategically. Personally. A child binds people in ways even hatred can’t fully sever. It gives men like Russo something noble to hide behind. Something he can point to and call love instead of possession.
I won’t let him use that against me.
My fingers tap once against the desk.
No one touches Elizabeth. Not Russo. Not his men. Not anyone. She may hate me, lie to me, even choose him over me, but she is still under my protection now. And if Russo is the reason she woke up half-drugged in the back of a van, terrified of tinted windows and closed doors, then I will rip his life apart so thoroughly they’ll be finding pieces of it for years.
A knock sounds at the study door.
“Enter.”
Cesaro steps in. “You haven’t slept.”
“No. Why are you still up?”
“Miss Miller needed some water. I took it from that cute maid with the dimples, so she didn’t have to carry the tray. Earn some brownie points.” His gaze drops to the papers spread across my desk. “You have a plan.”
I look up at him.
“Yes.”
He waits. He knows me well enough to know I’m deciding how much to say.
Finally, I tell him, “Russo thinks he’s the one coming for something that belongs to him.”
Cesaro’s expression doesn’t change.
I continue, “I’m going to let him.”
A flicker in his eyes.
“We leak Chicago,” I say. “Carefully. Only through channels I want tested. I want to know who repeats it, how fast it spreads, and who it reaches.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“I want false routes prepared. Two decoys. One real convoy. Men I trust only.”
Cesaro nods. “Done.”
“And if Russo moves before then?”
I let the silence sit for a beat.
“Break him early.”
Cesaro inclines his head once. “Understood.”
He turns to go, but I stop him.
