Page 75 of Wrong Pawn. Right Capo.

This garden… looks like the eastern part of the house. The gate is likely on the other side. Instantly, I crouch behind another thick tree on the opposite side when a voice scoffs from behind me.

“Going somewhere, Miss Rossi?”

My heart flies to my throat, then drops into my stomach as I freeze, feeling the heat of a guard standing directly behind me.

“The mayor did say—”

My body reacts before my mind, spinning on my heel as I lunge a kick directly into his groin. He groans, hunching like he’ll never stand again, and I take that moment to run. But I don’t get three strides before a body collides with mine from behind, sending me to the ground.

I manage to fall on my side, protecting my stomach from taking direct impact. The same man holds me down, wrenching my arms behind my back as he places his knee on my spine, forcing air out of my lungs.

I try to move, but he has a solid hold on me.

“Please… please just let me go. I have money, I promise I’ll—”

The words die in my mouth when an expensive pair of polished shoes come into view. The mayor.

My breath hitches, blood running cold as he crouches down with the same derisive smile. Slowly, he lifts my chin toward him, then shakes his head.

“This is the mayor’s abode. The walls are monitored, and the gardens have motion sensors. Damn, I watched you climb down, and I must say, you’re very brave...”

I blanch, staring at him with wide eyes. He’s been watching me all this time.

“But you’re also profoundly stupid. And now you’ve forced me to ruin your beautiful face.”

Before I know it, his hand swings out, hitting me with a force that makes my neck snap. Pain ricochets through my head.

And then… I black out.

Chapter twenty-six

Adriano

Day One of the Deadline—Evening

Moon Hollow, Utah

I adjust the binoculars with clenched teeth, sweeping the vast expanse of land a couple of miles from me. The main house on the ranch is a low-slung structure made out of bleached wood and rusting corrugated metal. It’s surrounded by other smaller structures, but one stands out to me—a cabin with an antenna, tucked against the base of a sandstone cliff.

That must be how the ex-police commissioner communicates with the ranch to ensure his family’s safety.

I’m still deciding which building to infiltrate first when I catch movement through the window of the main house. It’s fucking Jeremiah himself.

Without hesitation, I back away from the ridge where I’d been observing and spring into action. My boots press silently against the sandy ground as I crouch forward, gun in hand, my pulse steadying as my focus locks in.

The cold evening air blows as I stop at intervals to lie flat on the ground to avoid detection. Since there’s no fence, I have to move cautiously, or this shit ends before it even starts.

After reaching the main house’s perimeter, I lean against the corner of the wall to listen for any signs of life. When I hear nothing, I crouch over to the window, peering carefully inside to see Jeremiah Coulter in what looks like the living room, rocking in a creaky chair with a rifle across his knees. He looks exactly like the photo Francesco had sent. Slender, full beard and a deceivingly soft face… exactly how a con artist would look.

Taking in the layout of the room, I slip back around to the main door. My gun is already aimed as I twist the handle and shove the weak wood open with a heavy shoulder. He immediately jumps up, the rifle clattering to the floor, but before he can scramble to get it, I already have my Glock cocked and pressed against his temple.

“Don’t.” My voice is flat. “The sound will carry. Liza and the kids will hear.”

His eyes widen at the mention of her name. “W-What do you want?”

“I think you already know.”

Slowly, he rises from his crouched position, raising his hands in surrender.