Page 24 of Code Name: Admiral

“Can you intervene?”

I shook my head. “If intervention were a viable option, we would’ve prevented all this from happening years ago. Everyone in our family tried to stop the train wreck my cousin became.”

He nodded. “You really think he’ll show up to his victim’s service?”

“He’ll be there.” The certainty in my voice surprised even me. “He’ll want to make sure she’s really gone.”

And Alice knew it too. That’s why she’d arranged this—creating an opportunity too tempting for Bobby to pass up. She was setting a trap, using herself as bait.

“We need to get ahead of this,” I said, my mind already racing through scenarios. “Tank, I want detailed schematics of the cemetery and surrounding buildings. Sight lines, access points, everything.”

“On it.”

“Blackjack, run background on every employee at Saint Ambrose. Anyone who might have access during or before the service.”

He nodded and moved away, already on his phone.

“What about me?” Diesel asked.

I met his eyes. “I need you to do what you do best. Watch my back when I’m watching hers.”

A slight smile touched his lips. “Always do, brother.”

Grit cleared his throat. “And what exactly will you be doing?”

“What I have to.” I checked my watch again. Forty-seven hours and counting. “She’s out there somewhere, planning her next move.”

“Can you predict what she’ll do?” Grit’s tone carried a note of skepticism.

“No.” I smiled grimly. “But I can think like her. She’s methodical, precise. She’ll have backup plans for her backup plans. The question isn’t whether she’ll show up at the service; it’s how many different escape routes she’s already mapped out.”

“And Bobby?”

My smile faded. “If he shows, we take him. Clean and by the book.”

“Before Alice can get to him,” I added silently. Because if she reached him first, there wouldn’t be anything but a body left for us to arrest.

“I want eyes on every known Castellano associate,” I continued. “If Bobby’s planning to attend, he’ll need to coordinate with someone. Maybe we get lucky and catch a break.” I turned to Grit. “What about informants? We’ve got to have someone inside.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“This is an area we might have luck with the NYPD,” Tank pressed.

“Do you know someone you can trust?”

“Affirmative.”

My eyes scrunched, and I studied him. “Whose life?”

“Come again?” he asked.

“Whose life do you trust him with?”

“Hers and my own.”

“You better be damned sure of this,” I warned.

“I am.”

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