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…sort of.
Some were easier to see inside than others –
Like the French windows that lined the kitchen.
Inside, a couple of servants were preparing food… but no sign of Rosolini.
I scanned the other windows but returned to the kitchen every 30 seconds. It had the best visibility – and I figured there was at least an outside chance the target might go in there.
About 500 feet to my right, the couple from earlier – the outdoor exhibitionists – walked out of an olive grove and towards the house.
If they only knew how close they’d come to dying today.
How close they were to dying now.
I could have dropped them in seconds if they’d been the targets.
But they weren’t the targets… so they lived to fuck another day.
Lucky bastards.
Once they were gone, I focused on the kitchen.
And then something happened.
The servants looked up like they’d heard someone’s voice, then scurried out.
My pulse quickened with excitement.
Two men walked into the kitchen.
One looked like he was related to the guy who’d fucked the screamer in the orchard…
But the other man was definitely Rosolini.
A third person was off to the side, but I couldn’t see him. The mystery man was concealed by an inconvenient reflection on the glass windows; I could only tell he was there when he moved, which I could see through the reflections.
Didn’t matter. I was here for Rosolini.
I had a pretty good shot overall –
Except reflections on the glass partially obscured my view.
Not only that, but Rosolini was leaning over a kitchen counter, and the second man stood between us. It looked like they were hovering over a cell phone and talking into it on speakerphone.
I could have shot through the other man –
But that would’ve significantly decreased my odds of killing Rosolini.
So I just waited and hoped for a better shot.
Suddenly, two more figures entered the kitchen –
The man and the woman from the orchard.
As soon as they walked in, Rosolini stopped leaning over the counter and stood up to face them.
Dead in my sights.
