MARRIED TO THE MAFIA KING WHO KILLED MY FATHER

had his n

ess, the one with the cracked spine and the coffee stain on the cover. Three words on the first

De Luc

ning. Tonight she

hrough the earpiece. "Guards rotate the eas

mov

standing

stone ledge, rain soaking through her jacket

n on this rooftop forty

think

ter. Ninet

tyard below. No jacket, sleeves rolled, phone to his ear. Standing like a man who ha

ything about h

o find out how

seconds

mewhere in the back of her head, steady hands, pi

urved around

heard th

ped from her grip and her face hit concrete hard enough to split her lip. A kne

knee into a ribcage

s her throat killed

voice was a

. Tactical gear, weapons drawn, posit

own she w

's-" Rino's voi

rete and the fountain still running in the cour

study that smelled of c

actually been read. A dead

desk is Lor

ter. Instead he sat with one leg crossed, jacket off, looking at her with

ved. A thin white scar near his left temple, so

t o

e stretch. She re

oke f

leeding,"

about her lip. S

cloth on

want yo

f water, sipped slowly, set it down. Un

st

nary four minutes. Any competent shooter makes that." He tilted his head.

cold. "You know

ut the contact you used for this rifle and that she overcharged you." He leaned forward.

m felt

you been watchi

ee y

l. Different cities, different names, cash only. She

" she

k folder on the

room watching the news and finding out Enzo Romano was dead. And I spent the next six mon

not your busi

ows what Mar

e a slap. "Don't say

e wh

u know s

h. Tell me if you recognize the man next to the port authority officer. Tell me the tim

ust those dark steady eyes, like a man who had been carrying somethin

a trap..."

is

not let your men put a bu

ur father's real killer. Exposed. Destroyed. Everything he built, gone." He turned. "Marco Roman

ndition," she

es

ha

s. Steady. Not a

rry

ws. The dead fire brea

... short, shar

re se

lways s

her we're the only two people in Italy with the motive and resources to bring Marco down. Se

or five years. Who had just dismantle

f I sa

the zip tie. Her hands c

, my men released him already." He sat back. "And tomorrow you go back

er wrists. S

folder,

en shaking hands outside a port warehouse thr

nized the

ognized

ed just enough toward the

mp - 11

er died

arco had been f

rain and a ticking clock and her own breathing. But inside he

le

ing had jus

her hands flat on the desk.

verything,

eal night