enne

g I had before the Romero family's Soldi

Montblanc pen rolling across the wood. The guest suite living room reeked of Brenda's cheap perf

th the fried platinum bangs. I shrank back, playing the per

sted in ugly fury

the floor. "You ungrateful trailer-park trash! You'l

o a monster who kills people! If I'm going to be fed to 'The Ghost,' I want to die ric

, her face pale with genuine terror at

ckm

ocked and the deal wasn't done, he would face a mafia Vendetta and the loan sharks sim

o-device embedded in my contact lens synced with the transaction, encrypting the routing and locking the funds instantly

up the pen and scrawled a completely forged

ous chime of the estate doorb

face inches from mine. "If you screw this up, Adrienne," he snarled,

g, terrified girl vanished in a fraction of a second. I yanked my arm fr

, my voice dropping to a dead,

with newspaper and walked out the door

ke a hearse. A massive man in a tailored suit stood like a gargoy

the cavernous, black leather interior. The heavy d

the iron gates, the thick bulletproof glass partitio

th the cheap gum I was chewing. "So," I chirped, injecting pure naive dre

the glass sealed completely. His voice crackled thro

ou hear is what we let you he

ition locked into place, plunging