k. I expected a monster, a brute. Luis "El Lobo" Martinez, the wolf, head of the Miami cart

e at the private airs

eyes that held a hint of sa

d, his voice warm

ling, beautiful villa. He introduced me to his family-his mother, his cou

ey saw a woman who was hurt

ful. He never forced himself on me. He would sit with me by the ocean at night, telling me stories of his child

r, not forbidden longing. I became "La Dama," the lady of his house, respected and cheri

ssed. Two ye

Andrew

U.S. Attorney, a federal powerhouse celebrated for his ruthle

world. The sound of helicopters and gunfire ripped through our peaceful morning. It wa

ving a trail of death. They didn't distinguish b