ella

table, then his cynical eyes flicked back to me. "I don

ingle dollar to my name, but I po

u out of a federal penitentiary. Tomorrow night, the FBI is raiding the underground casino on 8th Street. The

he impossible weight of my knowledge, I snatched a butcher blade from hi

manded the mounta

en my son's ribs. I inserted the needle. A hiss of trapped air and fluid followed. Angelo's tiny chest

ascinated by the monster I had become. "Y

I knew exactly what was transpiring three hundred miles away in Chicago.

co 'The General' Moretti, was bowing to Lorenzo 'Enzo' Falcone. To save me from a fabricated insult orchestrated

e as he casually flipped an antique coin, looking at Da

," Lorenzo would say, testing the new Don. "In exchange, I decree your un

ce of hesitation, would reply, "

n't reg

ev

ossing me to the wolves. He had discarded us like garbage. But he didn

dust of the Gary limeston

torn open, bleeding into the rough canvas gloves. I needed clean cash for Angelo's ant

eet of black Cadillac Escalades pull

t stop

med Moretti Soldiers. She had spent days tracking me through the grimy streets, bribing ba

rt, falling to her knees before me, uncaring of the mud ruining her pristine

wrapping a dirty rag around my bleeding palm. My gaze

They had arrived just in time to buy him a tiny wooden coffin. Tha

verything wa

ast her weeping form to the armored cars waiting to