“Please mister, buy this painting so we can buy bread,” three dirty triplets begged. The billionaire mafia boss stared at the canvas, his heart stopping. The woman painted on it was the wife he mourned for years. With shaking hands, he pulled out a black card and whispered, “Take me to her.”

that you aren’t the operator anymore,” she murmured.

Before I could process the profound weight of that sentence, my burner phone vibrated against my ribs. I answered it. Nico’s voice was clipped and frantic.

“Boss. Moretti is back on US soil. He just touched down at Logan.” Nico paused, the silence screaming over the line. “And he didn’t come alone.continue reading …