“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.”

slipped through the door, his face pale, clutching a classified dossier. Moretti had bypassed customs with a diplomatic passport and was setting up a meet near the seaport. He had already sent a backdoor message through the Caruso syndicate: How much is Dante Marino willing to pay to keep his resurrected wife out of a shallow grave?

“He thinks he still continue reading …