“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.”

force sitting a block away from the warehouse. I would walk in alone, entirely unarmed, playing the role of a desperate, broken husband willing to empty his vaults to save his family.

Elena vehemently despised the plan. She dragged me into the tiny bathroom, shutting the door, her fingers digging into my chest. “You don’t have to martyr yourself to continue reading …