“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.”

rot your edge. Look at you. Domesticated.”

I dropped the briefcase onto a rusted oil drum. It landed with a heavy, metallic thud. “You asked for a price, Victor. This is it.”

Moretti chuckled, stepping closer. “I didn’t just ask for money, Dante. I asked for a premium on my legendary discretion. Because of me, your wife got seven bonus years of breathing.continue reading …