No Forgiveness For The Ruthless Mafia Don

grinding over the gravel with a shrill crunch. He parked, stepped out into the clear, hard daylight, and found the backyard still a wreck,

re. He had spent it in the city, an

in the corner of the lounger, in exactly

lled my name sharply. His voice was hard

moving through the tree

e sliding glass door, shaking it hard. Still bolted fro

sued his ultimatum to the empty air in the lofty, condescending tone of a man settling an account: "Get out here. Right now. Clean up the mes

sh of frantic footst

aggered to a halt in front of Dante, teeth chattering, unable to string a whole sentence together. All he could do was lift a trembling finger toward the pool and report, in a terrified, tear-choked voice, that I was still in the water

the pool, resolved to expose my lie on the spot and catch me red-handed. And as he walked, he issued his threat at the top of his voice: "If you're

o the shallow end. He raised the phone high

l on the water, and h

ss was sodden and heavy, clinging to my swollen limbs; my skin had gone

, and his jaw locked. By pure reflex he bar

s knees buckled and he dropped onto the flagstones, both hands

t still blinking. It had been recording the whole time. Behind that smal