The Mafia's Slave: Claimed By My Stepbrother
he added.
“Like what?” I asked, cocking my eyebrow and awaiting his response.
“In cases like this, sometimes, the culprit may have left something behind to trace us to him, like a badge, or his bullets, or even something as irrelevant as a button,” he explained.
“Bullets?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“Yes, Mr. Keith,” Julian said firmly. “From my experience, most people who hire bodyguards often equip them with one particular type of bullet,” he started.