A V*rgin For The Three Mafia Bodyguards
His eyes stared blankly at the sky, mask gone, face twisted in eternal surprise.
Isabella appeared from the smoke, rushing toward the gurney. She collapsed beside it, a wail tearing from her throat. “Josh! No, no, my brother!” She clutched his hand, sobs wracking her body, her black gown pooling around her like spilled ink.
Tears poured down her face, makeup ruined, hair falling in wild strands. The agents stood back, giving her space, but she looked up suddenly, eyes finding me through the crowd.
The dirty look she gave could have killed. Pure hatred, sharpened by grief.