On the Thirty-Third Try
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
As I stepped through the gates of the Corsica estate, a sleek black Maybach rolled up.
Window down. Lorenzo, looking irritated as hell.
"Back to snitch again? If you're that desperate, let's just hit the chapel and sign the vows."
I didn't answer. Just glanced at the passenger seat.
Sofia Camorra. Red-eyed, like she was the victim. When he said "sign the vows," she flinched.
Lorenzo jumped out, blocking my view of her.