The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal.
Carter said, his tone pleading, like he was clutching at straws.
“If you haven’t figured out why I can’t work with you in the time we’ve spoken," I said, my tone sharp and cutting, "then you don’t deserve my alliance. Now, get out before I lose my temper and rain hell on you."
Carter hesitated, then bent down to pick up his suitcase from the floor. He opened it and retrieved a brown envelope, thick and neatly stacked. "I’ll just drop this here," he said, setting it carefully on the sofa. "It contains some cash as a thank you for your time. My card. My proposal. All the details of my deal."
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