Trapped by the Mafia Boss
“We get it. You deserve a medal, and a week at a spa.”
“Damn right I do.” She crossed her arms dramatically. “Now, listen up. Before he knocked out, he kept mumbling something about a vault. There’s something in there he doesn’t want anyone to find. But I know where it is.”
I straightened. Darren did too.
“Where?” I asked.
She grinned like the cat who’d just caught the mouse.
“The warehouse at Harlem. Behind that creepy-ass painting of the Virgin Mary holding a knife. Dead center wall. Vault’s behind it. Big, old, steel thing, needs a code or a key.”
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