The Mafia Boss's Deadly Maid

d. The explosive

he JFK airport ventilation shaft pressed against my chest, making every breath taste li

was abruptly swallowed by a harsh burst of static. "Signal jammers activ

oved the cold metal components into the padded slots of my tactical backpack, disguised as a cello

ildly, bleeding through the grate and

. It gave way with

t sat abandoned near the door. I grabbed the oversized blue uni

side. Two airport SWAT officers rounded

y for them. My entire body language radiated submission and terror. I became nothing more than a frightened background extra. "Move!"

emor in my hands vanished instantly. I brushed the dirt off my knee

he employee exit, needing

my ankle sto

vered over the concealed blad

eneath a row of metal waiting chairs. His face was flushed a dangerous, br

Not my mission.

t caught the dark gold embroidery on the

est of the Ninth Circle. The excl

econd. This kid was the perfect bait. The ultima

ked, kicking his small sneakers against my forearm

a cheap mint. I unwrapped it quickly a

l cords to soften, pitching my voice into a ge

im out of his panic. He went limp, his hot f

saw the security perimeter going up. A doze

pollo Buck's head of security, ex-Mossad, close-quarters comb

face into my neck to hide him, and

towels and checked his pupils. They were sluggish. He was on the v

tactical instant ice pack, cracked it, and wrapped

Cole's voice boomed through the thin d

him, they would shoot me in th

the lock of the heavy fire door at the back of the

pen, and plunged into the freezing,

ucked behind a baggage tractor, shielding

bypassing the lock in three silent seconds. I opened the door without a sound and placed the boy into the backseat. Sliding beh

minal doors. I slammed the gas pedal, tearing out of the lot and merging onto th