Mafia's Little Dove
indows concealing the men within. Rocco Montenegro sat in the backseat
filled the air, but beneath it, the metall
d?) Rocco asked, his voice cold, eyes fixed ahe
an from the hotel lobby-whoever the hell she was-had been nothing more than an i
couldn't quite shake. But there were more pressing matters. The SUV p
ong shadows beneath the moonlight. The vehicle came to a halt, and without a
the unmistakable scent of fear. A single overhead bulb flickered, cast
nbuttoned his suit jacket and handed it to Vicenzo, who stood at attention beside him. He methodically rolled up his sl
an's breath-uneven,
, huh?) Rocco murmured, dragging a blade across Luciano's
familia." (Please, boss... I have a family.) Rocco
¿Y qué carajo me importa a mí?" (A family? And why the
of turn would only prolong his su
(Sinners always think they deserve forgiveness.) His voice echoed
no." (But reality is different. The lion does not forgive the ga
o Luciano's thigh. The man screamed, his body jer
ruelly, watching as blood
a specimen beneath glass. "Eso es lo que pasa cuando me joden." (That's
s emboscaron..." (I swear! I did what you asked... Everythin
ie
ol. And this pathetic excuse for a man had th
ing it clatter to the ground
He strode toward a control panel near the
lentless, and effective. He hovered over the
ubriré de todas formas." (The funny thing is, even
's eyes
diablo por mí." (Say hi to the devil
ucket of water, sending jolts of elect
, raw and inhuman. The acrid scent
ing away. The job was done. He reached for his jac
"Sí, jefe." Without another glance at the
the horrors inside. He pulled a cigarette from hi
ungs, he exhaled slowly, watch
was hi
. The control. And